Ayaka | Oishi Perfect G Hiroko

Oishi took Hiroko's hand. It was warm. "Perfect G," she said softly. "You keep the world precise. Let me keep it alive."

Hiroko's calculations spiraled. The sociopath was wired to a dead man's switch connected to the gas line. If his heart stopped, the building blew. If he was subdued, he'd trigger it. A logical stalemate.

The simulation began. Hiroko moved with surgical precision, taking down two sentries with silent darts. Oishi flowed like a ghost, her empathy disorienting a third gunman into dropping his weapon, convinced he was being watched by his dead mother. Ayaka Oishi Perfect G Hiroko

Hiroko stood on the rooftop, her tactical visor streaming data. "Four hostiles. Six hostages. Optimal solution: sniper suppression at 78% probability."

"I can suggest ," Oishi whispered. "For three seconds, I can make him feel my mother's love. It's the loudest thing I own." Oishi took Hiroko's hand

"Logic fails," Hiroko admitted, a cold dread seeping into her voice for the first time. "We withdraw."

Hiroko knelt beside her, her perfect, data-driven face fractured for the first time. "That was a 11% probability. You are illogical." "You keep the world precise

"No," Oishi said, standing up. Her eyes were bleeding from the psychic strain. "You do the math. I'll give him a heart."