Afternoon - Sakura Lounge, day 3

The afternoon light slanted through the frosted glass windows of the Sakura Lounge, muted and gray after the rain. Akiko sat at her desk, a file folder spread open in front of her like an autopsy on the remains of her composure. She wasn’t trembling anymore, though the occasional phantom shiver passed through her as the events of the warehouse crept back into her mind.

The coffee in her mug had gone cold. She hadn’t touched it since Daichi brought it in hours ago, his quiet insistence that she rest still lingering in the air like a protective echo. But rest hadn’t come easily—not with the weight of what she now realized was in her hands.

She pulled another sheet from the folder, her fingertips brushing against the edges as if the paper itself might cut her. The document was mundane at first glance: an inventory list of what the warehouse had supposedly held—building materials, office supplies, generic cover items that wouldn’t raise an eyebrow in any standard inspection. But attached to the back, hidden between innocuous pages, was a receipt for a massive shipment of industrial-grade explosives.

Akiko’s breath hitched.

Her father didn’t know about this. He couldn’t. If he had known, Ryusuke wouldn’t still be alive to pull the strings behind the curtain. The realization only solidified her earlier fears: Ryusuke was operating with impunity, carving out a power base within the Hanabira-gumi that he thought no one would notice.

Until now.

She leaned back in her chair, her head tilting upward to meet the dim ceiling lights. The exhaustion weighed on her like a lead blanket, but her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. What she had here wasn’t just leverage—it was a death sentence, for Ryusuke or for her, depending on how she used it.

This could be the answer, she thought. The thing that finally gets my father to see the truth.

But the memory of her last conversation with him loomed like a brick wall. Koji wasn’t blind—he was willfully looking the other way. And if she brought this to him now, would he act? Or would he turn the focus back on her, questioning why she had meddled, why she had taken a risk that nearly got her killed?

She dropped the papers onto the desk and rubbed her temples, frustration bubbling under the surface.

A sharp knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Come in,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

The door creaked open, and Daichi’s familiar face appeared, his expression cautious but warm. “I figured you’d still be buried in that,” he said, nodding toward the folder.

Akiko offered a faint smile. “What gave it away?”

“You get a certain look when you’re trying to outthink a problem. Like you’re playing shogi against yourself.” He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.

“I feel like I’m losing,” she admitted, her fingers tracing the edge of the folder. “This… this could change everything, Daichi. But it could also make things worse. If Ryusuke finds out I have this…”

“He won’t,” Daichi interrupted firmly. He crossed the room and leaned against the desk, his arms folding over his chest. “Not unless you let him. And you’re smarter than that.”

Akiko’s gaze fell to the documents again. “Smarter doesn’t mean safe. Ogawa almost died last night because of me.”

“Ogawa knew the risks,” Daichi said. “He’s alive because he’s good at what he does. And because you’re worth protecting.”

The words made her chest tighten. Worth protecting. It was a sentiment that felt distant, almost foreign, in the world she’d been raised in. She looked up at Daichi, his unwavering presence a small island of stability in the chaos.

“I need to do something with this,” she said quietly. “I can’t sit here and wait for Ryusuke to make his next move. But I don’t know if I can bring this to my father. Not yet.”

Daichi nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Then don’t. Not until you’re sure you have the full picture. This,” he tapped the folder, “is just one piece of the puzzle. If you want Koji to act, you need something so damning he can’t ignore it.”

Akiko’s brow furrowed. “And how do I get that without tipping Ryusuke off?”

Daichi’s lips quirked into a faint smirk. “You’re asking the wrong person. But I’d start by figuring out who’s on his payroll. He doesn’t move this kind of weight alone. There are always cracks in the foundation—people who know too much, who don’t like being stepped on.”

Akiko nodded, a flicker of determination sparking in her eyes. Daichi was right. The folder was a weapon, but it wasn’t enough to win the war. Not yet.

“I’ll need Ogawa,” she said. “If anyone can dig up those cracks, it’s him.”

“He’s already on it,” Daichi replied. “I told him to keep a low profile for now, but he’s watching Ryusuke’s movements. When he has something, you’ll be the first to know.”

Relief washed over her, tempered by the knowledge of how precarious their position still was. She closed the folder and stood, her resolve settling into place.

“Thank you, Daichi,” she said softly. “For everything.”

“Just doing my job,” he replied, though his tone carried more warmth than the words alone.

As Daichi left, Akiko turned back to the desk, the folder now a symbol of both her burden and her strength. She wasn’t ready to face Ryusuke head-on, not yet. But she would be.

She had to be.

Late Afternoon – Nagoya Streets, day 3

The tires splashed softly against the wet asphalt as Akiko guided her sleek red Miata through the winding streets of Nagoya. The rain had stopped hours ago, but the pavement still glistened under the late-afternoon sun breaking through the heavy clouds. She gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary, her knuckles pale against the dark leather.

Daichi’s protests echoed in her ears.

“It’s not safe, Akiko. Stay here tonight. There’s no reason to take that kind of risk.”

But she’d needed to leave. The Sakura Lounge had become a refuge in the storm, but the walls of her office had started to feel too close, the air too heavy with the weight of what she’d uncovered. She needed space to breathe, to think, to shower away the remnants of last night’s chaos and let her mind wander without interruption.

The city passed by in blurs of muted color—neon signs flickering against pale daylight, pedestrians moving like shadows on the edges of her vision. Her fingers flexed against the wheel, the motion rhythmic, like she was trying to wring the tension out of her body.

She glanced at the folder resting on the passenger seat, its corners weighted with papers that felt like a ticking bomb. It sat there, innocent in appearance but loaded with truths that could ignite everything.

Ryusuke. His name hovered at the edge of her thoughts like a specter, unshakable and suffocating. His face, the quiet menace in his voice, the way his presence filled a room with the air of someone who believed nothing could touch him—it all festered in her mind.

Akiko… my dearest, Akiko. I’ve come to take you home…

The words weren’t real, just the echo of her own fears. Yet they felt tangible, like they’d been whispered directly into her ear.

She shook her head, her breath hitching as she slowed to a stop at a red light. A woman on a bicycle passed by, her umbrella bobbing precariously with the movement. The mundane sight grounded Akiko, pulling her focus back to the here and now.

Her apartment wasn’t far. Just a little longer, and she’d be behind closed doors. Alone. Free, if only for a moment, to strip away the masks she wore—daughter, manager, figurehead—and just be Akiko.

The light turned green, and she eased the car forward, her gaze flickering to the rearview mirror. The streets seemed normal enough, but a faint unease gnawed at the edge of her awareness. She’d been glancing over her shoulder ever since the warehouse incident.

She pulled into the underground parking lot of her apartment building, the familiar hum of fluorescent lights buzzing softly in the background. The folder was the first thing she grabbed as she exited the car, clutching it tightly as if letting it go might unravel everything she’d managed to hold together.

The elevator ride to her floor was painfully slow. Her reflection stared back at her in the mirrored walls—long black hair that still managed to fall perfectly despite a night of restless sleep, eyes that looked too sharp for how tired she felt, the tailored lines of her blouse and trousers betraying nothing of the chaos underneath.

When the elevator doors slid open, she stepped into the quiet hallway, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Her apartment door greeted her like an old friend, its familiar weight grounding her as she unlocked it and stepped inside.

The silence was immediate and absolute, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator. She locked the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, her eyes drifting shut.

Home.

The word felt hollow, almost foreign. This place wasn’t a home—it was a sanctuary, a hiding place, a gilded cage. But it was hers, and for now, it was enough.

She dropped the folder onto the coffee table and slipped out of the slippers Daichi had brought her, the cool tile a relief against her bare feet. Her jacket followed, draped neatly over the back of a chair. In the quiet of her apartment, the tension in her shoulders began to ease, though the knot in her chest remained.

A hot shower. That was what she needed. Something to wash away the grime, the fear, the weight of it all, not to mention the faint smell of garbage.

She moved toward the bathroom, her movements mechanical, her mind still spinning through the same endless cycle of questions. What was Ryusuke’s next move? How far would he go to protect his secrets? And how far was she willing to go to stop him?

As the water poured over her in a steady, scalding stream, Akiko let her forehead rest against the cool tile. For the first time since the warehouse, she allowed herself to feel the full force of everything—the fear, the anger, the guilt.

And beneath it all, a spark of something else.

Resolve.

She straightened, wiping water from her face as she stared at her reflection in the fogged glass of the shower door. Ryusuke thought she was fragile, a porcelain doll to be collected and controlled.

He was wrong.

By the time she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, her mind was clear. The folder on her counter wasn’t a burden anymore—it was a weapon. And she was ready to wield it.

Late Afternoon – Akiko’s Apartment, day 3

Akiko stood before her closet, toweling her hair dry as the last traces of steam from the shower dissipated into the air. The loose sweats and soft cotton t-shirt she selected felt like a small rebellion against the polished perfection she usually maintained. It was a rare indulgence—comfort over presentation—and one she allowed herself for the sake of regaining some semblance of normalcy.

Her thoughts, however, were anything but normal. They churned ceaselessly, circling the folder now resting on her coffee table. No amount of water or clean clothes could wash away the weight of what it contained.

The knock at her door startled her.

It was sharp, quick—just two raps before silence fell again. Her pulse quickened, and she froze in place, her grip tightening on the towel slung over her shoulder. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and no one in her circle would come without a call or text first.

For a moment, she considered ignoring it. Maybe they’d go away. Maybe it was nothing. But as the seconds stretched and her breathing slowed, anxiety got the better of her.

Cautiously, she crossed the room, her bare feet making no sound against the floor. She peered through the peephole, her breath hitching.

No one.

The hallway beyond was empty, bathed in the sterile white light of overhead fixtures. But something was there, just out of view. A shape.

She hesitated, her hand hovering over the lock. Logic told her to be careful, that it could be a trap, but the nagging pull of her own instincts urged her to act. Slowly, deliberately, she unlocked the door and opened it just enough to see what had been left behind.

A bouquet of flowers sat neatly on her doorstep, wrapped in crisp white paper with no discernible logo or tag. The arrangement was beautiful—lavender, lilies, and deep crimson roses—but it felt wrong. Too elegant, too deliberate, like it had been chosen with care to send a message.

Her stomach turned as she bent to pick it up, careful not to let her guard drop. She scanned the hallway again, looking for any sign of who had delivered it. Nothing.

Back inside, she placed the bouquet on the counter and unwrapped it. A small, plain envelope fell out, landing softly on the marble surface. She stared at it for a long moment before finally picking it up.

The note inside was handwritten in bold, angular script.

"You’re more radiant than ever. A rare bloom. Let’s talk soon."

No name. No signature. Just the cryptic message scrawled across the card like a subtle taunt.

Her chest tightened. There was no question in her mind who it was from.

“Ryusuke,” she whispered, the name tasting bitter in her mouth.

The flowers, beautiful as they were, suddenly felt suffocating. She shoved them aside, her hands trembling as she grabbed her phone.

She didn’t call her father. He wouldn’t care, wouldn’t listen.

Daichi answered on the second ring.

“Akiko?” he said, his tone instantly alert. “What’s wrong?”

“There was…” She paused, struggling to keep her voice steady. “Someone left flowers at my door. No one was there when I opened it. But there was a note.”

The silence on the other end stretched for a beat too long. When Daichi spoke again, his voice was low and firm. “What did it say?”

She read the words aloud, each syllable making her skin crawl anew.

“Damn it,” Daichi muttered under his breath. “It’s him. It has to be.”

“Of course it’s him,” Akiko snapped, the fear in her chest flaring into frustration. “Who else would it be? He’s sending a message, Daichi. He knows where I live. He knows I’m alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Daichi said sharply. “I’m on my way. Don’t open the door for anyone, and don’t touch anything else. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Wait,” she said, her voice softening. “Can you bring Ogawa? I… I think I need both of you for this.”

Another pause, but she could hear the understanding in Daichi’s tone when he replied. “He’s already with me. We’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her grip on the phone loosening slightly.

As the call ended, Akiko leaned against the counter, her hands braced against the cool surface. The flowers stared back at her, their vibrant petals a cruel mockery of the comfort she’d been trying to reclaim.

Ryusuke thought he could rattle her, that he could toy with her like some prize he was circling.

Her jaw tightened, and the tremble in her hands steadied. If he wanted to play games, she’d make sure he regretted it.

Akiko stayed rooted in place, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she stared at the flowers on the counter. The note, its scrawled message taunting her, felt heavier than paper had any right to.

Her apartment, her haven, no longer felt like a refuge. The silence pressed down on her, the air charged with an unspoken threat. She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to take a step back, then another, until the edge of the couch caught her. She sank onto it, her hands clutching at her knees as though to stop them from trembling.

Her thoughts spun wildly, refusing to settle. She tried to focus on Daichi’s words from earlier—his promise that she wasn’t alone, that Ryusuke wasn’t untouchable—but they felt distant, like a memory she was struggling to grasp.

Instead, her mind darted somewhere unexpected. To Takagi.

She could see him as clearly as if he were standing in front of her: rain-soaked, resolute, and unshaken in the chaos of the warehouse. The way he had moved—calm, deliberate, like a man who had faced death a thousand times and no longer flinched—had left an imprint on her.

He had been her anchor in that moment, a quiet, steady force that had pulled her from the brink. Now, in the sterile light of her apartment, that image brought a sliver of comfort.

Takagi wouldn’t falter.

The thought whispered through her mind, grounding her, if only for a moment. He hadn’t hesitated to stand between her and danger. He hadn’t balked when things went sideways.

He felt safe.

The realization hit her like a sudden gust of wind, and she didn’t know whether to be comforted or unnerved. Safe wasn’t a word she used often. Her world didn’t allow for it. But Takagi had made her feel it, if only for a fleeting moment.

Her gaze flicked to the flowers again, and her stomach turned. Ryusuke’s message was clear: he wanted her to feel anything but safe.

Her grip on her knees tightened. She couldn’t let him win. Not like this.

But what could she do? The folder on the coffee table held answers, but they weren’t immediate ones. It was a slow weapon, one that required precision and time to wield. Time she wasn’t sure she had.

The knock on the door startled her, and her breath caught in her throat.

Sharp. Quick. Just like before.

Her first instinct was panic, but she forced herself to stay still, listening. The silence beyond the door was suffocating. Her thoughts spun again, this time to Takagi’s voice cutting through the chaos of the warehouse, firm and unyielding. “Stay low. Keep moving.”

She swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears.

This isn’t the warehouse.

But it didn’t feel any less dangerous.

After what felt like an eternity, she moved to the door, her steps cautious and deliberate. Her fingers hovered over the lock, and she peered through the peephole.

Daichi’s face filled her view, his expression as grim as she’d expected. Relief flooded her, and she unlocked the door in an instant.

“Daichi,” she breathed, stepping aside as he entered, followed closely by Ogawa.

“We came as fast as we could,” Daichi said, his eyes scanning the room like a security sweep. “You okay?”

She nodded, though the tightness in her chest hadn’t fully eased. “The flowers are over there. And the note.”

Ogawa crossed the room, his movements sharp and efficient. He picked up the note, reading it with a clenched jaw. “Bastard’s making a move. This isn’t subtle.”

“No, it isn’t,” Akiko said, her voice steadier than she felt.

Daichi turned back to her, his gaze softening slightly. “You did the right thing calling us. We’ll handle this.”

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to let that small flicker of hope take root. But her mind kept circling back to Takagi—his steadiness, his resolve. A part of her couldn’t help but wonder what he would do in this moment.

“Ogawa and I are going to canvas your apartment to make sure there aren’t any hidden cameras or audio recorders,” Daichi spoke, his eyes vigilant.

For now, all she could do was hold on to that thought. Because in the storm of her own fear and doubt, the idea of someone unshakable—someone safe—was enough to keep her grounded.

Late Afternoon - Akiko’s Apartment, day 3

Akiko sat on the edge of her couch, arms crossed tightly as she watched Daichi and Ogawa sweep through her apartment with their scanning devices. The steady hum and occasional beep of the equipment only added to the tension thrumming in the room. She’d barely had a moment to herself since the incident at the warehouse, and now this—another violation, another reminder that Ryusuke’s reach knew no bounds.

“Anything?” she asked, her voice sharp with impatience.

Daichi waved his device over the corner of her bookshelf, the green glow of its display casting faint shadows on the walls. “Not yet. But don’t let that lull you into thinking this place is clean.”

Ogawa moved to the small lamp on her end table, his own scanner emitting soft pulses of sound. “He’s right. Ryusuke’s thorough. If he’s had someone plant something here, they’ll have hidden it well.”

Akiko rubbed her temples, frustration bubbling to the surface. “And how am I supposed to relax if you two are tearing apart my home? I just got back from the lounge, I showered, and now you’re telling me I can’t even stay here?”

Daichi straightened, giving her a measured look. “It’s not about what you want, Hanabira-san. It’s about what’s safe.”

Akiko scoffed, standing abruptly. “Safe? What’s safe? The lounge? A hotel? You think Ryusuke doesn’t have eyes everywhere? If he can plant a camera here, he can find me anywhere.”

Ogawa paused mid-scan, his brow furrowing. “She’s got a point. Hotels might be a short-term fix, but Ryusuke’s people could track her down with a few well-placed bribes.”

“Then what?” Akiko snapped, her voice rising. “I’m supposed to live in hiding for the rest of my life? Maybe I should just move into the lounge permanently, like some sort of kept woman.”

Daichi sighed, his tone softening. “We’re trying to help, Akiko. But staying here isn’t an option. We’ll figure something out.”

Ogawa’s scanning device let out a faint chirp as he swept it over the bathroom wall for the second time. He’d been lingering there longer than necessary, his intuition gnawing at him. Something about the layout—the way the tile felt slightly uneven above the shower—didn’t sit right.

“What are you doing?” Daichi asked, poking his head into the bathroom.

Ogawa didn’t look up. “Double-checking. If I were Ryusuke, this is where I’d put it.”

“Put what?” Akiko asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Ogawa squinted at the faint glow of his scanner. “The camera. Guys like him don’t just plant bugs—they like trophies. And the bathroom… Well, if he’s trying to watch you—”

“Don’t,” Akiko cut him off, her voice tight.

Ogawa grimaced but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned closer to the wall, running his fingers over the tiles until he found what he was looking for—a tiny, barely perceptible hole. “There it is,” he muttered, pulling a small flashlight from his pocket and shining it on the spot.

Daichi frowned, stepping closer. “A drill hole?”

Ogawa nodded. “Small, precise. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.” He grabbed his multi-tool and carefully worked at the tile until it came loose, revealing the tiny camera nestled within. “Bingo.”

Akiko’s stomach churned at the sight. “That bastard,” she whispered, her hands curling into fists.

Ogawa carefully removed the device, placing it in a small evidence bag. “It’s a spy camera, all right. High-end, too. He didn’t just want to listen—he wanted to watch.”

Back in the living room, the three of them sat in a tense circle, the camera resting in its bag on the coffee table like a malignant presence. Akiko stared at it, her jaw tight as Daichi spoke.

“You can’t stay here,” he said firmly. “Not after this. Ryusuke’s made it clear he’s willing to cross lines. He could’ve planted more than just a camera.”

“And where do you expect me to go?” Akiko shot back. “You think a hotel is safer? What if he has people on the payroll? Or worse, what if they don’t ask questions when someone bribes their way to my room number?”

Daichi hesitated, the lines in his face deepening. “The lounge is an option. It’s secure, and we can keep an eye on you.”

Akiko laughed bitterly. “Oh, great. I can just bunk in the office like a fugitive. That’ll really make me feel safe.”

Ogawa leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You’ve got a better idea?”

Akiko hesitated, her gaze flicking toward the window. She didn’t want to admit it—not with Daichi and Ogawa watching her so closely—but her mind kept drifting back to Takagi. His presence at the warehouse had been steady, almost grounding. He was dangerous, yes, but not to her.

“What about Takagi?” she said finally, her voice quieter.

Daichi stiffened, exchanging a look with Ogawa. “Takagi?”

The apartment felt claustrophobic with the weight of the argument filling the air. Akiko stood near the couch, her arms crossed, while Daichi paced back and forth like a caged tiger. Ogawa sat at the dining table, the exhaustion of the evening written in the bruises and bandages still visible on his face.

“Takagi?” Daichi’s voice was sharp, his disbelief palpable. “You want us to hand you over to a rival clan member? A yakuza from the Nagasawa-kai?”

Akiko’s shoulders stiffened. “He’s not just some random gangster. He’s…” She hesitated, struggling to put her thoughts into words. “He’s different. He’s respectful. He protected me.”

“Respectful?” Daichi stopped pacing and turned to her, his voice rising. “Respectful? Akiko, he’s still part of our world. You think he’s going to risk his neck out of the goodness of his heart? People don’t change just because they wear a nice suit and talk pretty.”

Akiko shot back, her tone sharp. “And what about you two? You’re yakuza too. Should I not trust you either?”

The words struck harder than she intended, but Daichi recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing. “We’re not saints, Akiko. We’ve done things—things we’re not proud of. But the difference is, we’re here for you. Not because we’re duty-bound or that we owe you or because it’s convenient, but because we care. You’re like family to us.”

Ogawa nodded, his voice quieter but steady. “He’s right. Daichi and I, we’re your uncles in all but blood. And believe me, we know what men like Takagi are capable of. We’ve seen it. Hell, we’ve done some of it ourselves when we were young and dumb.”

“You’ve done what exactly?” Akiko asked, her frustration bubbling over.

Ogawa sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “You want stories? Fine. I’ve seen more young heads than I can count get drunk and beat their girlfriends because they think it’s their right. I’ve had to clean up messes when some idiot decides his woman’s talking back too much. You think Takagi’s above that?”

“Yes, I do,” Akiko said firmly.

Daichi let out a bitter laugh. “Why? Because he played the knight in shining armor for five minutes? You’ve been through hell, Akiko. I get it. You’re traumatized, and maybe you think he’s some kind of safe haven because he was there when everything went sideways. But that doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy.”

Ogawa leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “It’s not about trusting him or not, Akiko. It’s about the stakes. You’re our boss’s daughter. Ryusuke already has his eye on you. If we hand you to Takagi, what’s to stop him from using you as leverage or otherwise? Ransom, blackmail—hell, even selling you out to Ryusuke to make peace or as a sex slave overseas somewhere.”

Akiko’s face flushed with anger. “Takagi wouldn’t do any of that.”

“And you know that how?” Daichi pressed, his voice rising. “Because he hasn’t yet? Because he was polite once? Akiko, he’s an oathbound yakuza. That’s what they do. That’s what we do.”

The room went quiet for a moment, the tension so thick it felt suffocating. Akiko took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. “You’re right. I don’t know everything about him. But I do know how he’s treated me. He hasn’t hurt me, or lied to me, or tried to manipulate me. He looks at me differently, as though he actually sees the girl behind the mask. Can you say the same for anyone Ryusuke’s sent after me? It’s a different personality, a different moral character.”

Daichi ran a hand over his face, the frustration evident in every line of his posture. “I can’t argue with that. But Takagi… He’s still young, Akiko. Still figuring out his place in their clan. He might seem different now, but what happens when his boss tells him to choose between you and them?”

Ogawa, who had been silent for a moment, spoke up, his tone softer. “Look, I know we’re being overprotective. I know it’s frustrating. But the stakes aren’t just high—they’re life and death. I’ve got no family left, Akiko. No kids, no wife. You’re the closest thing I’ve got to a daughter.” He paused, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve watched you grow up. I’ve seen you become someone strong and smart, and I won’t let anyone take that away from you. Not Ryusuke, and not Takagi.”

Akiko’s expression softened, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. “I know you’re trying to protect me. And I’m grateful for that. But I can’t live in a bubble. If I’m going to get through this, I need to make my own choices. And, right now, I feel safe about Takagi. ”

Daichi shook his head, exhaling sharply. “Even if I agreed, I don’t have his number. Do you? How are you even planning to contact him?”

Akiko bit her lip, then reached into her bag, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. “I have it. He gave it to me before he left the Lounge.”

Daichi's grip on the crumpled paper tightened as though he could squeeze the sense out of it. His jaw clenched visibly, but his voice, while firm, carried an undercurrent of exhaustion. "This doesn’t mean I agree with this plan. At all. Look, Akiko, if he so much as steps out of line—"

“He won’t,” Akiko interrupted, her tone resolute. Her eyes burned with quiet determination. “And if he does turn out to be something else… if I even feel an inkling of doubt, you’ll be the first to know.”

Ogawa sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair. The creak of the wood seemed to underscore his reluctance. “You’re stubborn and idealistic. Fine… call him. But we’re listening in. No debate.”

“Agreed,” Daichi said curtly. His sharp glance toward Akiko softened for just a moment before he added, “We’re not taking any chances with you.”

Akiko nodded, her posture relaxing slightly as if an immense weight had shifted. “Thank you. Both of you.”

As Daichi pulled out his phone, Ogawa muttered under his breath, “I still don’t like this.”

“Neither do I,” Daichi replied evenly. He looked toward Ogawa, then at Akiko. “But at least you’ll have someone watching your back for now. This place…” he gestured toward her apartment, his tone turning grim, “needs to be swept top-to-bottom, and I’m staying to oversee a team. I’m not trusting this to anyone else.”

Akiko bit her lip but said nothing. She could see the worry etched in both men’s faces. She wasn’t blind to their protectiveness, even if it sometimes grated.

Daichi glanced at Ogawa meaningfully, a silent agreement passing between them. Neither said it aloud, but both intended to keep tabs on her while she was at Takagi’s. For her safety.

“Until everything’s cleared,” Daichi continued, “your car stays put. Ryusuke’s eyes are everywhere, and your Miata’s too visible—it’d be more of a hindrance than help. We’ll take mine after another sweep.”

“And when we meet Takagi?” Akiko asked.

Daichi didn’t answer immediately, his expression flickering with doubt before he grunted, “We’ll meet in public. If he wants this arrangement, it’ll be on neutral ground.”

Ogawa chimed in. “And we’ll see if he’s half the man you think he is.”

Akiko folded her arms. “And if he’s not?”

Daichi’s face was grim. “Then we’re done here. You stay in safe hands—ours.”

Late Afternoon – Akiko’s Apartment, day 3

Daichi settled into a living room chair, the overhead light casting a faint glow on his weathered hands as he pulled out his flip phone. The worn plastic casing creaked slightly as he flipped it open. He glanced at the crumpled piece of paper in his lap—the one bearing Takagi’s number—and let out a low grunt.

“Shishi-O,” he muttered under his breath, keying the name into the phone’s contact list. The Lion King. It wasn’t an exact match for the man, but it was fitting enough for now. Besides, there was no way he’d list the name outright. Yakuza or not, Daichi wasn’t about to take that risk.

Once the number was saved, he paused, his thumb hovering over the keypad. The faint rhythm of the rain tapping against the windshield filled the silence. Finally, he began to type.

Meet us tonight. Neutral ground. Your call.

Satisfied, he hit "Send" and snapped the phone shut with a decisive click. A few seconds later, the device vibrated faintly in his hand, signaling the message had gone through. He leaned back in his seat, his sharp gaze drifting toward the neon haze of the city beyond the car window.

“Let’s see what you’re made of, Lion of Sakae,” he murmured to himself.

That evening, as they prepared to leave Akiko’s apartment, Daichi ran a final scan over his car, his movements meticulous. Ogawa stood nearby, his narrowed eyes scanning the surroundings. “We’ll take her to a neutral spot first. Let Takagi suggest something—public enough to avoid a setup but private enough to talk.”

Akiko waited silently, her arms crossed, the tension in her frame betraying her nerves. She trusted Takagi, but the lingering doubts of her protectors pressed heavily on her.

Eventually, Daichi slid into the driver’s seat, and Ogawa sat his opposite with Akiko taking the back. The sedan’s tinted windows provided some anonymity as they navigated Nagoya’s bustling streets. When Daichi’s phone buzzed with a response from Takagi, he glanced at the screen and let out a contemplative hum.

“What is it?” Akiko asked.

“He suggested his establishment: the Golden Crane Pachinko Parlor,” Daichi said, his tone unreadable. “Says his office in the back is private.”

Ogawa’s lips thinned. “Convenient for him. He knows the layout, and we don’t. It’s in the middle of their territory. Who does he think we are?”

Daichi sighed, then nodded. “Exactly why you two are staying in the car until I scope it out. If anything’s off…”

“Nothing will be,” Akiko interrupted, though her voice lacked some of the earlier fire.

Daichi leaned back in his seat, flipping open his phone again. The faint glow lit his furrowed brow as he began typing another message. “We’re not agreeing to anything yet. Let’s see what else he suggests.”

Neutral ground means neutral. Suggest somewhere safer for all involved.

The phone vibrated in response moments later. Takagi’s reply was succinct, as always.

Sakae Central Park, midnight. Open enough to feel safe.

Daichi showed the screen to Ogawa, whose expression didn’t soften. “That’s not a bad alternative, but it’s also exposed. Ryusuke’s men could easily track us there.”

“Agreed.” Daichi’s fingers tapped across the buttons again.

Too exposed. Need somewhere discreet but accessible.

The reply came quicker this time.

My office at the Crane. In and out quietly. Guaranteed safe passage, same as you did for us last night.

Ogawa grunted, crossing his arms. “Guarantees? From a Nagasawa man? He sounds too smooth. How many times have we heard lines like that before something goes sideways?”

“He’s playing on our sense of honor.” Daichi’s lips twitched into a faint scowl. “Damn good at it too. He knows he was treated with respect at Sakura. It’d look bad if he didn’t offer the same now.”

Ogawa grumbled but said nothing more. Daichi tapped out another message, weighing each word carefully.

Same courtesy extended to you at the Lounge applies to us. Anything happens, the alliance fractures. You vouch for your men?

The reply was almost instant.

I vouch. Your safety is my honor. Trust is mutual.

Ogawa snorted. “Less than a full day ago, he was eating our food and drinking our sake, and now we’re supposed to trust him with her life?”

Daichi nodded grimly. “Exactly why you two are staying in the car until I scope it out. If anything’s off…”

“Anything,” Ogawa muttered, his jaw tightening, “and we’re out of there, no matter what she says.”

Daichi pocketed his phone, his expression hard as stone. “I’ll give him this much—if he’s lying, he’s doing a damn good job of hiding it.”

Ogawa didn’t respond, his gaze fixed out the window as rain streaked down the glass, reflecting the glow of the city’s neon lights. The silence was heavy, punctuated only by the faint hum of the car engine as they began to move.

Evening – Golden Crane Pachinko Parlor, day 3

The sedan pulled up under the faint flicker of the neon sign, its glow casting rippling reflections across the wet pavement. Daichi sat behind the wheel, hands gripping it tighter than necessary. Ogawa was beside him, silent, his sharp eyes scanning the parking lot. In the backseat, Akiko leaned forward slightly, her face a mask of determination despite the emotional weight pressing down on her.

“You two stay here,” Daichi said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

Ogawa grunted. “Don’t get too comfortable in there.”

Daichi stepped out of the car, slamming the door harder than intended. The sound echoed briefly before being swallowed by the hum of the city.

Evening - Golden Crane Pachinko Parlor – Office, day 3

Takagi leaned over his desk, scanning through a stack of inventory sheets. The steady clatter of pachinko balls and faint hum of conversation from the main floor created a muffled backdrop. His sharp eyes flicked to the door as it creaked open.

Daichi stepped in, his face as hard as granite, a clear storm brewing in his expression. Takagi straightened, immediately alert.

“Didn’t expect to see you here so soon,” Takagi said evenly, though his mind was already racing, “What is it?”

Daichi shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment. “We need to talk. About something serious.”

Takagi frowned, his shoulders tensing. “Go on.”

Daichi’s eyes narrowed as he crossed the room, stopping just short of Takagi’s desk. He folded his arms, towering over the shorter man. “I don’t trust you. And I don’t think I ever will. But right now, circumstances are forcing me to take a gamble.”

Takagi raised an eyebrow. “You’re not known for being vague, Daichi. Just spit it out.”

Daichi exhaled sharply through his nose, his tone hard and clipped. “Akiko. She needs somewhere safe, and she suggested you. Ogawa and I think it’s a terrible idea. But she’s stubborn. And here I am, asking you to do something I think you’ll fail at.”

The surprise flickered in Takagi’s eyes, but he recovered quickly, his face going blank. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly.” Daichi’s eyes burned into his, unrelenting. “And don’t mistake me for desperate. I think you’ll screw it up. I think you’ll overstep. And I think you’ll take advantage of her.”

Takagi’s jaw tightened, the tension rippling through his body like a coiled spring. His voice dropped, low and dangerous. “I don’t think you know me as well as you think you do, Daichi.”

“You’re a young man,” Daichi countered, his voice rising slightly. “And she’s a beautiful woman. Behind closed doors, I’ve seen men give in to their worst impulses. What makes you any different?”

The air crackled with unspoken threats, both men’s postures taut and ready to erupt. Takagi stepped around the desk slowly, never breaking eye contact, until they were almost toe-to-toe.

“What makes me different?” Takagi said, his voice quiet but razor-sharp. “You think I don’t hate men who hurt women? You think I don’t know what it’s like to see someone I fucking care about broken because some fucking bastard couldn’t control himself?”

Daichi said nothing, his jaw clenching as Takagi continued.

“My mother raised me alone. Me and my sister. I watched my mother get slapped around by trash who thought it was their goddamn God-given right to treat her like garbage. The first time I was old enough…big enough, I beat one of them half to death. And my sister…she never made it into adulthood. Her body was found one morning in a nearby park, where she had been beaten, raped and strangled to death by her boyfriend and his crew. She was only sixteen. I was fortunate enough to find them before the police could. You remember on the news, oh, about 9 or ten years ago, that incident with all those kids’ bodies in that dilapidated warehouse across town? They were all middle or high school age. All boys.”

“That was you?”, Daichi solemnly asked, observing Takagi’s body language.

Takagi’s eyes burned with an unrelenting fire, his voice turning into a growl. “You think I’d ever lay a hand on her? You think I’d ever let anyone else? If you do, then you don’t know the first goddamn thing about me.”

Daichi studied him in silence, the tension between them sharp enough to cut. Slowly, he exhaled, his rigid stance relaxing just slightly. “If that’s true…” He paused, his voice softer but still laced with skepticism. “Then you may be uniquely qualified for this task. But you’d better understand this, Takagi. You slip, you fail, you even think about hurting her, and I will make you disappear. Permanently.”

Takagi nodded once, the fire in his eyes dimming into something more resolute. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Daichi held his gaze for another long moment before stepping back. “Good.” He glanced toward the door. “I’ll explain to her and Ogawa. You stay here. I’ll send her in once we’re done.”

Takagi gave a curt nod with narrowed eyes. “Fine.”

Golden Crane Pachinko Parlor – Exterior, Car

Upon returning to the vehicle, Daichi slid into the driver’s seat, his face a mask of suppressed frustration. Ogawa’s eyes flicked to him. “Well?”

“He’s got a mouth on him,” Daichi muttered, “but he’s not wrong. And he’s got… a story. One I believe. For now.”

Ogawa frowned but didn’t press further. Akiko leaned forward, her eyes flicking between the two men. “So?”

Daichi turned to her, his expression softer than before but still stern. “You can stay here for now. But Ogawa and I are going in with you. If there’s so much as a hint of trouble, we leave. No debates.”

Akiko nodded, biting back a smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Daichi pushed the door open. “Let’s go.”

Evening - Golden Crane Pachinko Parlor – Interior, day 3

The trio entered through the side door, the cacophony of pachinko machines a dull roar. Takagi stood near the back entrance to his office, his sharp eyes watching them closely. Sho lingered a few feet away, leaning casually against a wall, but his keen gaze locked onto Akiko the moment she stepped inside.

As Daichi led the group toward Takagi, Sho straightened, his tension visible despite his attempt to appear relaxed. He followed them into the back, his steps silent but deliberate, like a shadow waiting to act.

The door to Takagi’s office shut behind them, enclosing the room in a charged silence, as Sho kept vigil in the hallway.

Inside Takagi’s modest office, the tension was as thick as the cigarette smoke lingering from earlier. The room, though functional, felt stifling with all four of them packed into it. Takagi leaned against his desk, arms crossed, his dark eyes studying each of them in turn. Akiko stood near the door, her arms wrapped protectively around herself, while Daichi and Ogawa flanked her like a pair of grizzled sentinels.

The door had shut with a dull click, leaving the sound of the pachinko parlor’s hum muffled and distant. Sho’s faint movements could be heard just beyond the door, the younger Nagasawa member keeping a watchful eye on the hallway.

Takagi broke the silence first, his voice steady but laced with irritation. “Alright. Let’s discuss the situation. Was it Ryusuke? Whatever ‘it’ is.”

Daichi didn’t waste a second, his tone clipped and authoritative. “You know damn well it’s that bastard, Takagi. Akiko’s apartment isn’t safe. Ryusuke’s got his eyes everywhere, and his reach extends into places we can’t predict. She needs somewhere to stay, and—” his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly displeased with the arrangement, “—you’re the best option for now.”

Takagi’s eyes narrowed. “Best option? That’s rich. Fujimoto must really be making waves, then.”

“Trust doesn’t happen overnight,” Daichi shot back, stepping forward. “And just because we’re in a temporary alliance doesn’t mean I’m just going to hand over the daughter of my oyabun without hesitation. I’m here because she insisted. Let’s not pretend otherwise. But, to answer your question: yes. Fujimoto is waging a shadow war. Which is why we can’t always be there to protect our boss’ daughter. There’s a lot going on and changes in our current routines would raise questions and tip-off Ryusuke.”

“Why hasn’t your boss taken action? He must know about everything if we’re talking about it here.”, Takagi responded, “How can he let any of this stand? To himself or his daughter.”

“You’re not the only one asking that question, friend.”, Daichi answered.

Ogawa, ever the mediator, raised a hand. “We’re all on edge, so let’s keep this civil. Takagi, the truth is, Ryusuke’s obsession makes Akiko vulnerable, and there aren’t many places where she can stay under the radar. You’ve got a low profile, and you’ve shown that you can handle yourself. That’s why we’re here.”

Takagi considered them both, his expression unreadable. “And you’re sure this is what you want?” His question was directed at Akiko, who had been uncharacteristically silent.

She straightened, her voice calm but firm. “Yes. After Takahashi and Ogawa, I don’t trust anyone else to keep me safe.”

Daichi scoffed, but it was Ogawa who spoke next. “You’ve got to understand, Takagi. This isn’t just about keeping her hidden. It’s about trust—and not just ours. If anything happens to her, even a scratch, you’ll answer for it in blood. Is that clear?”

Takagi’s jaw tightened, but his tone was level. “Crystal. But let me make some things clear, too. I don’t appreciate being threatened and I’m not one to hurt women. You can thank my upbringing for that. The takeaway here is that she’s going to be in safe hands with me. If I give you my word, then know I always keep it. Woman or no. Rival or no.”

Daichi’s sharp gaze bored into him, searching for any hint of dishonesty. “Words are cheap, Takagi. Ryusuke probably says the same thing to himself before he does whatever twisted shit he does behind closed doors.”

“I’m nothing like him!” Takagi’s voice dropped a degree, his posture stiffening. “Say that again, and I’ll show you firsthand.”

Ogawa stepped between them, his hands raised. “Alright, enough. Daichi, Tetsunori, let’s all chill out.”

Takagi remained like a statue, his intense gaze locked with Daichi’s.

After a moment of tense silence, Daichi relented with a curt nod. “Fine. But this is how it’s going to go. We’ll bring her things here, and she stays under your roof. We’ll be checking in regularly, and if there’s anything—anything—out of line, I’ll be back. And it won’t be to talk.”

Takagi smirked faintly. “I just told you not to threaten me, Takahashi. I said I’d keep her safe, and I will!”

Akiko broke in, her tone sharper than before. “Enough posturing. I’m standing right here, in case anyone forgot. Takagi-san, I’m trusting you. Daichi, Yuto—you don’t have to like it, but this is happening. I love you both, but Takagi-san is my safest bet after you. We both know you two won’t have the time to babysit me while you’re contending with Fujimoto’s machinations.”

Ogawa sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I sincerely hope you’re right about this, Hanabira-san. For all our sakes.”

Daichi gave a reluctant nod, then turned back to Takagi. “Ogawa will return later tonight with the stuff. In the meantime, she stays in your line of sight at all times. I need to oversee things concerning the arrangements at her apartment.”

“Good,” Takagi said, pushing off the desk. “I’ll make sure Hanabira-san is safe and stays that way. You know where to find me.”

As Daichi and Ogawa left, the door clicked shut behind them, leaving Takagi and Akiko alone in the office. The room felt smaller now, the quiet stretching between them. Takagi leaned against his desk, arms crossed, his posture radiating tension. Akiko stood near the door, her arms folded, her eyes fixed on the floor as if deep in thought.

The silence didn’t last long. Sho’s voice called out from the hallway, followed by his easy gait into the room. “You good, Aniki?” he asked, his sharp eyes immediately taking in both Takagi and Akiko. His grin faded as his gaze settled on her. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Hanabira-san.”

She looked up, offering a faint nod. “Nishikawa-san.”

Sho leaned casually against the wall, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed his unease. “Alright, what’s going on? I thought Daichi and Ogawa were just here to talk shop. Now I’m seeing rival royalty in the back room.”

Akiko rolled her eyes at the nickname but said nothing. Takagi straightened, his tone measured but firm. “Her apartment’s compromised. Ryusuke’s already stepping up his attack. She needs a safe place, and this is it. For now.”

Sho’s eyebrows shot up. “She’s staying here? With you?”

“That’s the plan,” Takagi replied evenly.

Sho pushed off the wall, pacing the room with restless energy. “Aniki, this isn’t just a plan. This is a goddamn liability. Ryusuke’s not just friggin’ dangerous, he’s ludicrously well-connected to power. You know that. You’re putting a target on your back for this.”

“Already had one,” Takagi said dryly. “Ryusuke doesn’t scare me. And I’m not about to stand by and let him do whatever the hell he wants.”

Sho stopped pacing, his sharp eyes narrowing. “So you just decided to play bodyguard? What about her?” He gestured toward Akiko. “Is she good with this?”

“She’s right here, Sho,” Akiko interjected, her voice sharper than intended. “And yes, I’m fine with it. I trust Takagi-san.”

“What about Kondo? Does he know about any of this?”, Sho looked again to Takagi.

“No and it wouldn’t be a good idea to tell him, either. We need to keep this extremely low-key.”, Takagi answered.

“Nishikawa-san,” Akiko spoke, “This isn’t just about me or Fujimoto. The plans he has in place will have catastrophic consequences for both our clans. The documents I recovered prove as much.”

Sho’s gaze softened slightly as he turned to her. “I get that. But Ryusuke’s not like other scumbags. People say he’s really twisted. That he doesn’t just go after people—he destroys them. Like a serial killer. I don’t want to see you caught up in his games, Hanabira-san. Or anyone else for that matter.”

“I’m touched. Anyone specific?” Akiko asked, tilting her head.

Sho hesitated, his eyes flicking briefly to Takagi before he spoke. “Ayaka, too. If Ryusuke comes around here, I’ve no doubt he would also set his sights on her. She’s a good person, ya know. Doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess. But she’s young. Younger than us, even.”

Akiko’s expression softened. “You care about her.”

“Of course I care,” Sho said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “Fujimoto’s the kind of guy who chews people up and spits them out. Doesn’t matter if it’s you, Ayaka, or anyone else who gets in his way. I can’t abide that happening to either of you.”

Takagi watched the exchange silently, his dark eyes unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his voice cutting through the tension. “That’s why we’re doing this, Sho. To make sure Ryusuke doesn’t get the chance.”

Sho ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I get it, Aniki. I do. But you’re taking a hell of a risk. This isn’t just about keeping her safe—it’s about keeping yourself alive, too.”

“I’m aware,” Takagi said, his tone unwavering. “But someone has to step up.”

Sho studied him for a long moment, then let out a low sigh. “Alright. I’m in. But don’t expect me to sit on my hands. If Ryusuke shows up, I’m taking him out. Same goes for his guys.”

“Good,” Takagi said simply.

Sho glanced at Akiko again, his voice softer. “And you… just watch your back, alright? Don’t give the son of a bitch an opening.”

Akiko nodded, her voice quiet but resolute. “I won’t.”

Sho leaned back against the wall, his usual grin returning, though it lacked its usual edge. “This is shaping up to be one hell of a week.”

“Understatement,” Takagi replied, his tone dry but cracking a grin.

The three shared a look, the weight of their unspoken fears hanging in the air. Fujimoto Ryusuke’s shadow loomed over them all, but for now, they stood united against it. For better or worse, the lines had been drawn.

Evening – Golden Crane Pachinko Parlor, Takagi’s Office

Sho lingered a moment longer, leaning against the wall as though considering whether to leave. His gaze shifted between Takagi and Akiko, the tension in his expression unmistakable. Finally, he pushed off the wall, flashing a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Sho said lightly, though his tone carried a faint edge. He glanced toward Akiko, hesitating briefly. “Take care, yeah?”

Akiko nodded, offering him a small, sincere smile. “You too, Nishikawa-san.”

“Call me Sho,” Nishikawa shot back, then muttered something under his breath and excused himself, heading back toward the hallway and out of sight. The sound of the door clicking shut left the room quieter than it had been all night, the muffled hum of the pachinko machines the only backdrop.

Takagi leaned back against his desk, his sharp eyes studying Akiko as though trying to read her thoughts. She shifted her weight, suddenly aware of how intimate the space felt without the others present.

“So,” Takagi said, his voice steady but with a curious edge. “Is it true?”

Akiko blinked. “What’s true?”

“That it was your idea,” he clarified, tilting his head slightly. “To come here. To see me.”

She hesitated, glancing down at her hands. “Yes.”

Takagi frowned slightly, tilting his head. “Why? You’ve got Daichi and Ogawa—they’re . You’ve known them far longer.”

Akiko exhaled slowly, trying to find the right words. “Because… after everything that happened at the warehouse, I—” She stopped herself, her voice catching as the memory of the night surfaced. Her hands clenched slightly, a subconscious gesture of frustration. “I just… I felt safe with you. Safer than I’ve felt in a long time. I’ve been under a spotlight my whole life because of my father. People always watching, judging, scheming. And then Ryusuke… he makes it all a thousand times worse.”

“You, though…” She trailed off, looking away briefly before returning her gaze to him. “You don’t make me feel like a pawn. You don’t treat me like a liability. I don’t know how else to say it. There’s a certain comfort and a genuine sense of security. I know it doesn’t make sense, and it’s probably irrational, but... I couldn’t shake the thought that if I stayed near you, I’d be alright. Do you think it’s strange that I trust you?”

Takagi’s expression softened, the lines of his usual sharpness easing. “You feel safe with me,” he reiterated, almost to himself. He paused, then added, “Strange?” Takagi echoed, “I think it’s damn near reckless. But, if we’re being honest with each other, I can’t say. I’ve been thinking about you, too.”

The confession caught her off guard, and she tilted her head slightly. “You have? Reckless or not, it’s how I feel. And right now, feelings are about the only thing I can trust …and, please, call me Akiko.”

“Then, please, call me Tetsunori,” he nodded, his dark eyes unwavering. “That night… I’ve replayed it in my head more times than I can count. And not just the shootout.” His voice lowered slightly, the tension in the room shifting. “You. The way you stayed calm under pressure. The way you stood your ground even when everything was falling apart. I almost died right then and there. I saw my life flash before my eyes in the instant right before I saw you standing there with a smoking gun. I can’t get it out of my head. Akiko, you saved my life. Thank you.”

Akiko felt her cheeks warm, and she looked away briefly, trying to gather her thoughts. “I’m not sure what to say,” she admitted quietly.

Takagi shifted, his expression softening. “Look, Akiko, I don’t know what you’ve been through—your whole life, I mean. But I do know what it’s like to feel trapped, like there’s no way out. If I can help make things even a little easier for you, I will.”

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. A warmth bloomed in her chest, unexpected but not unwelcome. “Thank you,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Takagi replied, his voice gentle. “But I need to know—why me? I’m not exactly the most obvious choice for...whatever this is.”

She considered his words, her fingers brushing against the hem of her jacket. “Because you didn’t hesitate to protect me,” she said finally, her voice steady despite her nervousness. “Not for a second. I’ve seen what you’re capable of, Takagi-san. I can’t explain it exactly. I’ve been surrounded by people who are supposed to protect me my entire life—bodyguards, enforcers, even my father—but I’ve never felt this specific… sense of security.”

She continued, “Not like I did that night. And because we braved the storm together—went through the fire side-by-side...there’s a kind-of, I don’t know, kinship. You know. Like how they say soldiers who’ve been in intense battles form that familial bond with each other. I just feel like I can trust you. I mean, I do actually trust you.”

The sincerity in her tone struck something deep within him. He straightened slightly, his posture more open now. “Trust,” he repeated, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “That’s not something I hear often.”

Akiko chuckled softly, the sound breaking some of the tension. “You’re not exactly the trusting type yourself, I take it.”

“That’s true enough,” he admitted, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “But I think I can make a special exception for you.”

The words hung in the air between them, unspoken emotions swirling just beneath the surface. For the first time in days, Akiko felt a faint sense of relief, as though the storm raging around her had quieted, if only for a moment.

Takagi pushed off the desk, taking a step closer to her. His voice was lower now, almost a murmur. “You’re sure about this? Staying with me?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation, meeting his gaze. “I’m sure.”

The hum of the pachinko machines seemed distant, the room shrinking to just the two of them. For the first time in what felt like forever, Akiko felt a sliver of hope—fragile, but real.

For a moment, the tension in the room eased, the charged atmosphere giving way to something quieter, almost intimate. Takagi glanced down briefly, his jaw tightening as though debating whether to speak again.

“There’s something I should mention before we leave,” he said, his tone deliberate.

Akiko’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”

“My place,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “is spacious. Open. But… it only has one bed.”

Her expression froze, the words hanging in the air like a loaded weapon. Takagi quickly raised a hand, his tone shifting to something almost defensive. “I’m not saying that to be sleazy or anything. I plan on sleeping on the couch. I just thought you should know now, so there aren’t any surprises later.”

Relief washed over her features, and her lips quirked into a small, genuine smile. “Thank you. That’s… considerate of you, Tetsunori. Bordering on sweet, even.”

“Sweet, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Another word I don’t hear often.”

“Consider it a compliment,” she replied, the light-hearted exchange easing some of the lingering tension.

Takagi let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Fair enough. I just didn’t want to blindside you. This arrangement might not be ideal, but it’s what we’ve got.”

She nodded. “I think we’ll manage.”

Takagi studied her for a moment, his expression softening again. “You know, that bond you’re talking about… I’ve been feeling it too.”

Akiko blinked, her breath hitching slightly. “You have?”

“Yeah.” His voice dropped, becoming quieter, more introspective. “That night at the warehouse… it felt like we went through hell together. There’s this… connection. Like we’ve been through something no one else really understands.” He paused, his gaze locking onto hers. “It’s strange, but it’s there.”

Akiko nodded slowly, her chest tightening with unspoken emotion. “I feel it too. Like… like we’re somehow tied together now. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s real.”

“Kinship,” Takagi murmured. “Like the kind soldiers talk about after a battle.”

“Exactly,” she said, relief in her voice. “That’s exactly it.”

Takagi pushed off the desk, taking a step closer to her. “I know I already asked, but you’re really sure about all this? Staying with me and everything?”

“Yes,” she said again, her voice firmer this time. “I’m sure.”

He nodded, his expression resolute. “Then I’ll do everything I can to make sure you stay safe. That’s a promise.”

The sincerity in his tone struck something deep within her. For the first time in days, Akiko felt a flicker of hope—not the fleeting, fragile kind she clung to out of desperation, but something real and steady. Looking to Takagi, she answers “I know.”

Takagi’s smirk returned, soft and fleeting. “You know, you’re right. I think we’ll manage, too.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Akiko allowed herself a genuine laugh. It was light and warm, breaking through the tension like sunlight piercing storm clouds. For a moment, the chaos of the world outside felt distant, and they stood together in quiet understanding, united against whatever was to come. 

Evening – Akiko’s Apartment, day 3

The fluorescent lights of the hallway buzzed faintly as Ogawa leaned against the wall outside Akiko’s apartment, the weight of his fatigue pressing against him. It wasn’t just physical—the bruises from the warehouse still throbbed—it was the kind of weariness that dug into his bones. Protecting Akiko had always felt more like an honor than a duty, but Ryusuke Fujimoto’s recent escalation had turned that honor into a grim, consuming task.

Inside, muffled voices carried over the faint whirring of electronic scanners. The sweep team was thorough—two tech-savvy men and one sharp-eyed woman who’d come at Daichi’s personal request. Ogawa had watched them unpack an arsenal of specialized equipment: infrared scanners, RF signal detectors, and even small cameras of their own to probe inaccessible crevices. They’d fanned out into the apartment, leaving no corner unchecked.

Ogawa heard a muttered curse from one of the team members in the bathroom. His ears perked up, and he stepped inside, the tiny space cramped with the techs working.

“What is it?” Ogawa asked, his voice gruff but steady.

The younger man, barely out of his twenties, pointed a flashlight toward the ceiling above the shower. “Another one.”

Ogawa’s jaw tightened as he stepped closer. Sure enough, there was a tiny hole in the ceiling tile, no wider than the tip of a pen. The tech shone the light through it, revealing a small, glinting camera lens embedded inside.

“Fucking bastard,” Ogawa muttered under his breath.

The lead tech, a woman in her thirties with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor, tapped her clipboard. “That makes two cameras in the bathroom. We’ve also pulled three recorders from the walls.”

Ogawa’s stomach turned, but he nodded, his expression a stone mask. “Anything in the bedroom?”

Her lips thinned. “Not yet, but we’re still sweeping.”

Ogawa grunted his acknowledgment and returned to the living room, where Daichi stood with arms crossed, his expression dark. The two exchanged a brief, unspoken look before Ogawa gestured for him to follow.

Bedroom

The team had already dismantled part of the ceiling to access what they’d found: another camera, this one positioned directly above the bed. Two miniature microphones had been hidden in the walls, their placements precise.

Daichi stood silently, his jaw tight as he surveyed the scene. Ogawa could see the storm brewing behind his eyes. Finally, Daichi muttered, “I need a quiet place to make a call.”

“Use the balcony,” Ogawa suggested. “It’s the only place we know is clear.”

Daichi nodded and stepped out, sliding the door shut behind him.

Balcony

The cool night air hit Daichi’s face like a slap as he dialed Koji’s number, the weight of the discovery pressing heavily on his chest. It only rang once before the oyabun’s gravelly voice answered.

“Takahashi,” Koji said curtly. “Report.” 

“It’s worse than we thought,” Daichi said, his voice low but tense. “Ryusuke’s been spying on Akiko. Cameras, recorders—bathroom, bedroom, everywhere. He’s crossed yet another line.”

There was a pause, but Daichi could feel the restrained fury on the other end of the line. “How many?”

“Six so far, and the team’s still combing the place. This wasn’t amateur work, either. He planned this. Probably had it in place for weeks.”

Koji let out a slow, dangerous exhale. “That bastard’s daring. Too daring.”

Daichi hesitated, then pressed on. “What’s the call here, boss? Do we go public with this, or do we handle it quietly?”

“No,” Koji said sharply. “We’re not ready to move yet. Ryusuke’s got allies watching us—Hanabira can’t afford to look divided. But this will not stand.”

Daichi’s grip on the phone tightened. “Understood. In the meantime, Akiko’s staying at an undisclosed safehouse for protection. I don’t like it. She doesn’t like it. And we’re stretched too thin to keep her safe ourselves, but there are trusted protectors who shall remain anonymous.”

“Good. Keep me updated,” Koji said after a moment. “And make sure Ryusuke doesn’t get any closer to her. Use whatever means necessary.”

“Yes, Oyabun.” Daichi ended the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He stood on the balcony for a moment longer, staring out at the neon-lit sprawl of Nagoya. The city felt darker tonight, the shadows heavier.

Living Room

Ogawa was waiting when Daichi re-entered, his hands on his hips and a tight frown on his face. “What’s the word?” 

“Koji’s pissed,” Daichi replied bluntly. “But we’re not making a move yet. Ryusuke’s protected, and we can’t afford a public spectacle. However, he did say Ryusuke was now fair game.”

Ogawa grunted in agreement, then glanced toward the door. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something inventive for when the time comes. In the meantime, I’ll take these over to the Crane.” He gestured to the suitcases and bags that had been neatly packed by the female tech earlier. “She’ll need her things.”

“Make sure everything’s clean before you hand it over,” Daichi said.

Ogawa shot him a look. “You think I’d hand anything to Shishi without triple-checking?”

Daichi’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. “Just making sure.”

Ogawa hefted the suitcases, his movements slow but deliberate. His ribs still ached, but the pain was a reminder of what was at stake. As he stepped toward the door, Daichi’s voice stopped him.

“Ogawa,” Daichi said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Ogawa paused, then gave a small nod. “Let’s make sure all this shit ends soon.”

He left without another word, stepping into the night with Akiko’s belongings in hand.

Evening – Golden Crane Pachinko Parlor

The relentless symphony of pachinko machines filled the air, a hypnotic cacophony of clinking metal balls, flashing lights, and chattering patrons. The Golden Crane was alive with activity, but for Sho, the noise barely registered. His focus was elsewhere—across the floor, where Ayaka moved between customers with practiced ease.

Leaning against the wall near the breakroom door, Sho fidgeted with the butterfly knife in his hand, the blade clicking open and closed in a rhythm that matched his restless energy. His sharp eyes tracked Ayaka’s every movement, his mind a storm of conflicting thoughts.

She was stunning, even in the bland, logo-emblazoned uniform she wore. Her hair was tied back, a few loose strands framing her face as she smiled politely at a customer fumbling with their tray of pachinko balls. But it wasn’t just her beauty that had Sho’s chest tightening—it was everything she represented. A life outside this mess. A reason to leave. A chance at something real.

And yet, every time he thought about approaching her, about trying to bridge the growing chasm between them, the same doubts clawed at him. What if she didn’t want that? What if he was already too far gone in this life to be the man she deserved?

Across the room, Ayaka felt the weight of his gaze, her peripheral vision catching the faint glint of his knife. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Sho’s presence had become a constant lately, his restless energy filling every corner of the parlor when he was around. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate his concern—after the warehouse incident, she understood why he might be on edge—but his intensity was beginning to wear on her.

As she straightened from helping the customer, she glanced toward him, meeting his gaze. He quickly averted his eyes, the knife snapping shut in his hand as if caught doing something he shouldn’t. Ayaka sighed and made her way toward him, her steps purposeful.

“You’re going to scare off customers if you keep lurking like that,” she said quietly when she reached him, folding her arms across her chest.

Sho shifted, stuffing the knife into his pocket. “I’m not lurking,” he muttered. “Just keeping an eye out. You know, in case Ryusuke or his guys decide to show up.”

Ayaka raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. “You really think he’d come here? To a rival clan’s parlor, in the middle of their territory?”

Sho shrugged, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. “I don’t trust that psycho. He doesn’t play by the rules. You know that as well as I do.”

“Maybe,” Ayaka admitted, her voice softening slightly. “But you’re acting like I’m going to get snatched the moment you’re not around. You can’t keep doing this, Sho.”

“Doing what?” he asked, his tone defensive.

“This,” she said, gesturing vaguely between them. “Hovering. Watching my every move. It’s…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s too much. I know you care, and I appreciate it, but I need space. I need to be able to breathe.”

Sho flinched as if her words had struck him physically. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe,” he said, his voice tight. “After everything that’s happened…”

“I know,” Ayaka said gently. “And I’m not saying I don’t feel safer when you’re around. But there’s a difference between protecting someone and suffocating them.”

Sho looked away, his jaw clenching. “I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted after a long pause. “Not to Ryusuke. Not to anyone. I just… I need you to understand that.”

Ayaka’s heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, but she forced herself to stay firm. “Sho, you’re not going to lose me. But if you keep pushing like this, you’re going to drive me away. I don’t want that. I don’t think you do, either.”

He exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t know how to stop worrying.”

Ayaka’s gaze softened, and she reached out, resting a hand lightly on his arm. “Start by trusting me,” she said simply. “I can take care of myself, Sho. You don’t have to carry all of this on your own.”

Sho looked down at her hand, then back at her face. For a moment, he let himself hope—hope that she might be right, that he might find a way to ease the suffocating pressure in his chest. “Alright,” he said finally, though his tone was more resigned than convinced. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Ayaka said with a faint smile. “Now go get some air or something. You’re making my regulars nervous. We’ll talk more about this later. Ok?”

Sho gave a small, humorless chuckle, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “Yeah? Like, back at your place? You got it. Definitely! But if anything feels off before then, you call me. I mean it.”

“I will,” she promised, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

As Sho turned and walked toward the parlor’s exit, Ayaka watched him go, her smile fading. She cared about him—maybe more than she was willing to admit—but his intensity scared her. Not because she feared him, but because she feared what he was becoming. And deep down, she wondered if he could ever truly leave the life behind.

For now, though, there were pachinko balls to count and customers to serve. Whatever her future with Sho might hold, it would have to wait. Her ears caught the low rumble of a car engine as it drifted through the slightly-ajar front entrance. Ayaka glanced toward it, her brows furrowing. “Is that…?”

Sho moved abruptly, his hand instinctively moving to his jacket pocket, where his butterfly knife rested. He moved to the window, peeking through the curtain. His tense posture relaxed slightly as he recognized the vehicle pulling up to the curb.

“It’s Ogawa,” he said, turning back to her. “He’s got Akiko’s stuff.”

Ayaka rose from the couch, her expression unreadable. “Guess that means the night’s not over for you yet.”

Sho nodded, his mind already racing again as he walked to Ogawa and started helping with the bags.

Evening – Golden Crane Pachinko Parlor, Takagi’s Office, day 3

Takagi leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes fixed on the grainy black-and-white feed of the security monitor. The screen displayed the side entrance of the pachinko parlor, where Sho and Ogawa were unloading Akiko’s bags from the trunk of Ogawa’s sedan. Suitcases and neatly packed bags were passed between them, Sho balancing two cases in one hand like it was nothing.

Takagi tapped a cigarette from his pack and lit it with deliberate slowness, the faint flicker of the lighter casting shadows across his face. He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, his gaze narrowing in the moments he caught the subtle tension in Sho’s movements. Something was eating at him.

The door to Takagi’s office swung open moments later, and Ogawa stepped inside, followed by Sho carrying the last of Akiko’s things. The older man’s expression was as unreadable as ever, though the weight of responsibility seemed etched deeper into the lines of his face tonight.

Ogawa set down a duffel bag with a soft thud, then straightened, his eyes meeting Takagi’s with quiet intensity. “That’s everything,” he said before turning to Akiko, softening slightly. “If you need anything—anything at all—you call me.”

Akiko gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you, Ogawa-san. For everything.”

Ogawa hesitated before patting her shoulder in an uncharacteristic gesture of affection. “Take care of yourself.”

Takagi nodded, his voice calm but firm. “I’ll make sure she gets settled.”

Ogawa lingered, his gaze sweeping the office before landing back on Takagi. “You need to understand something, Takagi,” he said, his voice low but steady. “This isn’t just about protecting her from Ryusuke. It’s about proving that the trust we’re placing in you isn’t misplaced.”

Takagi’s sharp gaze didn’t waver. “I don’t take this lightly, Ogawa-san. You have my word.”

Ogawa stepped closer, his tone sharpening. “Words are easy. But keeping her safe? That’s going to take more than promises. Every moment counts, every decision matters. If you slip—if anything happens to her—it won’t just be your head on the line. It’ll be the alliance.”

Takagi met his gaze with unflinching resolve. “I know what’s at stake. And I won’t fail.”

Ogawa studied him for a moment longer, then gave a reluctant nod. “Good. Remember that.” He glanced at Sho, who was leaning casually against the doorframe, then turned and left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him.

Akiko watched Ogawa go, her expression flickering between weariness and gratitude. She glanced at Takagi, hesitating before saying, “I’ll be back in a minute. I need some air. Maybe stretch my legs.”

Takagi raised an eyebrow but didn’t object. “Take your time. Sho, walk her part-way.”

“On it,” Sho said with a casual shrug, though his eyes lingered on her with a touch of concern.

Akiko nodded and stepped out into the hallway with Ogawa and Sho trailing behind. The muffled clatter of pachinko machines filled the otherwise quiet corridor as the three walked toward the exit.

At the front entrance, Ogawa paused, his tone gruff but sincere. “Take care, Hanabira-san. And don’t hesitate to call if anything feels off.”

“I will. Thank you, Ogawa-san,” she replied, offering him a small, genuine smile.

Ogawa gave a brief nod and stepped out into the night, the faint rumble of his car engine fading as he drove off. Ayaka was also near the door, hands full with a small bag of garbage. She and Akiko nearly bumped into one another.

“Is everything ok?” she asked, her voice soft with concern.

Akiko nodded. “Yes. Sorry, just needed a moment. I’ll move out of your way.”

Ayaka didn’t press further, smiling and nodding to Akiko before making her way through the door, “Oh, you’re ok.”

Akiko also cracked a faint smile. It was nice to hear genuine concern, she told herself. The walk back to Takagi’s office was quiet but not uncomfortable, a comforting feeling welling up from within her despite the circumstances. As she reached the door and turned the knob, something felt different.

When she stepped inside, the air felt heavier somehow, the lingering smoke mixing with the weight of unspoken words between Takagi and Sho. She closed the door softly behind her and moved toward the chair near the office door, her presence drawing Takagi’s sharp gaze for a brief moment.

The quiet hum of pachinko machines in the distance did little to fill the silence as Takagi stubbed out his cigarette, rolling his shoulders as if shedding invisible tension. “Sho,” he said, his tone steady but carrying a hint of command. “Bring the car around to the side lot. We’re taking Akiko to my place.”

Sho pushed off the doorframe, his usual lightness absent. “Yeah, sure, Aniki.”

Akiko settled into the chair, her keen eyes flicking between the two men. She picked up on Sho’s hesitation instantly—the stiffness in his movements and the subdued tone of his voice. It was subtle but undeniable, a current of unease rippling beneath the surface.

Akiko sat in a chair near the office door, watching the exchange with quiet curiosity. She picked up on Sho’s hesitation instantly—the unspoken tension in his posture and the subdued tone of his voice.

As Sho exited to fetch the car, Takagi grabbed a couple of bags. “Akiko, grab what you’re comfortable with,” he said over his shoulder, his voice brisk but not unkind.

She stood and took a smaller duffel, following him down the narrow hallway to the side door. By the time they reached the parking lot, Sho’s car was idling near the curb. He stepped out to help load the bags, his movements sharp and almost impatient.

Evening – Golden Crane Side Lot, day 3

The trunk clicked open, and Takagi loaded in the larger suitcases while Sho tossed a smaller bag in with an edge of frustration. Akiko stood off to the side, her arms crossed as she observed them both.

As Takagi placed the final suitcase in the trunk, he caught Sho staring at the ground, his jaw tight. He shut the trunk with measured force and turned to face him. “Alright, Nishikawa,” he said evenly. “What’s going on? You’ve been off all night.”

Sho’s hands froze on the edge of the trunk before he leaned against the car, letting out a sharp breath. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, then hesitated. “No, it’s everything.”

Akiko tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing as she watched him. She’d seen Sho crack jokes under gunfire and laugh off the wildest risks, but this felt different—raw.

“The warehouse,” Sho finally said, his voice quieter now. “Almost getting smoked. Seeing my whole goddamn life flash before my eyes... It wasn’t just me I was thinking about.” He hesitated again, his words catching in his throat. “It was Ayaka. If I died… what would she think? Would she even care? I can’t stop thinking about her, Aniki. It’s like... it’s like I can’t live without her.”

Akiko blinked, surprised by his candor, but Takagi’s reaction was measured. Crossing his arms, he regarded Sho with a steady gaze. “Sho, I get it. But this thing with Ayaka—it’s eating both of you alive. I’ve seen the way she looks when you’re not watching.”

Sho’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re smothering her,” Takagi said bluntly. “You think you’re protecting her or showering her with love, but you’re pushing way too hard. Women aren’t like pachinko machines—you can’t just throw all your effort in and expect to hit the jackpot. She’s her own person, too.”

Akiko shifted her weight, her gaze darting between them. The analogy was unexpected, but she couldn’t deny the wisdom behind Takagi’s words.

Sho scowled, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I can’t help it,” he muttered. “I’m scared, Aniki. What if Ryusuke or someone else goes after her? What if I screw it all up?”

“You’ll lose her for sure,” Takagi replied, his tone softening but remaining firm. “Look, I know you care about her, and I respect that. But you need to reign in the helicoptering. Give her space to breathe. Otherwise, you’ll drive her away all the faster.”

Akiko cleared her throat gently, drawing their attention. “Sho, I’m not Ayaka, but I think Takagi-san has a point,” she said carefully. “You can’t protect someone by suffocating them. If she cares about you—and it seems like she does—you need to trust her to care in her own way. You can’t will or force someone to love you.”

Sho leaned against the car, his frustration evident. “I know that. It’s just… I don’t think I can just stop.,” he admitted quietly. “Every time I try to step back, it’s like something’s clawing at me. Like I’m going to lose her if I’m not there. I panic. There’s this… I wanna say an urgent, cold shock or feeling that consumes my whole chest. It makes it hard to breathe, hard to even think. My whole body tightens…”

Takagi stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Sho’s shoulder. “You’ve got to try. For her sake—and yours. If you can’t get a handle on this, it’s only going to keep tearing you apart. And then you’ll lose her for real. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but it’s what you need to hear. I don’t want you to crash and burn, Sho, but you need to regroup with yourself.”

Sho’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

Akiko watched the exchange in silence, the weight of Sho’s confession settling over her. She could see the strain in his expression—the fear and vulnerability he tried so hard to mask.

Takagi gave Sho’s shoulder a brief squeeze before stepping back. “We’ll talk more about this later, if you’d still like to. Text me if it gets too heavy. But for now, we need to get going. The sky looks like it could open up any minute.” He glanced at Akiko. “You ready?”

She nodded, her voice soft. “I’m ready.”

Sho moved to the driver’s seat, sliding in without a word, while Takagi and Akiko settled into the back. The tension in the car was palpable as the engine roared to life and they pulled out of the lot.

Akiko glanced at Takagi, her voice barely audible. “Do you think he’ll be ok? He looks a little stretched. Does that girl even know the full extent of his obsessiveness?”

Takagi exhaled, his gaze fixed out the window. “She probably does. But that’s not enough. She needs to feel it in a way that doesn’t smother her.” He looked at Akiko, his tone softening. “Kind of like trust. You can’t force it. You just... let it be. Sho’s a survivor. He’s just hit a rough patch and he’s finding ways to cope.”

Akiko simply nodded in acknowledgement of Takagi’s words, which surprised her with their profundity.

The road stretched ahead of them, and though the physical distance to Takagi’s apartment wasn’t far, the emotional journey felt infinitely more complicated for all three.

Evening – Ryusuke’s Trophy Room, Minato Ward, day 3

The hallway leading to Ryusuke’s most guarded secret was unremarkable—a narrow, sterile passage that could have belonged to any corporate office or upscale home. Its plainness was deliberate, a mask to hide what lay beyond. At the end of the corridor, a sleek black door loomed, featureless save for a keypad embedded into the wall beside it.

Ryusuke Fujimoto stepped forward, his polished shoes clicking softly against the tiled floor. His fingers moved deftly across the keypad, inputting a sequence only he knew. A faint hum followed, the door’s mechanisms unlocking with a whisper. A retinal scanner blinked to life, its purple light scanning his eye with clinical precision. The final lock disengaged, and the door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the sanctuary within.

He stepped inside, the door sealing itself behind him.

The room was bathed in a rich, moody glow of purple neon lights. The walls, crafted to resemble abstract crystalline shapes, shimmered faintly, their contours accented by soft lighting that pulsed rhythmically, mimicking the slow, hypnotic thrum of a nightclub. The air was crisp and cool, laced with the faint aroma of high-end perfume—an artificial cocktail of floral and musk that filled the space with an unsettling allure.

The centerpiece of the room was a meticulously recreated nightclub scene.

To the right, a polished black bar gleamed under the lights. A taxidermied woman stood behind it, dressed in a tight cocktail dress, her hands poised as if ready to serve a drink. Her expression was a frozen smile, polite yet distant, her glassy eyes reflecting the light like twin mirrors.

A line of patrons occupied the barstools—five in total, each woman arranged with eerie precision. One held a faux cocktail, her fingers delicately curled around the glass. Another leaned forward, her posture casual, her expression caught mid-laugh. Their makeup was flawless, their hair styled into perfect nightclub chic.

Beyond the bar, the mock dance floor extended, its black reflective tiles polished to perfection. A group of women stood there, posed as though caught in the middle of a dance. Two were arranged together, their hands linked as though spinning in rhythm to the soft, ambient nightclub music that played from hidden speakers. Others stood alone, their stances playful, alluring, or coquettish.

And yet, the perfection of the scene only heightened its horror.

Each woman was beautiful in a way that seemed almost unreal. Their taxidermied skin was unnervingly lifelike, their bodies preserved with painstaking care. Dresses clung to them in flattering cuts, and their shoes sparkled under the lights. But it was their eyes that disturbed the most—glassy, vacant, and utterly devoid of life.

Ryusuke moved through the room with reverence, his fingers trailing along the edge of the bar as he approached the empty pedestal near the back wall. This space was different, more deliberate. A sleek black plaque rested atop it, engraved with two simple words:

The Crown Jewel.

Beneath it, Akiko’s name had been added in elegant calligraphy.

Ryusuke stopped, staring at the plaque for a long moment. His hand brushed against the edge of the pedestal as if imagining the form that would soon occupy it. “Soon,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender. “You’ll be here soon, Akiko. Just a little more patience.”

His gaze drifted across the room, taking in the silent tableau of his “guests.” His expression softened, his usual smug arrogance replaced by something disturbingly vulnerable. “You’ll like it here,” he said, as if speaking to Akiko directly. “Everyone does. It’s perfect. You’ll be perfect.”

He turned toward the bar, pouring himself a drink with a practiced ease that suggested he’d done this countless times before. “Another long day,” he said to the bartender, his tone casual, almost conversational. “But worth it. Progress is progress, after all. It’s a shame you can’t mix me one of those cocktails like you used to make. Such is life, eh?”

He sipped his drink, his eyes scanning the room. “And you, Yumi-kun,” he said, addressing one of the women seated at the bar. “You’re still my favorite. Don’t tell the others.” He chuckled softly, the sound hollow in the empty room.

The faint buzz of his phone broke the illusion. Ryusuke’s jaw tightened as he pulled it from his pocket and flipped it open, glancing at the screen. A message from Kobayashi Ren.

“Surveillance compromised. They’ve moved her.”

Ryusuke’s grip tightened around the phone, his knuckles whitening. His tongue clicked against his teeth in irritation. “Fools,” he muttered. He finished his drink in a single swallow before setting the glass down with a deliberate clink.

With one last look at the empty pedestal, he straightened his tie and walked to the door, the hiss of its opening breaking the room’s eerie stillness. As the door sealed behind him, the moody lights pulsed softly, and the taxidermied figures continued their silent, macabre vigil.

Ren was already waiting when Ryusuke entered his study, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression carefully neutral. The broad-shouldered man was a picture of restraint, his posture stiff, but his sharp eyes betrayed the tension just beneath the surface.

Ryusuke barely spared him a glance as he strode toward the liquor cabinet, his movements precise, almost leisurely. The faint clink of glass broke the silence as he poured himself a drink, swirling the amber liquid absently.

“They’re smarter than I gave them credit for,” Ryusuke said at last, his voice icy but calm. “But not smart enough to stop what’s coming.” He sipped his drink, his lips curling faintly as if savoring both the taste and the thought.

Ren shifted, his weight moving slightly from one foot to the other. “The surveillance breach puts us at risk,” he said, his tone carefully measured. “If they trace anything—”

“They won’t,” Ryusuke interrupted, his words sharp enough to cut. He turned, leaning casually against the cabinet as he stared at Ren with predatory intensity. “All they’ve done is make her easier to predict. They’re reacting now, not acting. That’s when people make mistakes.”

Ren hesitated, the silence stretching uncomfortably before he ventured further. “This obsession of yours…” His voice dipped, wary. “It’s making waves. There are whispers among the men.”

Ryusuke’s brow arched, his gaze narrowing. “And?”

Ren’s shoulders stiffened. “And they’re wondering where your priorities lie. The alliance, the plans—there’s more at stake than…” He trailed off, his voice faltering under Ryusuke’s cold stare.

“My priorities,” Ryusuke said, his voice low and venomous, “are exactly where they need to be.” He stepped closer, the air between them crackling with tension. “Akiko is the key, Ren. She’s not just a prize. She’s leverage. Power. Do you understand what that means?”

Ren’s jaw tightened, but he held his tongue.

“Do you?” Ryusuke pressed, his voice a dangerous growl now.

“Yes,” Ren replied finally, his tone clipped. “But the men—”

“Forget the men,” Ryusuke snapped, his smirk returning, colder than before. “They’ll fall in line when the time comes. They always do.” He paced slowly, his drink still in hand, as if savoring the tension in the room. “This isn’t about them, or the alliance. This is about control. About showing them what happens when someone dares to cross me. Akiko is the linchpin.” He stopped abruptly, his gaze cutting through Ren like a knife. “She’ll bring them to their knees. All of them.”

Ren’s lips pressed into a thin line, his unease palpable. “And if she doesn’t?”

Ryusuke chuckled softly, a sound that was anything but warm. “She will. You doubt me, Ren?”

Ren didn’t flinch, though the question hung in the air like a blade over his head. “I’m saying we can’t afford any missteps. Not now. Not with everything in motion.”

Ryusuke’s eyes gleamed with something dark and unreadable. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re worried about the alliance. About the men. Let me make something perfectly clear to you, Ren. I don’t care what they think, or what they whisper. They’re tools, just like everyone else. Replaceable. Dispensable. The only thing that matters is the endgame.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “And Akiko is part of that endgame.”

Ren’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, his gaze lowering slightly. “Of course,” he said quietly, the deference in his tone unmistakable.

“Good,” Ryusuke said, his smirk widening. He turned back toward his desk, setting his drink down with deliberate care. “Now leave me. There’s much to do.”

Ren lingered for a moment, his eyes flicking toward the shelves that lined the walls—toward the glass case sitting prominently on the far end. He hesitated, then inclined his head and stepped out, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

Ryusuke waited until the sound of Ren’s footsteps faded before moving toward the shelf. His gaze fixed on the small glass case, inside which sat Akiko’s heels, perfectly preserved. He opened the case, his fingers brushing lightly over the delicate straps as though handling a priceless artifact.

“One step closer,” he murmured, his voice a mix of satisfaction and longing. He lifted the shoes briefly, studying them under the light before setting them back in their place with meticulous care.

The shadows in the room deepened as Ryusuke poured himself another drink, his thoughts consumed by the image of Akiko—not as she was, but as she would be, when she became the crowning jewel of his collection. A smile curled his lips, slow and sinister, as he raised his glass in a silent toast to his own twisted vision.

“To perfection,” he whispered, his voice lingering in the stillness of the study.

Evening – Ryusuke’s Study, day 3

Ryusuke leaned forward at his desk, his hand wrapped tightly around a tumbler of whiskey as he stared at the glowing monitors before him. The walls of his study seemed to close in, the dim light of the screens casting eerie shadows on his face. His focus was singular, predatory, as he sifted through the recordings retrieved from Akiko’s apartment.

The video feed on the central screen played at normal speed, a grainy display of Akiko’s bathroom moments before Ogawa had ripped the camera from its concealed position. Ryusuke’s lips thinned as he paused the footage, rewound it slightly, and pressed play again. The faint sound of running water filled the speakers—a mundane scene of an empty room, yet it felt tainted with the tension of discovery.

“They found it too quickly,” he murmured to himself, his eyes narrowing as he toggled to a different feed, this one from the camera in her bedroom. He scrubbed back in the timeline to the hours before Akiko had returned from the lounge, noting every flicker of motion, every change in lighting.

Then he saw it.

Ryusuke’s fingers stilled on the keyboard as a shadow passed across the bedroom wall, just barely visible in the dimly lit footage. He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing, and scrubbed the video back. The timestamp read just past 3:00 AM—nearly an hour before Akiko had returned home.

The shadow moved again, resolving into the shape of a figure entering the frame. Ryusuke froze the playback, his gaze sharpening. The figure wore dark clothing, blending almost seamlessly with the shadows of the room. A hood obscured most of the face, leaving only the vaguest hint of a jawline visible.

“Who the hell are you?” Ryusuke muttered, his voice a low growl.

He resumed the footage, watching as the intruder moved with precision, avoiding the lines of sight of most of the cameras. But not all. On another screen, the hallway camera captured a partial side profile—a quick glimpse of a man of average build, his face still indistinct due to the angle and shadows.

Ryusuke rewound and played the segment again, frustration building with each failed attempt to glean more details. The intruder had clearly scoped the apartment, spending only a few minutes in the space before slipping back out the same way they came.

“Damn it,” Ryusuke hissed, slamming the whiskey glass onto the desk. He toggled between cameras, trying to trace the figure’s path in reverse. He froze the frame again on the hallway feed, scrutinizing the intruder’s movements. Something about their body language—calm, deliberate—struck a chord in him. This wasn’t some petty thief or random trespasser.

A bead of sweat rolled down Ryusuke’s temple as he leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. The cameras outside the apartment building offered no clues; the figure had avoided them completely.

He toggled the feeds again, rewinding further, his jaw tightening. Who would dare step into his game, uninvited? Who even knew about the cameras?

“Kobayashi,” Ryusuke barked suddenly, his voice slicing through the tense quiet.

Ren opened the door moments later, his expression neutral but alert. “Yes, Ryusuke-sama?”

Ryusuke jabbed a finger at the screen. “Find out who this is. I want every resource, every contact not already trying to locate Akiko, working on this. Whoever stepped into that apartment—figure it out.”

Ren stepped closer, his gaze moving to the frozen frame on the monitor. His brow furrowed slightly as he studied the grainy image. “No distinguishing features?”

“None,” Ryusuke said through gritted teeth. “Either they knew exactly what they were doing, or we’re dealing with someone who’s just lucky enough to piss me off.” He leaned forward again, his voice dropping to a venomous growl. “I don’t believe in luck.”

Ren inclined his head. “I’ll handle it.”

Ryusuke waved him off, his attention already returning to the screens as Ren exited the room. His pulse thrummed in his ears as he scrubbed the footage back once more, his gaze fixed on the shadowy figure slipping into Akiko’s apartment like a ghost.

As the minutes stretched into an eternity, Ryusuke’s smirk returned, though it lacked any trace of mirth. Whoever this stranger was, they had stepped into a game they couldn’t possibly win.

“Soon,” he muttered to himself, his fingers drumming against the desk. “Very soon, we’ll see just how clever you really are.”

The monitor’s faint glow reflected in his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, his thoughts a swirling mix of obsession and rage.

Somewhere in Nagoya, a new piece had entered the board. And Ryusuke intended to find them—no matter the cost.

Evening – Takagi’s Apartment Building, Elevator Lobby 10F, day 3

The metallic hum of the elevator echoed softly in the quiet hallway as Sho stepped inside, turning to face Takagi and Akiko. His casual demeanor from earlier had faded, replaced by a lingering tension that hung in the air.

“You two be careful,” Sho said, his sharp eyes flicking briefly to Akiko before settling on Takagi. “And if anything goes sideways—”

“I’ll handle it,” Takagi cut in, his voice steady. “Thanks for the ride.”

Sho hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, alright. Catch you later, Aniki.”

As the elevator doors slid shut, Akiko caught the faintest glimpse of unease in Sho’s expression before he disappeared from view. She glanced at Takagi, who stood silently for a moment before turning and leading the way down the hallway to his apartment.

Takagi’s Apartment

The soft click of the lock echoed as Takagi opened the door and stepped aside, motioning for Akiko to enter first. She hesitated for a moment, then stepped over the threshold, her heels clicking faintly against the hardwood floor.

The apartment was larger than she had anticipated, but the open layout gave it a sense of simplicity rather than extravagance. The main room stretched out before her like a snapshot of Takagi himself—pragmatic, neat, but not without its touches of character. Wide windows framed the far wall near the living room and bed, offering a breathtaking view of Sakae’s nighttime skyline. Neon lights spilled across the glass, bathing the room in an ever-shifting palette of colors. The drapes, tied neatly with ornate ropes, could easily be drawn to provide complete privacy, but for now, the city outside felt like a living painting, vibrant and alive.

The walls were brushed white, their texture lending an artistic flair, and the black window frames provided a subtle contrast that complemented the apartment’s understated elegance. The kitchen area, tucked neatly into one corner, caught her attention. A bamboo backsplash extended halfway up the wall, doubling as a trim that added warmth to the space. Black counters with sleek stone tops were impeccably clean, while an array of pots and pans hung in precise order above the workspace. A custom bamboo cutting board rested beside sleek utensil holders filled with an assortment of cooking tools, each one carefully arranged. It was the kind of setup that hinted at someone who not only cooked but enjoyed the process.

The neatly made bed stood against the far wall, its navy bedding understated but inviting. Nearer the center, the den was arranged with a modest sofa, a low coffee table, and a large, flat-screen television mounted on the wall.

To her right, a closed door led to what she assumed was the bathroom. Beside it, another door stood ajar, revealing a glimpse of a storage room crammed with boxes, spare furniture, and miscellaneous items. It struck her as a lived-in space—functional, yes, but not devoid of personality.

Akiko let her gaze wander as Takagi set down the last of her bags near the sofa. She couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as she crossed the room, as though every step was being scrutinized. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, mixing with the faintly metallic tang of the city.

“It’s not much,” Takagi said, breaking the silence as he slipped off his jacket and draped it over the back of the sofa. “But it’s safe. Make yourself at home.”

Akiko forced a small smile, her hands clasping in front of her. “It’s more than enough. Thank you, Takagi-san.”

“Call me Tetsunori,” he said without looking at her, his attention briefly on adjusting a small stack of magazines on the coffee table.

Her smile softened at the gesture, but her stomach fluttered uneasily. Tetsunori. Tetsu. The name sounded intimate when she said it in her head, far more personal than the reserved formality she was used to.

As Takagi moved to the kitchen to grab bottled water from the fridge, Akiko let her guard down just enough to take in her surroundings more fully.

The bed caught her eye again. Her cheeks warmed as she remembered his earlier mention of sleeping arrangements. Though he had reassured her she would have the bed while he took the sofa, the thought of sharing a space like this with him felt unexpectedly intimate.

She turned her gaze to the storage room, noting its disarray. It was clear that offering her that space wasn’t a practical option, though it reassured her that he had considered it. There was something inherently protective in that thought, and she found herself softening toward him even further.

This is all so surreal, she thought, her hands unconsciously smoothing her skirt. Barely two days ago, we were strangers. Now I’m standing in his apartment, feeling… safe. Comfortable, even.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she unpacked that thought. The feeling of safety was rare for her, especially since Ryusuke had inserted himself into her life like a malignant shadow. Yet here, in this space that felt so distinctly Takagi, that shadow seemed more distant.

Then there was the matter of her behavior earlier. She had caught herself leaning into their exchanges more than she should have—smiling a bit too warmly, lingering on his words longer than necessary. She had felt like a schoolgirl, caught in the magnetic pull of someone she shouldn’t be drawn to.

Her cheeks warmed again, and she mentally berated herself. What’s wrong with me? This isn’t some romantic escapade. This is survival.

But the truth gnawed at her. She trusted him. More than that, she liked him. She admired his unwavering resolve, his quiet strength, and the way he had stood his ground time and again. The way he made her feel safe, comfortable and protected. But that admiration was slipping dangerously close to something else.

“Water?” Takagi asked, his voice cutting through her thoughts.

She blinked, startled, and turned to see him holding out a bottle. “Oh, yes. Thank you,” she said, taking it from him with a small nod of gratitude.

He studied her for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, though her tone wavered slightly. She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. “It’s just… a lot to process. Being here, I mean. After everything that’s happened.”

Takagi nodded, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Makes sense. You’ve been through hell the past few days. It’s not going to feel normal for a while.”

Akiko hesitated, then asked softly, “And you? Does any of this feel normal to you?”

He smirked faintly, the expression not unkind. “Normal went out the window a long time ago. You learn to roll with it after a while. Just… take it one day at a time, ya know.”

His words were simple, but they struck a chord in her. He wasn’t dismissing her fears—he was acknowledging them, showing her that he understood in his own quiet way.

“I’ll try,” she said, her voice quieter now.

Takagi nodded again, his expression softening just enough to be reassuring. “That’s all anyone can do.”

For a moment, the room fell into a companionable silence, the weight of the day settling over both of them. Akiko let herself breathe, the surrealness of the situation slowly giving way to an odd sense of comfort.

Maybe, she thought, just maybe, I made the right choice coming here.

Takagi watched Akiko carry her bags over to the bed area, her movements deliberate as she began setting things up. He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed casually. “You hungry?” he asked, breaking the quiet.

She paused mid-unpacking, her hands resting on a small toiletries case. “Starving, actually. I didn’t have much of a chance to eat today.”

“What kind of food do you like?” Takagi asked, pushing himself upright.

Akiko glanced over her shoulder, slightly surprised by the question. “You mean takeout or home cooking?”

“Either,” he replied with a shrug.

She set the case down and turned to face him. “What kind of food do you normally eat? What do you have on hand?”

“Mostly Japanese,” he said. “Fresh veggies, fruits, lean meats. Simple, healthy stuff. Nothing fancy.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you cook, or are you expecting me to make something?”

Takagi smirked faintly, meeting her gaze. “I cook. I wouldn’t ask you to do that after the day you’ve had.”

Her lips quirked in a slight smile, and she nodded. “Then I’ll eat whatever you decide to make.”

“Alright,” he said, already moving toward the fridge. “Shouldn’t take long.”

As he began pulling out ingredients—crisp vegetables, a tray of lean chicken, and small jars of sauces—Akiko felt a warmth rise in her chest. It wasn’t just the offer of food; it was the way he’d asked, the way he’d taken the reins without being overbearing. He was naturally assertive, but there was a gentleness in his tone, a care in his actions that caught her off guard.

She returned to unpacking her things, but her eyes occasionally drifted toward him, watching as he worked. He wasn’t the Takagi who had barked orders in the warehouse or stared down her protectors at the Golden Crane. This was a quieter, almost boyish version of him, one she hadn’t expected.

He fumbled with a bottle of soy sauce for a moment, muttering something under his breath before twisting the cap free. Akiko stifled a laugh, finding his private awkwardness endearing. When he wasn’t in ‘bruiser mode,’ there was a kind of charm about him—something unpolished, almost shy. It was… cute.

The realization made her heart skip, and she quickly turned back to her suitcase, her hands busier than they needed to be. What was she doing? Why was she acting like a schoolgirl around him? She hadn’t intended to flirt earlier, but thinking back, she wondered if it had come across that way.

She inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself. Her feelings were a tangled mess—part admiration, part gratitude, part something deeper and harder to define. Was it genuine affection, or was she just clinging to the first person who had truly seen her for who she was, rather than as the daughter of an oyabun?

Her eyes flicked back to him as he moved gracefully between the counter and the stove, focused and deliberate in his motions. Takagi wasn’t just a dream or a romanticized idea. He was real. He was kind. He listened to her without judgment and had stood by her when things had fallen apart.

And yet… he was dangerous, too. His reputation, his strength, even his looks—everything about him screamed risk. But wasn’t that part of the allure? She couldn’t deny the magnetic pull she felt toward him, but was it love? A crush? Or was she just seeking comfort in the wake of her trauma?

Akiko’s mind raced, the patient angel on one shoulder telling her to be cautious, to wait and see. The lovesick devil on the other whispered that she was wasting time, that she should run to him, throw herself into his arms, and let herself feel safe for once.

She clenched her fists briefly, forcing herself to focus. Other men had been kind to her before—at least at first. She prided herself on her ability to read people, but Takagi was an enigma. He wasn’t like the others, but she couldn’t yet put her finger on why.

“Akiko-san,” Takagi’s voice interrupted her thoughts, drawing her gaze. He was looking at her from the kitchen, holding up a bundle of scallions. “Are you OK with these?”

She blinked, then nodded. “Yes, I love them actually.”

His dark eyes lingered on her for a moment, as if sensing the weight of her thoughts, but he didn’t press. Instead, he turned back to his cooking, the soft sizzle of chicken in the pan filling the air.

Akiko exhaled slowly, grounding herself in the present. Whatever this was—whatever she felt—it wasn’t something she could figure out tonight. For now, she’d focus on the small comforts: the smell of the food, the warmth of the apartment, and the quiet presence of the man who had unexpectedly become her anchor in the storm.

Evening – Takagi’s Kitchen, day 3

The chicken sizzled in the pan, its aroma mingling with the subtle tang of garlic and soy sauce. Takagi worked in measured movements, flipping the pieces with practiced ease, the rich brown sear spreading evenly across the surface. He reached for a small bowl of sliced scallions, sprinkling them into the pan and stirring gently, the green flecks contrasting against the golden hues of the chicken.

It was a trendy dish—one he’d picked up from a cooking magazine on health-conscious Japanese cuisine—and one he hadn’t made in a while. Takagi had always found cooking therapeutic, a small ritual of control and creation that let him center himself, no matter how chaotic the day had been.

But tonight, even cooking wasn’t enough to keep his thoughts in line.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Akiko moving about the room, her graceful figure illuminated by the soft glow of the kitchen light. She was unpacking her things with quiet focus, her expression intense. Takagi hesitated, his hand hovering over the pan for a second too long, the chicken sizzling impatiently. At least the rice cooker was keeping good time.

She’s got a lot on her mind, he thought, tearing his gaze away. Can’t blame her after everything. The shootout, the apartment… hell, she’s probably trying to piece her whole life back together.

He felt a pang of guilt at how self-conscious he’d been earlier. He had been awkward, fumbling over his words, stealing glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. What the hell is wrong with me? he chastised himself. I’m not some dumbstruck teenager. She doesn’t need me acting like an idiot on top of everything else.

Takagi tried to ground himself, focusing on the rhythmic motion of stirring the pan, the steady hiss of the chicken frying. But his mind kept wandering, kept circling back to her.

She’d been occupying his thoughts since the night of the warehouse. That moment when she’d stood her ground, gun in hand, her calm resolve steadying him in the chaos. It wasn’t just admiration—it was something deeper, more personal.

I’m worried about her, that’s all, he told himself, though the thought felt hollow. His concern for her safety was real, no question, but there was more to it than that. Being around her was… surreal.

Hanabira Akiko. The name itself carried weight, a kind of quasi-celebrity status that felt miles out of his league. She was elegant, poised, the kind of woman who could walk into any room and command attention without trying. And yet, here she was, in his apartment, standing close enough that he could catch the faint trace of her scent—something soft and floral that made his head swim.

She’s way too good for me, he thought bitterly. Way out of my league.

Takagi flipped the chicken again, the movement automatic. His normally resolute confidence felt scrambled whenever she was near. He hated it—how easily she threw him off balance, how every glance or word from her could make his composure feel like a house of cards.

But then there was the flip side: how good it felt to have her here. Not just good—great. Being around her was rejuvenating in a way he hadn’t realized he needed. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that was undeniable. It was her scent, her soft, soothing voice, the practiced gentleness in the way she moved and spoke. The way her presence filled the room with an unspoken warmth, as if she brought light wherever she went.

Takagi’s grip on the spatula tightened as he wrestled with his thoughts. It’s a crush. That’s all it is, he told himself, though even he didn’t entirely believe it. It felt too strong, too consuming to be something so simple or transitory.

His gaze flicked to her again, unbidden. She was folding a sweater, her movements meticulous. He took in the faint furrow of her brow, the way she seemed lost in her own thoughts. She glanced up suddenly, catching his eye, and he looked away too quickly, his pulse quickening.

Damn it, Takagi. Keep it together. He hated how shaky his internal composure felt. Normally, he was steady, unflappable. But around her, he felt like a leaf caught in a storm.

He exhaled slowly, trying to force his mind back to the present. Just don’t make a fool of yourself. Don’t make her uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was to ruin whatever fragile sense of trust she might have in him.

Still, the occasional glance at her—when he was sure she wasn’t looking—left him feeling warm. Her being here, in his space, felt almost… right. He wouldn’t let himself dwell on it, but the thought lingered, unspoken but persistent.

The chicken was done. Takagi set the pan aside, plating the food atop a bed of rice and sliced vegetables with quiet precision. He glanced at her again, her focus now on arranging some personal items on the side table by the bed. His lips quirked into a faint smile before he caught himself.

Get it together, he thought again, shaking his head. This isn’t a damn love story. Keep your cool, Takagi.

Takagi carried the plates to the small yakisugi wooden dining table, its charred oaken surface gleaming faintly under the soft glow of the overhead light. The matching chairs, each adorned with a soft cushion in muted earth tones, framed the table like an intimate dining space perfectly suited for two. He set the dishes down carefully, his focus on aligning them neatly.

When he turned to announce the meal, he paused, noticing Akiko already approaching, a warm smile softening her features.

“That smells incredible,” she said, her voice tinged with genuine admiration. Her gaze flicked to the plated food, and her smile widened. “And it looks just as good. Did you plate it for a photoshoot or something?”

Takagi chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not exactly. Just... habit, I guess. Presentation’s part of the experience, right?”

She leaned closer to the table, inhaling deeply. “Whatever it is, I’m impressed. What’s the dish called?”

“Chicken teriyaki with a twist,” he said, pulling out one of the chairs for her. “The sauce has a bit of yuzu in it. Adds a citrusy kick that blends well with the brown rice and sliced vegetables.”

She seated herself gracefully, folding her hands in her lap as he took the chair across from her. “You’ve got an eye for detail, Tetsu-san. It’s refreshing. I don’t usually see men go to this kind of effort with food.”

He shrugged, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “I can only make a handful of dishes with any confidence. I just try not to screw them up.”

Akiko took her first bite, her eyes lighting up as the flavors hit her palate. “Well, if this is one of your handful, I’d say you’re underestimating yourself. This is delicious.”

“Thanks,” he said, the faintest hint of color creeping into his cheeks. “I stick to healthy food with flavor. Fast food, greasy stuff, heavy meals—they’re not my thing.”

“Good call,” Akiko said, nodding. “I wish I had that kind of discipline. My job makes it hard to stay consistent. The stress drives me straight into comfort food half the time.”

Takagi glanced at the unopened sake bottle resting on the low coffee table nearby, its pristine label catching the light. Akiko’s gaze followed his, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

“Is that a gift?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. Haven’t opened it yet. I don’t drink much at home. Mostly in social settings.”

“Smart,” she said with a faint laugh. “I used to think the same way—until college. My last year, when I could legally drink, was basically one big learning curve. I had my fair share of wine at parties and contraband bottles in the dorms. These days, I’ll have a glass or two after work, just to unwind.”

Takagi leaned back slightly, studying her with quiet interest. “Wine, huh? You don’t seem like the party type.”

“Oh, I’m not. Not anymore,” she admitted, a small, sheepish smile gracing her lips. “But every now and then, a little indulgence is... therapeutic.”

He glanced at the sake bottle again, then back at her. “I don’t have wine, unfortunately,” he said, his tone light, almost teasing. “But I could pour you a cup of sake, if you want. Just one, though—I’m not trying to get you drunk.”

Akiko blinked, caught off guard by the offer. Her initial reaction was to agree, almost without thought, but a flicker of caution tempered her enthusiasm. Could he be trusted? Her defenses rose instinctively—a natural reaction honed by years of hearing horror stories and seeing the worst of human behavior.

The hesitation lingered for only a moment. Takagi’s steady gaze was free of pretense, his posture calm, almost casual. She exhaled softly, pushing her doubts aside.

“One cup,” she said, her tone decisive. “But just one.”

Takagi nodded, rising to retrieve the bottle and two small sake cups. He set them on the table with the same meticulous care he’d shown with the food, pouring hers first.

Akiko watched as the liquid filled the small cup, clear and smooth, his movements steady and deliberate. Something about the moment—a simple, domestic act shared between the two of them—made her chest feel unexpectedly warm.

He poured his own and set the bottle aside, lifting his cup toward her. “To... settling in?”

A faint laugh escaped her, and she raised her cup in response. “To... making it through the day.”

Their cups clinked softly, and for a moment, the tension of the past few days seemed to melt away, replaced by the quiet simplicity of shared company.

Akiko sipped her sake, the warmth spreading through her chest matching the smile she couldn’t quite suppress. “This is nice,” she murmured, her voice soft but sincere.

Takagi nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. It is.”

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