Ren sat in the back seat, his elbow resting against the window as the city blurred past. His thoughts weren't on the meeting he had just left, nor on the message Daiki had relayed about the rival boss's shifting alliances. His focus was elsewhere—on her.
"I recognized her the second she walked into that room," he said quietly, his voice almost a murmur.
Daiki glanced at the rearview mirror. "The girl?"
Ren nodded once, eyes distant. "It was years ago. She was still in junior high."
He let out a slow breath. "I was bleeding out in an alley. Running from men who would've carved me open without a second thought. And she—this kid—stood in front of me like she could protect me. Like she would."
"She stood between you and armed men?" Daiki asked, surprised.
Ren's mouth twitched. "Told them to back off or she'd scream down the whole damn block. I don't even know where she came from. But she didn't flinch. Not once."
"Then what happened?"
"My guards showed up. Just in time." His gaze dropped to the floor of the car, lost in memory. "I never saw her again after that. Never even got her name. I tried to find her, but she disappeared."
Silence settled for a moment before Ren spoke again, softer now.
"She sat next to me in the car tonight. And when I touched her hand…" He frowned slightly, voice trailing. "She's thinner than she should be. Worn down. Like life's been scraping at her edges for too long."
Daiki said nothing.
"I don't know what she's been through," Ren added, his voice tightening. "But she doesn't complain. Doesn't ask for help. Even now."
"And yet, she's the one trying to pay someone else's debt," Daiki said.
Ren nodded slowly. "She's been holding up a collapsing world alone. For someone who doesn't deserve it."
He paused. "I need to know more."
"You want me to look into her?" Daiki asked.
"Yes. Everything. Where she lives. What she does. How long she's been doing this. I want details."
Daiki cast him another glance. "You want to protect her?"
Ren didn't answer immediately. His fingers tapped once against the leather seat. "Let's just say… I'm not letting her disappear again."
Daiki nodded. "Understood."
As the city rolled past and the silence returned, Ren leaned back into the seat. But the quiet did nothing to ease his mind. That girl—still unnamed to him—had once stood between him and death, with nothing but courage.
And now, after all these years, she had reappeared.
Just as brave.
Just as alone.
And this time, he had no intention of letting her carry it all by herself.
*****
The next morning, Ren sat at the dining table, quietly eating breakfast while reviewing the day's itinerary on his tablet. His movements were calm, efficient, but his mind was elsewhere—waiting. He hadn't forgotten the girl from last night, nor the weight of her silence in the car. There were answers he needed, and Daiki never took long.
Right on cue, Daiki entered, a folder in one hand and his phone in the other. Without needing to be asked, he approached the table and placed the folder neatly beside Ren's plate.
"It's done," he said simply.
Ren set down his fork and looked up. "Report."
Daiki opened the folder and began. "Her name is Emi Fujimoto. Age twenty. Second-year university student, business faculty. Lives alone in a small apartment near Shinagawa."
Ren's fingers stilled.
"Her mother passed away when she was fifteen—cancer. Since then, she's been living with her father, though he's unemployed and a known gambler. He's the one responsible for all the loans."
Ren remained silent, but his expression darkened.
"She's been paying them off herself. Started working right after her mother died. Part-time jobs, multiple at once. Diner staff, convenience stores, delivery work, tutoring. She's been doing it non-stop for the past five years."
Daiki slid over a discreet surveillance photo. Emi, in a worn Izakaya uniform, hair tied back, her eyes focused and exhausted as she cleared tables at the diner.
"No criminal record. No known connections to gangs or underground groups. Keeps to herself. From what I gathered, she's never once defaulted on a payment, even when she was clearly overworked. Every cent she earns goes to survival—tuition, rent, and her father's debts."
Ren picked up the photo and studied it quietly. The face was familiar—older, yes, but the same defiance burned in her gaze. The same fire that once stood between him and death without hesitation.
"No extended family?" he asked.
"None that stepped in. She's been on her own since fifteen."
Ren leaned back in his chair, still holding the photo. His voice was calm, but something beneath it was beginning to stir.
"She protected me once," he murmured. "Didn't know my name. Didn't hesitate. And now she's been doing the same thing for a man who keeps dragging her down."
He lowered the photo, eyes sharp now.
"Keep watching her. Quietly. I want updates. If she's ever in danger again, I want to know before it happens."
Daiki nodded. "Understood."
Ren didn't say anything more. He just sat there, breakfast growing cold in front of him, the folder still open beside his plate.
This time, he had her name.
Emi Fujimoto.
And this time, he wasn't going to let her keep fighting alone.