Aizawa: The Early Years

Chpt 2

The city's neon lights flicker through the rain-soaked windows of the rundown apartment, casting eerie reflections across the room. Hana stands by the window, her silhouette outlined against the murky glow. She tightens the belt of her worn trench coat, her eyes narrowing as she scans the streets below.

It has been a week since her encounter at the library when researching, and the memory of his piercing gaze still lingers. She can't afford distractions—not now, not when Detnerat is on the brink of something monumental. Her mission demands focus, and every moment counts.

A soft knock on the door breaks her concentration. Hana turns, her hand instinctively reaching for the hidden blade tucked in her sleeve. The knock comes again, more insistent this time. With a sigh, she crosses the room and opens the door a crack.

"It's me," a familiar voice whispers.

Hana's grip on the blade relaxes as she recognizes the voice of her informant, Kenji. She opens the door wider, allowing the young man to slip inside. His clothes are drenched, and his face is etched with urgency.

"What's the news?" Hana asks, closing the door behind him.

Kenji shakes off the rain and hands her a crumpled piece of paper. "Detnerat's got an event. Tonight. Downtown in Shizuoka. I got this from one of the administrative desk jobs. They didn't know much, but it sounds big."

Hana unfolds the paper, her eyes scanning the hastily scribbled details. A symposium, 9 pm, heavily guarded. An invitation printed on high-quality cardstock is tucked underneath the paper. Her heart quickens with anticipation. This could be the break she needs.

"Good work, Kenji," she says, tucking the paper into her coat pocket. "Stay low and keep your ears open. I'll take it from here."

Kenji nods, his eyes filled with a mix of respect and fear. He knows better than to ask questions. With a final nod, he slips back into the night, leaving Hana alone with her thoughts.

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the task ahead. The rain outside intensifies, the rhythmic drumming against the window matching the beat of her heart.

As she prepares to leave, her mind wanders briefly to the man at the library. She wonders if he, too, is out there in the rain, chasing shadows and secrets.

Pushing the thought aside, Hana focuses on the mission. There is no room for sentimentality in her world. Tonight, she will uncover the truth about Detnerat, no matter the cost.

With a final glance at the rain-soaked streets below, Hana slipped into the night, her resolve as sharp as the blade hidden in her sleeve.

_____

The symposium turns out to be more of a fundraiser and high society event than an intellectual meeting of the minds. Hana navigates through the grand hall, her presence commanding attention even among the wealthy and powerful attendees. She is a striking figure, her pale hair elegantly styled in loose waves that cascade over her shoulders, framing her sharp, angular features. Her eyes, a hazy shade of green, are keenly observant, missing nothing as she scans the room.

She wears a dark green, almost black, gown that clings to her athletic frame, the fabric shimmering under the opulent chandeliers. The gown has a daringly low back, revealing a hint of the scars she bears from past missions. A simple yet sophisticated necklace adorns her neck, and her ears are graced with delicate, matching earrings. Her makeup is minimal but expertly applied, highlighting her natural beauty while maintaining an air of professionalism.

Despite the refined elegance of her attire, Hana's movements are purposeful and measured, betraying the warrior beneath the glamorous facade. Her eyes continuously dart from one guest to another, her mind assessing potential threats and allies alike. She holds a glass of champagne, more for appearances than enjoyment, as she circulates among the elite, every step taken with the precision and poise of a predator stalking its prey.