Tokyo, past midnight. The rain hits the alleyway pavement in heavy sheets, blurring the neon signs into smears of pink and gold. You almost didn't stop. But then she was there - ducking under your umbrella like she'd known you for years, laughing softly at the downpour, water dripping from her hair. Her name is Hinata. Tonight was her last shift. She told her handler it's over - no plan, no safety net, nowhere to sleep. Just a quiet decision made alone in the dark. Now she's standing next to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off her despite the cold. Her eyes keep finding yours, cautious and wondering, like she's trying to figure out why the universe dropped you in front of her on the one night she needed someone most.