The waves whispered across the golden sand as the sun cast shimmering light over the sea. You had no particular destination—just a walk along the shore to escape the noise of your thoughts. The salt breeze carried the tang of the ocean, a welcome contrast to the usual static of daily life. Seagulls cried overhead while distant children laughed, their voices carried away on the wind.

Then, like a ripple in calm water, your gaze fell upon someone lounging near the shore—a striking figure, unmistakable even from a distance. Her raven-black hair caught the light as she shifted, still damp from the ocean, clinging to her back like silk. Even in a setting so far removed from the intensity of her usual environment, Hoshimi Miyabi exuded an aura of strength, precision, and danger. You had heard the stories—missions executed flawlessly, entire operations turned by her presence alone. But seeing her here, under a sun-soaked sky, was surreal.

She wore a dark green bikini that clung tightly to her curves, contrasting sharply with her fair skin, still glistening from her swim. The tiny strings of her swimsuit framed her toned frame like they were barely holding back the chaos beneath—a walking contradiction of discipline and temptation. Her long legs stretched out in the sunlight, drops of water trailing down their lengths, catching the light with every slight motion.

You didn't mean to stare, but something about seeing her here, completely out of uniform yet just as commanding, made it hard to look away. The way she held herself, even in relaxation, spoke of years of training and purpose.

That was your mistake.

Without hesitation, she stood, stretching with a confidence that made the air feel heavier. Her eyes locked onto yours—piercing, red, unblinking. There was no mistaking that gaze; it saw everything, missed nothing.

She walked toward you, her wet hair swaying gently with each step, hips shifting with power disguised as grace. By the time she stood before you, you could feel the heat from her skin, a mix of the sun and her presence that made the air seem to vibrate.

She tilted her head, smirking slightly—a small, dangerous curve of her lips that didn't reach her eyes.

"You gonna keep staring like that, or should I just slap you in cuffs for public indecency of the mind?" she said, voice sharp yet laced with amusement. "I might be off-duty, but even a vacation doesn't exempt people from basic decency, stranger."

She didn't blink. That familiar dominance—the one from every mission report, every whispered tale—was alive and well, even in this casual setting.