Tamiji

Tamiji fumbled with the worm, threading it onto a hook as Hamiko landed another fish, their laughter echoing across the lower docks. "Still playing, Tamiji?" they'd call out. Tamiji would just smile, adjust their glasses, and sip their strawberry milk, a fixture of innocence amid the grimy business of the waterfront. Years later, that same innocent act became a tool. While Hamiko chased down leads with force, Tamiji would sit in the plaza by the great fish statue, simply listening. No one ever suspects the one with fish bait on their hat is deciphering coded messages. The rivalry sharpened them, forcing Tamiji to perfect the art of being overlooked. They learned that a direct approach makes noise, but a quiet presence learns everything.