Ayaka Oishi Perfect G Hiroko -

Hiroko frowned. Her data had missed that. "Sentiment is not fact, Oishi."

Hiroko watched on the monitor as Oishi approached the sociopath. She didn't fight him. She just… held his empty gaze. And sang a lullaby. A simple, off-key tune from her childhood.

"Perfect G," they whispered in the halls. "The first in a decade."

The G-Class Evaluation wasn't just a test; it was a crucible. In the gleaming, chrome-and-ivory halls of the Oishi Institute for Advanced Human Potential, a single letter separated the extraordinary from the obsolete. And for Ayaka Hiroko, the letter was G . Ayaka Oishi Perfect G Hiroko

But the "Perfect" in her title came with a shadow: her assigned partner, Ayaka Oishi.

"It's the only fact that matters," Oishi grinned, tapping her own G-mark. "That's why we're both 'G.' You see the pattern. I see the soul inside it."

Hiroko's dart hit his shoulder. Not his heart. The switch clattered to the floor, inert. Hiroko frowned

Oishi took Hiroko's hand. It was warm. "Perfect G," she said softly. "You keep the world precise. Let me keep it alive."

Hiroko stood on the rooftop, her tactical visor streaming data. "Four hostiles. Six hostages. Optimal solution: sniper suppression at 78% probability."

"No," Oishi smiled, wiping blood on her sleeve. "I'm the G that fills your zeroes. Together? We're Perfect." She didn't fight him

"No," Oishi said, standing up. Her eyes were bleeding from the psychic strain. "You do the math. I'll give him a heart."

Hiroko calculated the odds: 11%. "That's suicide. Your neural link will fry."

Where Hiroko was logic, Oishi was chaos. Where Hiroko was the scalpel, Oishi was the earthquake. They were two halves of the same loaded gun. Oishi, with her wild auburn hair and a smile that always seemed to know a joke you didn't, was a "G-Class Anomaly"—a raw, untamed empath who could feel the emotional shrapnel of an entire city block.