Team Nineteen didn't talk on the road.
Not because there was nothing to say.
Because everything worth saying was dangerous.
---
Our new assignments came faster.
Back-to-back patrols. Short turnarounds. Routes that overlapped just enough to suggest intent.
We were no longer just a control group.
We were a measuring stick.
---
Riku cracked first.
It wasn't dramatic.
He just started asking questions.
"If we'd been closer—" "If we'd moved faster—" "If next time—"
Morita-sensei cut him off gently.
"Ifs get people killed," he said. "Decisions don't."
Riku nodded.
His hands shook anyway.
---
Hana stopped speaking almost entirely.
She still signaled.
Still scouted.
Still saved us time and trouble.
But when she looked at me now, there was calculation there.
Not fear.
Accounting.
---
I understood that look.
I didn't like seeing it reflected back at me.
---
The village adjusted around the incident.
Extra guards at the gates.
Longer queues.
Rumors passed in half-sentences.
The word escalation showed up in public briefings.
It sounded clean.
---
I was called back to Records.
Not Subdivision B this time.
Subdivision D.
Temporary Assessments.
That was worse.
---
A different clerk.
Younger.
Eager.
"We're compiling performance trends," he said brightly. "Nothing to worry about."
I nodded.
That was my specialty.
---
He asked about reaction time.
Decision latency.
Compliance with command intent.
I answered honestly.
Which was to say: selectively.
---
"You didn't intervene," he said, tapping the report. "Why?"
"Because we weren't assigned to," I replied.
"But you could have."
"Yes," I agreed.
He smiled, satisfied.
That scared me.
---
"That flexibility," he said, "is valuable."
I left with a stamped acknowledgment and the feeling that I'd just been promoted in a way that didn't come with rank.
---
Mika avoided me.
I didn't chase her.
Chasing only made things official.
---
On our next patrol, Hana broke silence.
"If it's us next time," she said quietly, eyes forward, "will you wait?"
Riku froze.
Morita-sensei kept walking.
I answered.
"I'll do what keeps the most of us alive," I said.
She nodded.
That was worse than arguing.
---
That night, Riku asked for reassignment.
Morita-sensei didn't argue.
The paperwork went through in three days.
Efficient.
---
His replacement arrived the following week.
Older.
Already scarred.
Transferred from a team that no longer existed.
He introduced himself as Jun.
"I follow orders," he said.
We all believed him.
---
Team Nineteen stabilized.
That frightened me more than instability ever had.
---
Mika finally spoke to me.
Not in person.
In a note.
They asked me to sign something I didn't see happen.
No names.
No details.
I burned the paper after reading it.
---
I didn't write a new rule that night.
Instead, I erased one.
Rule One.
Never be noticed by someone who cares.
It was no longer possible.
The people who noticed me didn't care at all.