The city at night wasn’t the same place it was during the day. Gone were the festival lights, the laughter, and the scent of grilled mochi. Now, everything was bathed in cold blue moonlight and the low hum of street lamps. Shadows danced between alleys. Rooftops whispered secrets.

  The mission was clear: extract the briefcase from the top floor of an abandoned tech building in Sector 9. Heavily guarded. Time-sensitive. Classified.

  But neither “Fox” nor “White Wolf” cared about any of that right now.

  ---

  Thud.

  Danger Fox landed on the rooftop with a clean flip—and immediately stubbed his toe on a rusty pipe.

  “Gahh! Who designs rooftops like this?! I swear I’ll find the architect and challenge him to a duel.”

  He crouched low, brushing dirt off his crimson jacket, and adjusted his fox mask. The wind ruffled his hair.

  Then—CLANG.

  A blur of white dropped from the shadows. Sleek, silent, and deadly.

  White Wolf.

  She didn’t speak. She never did. Her mere presence cut through the air like her katana.

  Fox blinked. “Well, well, if it isn’t Miss No-Talks-A-Lot.”

  Still nothing.

  He scratched his head. “Y’know, for once I was hoping for a dramatic entrance. Like, you drop in, say something cryptic, I say something cooler, then we fight like samurai... But nah, you just wanna go straight to murder.”

  She drew her blade.

  Fox flipped back and clicked his twin daggers out of his sleeves. “Ah, I missed this... Wait, I didn’t. You almost stabbed me in the kidney last time.”

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  Their blades clashed—steel on steel, sparks lighting up the rooftop like fireworks. Fox dodged with wild spins, unnecessary flips, and what could only be described as dramatic salsa footwork. Wolf remained grounded, fast and sharp, slicing with machine precision.

  Fox laughed mid-duck. “Do you ever smile? Like, do you own a face that can smile?”

  She said nothing—but her strikes grew sharper.

  The fight was breathtaking. One part dance, one part deathmatch. But suddenly—

  They both froze. Crouched behind opposite pillars, panting.

  Fox peeked out. “Hey… y’know something?”

  White Wolf tilted her head.

  He gestured with his dagger. “'Danger Fox' is kinda cringe, right?”

  Wolf blinked. “…What?”

  “I mean, Danger Fox? It sounds like a failed cartoon superhero. Like I should have a talking raccoon sidekick or something.”

  There was silence.

  Then, in a move even White Wolf couldn’t have predicted—

  Fox sat down, tossed his dagger aside, pulled his knees up to his chest and sniffled.

  “…Today sucks.”

  She blinked. “What.”

  He sniffed again, lifting his mask just slightly to wipe under his eye. “I saw the girl I like... with another guy. I dunno what they were talking about, but it was just—ughhh. My heart feels like mochi under a steamroller.”

  “…Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because you’re the only one here!” he whined, dramatically flopping backward. “And you're trying to stab me anyway! Might as well be emotionally stabbed too!”

  She stared at him, stunned. Then… something shifted. Her grip loosened. She stepped toward him.

  Fox peeked up from his little ball of despair. “…You’re not gonna finish me off?”

  She sighed and crouched beside him, gently patting his shoulder.

  “I don’t know who you are,” she muttered. “But you’re an idiot.”

  Fox sniffled. “I know…”

  Then—without a word—White Wolf stood, walked to the locked briefcase sitting between them… and tossed it into his lap.

  He blinked. “Huh?”

  “Take it. Just… get out of here. Go cry about your girlfriend or whatever.”

  Fox stared. “You’re… serious?”

  “Deadly.”

  He looked up, genuinely touched. “You’re actually kinda nice under all that ‘murder machine’ stuff.”

  “Don’t push it.”

  He clutched the briefcase and stood. “...Thanks, Wolfy.”

  She turned away, hiding the absolute rage bubbling in her chest. She’d lost. On purpose. Because this idiot was heartbroken.

  Fox paused, then added, “…Also, I feel like I kinda know you?”

  White Wolf froze for a second. Just a second.

  Fox looked at his watch. “Womp! Gotta run. Bye, cutie.”

  And with that, he vanished in a puff of smoke, jumping to the next rooftop like a man who had no clue he just stole from his best friend in disguise.

  White Wolf stood alone. Silent. Fuming. Confused.

  But most of all…

  Annoyed at how her heart was beating a little too fast.