3rd PV:

By noon, the routine should have been in full swing.

The small café—usually quiet in the mornings but alive by midday—was supposed to be open, warm, and filled with the familiar scent of food and tea. It had become a reliable stop, something steady in the middle of long shifts and unpredictable days.

So when a group of officers approached the street and saw the door—

Closed—

They slowed.

"...that's weird."

One of them frowned, adjusting his jacket as he glanced at the windows. The lights inside were off, no movement visible through the glass. No sign of life.

Behind him, Sansa stepped closer, squinting slightly like that would somehow change what he was seeing.

"...no way."

Another officer tilted his head.

"Isn't he always open?"

"Yeah," someone else added. "Even early."

Sansa moved up to the door, trying the handle out of habit.

Locked.

He blinked.

"...okay, that's new."

A small group had gathered behind him now, exchanging looks, mild confusion settling in.

"This isn't like him," one of them muttered.

"It's not," Sansa agreed, frowning deeper now.

A few steps behind them, Naomasa Tsukauchi approached at a more measured pace, his gaze already taking in the details before he even reached the entrance.

Closed sign.

Lights off.

No note.

No indication.

He stopped beside Sansa, looking at the door quietly.

"...did he mention anything this morning?" one of the officers asked.

Sansa shook his head.

"No. Just that his delivery didn't show up."

That caught Tsukauchi's attention.

"...delivery?"

"Yeah," Sansa said, stepping back from the door. "He was waiting on it. Said it was unusual."

A pause settled over the group.

Not heavy.

Not yet.

But noticeable.

Another officer crossed his arms.

"Maybe he went to check on it?"

"Maybe," Sansa muttered, though he didn't sound convinced.

Because something about this—

Didn't fit.

The café wasn't just a business.

It was routine.

Structure.

And the boy running it?

He didn't just close without a reason.

Tsukauchi's gaze lingered on the door a moment longer, thoughtful.

"...he said he would handle it," he murmured.

Sansa glanced at him.

"...you think something happened?"

A beat.

Tsukauchi didn't answer immediately.

Didn't jump to conclusions.

But he didn't dismiss it either.

"...it's possible."

That was enough to shift the mood.

Subtly.

Quietly.

The officers exchanged glances again, less casual now, more aware.

"...should we check it out?" someone suggested.

Sansa ran a hand through his hair, clearly debating.

"...he told us not to get involved."

"And you're going to listen to that?"

"...no," he admitted.

Tsukauchi exhaled softly.

"...we'll give it a little time."

Sansa frowned.

"And if he doesn't show up?"

Tsukauchi's gaze returned to the door.

Calm.

Measured.

"...then we look into it."

Silence followed that.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Just... lingering.

Because the café—

Was closed.

The silence didn't last.

It rarely did.

Just as the group began to shift—some stepping back from the door, others still lingering like the answer might magically appear if they waited long enough—the sharp crackle of a radio cut through the air.

"—all units, respond—"

Every head turned instinctively.

Hands moved almost automatically, reaching for devices, posture straightening, focus snapping into place.

"Repeat," the voice continued through static, urgent and clipped, "we have reports of a reckless truck driver moving through the city. High speed. Multiple violations."

Sansa was already grabbing his radio.

"Unit responding," he said, tone shifting completely—no more casual edge, no more lingering frustration. Just work. "Location?"

There was a brief pause, more static, then—

"Reports indicate the driver is heading eastbound. Witnesses state there may be a minor in the vehicle."

That—

That changed everything.

"...a kid?" one of the officers muttered under his breath.

Sansa's expression hardened instantly.

"Confirmed?"

"Unconfirmed but multiple reports mention it. Treat as high priority."

Tsukauchi stepped forward slightly, already processing faster than most of them.

"Speed?"

"Excessive. Running lights. Vehicle is not stopping."

Another officer cursed under his breath.

"Great."

Sansa lowered the radio slightly, glancing at Tsukauchi.

"...you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Tsukauchi's gaze had already shifted down the street, distant but focused, like he was mapping possibilities in real time.

"...yes."

A pause.

"This isn't random."

Because it rarely was.

Not like this.

Not with that level of recklessness.

Not with a child involved.

Sansa exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"...we just came here for lunch."

"Plans change," Tsukauchi said simply.

That was all it took.

The group moved almost instantly after that, the earlier confusion about the café pushed aside—not forgotten, but replaced by something more immediate. More urgent.

Radios buzzed again.

"Units in the area, proceed with caution. Do not engage recklessly. Await backup—"

"Yeah, that's not happening," one officer muttered as they started moving.

Sansa was already heading toward their vehicle.

"Let's go."

Tsukauchi followed without hesitation, his expression calm but sharper now, every detail being filed away even as the situation escalated.

"...keep an eye out for anything unusual," he added as they moved. "Vehicle condition, driver behavior, anything that stands out."

Sansa glanced back briefly.

"...you think it's connected?"

A beat.

Tsukauchi didn't answer right away.

But his eyes flicked—just for a second—back toward the closed café.

Then forward again.

"...we'll find out."

The engines started.

Doors slammed.

And within moments, they were gone—pulled into something far more dangerous than a missed delivery.

Behind them, the café remained closed.

Quiet.

Still.

Like it was holding its breath—

Waiting.