The gunshots stopped after a few minutes, but the screams and chaos didn't.
Yumi kept her body low, one hand firmly on Emi's stroller and the other guiding Raika and Akemi behind a thick pillar for cover. Her mind raced — assessing, calculating. Years of detective work sharpened her instincts even under the heavy drum of adrenaline.
Across the wide food court, masked men in tactical gear were rounding up the crowds. Shouts and the butt of a rifle cracked against a store window, forcing a group of terrified shoppers to fall into line. One man barked orders loudly, swinging his pistol in the air like a cowboy, but immediately Yumi could tell — he wasn't the real leader. His stance was too loose, his voice too unsure. If anything, he seemed desperate to assert control.
The men flanking him, however, moved differently. They swept the crowd with military precision, securing exits, setting up improvised barriers from fallen tables and chairs. Yumi's trained eye caught it instantly — ex-military, or mercenary experience at least. They weren't just thugs with guns. These were people who knew how to control a space, dominate it.
And they were organized.
Very organized.
Yumi inhaled sharply, weighing her options. If she had been alone, maybe — just maybe — she could have slipped away and gotten the upper hand. But with Raika, Akemi, and Emi here? No. One wrong move could get them hurt. Her jaw clenched.
Raika was shaking slightly, clutching Emi's stroller like a lifeline. Akemi, though trying to keep calm, kept darting anxious glances toward the exits, her hand twitching toward the sunglasses perched on her head.
"Detective…" Raika whispered, voice trembling. "W-What do we do?"
"We follow orders for now," Yumi said quietly, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Do not fight them. Do not run. Stay close to me."
Akemi bit her lip, looking almost ready to argue, but Yumi's sharp glance silenced her. Instead, she wordlessly passed her the sunglasses and a black face mask from her purse.
"Put them on," Yumi ordered. "Now. You're too recognizable."
Akemi obeyed, slipping on the disguise. With her hair tucked into her jacket and her head slightly lowered, she looked like any other teenager.
Good enough — for now.
"Move!" a masked man shouted from across the court, waving his gun toward them.
Yumi immediately started pushing Emi's stroller into the gathering crowd. Raika and Akemi stuck close, following her lead without hesitation. They blended into the river of terrified shoppers being herded toward the massive open space in the center of the mall.
As they were pushed along, Yumi scanned the scene, memorizing everything — numbers, weapons, body language. She counted at least fifteen armed men, but it was hard to be sure in the chaos.
The man barking orders — the loud one — strutted in front of the growing hostages, waving his gun and shouting things like, "We want a helicopter! We want the government to listen!"
Sloppy. Disorganized. His demands were childish — not the words of a professional.
Yumi's eyes slid to a taller man near the side of the crowd, dressed similarly but carrying himself differently. His stance was relaxed, hands loosely resting near his belt. He wasn't shouting, wasn't moving frantically. His eyes were sharp, predatory. Watching everything.
That's the real leader, Yumi thought grimly.The loud one was just the puppet.
Within minutes, the mall's limited security — poorly trained, likely part-timers — had been overwhelmed. Their radios and weapons were stripped from them and tossed into a pile. A few tried to resist and were swiftly, brutally beaten down.
The mall was locked down.
Trapped.
The front entrances were sealed off with heavy metal shutters, likely triggered manually by the group. Police sirens howled faintly outside, muted by the thick walls and snowstorm still raging outside — but no rescue was coming in easily.
The masked men moved through the hostages, separating anyone who looked suspiciously like security, police, or bodyguards. So far, they had ignored Yumi — she had carefully kept her posture casual, blending in as best she could.
Raika kept Emi close, trying to soothe the baby who, thankfully, was too curious about the flashing lights and people to start crying yet.
Akemi stood stiffly, her hand clenching the hem of her jacket.
The minutes stretched unbearably long. Every instinct in Yumi screamed to act, to fight, but the cold logic of survival pinned her in place. They were outnumbered. Outgunned. Reckless action would get them killed.
She would wait. She would watch. And when the time came — when the odds shifted even slightly — she would strike.
For now, she stayed still.Protecting them all with her presence alone.
Across the food court, the loud puppet leader continued yelling nonsense into a confiscated mall microphone, demanding news helicopters and a million dollars.
Meanwhile, the real leader watched. Waiting.
And so did Yumi.