Kai hadn't planned on leaving. He had warned Hillary he'd be watching her throughout the day, after all.

He hadn't wanted to stay either—and as insensitive as it sounded, he had his reasons.

Most evidence of a crime was lost in the first few hours since it took place, and from his estimates, he was nearing the twelve-hour mark. Every passing moment allowed more details to slip away, making his search for answers even harder.

Until now, Hillary's well-being had been his priority, especially since he was the only one who knew the extent of what had happened. But that changed an hour ago.

The moment he saw Tyson step up to her, taking her bag as he worriedly asked if she'd had a reaction to the snow, Kai knew his presence was no longer absolutely necessary. Tyson had assumed she was just unwell from the cold urticaria and immediately started looking after her.

Kai hadn't even known Tyson was aware of her rare allergy, but thinking back, it made sense. Tyson had spent a large part of his life around her, even if he didn't always act like it. Of course, he'd picked up on things like that.

And now, even without knowing all the details, Tyson had stepped up. Given his own recent experience recovering at the dojo from the bullet wound, Kai knew for a fact that Tyson could be extremely insistent when he set his mind to it. Downright annoying, if anyone asked him, but that's beside the point.

Only someone as annoying as Tyson could make Hillary take care of herself today, especially given that it would be on her mind to not let her vulnerability pull her down. She would act like nothing had happened, power through the day, and ignore her body's cries just to prove to herself that she was fine.

Kai himself was often a victim of this very theory. He knew better than anyone how dangerous a coping mechanism it was. The human body wasn't designed for strain, or even everyday activities, after a near-death experience.

Moreover, Tyson, being one of the hosts of today's fundraiser concert, had a perfectly acceptable reason to be around Hillary and hover over her, unlike him. Kai sticking around would draw a lot of raised eyebrows. A lot of unnecessary questions and rumours he'd rather avoid.

So Kai left.

*****

The alley where Hillary's tracker had last pinged, the place most likely where the crime took place, was buried thick under the snow. Frustration curled in his chest.

He trudged through the damp snow, scanning the ground. A few pages, ripped from a notebook in Hillary's handwriting, confirmed she had been here. But beyond that, there was nothing.

He ran a hand through his hair, scowling as he kicked a large rock.

He should have known better. Stupid move.

Pain shot through his foot as he moved on, but he ignored it. He was too prideful to bend down and rub his leg—even though there was no one around to make fun of him.

Scattered amongst the snow were a few trinkets, most likely from Hillary's bag: a pen missing its cap, a loose button, a pair of hairbands, a chocolate wrapper.

None of it useful.

No footprints. No signs of struggle. Nothing to tell him what had happened. The snow had erased it all.

He hated this. Answers buried under snow. Just his luck.

With one last glance around the alley, he turned and walked away.

*****

The Chinese stall was working way more than Max had expected. Not that he ever doubted Ray's cooking—if anything, he knew firsthand just how dangerously good it was—but the crowd? That had caught him off guard. People swarmed like bees to honey, turning their humble stall into one of the hottest stops at the food exhibition.

Ray had asked him, Kai and Kenny to come up early and help, and Max had agreed without hesitation. Tyson was busy, helping Hillary out in putting the exhibition and concert together, while Kai was nowhere to be found.

Max didn't have anywhere else to be, and there was something comforting about working beside friends who, despite all the chaos, made things feel a little more grounded.

Mariah took the orders with a bright smile and a voice that never lost its rhythm, no matter how many people shouted over each other. Max manned the cash counter, swiping bills and handing out change, all while Ray worked in the back, moving with the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

The rush finally thinned for a moment. Max leaned on the counter with a breath of relief. His shirt clung to his back, and his fingers smelled like ginger and soy sauce.

"We're running out of noodles," Ray said, glancing at the remaining supplies. "Kenny's on it though."

Kenny had been their errand boy since morning, much to his annoyance. This was the third time he was being forced to run to the nearest convenience store.

"Cool," Max said. "Remind me to buy that guy a soda. Or maybe ten. A real life-saver."

Ray just nodded, already turning back to stir the wok.

Mariah, meanwhile, wasn't done being the center of attention. She waltzed over to Ray and poked him in the ribs.

"You forgot to plate that last one properly, Master Chef," she teased.

Ray didn't even flinch. "You're just jealous it's prettier than you."

Mariah gasped, theatrically offended. "Rude! Apologize before I report you to the kitchen gods."

Ray chuckled, finally looking at her. "They'd probably agree with me."

"You're lucky I like you," she said, narrowing her eyes before grabbing the collar of his shirt and tugging him down for a kiss—not some soft peck either, but a kiss that had weight and history behind it, like it had been waiting all day to happen.

Max looked away immediately, his cheeks heating. It wasn't like he wasn't used to them. Mariah and Ray weren't the cutesy, giggling type of couple. They had this deep, anchored energy—like they already knew they were stuck with each other and weren't even mad about it.

He didn't mind Mariah being there. Not really. But lately, it was getting harder for him and Tyson to hang out with Ray or Kai without their girlfriends orbiting close. The air got heavier, somehow. Louder, more complicated.

"You two," Max said, half-laughing, "you wanna maybe tone it down before you scare off the few customers we do have left?"

Ray smirked, wiping his hands with a cloth. "We were just talking."

"Yeah, sure," Max said. "Talking with your mouths fused together. Classic communication strategy."

Mariah laughed and leaned over the counter beside him. "You're adorable when you're flustered."

"I'm not flustered," Max replied, voice a touch too high. "I'm concerned. For...hygiene!" he stumbled.

Mariah gave him a pat on the head like he was a kid brother, which only made Max scowl.

Then an idea struck him—half out of wanting to escape their dynamic and half because Ray had already done the prep work. He glanced at the stacked containers of noodles and the steaming trays of stir-fry, all lined up neatly.

"Hey, you two—why don't you go walk around the exhibition or something? I can handle this for a while."

Ray paused. "You sure?"

Mariah's eyes lit up immediately. "Really?"

Max nodded. "Yeah. Everything's ready. I just need to scoop and serve."

Mariah squealed and practically lunged for the counter to hug him. "You're the best, Max!"

"I know."

Ray didn't move right away, glancing at the stall like he didn't quite trust it without his watchful eye. But then Mariah looped her arm around his, her entire face glowing.

"C'mon," she said, nudging him. "Let's go. We've been cooped up in this stall all day."

Ray finally relented with a small sigh and a half-smile. "Alright. Mix the sauce a bit before playing. And call me if things get too much—"

"Sure," Max cut in, shooing them away. "Go have some fun, Ray."

Mariah blew him a kiss as she dragged Ray off into the crowd, chattering about sweet buns and miso ice cream.

The stall was suddenly quieter. And though Max appreciated the silence, he couldn't shake the feeling of being a little... left behind.

*****

Kai traced his steps from the alley to the swim centre, the path Hillary had most probably taken, or was forced to take halfway.

At this time of day, it was empty—too late for the morning swimmers, too early for the casual visitors. Perfect.

Scaling the outer wall to avoid security was easy. As he landed soundlessly on the other side, he scanned the area.

No cameras.

Relief. There would be no footage of him sneaking around.

Frustration. There also would be no footage of what Hillary had been doing, staying back for a hour longer than necessary.

He checked the poolside first. The water was still, reflecting the dull glow of overhead lights. Nothing out of place.

The men's changing room was empty. Lockers, benches, tiled floors—undisturbed.

He went to the women's section last. He hesitated, but there was no one around to question him. The air inside was faintly cooler as he stepped in.

He checked everything. Lockers left slightly ajar. Beneath the benches. Even the waste bins.

Nothing.

His fists clenched. He now had no idea what Hillary had been doing, so late into the night here. He had no idea of where the crime could have taken place either.

That left him with a course of action he'd been hoping to rather avoid.

The drug.

Hillary had been drugged. Which meant the substance had to have come from somewhere.

And there was only one place in the whole of Tokyo where he could get the answers he wanted.

But he knew for a fact that he wasn't going to like what it would cost him.

*****

Max was still manning the stall solo, apron a little crooked, hair wild. He was humming something upbeat under his breath, plating a bunch of momos, when someone stepped up to the counter.

"Hey."

He turned, bright-eyed. "Mariam?"

There she was—arms crossed, expression unreadable, but with a slight lift in her brow like she wasn't expecting to run into him here. Which was fair. Max wasn't exactly the face people expected at the Bladebreakers' Chinese stir-fry stall.

"Didn't think I'd see you around," he said, beaming. "Last I saw you, you were dressed like a punk biker!"

Mariam gave a small snort. "That was two weeks ago. You're still not over it?"

"Nope," Max grinned, flipping some noodles with exaggerated flair. "It was badass!"

She gave him a look that might have been half amused, half skeptical. "Where's everyone else?"

"Ray took a moment of break, he went to go around the exhibition with Mariah. Tyson's a host for the evening concert, so he's helping Hillary with the organising. Kai's MIA and Kenny's running an errand. So it's just me here, keeper of the flame."

Mariam raised a brow. "You're seriously manning the stall?"

"Impressed?"

"Surprised."

Max gave a mock bow. "I take that as a win."

She rested her hands on the edge of the counter. "You're still as energetic as ever."

Max scooped another batch of noodles, handing it over to one of the customers. "So what brings you here, really? Don't tell me it was just my radiant energy."

Mariam shrugged, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Just heard there was a food stall run by the so-called legends of Beyblade. Thought it'd be funny to check if the hype was real."

"Ouch. So-called? We're multi-talented!"

A faint smile tugged at her lips. "Yeah, I can see that. You look like you've been through a food war."

He looked down at the soy stains on Ray's apron and the noodles clinging to his sleeve. "Battle scars," he said solemnly. "Every stir-fry tells a story."

Mariam leaned in a little, resting her elbow on the counter. "And what's your story, Max?"

He blinked, caught off-guard by how soft her voice had gotten.

"Right now? Just trying not to burn the dumplings."

She looked surprised for a minute, like she wasn't expecting that answer, and then she laughed, the kind of short, genuine sound that made Max feel like he'd won something. "Sounds like you've got it all figured out."

"I wish," he said, quieter than before. "But hey, I can make decent food and I get to hang out with my friends. That's something."

"Yeah. It is."

There was a beat of silence, not awkward, just...still. A pocket of calm in the bustle of the exhibition. Then Mariam straightened, brushing imaginary dust off her jacket.

"Well.I'll leave you to your battle," she said.

"Wait,"Max called before he could stop himself. "You'll come by for the concert later, right?"

She gave him a look, unreadable again, but her lips curved just slightly. "Maybe."

Then she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Max stared after her for a second longer than necessary, then turned back to the wok. The dumplings weren't burning. But his cheeks definitely felt warmer than before.

*****

Words: 2094

*****

A/N: So, hows this scene? What are your thoughts about it? Where do you think well go next? Do uoh want a pov of Laura too? I haven't decided on it, but it would be intriguing at least...

Anyway, the 19 starts for a faster update offer is still open, honestly, it'll be open all the time from now on. And you guys got real close too last time, at 15, so come on guys! For more votes, and we could have two updates a week!

Anyway, do vote when you like the chapter, no pressure, but still, I think that's a fair deal!

Amd comment guys! Lots of comments are a real dopamine hit.

Anyway, did you guys see the poster? 😃 It had been hight time I update it, so what do you say? Do yoh like it? Hillary looks real nice, doesn't she? Ai generated art can't copy direct characters, so it was the closest to the character description I could get. Comment what you thought of it when you first saw it here!