Pokemon: The Spy and the Idol

All through Day One, Hiroshi drifted through various parts of the HQ, making himself visible and approachable. He popped into the analysis office to "see how the heart of intel works," delivering a tin of expensive cookies ostensibly from his family as a goodwill gesture. (This made Kobeni's colleagues immediately warm to the "sweet kid," and in their subsequent chatter Daisy caught one analyst thinking: "He's too nice… No way he's here to audit us", exactly the impression Hiroshi wanted.) He ate lunch in the common cafeteria, deliberately choosing a seat amid some junior staff and engaging in self-deprecating small talk about how he got lost twice that morning. "This place is a maze!" he joked, earning a few chuckles and tips on navigating. While he laughed over his rice bowl, Daisy, sitting invisibly at an empty table nearby, skimmed the surface thoughts of everyone around him. Most were innocuous: sports, workloads, one daydreaming of a date. But one man at a far table kept looking over, barely touching his food. His mind betrayed his tension: "If he investigates case 112, I'm done… I need to stall…" Daisy relayed that nugget. Case 112 – whatever that was – shot to the top of Madoka's list to quietly check.

Hiroshi also took a mid-afternoon trip down to the parking garage under the pretense of fetching a personal item from Kishibe's car (really, to meet Aki and Denji who were swapping intel from their sections). In a shadowy corner behind a pillar, Denji reported in a low murmur that one of the tactical squad captains had been overly curious about who exactly Denji trained under in South America. "I think he was trying to catch me in a lie," Denji said, uncharacteristically serious. "I played dumb and just talked about jungle mosquitoes." Aki had encountered something similar: a colleague in Internal Affairs casually asked if Aki knew why he'd been brought back to Japan. "I feigned cluelessness," Aki said. "But it felt like he was fishing." Someone within was aware enough to probe the newcomers. They likely suspected Makima might plant loyalists. It was a reminder to tighten their act even more. Hiroshi advised them to stick to their cover stories religiously – fortunately, Makima had anticipated such scrutiny and made sure their files were impeccable. If a mole checked, they'd find nothing out of place (Madoka had even created dummy email correspondence to simulate Denji and Power's "training assignments" abroad). Still, it meant the enemy was starting to worry.

As the sun dipped low, painting the windows orange, the team had already gathered a trove of puzzle pieces. PSIA HQ buzzed with its usual end-of-day rhythm – employees powering down computers, a few heading out early, others gearing up for night shifts. The traitors among them, however, might be feeling the noose tighten without even knowing why. Hiroshi made another round on the exec floor, poking his head into a few offices to say goodbye for the evening. In one such drop-by – the Foreign Liaison's office – he noticed the man hastily shuffling papers on his desk and a browser window closing with what looked like an embassy email draft. They exchanged pleasantries. The liaison officer was cordial, but his mind… Daisy reported a mantra echoing in it: "Keep cool, keep cool." The man was anxious. Perhaps he planned to report on Hiroshi's arrival to someone overseas tonight. If so, they might have to intercept that.

Finally, at 5:00 pm, Director Takeda convened the brief wrap-up meeting. It was brief indeed – mostly formalities and a few polite inquiries from Hiroshi about what to expect tomorrow. As they dispersed, Takeda patted Hiroshi's back and said, "Good first day. Don't let them overwork you." To an observer, it was mentorship; to Hiroshi, it sounded like please stay out of our way. Hiroshi just smiled gratefully.

By 6:00 pm, most staff had left. One by one, the undercover team members also headed out, careful to stagger their departures. They each had instructions either to return to the secure safehouse or, in Hiroshi's case, to his hotel suite – to avoid clustering together in public. The enemy might not know everyone on the team, but better safe than sorry.

Hiroshi lingered a bit in his new office, organizing papers as cover for being one of the last to leave. Truthfully, he was giving Daisy and Alakazam time to finish a sweep after hours. With the corridors emptying, the two psychic Pokémon floated silently through sensitive rooms, scanning for any obvious traps or signals. Alakazam hovered by a locked filing cabinet in Internal Security, eyes glowing as he telekinetically cracked it open for a peek – inside were dossiers on various agents. He quickly noted one labeled "HAYAKAWA, Aki – Surveillance Initiated" with to-date observations. Evidence that Aki indeed was being watched from the moment he arrived. Alakazam snapped a mental photo and closed it gently, no trace left. Daisy, meanwhile, phased through the wall of the Director's private office next door, taking care not to disturb a single paper. She found Takeda's computer still on, screen locked. Extending a finger, she released a minuscule psychic pulse into the machine – temporarily disabling its network for a few seconds – and in that window, extracted a cached copy of his email inbox to later decrypt with Madoka's help. If Takeda was communicating with traitors, that would be gold. She then slipped out just as quietly. All clear.

The reinforced steel doors of PSIA Kanto's headquarters hissed shut behind him with a soft pneumatic sigh. Hiroshi stepped into the cool night air, hands in his coat pockets, Kirlia trailing quietly at his side like a student behind a professor. The electric-blue light of a streetlamp flickered above, casting fractured shadows across the pavement. He glanced up. No drones in the air. No tails he could see. But the prickling behind his neck hadn't left since he powered down his "work" laptop at his office desk twenty minutes ago.

That terminal — government-issued, sanitized, and monitored — was a trap of his own making. Every file he clicked, every window he opened, every breadcrumb he laid would soon begin to whisper through the PSIA grapevine. He hadn't needed to hack anything yet. He was the bait. And from tomorrow, some of the smarter fish would start to circle him with wide smiles and shallow questions. The naive brat Assistant Director with silver hair, a corporate tie, and no operations record — just a file that said Tokyo University graduate, top of his class, handpicked by Makima-sama.

He smiled faintly. He had played the role to perfection today: slow, affable, slightly pampered, more concerned with seating charts and diplomatic events than national security. He made sure to look like a paper-shuffling silver spoon hire. And no one questioned it. They even offered to buy him dinner.

They had no idea.

By the time his unmarked car dropped him off at the hotel Makima arranged — a 5-star tower of glass and marble overlooking the Sumida River — he already felt the adrenaline withdrawal. He walked through the lobby, nodding politely to the bowing receptionist who greeted him with a "Welcome back, Kobayashi-sama."

He gave his trademark half-smile, the one that said yes, I'm young and rich and you should absolutely underestimate me, and pressed the elevator button with his gloved hand.

As the doors closed, he exhaled.