A low hum of fluorescent lights resonated in the small concrete briefing room deep beneath Tokyo. In this PSIA safehouse – a secret sublevel far below the city's busy streets – the atmosphere crackled with quiet tension. Hiroshi Kobayashi stood at the head of a steel table, flanked by the loyal team that had answered the all-hands recall. They were dressed not in combat gear now, but in crisp business attire or PSIA office uniforms appropriate to their new cover roles. Despite the civilian clothes, every eye around that table was sharp with resolve. One slip in the coming hours could spell disaster.
Makima, the Director-General herself, leaned against the wall with arms crossed, observing her hand-picked operatives. Even at this early hour she was immaculate in a charcoal suit, auburn hair neatly tied. Her gaze swept across the team as Hiroshi cleared his throat to begin. Yoshimura – the grizzled senior advisor who'd mentored many of them – stood nearby, one hand on the back of a chair, offering a reassuring nod to Hiroshi. This was Hiroshi's show now.
"Alright, everyone," Hiroshi said softly, yet his voice carried in the hush. "Phase One begins today. We're about to step into the PSIA Kanto Branch and live among vipers." He allowed a brief glance at each teammate: Aki, Himeno, Denji, Power, Kobeni, Angel, Madoka, Kishibe. These names were known only to each other and a scant few cleared staff; to the rest of the agency, they would just be new faces in new places. "Our job for the next week," Hiroshi continued, "is to map the entire web of traitors embedded in that branch – every mole, every double agent, every corrupted liaison. We do this quietly, no guns, no drama. Just observation, mind games, and subtle pushes. Understood?"
A chorus of curt nods and quiet "Yes, sir" replies circled the table. They had faced terrorists and monsters together – but infiltrating their own home agency was a different kind of daunting. Hiroshi felt the weight of their trust and the enormity of the task. He managed a faint smile to lighten the mood. "Remember, we're under our real names and histories, but we each have a persona to play." He tapped a thin dossier in front of him – Makima's carefully crafted cover stories for each of them. "Makima-san pulled strings to embed us legitimately. No disguises this time. Appear to be exactly who you say you are… while we quietly pull threads loose."
Makima stepped forward then, her voice low but firm. "Each of you has been assigned to a division that positions you close to our prime suspects." She nodded to Hiroshi, ceding the briefing to him, but the pride in her eyes was clear. This plan was their brainchild, and now it was in motion.
Hiroshi picked up from her cue, gesturing to a schematic of the PSIA Tokyo headquarters displayed on a wall monitor. Red dots marked certain departments – intelligence analysis, technical research, administration, field operations, even the Director's office. "We suspect foreign intelligence liaisons, corporate plants, and even cabinet office spies are all embedded across the branch," he said, referencing the intel Madoka and Makima had compiled. "They act like loyal staff on the surface. We will treat them as such – until we know who they are." His blue eyes hardened a fraction. "Our one advantage is that they don't know how we'll detect them."
He placed a hand on three Pokéball at his belt – one of three there. "Daisy, Akemi, and Alakazam," he said, naming the only Pokémon he'd be carrying openly into the field. At this, Makima allowed herself a tiny, knowing smile. Everyone here understood the significance: Daisy the Gardevoir, Kirlia Akemi, and his silent Alakazam were about to become the unseen blade of this operation. "Most of the agency has no idea what these Psychic-types are truly capable of," Hiroshi reminded the team quietly. "Or even that they exist in these evolved forms." He exchanged a look with Aki and Himeno; both had seen Daisy and the mustached Alakazam in action before, yet even they were still occasionally awed by the Pokémon's power. In the wider PSIA ranks, third-stage evolutions like Gardevoir and Alakazam were practically myths – curiosities at best. An Abra or Ralts was known to exist, sure, but evolving them was rumored to be impossible or too unstable. If any staff at the Kanto Branch noticed Hiroshi's partners, they would likely dismiss them as harmless oddities.
Kishibe let out a short breath, arms folded. The scarred veteran's voice rasped in the dim room. "So the snakes won't know the mongoose is among them," he muttered, nodding in approval. He was here as both participant and overseer of the younger agents – a role Makima trusted him with. "Good. They'll underestimate you, Assistant Director." He smirked as he said Hiroshi's new title, still finding it a bit humorous.
Hiroshi didn't mind the tease; he wanted the team relaxed but focused. "Exactly. I'm officially the naïve newbie with a fancy rank I didn't earn." He straightened his suit jacket – this morning he'd chosen a slightly too-large navy blazer that made him look even younger, as if he'd raided a parent's closet. The image in the mirror had been intentional: bright-eyed and green. "I'll be playing the part of a Tokyo University prodigy who got his Assistant Director post through pure nepotism." A tiny grin tugged at his lips, and a couple of the team members chuckled softly. Denji gave Hiroshi a thumbs-up of encouragement, clearly relishing the irony that their most experienced spy was masquerading as an unqualified kid. "They'll think I'm manipulable. We'll use that."
Hiroshi's gaze shifted to the others. "Each of you has a cover assignment Makima arranged. You're to blend in and observe without drawing suspicion. Let's go over them." He glanced at Madoka, who adjusted his glasses and began reading off the list from his tablet:
Aki Hayakawa: newly appointed to Internal Affairs within the Kanto Branch. Officially, he's an experienced field agent rotated into HQ for a desk role after distinguished overseas service. In reality, Aki will be our spearhead in investigating other agents' records and conduct. "Keep an eye on the execs and senior staff, Aki," Hiroshi said. The dark-haired young man gave a tight nod, jaw set. As a cool-headed professional, Aki was perfect to scrutinize colleagues from the inside – and any mole who tried to cover their tracks would have to get past his keen gaze.
Himeno: assigned as a psychological analyst in the Personnel Division. Her one-eyed, easygoing demeanor hid razor-sharp intuition honed in the field. With a role in HR and agent wellness, Himeno would have access to personnel files and an excuse to talk to anyone under the pretense of routine evaluations or counseling. "Use that empathy of yours," Hiroshi said softly. Himeno winked and saluted with two fingers, lightening the mood. "Roger. I'll make them comfortable – maybe too comfortable," she added wryly. A few smiled at that; if anyone could charm secrets out of a hardened spy with a disarming joke and a cigarette break, it was Himeno.
Denji and Power: both were slotted into the Tactical Operations division as fresh field operatives recalled from abroad. Ostensibly, Denji was back from a training stint in South America and Power from a security exchange program. Their cover gave them reason to roam the facility – weapons lockers, training gyms, motor pools – under the guise of orientation. Hiroshi leveled a warning look at the pair, who were already fidgeting like schoolkids itching for recess. "Denji, Power – no picking fights, understand?" "Yes, boss," Denji grinned, though his foot tapped with barely contained energy. Power clicked her tongue but nodded, her red eyes alight. "We will behave… until it's time not to," she said, baring a predatory grin that made Kobeni flinch. Aki rolled his eyes and gave Power a light elbow to calm her. Subtlety wasn't Power's forte, but she had a nose for ferreting out confidence (or weakness) in others. With careful supervision by Aki and Kishibe, the two youngest agents would be invaluable distractions – people tended to speak freely when dismissing someone as brash or foolish.
Kobeni: placed in Intelligence Analysis as a junior data analyst. Her timid demeanor and genuine nervousness were, ironically, perfect camouflage. Kobeni would sift through reports and feeds, watching for anomalies or evidence of intel being tampered with or misdirected. Hiroshi caught Kobeni's wide-eyed expression and offered an encouraging smile. "You'll do great. Just act like it's your first day – which it is." Kobeni swallowed and nodded quickly. "I-I'll try," she stammered. Himeno patted her shoulder gently. Everyone knew Kobeni's anxiety belied her true competence. And if a mole tried to take advantage of "shy little Kobeni," they'd be in for a surprise.
Angel: reassigned to the Records and Archives section. Officially, the pale, lethargic young man was a transfer from Okinawa's bureau known for his prodigious memory. In truth, Angel would quietly pore over classified archives and monitor communications logs for any signs of leaks. Angel yawned and gave a lazy wave. "As long as I don't have to lift anything heavy…" he drawled. Makima's lips twitched in a tiny smile. "Just paper and hard drives, Angel." The ethereal-looking agent nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Despite his aloof attitude, Angel's mind was as sharp as a honed blade – he wouldn't miss a clue in the paperwork that passed through his hands.
Madoka: given a role in IT Security and Surveillance. If anyone wondered why a mild-mannered analyst who nearly resigned months ago was suddenly back, they'd assume Makima personally convinced him – which was exactly true. Madoka would ride the desks at the tech department, auditing system security. That position gave him cover to run quiet searches into emails, camera footage, and access logs for suspicious patterns. He had already compiled an encrypted list of personnel with anomalies in their records – a starting point for their sweep. "I'll be invisible in the server room," Madoka assured, pushing up his glasses. "Nobody ever bothers the IT guy until something breaks." The slight smile on his face belied the intense focus in his eyes.
Kishibe: officially, he was listed as a senior training instructor rotating in from HQ's academy – a plausible reason for a grizzled older operative to roam the halls. Kishibe would have carte blanche to drop in on any tactical briefings or range practices, and to scrutinize security protocols. "I'll play the crusty old veteran kicking the young agents into shape," he said with a wolfish grin. "That part won't even be acting." A few laughs broke the tension. But everyone also understood Kishibe's real role: guardian. If any of the traitors tried something violent or if an emergency extraction was needed, Kishibe would be the first to act. His single eye glinted with anticipation – the old hunter ready for new prey.