Don’t Go Dying on Me

I walked into the office hoping to slip in unnoticed. The alarm toads had other ideas.

Their croaking cut through the ambient noise the second my foot crossed the threshold. Before I'd even made it to my desk, Captain Elsha materialized out of nowhere. Which is to say, she jogged out of her office, trying to look casual about it.

"Danny! You actually made it in today." She fell into step beside me like we'd planned to walk together. "So. Have you thought about my offer?"

"Yes," I said.

She brightened.

"The answer's no."

The brightness dimmed. "What do you mean, no? You literally won't shut up about manga. You have opinions about dubs versus subs—"

"Sub over dub, always, no exceptions." I set my bag down on my chair.

"And yes. I've considered all appropriate options and concluded it would be a bad idea."

Elsha went quiet in that way she does when she's scanning you for cracks — some tell, some flicker of hesitation she can wedge her boot into. She stared long enough that Tomás glanced over from his desk, sensed the situation, and found something very interesting to read on his monitor.

"Okay," she said finally. "Humor me. Why don't you think you'd be a good fit for the Japan post?"

I didn't have to think about it. "Japan is a collectivist culture with a strong, defined identity that they take seriously. I don't fit that mold, and I'm not built to be pressed into one. I'm loud, I'm countercultural by default, and my version of individualism tends to read as disrespect in rooms where I'm already the odd one out. I'd be a liability before the first week was up."

Elsha scoffed. "Please. You're literally the most stable hunter we have."

"Chaotic Good at best."

"DJ." She crossed her arms. "You don't drink. You don't smoke. You hunt monsters, play drums, and write—" she paused, choosing her words, "—fiction of a specific genre. You are, by every measurable standard, well-adjusted."

"I'm functional. There's a difference."

"You're going, and that's an order."

I rubbed my face.

"Besides," she said, softer now, "you might learn something about yourself out there."

"Yeah. That I hate leaving my comfort zone."

"Why are you so afraid—"

"I'm not afraid." I turned to look at her. "I'm aware. The way I carry myself tends to generate disdain before it generates anything warmer. In a place like Japan, if one person decides they don't like me, the social ripple makes that everyone's opinion by Tuesday."

"You don't know that."

"I have one data point."

"He was a dick."

"Sure. My point still stands."

"You're not getting out of this."

The front door opened. Tobi walked in mid-conversation on his phone, nodded at both of us, and started unwinding his scarf.

Elsha pressed her advantage. "Besides, you're literally the only one here who speaks Japanese."

"I learned it to stop reading subtitles. That was a personal decision made entirely for comfort. Sub over dub," I said again, like a thesis statement.

Tobi looked up from his phone. "My man." He extended a hand, and I slapped it without breaking eye contact with Elsha.

"Why can't you go, Mrs. Umezawa? You are half Japanese after all. they'd accept you before me faster," I asked her.

"Because I'm the captain, DJ. I stay here."

"I can cover while you're gone."

"Absolutely not. I'd come back, and the entire org structure would be unrecognizable."

"But measurably more effective—"

"No." She held up a hand. "You're going. And I want you to fully immerse yourself, so I'm pulling your cryptid weapons. Hand them over."

I stared at her. "Absolutely not."

"I want Bigfoot and Chupacabra. You can keep the other one."

"And if I refuse?"

She tilted her head. "Then I guess we'll settle it the direct way. But I'd remind you — you beat me, you undermine my authority in front of the whole unit. The rest will follow, and everything we've built here starts to wobble. You've worked too hard for that."

I exhaled through my teeth. "You always do this. Have me be the pillar. The paragon. Be the bigger person."

"It's not hard," she said, smiling a little. "You're like six feet."

I scowled.

"Love you, Babe." She patted my shoulder. "Your flight leaves tonight. Go pack."

I was halfway to the door when she called after me.

"Oh — and DJ?" A beat. "Try not to fall in love out there."

I kept walking. "I'll do what I want."

Behind me, I could hear her smiling.

Eighteen hours is a long time to sit with a decision you didn't make.