HIROKAZU ARAI – PSIA FIELD AGENT, SOUTH ASIA
Night had settled over a bustling bazaar in South Asia, but Hirokazu Arai remained perched on a dilapidated rooftop, camera in hand. Through the lens, he tracked a pair of silhouettes meeting in a narrow alley below. Two high-profile targets – a corrupt ex-official and a known trafficker – were exchanging a briefcase of cash for what Arai suspected were stolen Pokémon gene samples. He zoomed in, heart pounding as he snapped frame after frame of photographic evidence.
Don't screw this up. Arai's own silent mantra looped in his head. A bead of sweat trickled down from his temple; he wiped it away carefully, not daring to move too abruptly. The corrugated metal roof under him creaked with each tiny shift of his weight. One wrong noise and the men below might look up.
He swallowed, forcing himself to breathe steadily. Surveillance wasn't normally this nerve-wracking in training. But out here, alone in a foreign city with nothing but his wits and a telephoto lens, Arai felt every bit the rookie he still was. Part of him wished Kobeni or Himeno were here – they always had a calming presence (even if Kobeni panicked externally, at least he didn't feel so alone in terror). But Himeno was half a world away, and Kobeni somewhere in a jungle. Focus, Hirokazu.
Below, the trafficker cracked open a metal case, revealing vials that glinted under a dim streetlight. Arai's finger pressed the shutter repeatedly. Got it. The handoff was being documented clear as day. If he could just—
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from an adjacent building – a stack of crates knocked over by some clumsy passerby. Both targets snapped their heads up, eyes darting across the rooftops. Arai's breath hitched. He shrank back behind the low parapet, body flat against the tin roofing. Please don't see me, please don't see me... he prayed, muscles tensed to bolt if necessary.
Voices drifted from the alley – terse, suspicious. Arai dared to peek and saw the two men hastily parting ways, deal aborted. Damn. He'd gotten proof of the meeting but not the actual trade. Close, but not a complete success.
As the ex-official scurried off into the labyrinth of streets, the trafficker lingered, scanning the rooftops. Arai kept his head down, cursing his luck. If only he had backup...
His pocket vibrated. The sudden buzz nearly made him yelp. He fumbled for his phone, pulse skyrocketing at the worst possible timing. The screen's glow illuminated his face as he cupped a hand over it. It was an encrypted message from PSIA command – priority one. Arai's stomach flipped. Not now...
He tapped it open, eyes darting between the phone and the alley. The trafficker was still pacing warily.
Arai read the message twice in disbelief:
Operation Homecoming – ALL agents return to Tokyo at once. Cease current missions. Immediate effect.
His mouth went dry. All agents...immediate... The words swirled in his mind. This had to be unprecedented. He peeked over the parapet again. The alley was empty now – the trafficker had melted away into the night, likely spooked by the noise. His mission here was effectively over anyway.
Still, Arai felt a pang of frustration. He hadn't gotten the final proof; his perfectionist streak gnawed at him. But then he recalled the sombre meeting months ago after the betrayal, Makima's steely resolve as she briefed the remaining loyal members. "When the time comes, we regroup," she had said, voice brooking no argument. That time was now, clearly.
Arai exhaled shakily, relief and anxiety swirling inside him. Relief, because heading home meant he could get out of this tense solo stakeout alive. Anxiety, because whatever crisis required calling everyone back had to be monumental.
He gathered his equipment quickly, hands trembling a bit as he disassembled the long camera lens. Before climbing down, he tapped out a response on the phone: "Arai – Understood. Returning to Tokyo."
As he descended an exterior ladder to street level, Arai's mind raced ahead. He thought of his colleagues – bold Denji, boisterous Power, stoic Aki, kind Himeno, nervous Kobeni... even brooding Angel. They'd all be converging on Tokyo, like a family returning home. Despite the circumstances, Arai felt a tiny spark of warmth in his chest at that thought. He hadn't seen any of them in months. How much had changed? Would they still see him as the greenhorn of the bunch?
He dropped onto the quiet street and began blending into the bazaar's late-night foot traffic. In the distance, neon signs flickered above market stalls selling spices and knockoff electronics. The normalcy of it all contrasted with the turmoil in his head.
As he hurried toward the safehouse to rendezvous for extraction, Arai allowed himself a rare moment of bravery in his thoughts. This is it. The big one. If Makima and... Hiroshi (he still could barely fathom that the legendary agent was back) were rallying them, it was for something that could make or break all they'd worked for.
Arai puffed out his cheeks and exhaled, trying to dispel his nerves. Himeno's voice echoed in memory, gentle but firm: "You're stronger than you think, Hirokazu." He straightened his back, adjusting the strap of his gear bag. Maybe he was. He'd survived gunfights and devil ambushes (back when devils were their concern), and plenty of grueling training days under Kishibe's watch. He could handle whatever came next. He had to – for their sake.
Turning a corner, Arai caught sight of the extraction van arriving, headlights flashing briefly. He broke into a jog. As he did, he whispered to himself, "Let's go, Hirokazu. Time to go home and show them what you're made of."
The night breeze was warm on his face, carrying with it the scents of curry and car exhaust. It smelled like life moving on, even as his own life was about to be uprooted and flung back to Tokyo. Fear lingered in the pit of his stomach, but a newfound determination steadied his steps.
He was going back to his team, back where he wasn't alone. Whatever awaited in Tokyo – traitors, monsters, even the end of the world – Arai would stand with them. Maybe he wasn't the strongest or the bravest, but he would do his part.
Hirokazu Arai disappeared into the ebb and flow of the bazaar crowd, one more traveler heading home under the neon-tinted night, ready to face the storm alongside his friends.