The car stopped in front of the steps. A house attendant in a dark kimono appeared at once, opening the door with a low bow.
Ren got out first, then turned to offer Emi a hand. She hesitated for only a moment before placing her trembling fingers in his. His hand was warm and steady, and somehow that calmed her more than any words could.
Inside, the scent of tatami and delicate incense filled the space. The entry opened into a traditional reception hall with wooden beams and a low table already set for dinner. Everything was impeccable—minimalist, refined, but full of quiet prestige.
And then, she appeared.
"Ren."
The voice was soft, gentle, like silk.
An elderly woman stepped into the room, dressed in a pale lavender kimono with her silver hair tied back in an elegant bun. Her eyes, though lined with age, were striking—clear and kind.
Emi bowed quickly. "Good evening. Thank you for having me—"
But Chiyo Kazama waved a hand, her smile serene. "Oh, none of that formality, dear. I've heard quite a bit about you."
Emi blinked, startled. "You… have?"
Ren cast his grandmother a warning glance, but Chiyo only chuckled softly.
"Daiki tells me you've been working very hard," she continued. "And from the way Ren looked when he mentioned you… I thought it was time we met."
Emi flushed crimson.
"I—um—it's nothing, really. I'm just helping with office tasks—"
"Nonsense," Chiyo said gently. "A woman who works hard and stays humble is rare these days. Come, sit beside me. You're our guest tonight."
Ren remained quiet but moved to sit on the other side of the table, his usual cool exterior a little more relaxed in his grandmother's presence.
Dinner was exquisite. A spread of seasonal dishes, beautifully plated and subtly flavored. Chiyo chatted easily with Emi, asking questions about her university life, her part-time work, and her family situation—never prying, only listening. And Emi, surprisingly, found herself opening up bit by bit. There was something about Chiyo that reminded her of her own late grandmother—a warmth that seeped into the walls of the house.
At one point, Chiyo reached across the table and gently patted Emi's hand.
"You've been carrying a lot on your shoulders, haven't you?"
Emi stiffened, blinking quickly.
"But you're not alone anymore," Chiyo added softly. "I hope you know that."
Emi's throat tightened. She lowered her head, blinking back the sudden sting in her eyes.
Ren was watching. And for once, he wasn't hiding it.
After dinner, as Chiyo excused herself to rest, Ren walked Emi to the car waiting outside.
She clutched her bag nervously, unsure of what to say.
"…Your grandmother is amazing."
"She is," Ren agreed.
There was a long pause before she added, "Thank you. For bringing me. I… didn't expect to feel so welcomed."
Ren looked at her then, eyes unreadable. "I told you. You didn't have to impress anyone. Just be yourself."
Emi nodded slowly. But her heart was pounding again.
And for the first time… it didn't feel entirely from nerves.
He glanced at her, the streetlights casting a soft glow on his sharp features. "She's the only family I have left."
Something tightened in her chest.
She knew that feeling all too well—having only one person left in the world to hold onto.
"You love her a lot," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ren didn't reply immediately. Then—
"Yeah."
Just one word. But it was enough.
They continued walking, the cool night wrapping around them in a quiet stillness.
Then, suddenly—
Emi missed a step and she was able to fall. She barely had time to react before a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.
She stumbled forward, colliding into something solid.
Ren.
Her hands instinctively fisted into the fabric of his jacket as she pressed against him, her pulse hammering against her ribs.
His arms had wrapped around her waist before she could even register what had happened, holding her steady, firm and unyielding.
Her breath hitched.
His scent—clean, sharp, faintly smoky—wrapped around her, drowning out everything else, pulling her deeper into the moment.
She could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong against her palms.
For a moment, neither of them moved and spoke.
The night around them stretched into something quiet. Something intimate.
Then Ren exhaled slowly. His grip didn't loosen.
"Be careful," he murmured, his voice lower than usual, quieter, like it wasn't meant for anyone else but her.
Emi's heart raced. "I—I wasn't—" she stammered, her face burning, her thoughts a tangled mess as she pulled back quickly.
Because the moment she moved, his hand caught her wrist again.
Her breath stalled. She looked up, and for the first time, she saw it.
Something dark. Something possessive. Something undeniably different in the way he looked at her. Her stomach twisted, heat rushing up to her cheeks.
"Ren—"
He let go.
The warmth disappeared instantly, leaving behind a cold contrast against her skin.
His expression shifted back—calm, controlled, unreadable, as if the moment between them had never happened at all.
"Let's go," he said, turning away, his voice clipped, distant.
Emi nodded stiffly, falling into step beside him, her hands tightening into small fists at her sides.
But even as they walked, her heart was still pounding and she wasn't sure if it was from the near fall or from Ren Kazama himself.
The entire car ride back was silent.
Emi sat rigidly in her seat, staring out the window, but the passing city lights blurred together, lost beneath the whirlwind of emotions twisting inside her. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her cardigan, gripping tightly as she tried to steady herself, but it was useless. Her mind kept replaying it—over and over—like a broken record refusing to stop.
All she could feel was the ghost of his touch. The warmth of his hand, firm yet careful, lingering against her skin as if reluctant to let go. The way his fingers had held her just a second too long, as if testing the boundary between them, daring her to acknowledge it. The way his voice had dropped into something lower, softer—something almost dangerous, yet undeniably captivating—sending her pulse into chaos.
But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.
Ren had pulled away. Had turned away. Had closed himself off again, slipping back into the armor of indifference he wore so well, as if the moment had never happened at all.
Her fingers tightened in her lap, frustration curling in her stomach. She wasn't imagining it. She knew what she had seen. She knew what she had felt.
She stole a glance at him, her heart pounding in her chest.
Ren's expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed on the road, the faint glow of the dashboard casting shadows across his sharp features. His grip on the steering wheel was relaxed, effortless, as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just held her like she was something fragile. As if he hadn't looked at her like she was something he couldn't quite figure out.
But she knew better. Beneath that perfect composure, beneath that calm façade, something had shifted.
And whether he wanted to admit it or not, whether she wanted to admit it or not—Something between them had changed.
*****
The estate was quiet when Ren returned that evening, the familiar stillness of its halls wrapping around him like a second skin. He slipped off his coat and handed it to the waiting staff with a nod, his mind still tethered to the last moment he'd shared with Emi—her flushed face, her breath caught between surprise and something else. Something she hadn't yet named. Something he didn't dare name himself.
He was halfway through the corridor when he saw her waiting.
Chiyo.
She was seated in her usual armchair by the window in the drawing room, a shawl draped neatly over her shoulders, her silver hair pinned back with quiet elegance. A small cup of tea rested between her palms, untouched and growing cold. She looked up as he stepped in.
"I was wondering when you'd return," she said gently, her voice warm with the kind of patience only grandmothers seemed to possess.
Ren paused for a moment before walking over. "It was late," he said simply.
Chiyo patted the seat beside her. "Sit."
He did.
There was a long moment of silence between them, the kind that didn't need to be filled.
Then, softly, she said, "She's a lovely girl."
Ren didn't need to ask who she meant.
"She's resilient," Chiyo continued, her voice calm but knowing. "You can see it in her posture. In her hands. The way she walks. She's the kind of girl who's been through too much and learned how to survive without letting the world harden her heart." She glanced at him. "Very rare for someone her age."
Ren was quiet, his gaze fixed on the polished floor.
"I saw the way you looked at her," Chiyo added gently. "It wasn't just kindness. It wasn't duty."
His jaw tensed ever so slightly, but he said nothing.
"She looked at you too," Chiyo said, her tone still light, but her eyes sharper now. "Like she didn't know if she should run or stay. Like she was just beginning to realize someone might see her as more than what she's had to be."
Ren's breath was quiet. Controlled.
He glanced sideways at her, eyes unreadable. "It's not that simple."
"What are you afraid of?" Chiyo asked, her tone softening. "That she's too good for this life? Or that this life is too dark for someone like her?"
His silence was all the answer she needed.
Chiyo reached over and laid a weathered hand gently over his. "Ren… I know our family is not like others," she said softly, her voice laced with a gentle wisdom. "We don't live peaceful lives. We don't get to make decisions like ordinary people do. We lead the entire syndicate—every move we make is watched, weighed, judged. I understand your worries."
Ren remained silent, his gaze distant, his jaw tight.
Chiyo gave his hand a light squeeze. "But even so… all of us have shadows. And even shadows need something—or someone—to anchor them. Don't push her away just because you're scared of what you feel."
He looked at her then, and just for a moment, the mask he always wore cracked. Just enough to show the storm churning beneath the surface—the conflict he hadn't spoken aloud.
Chiyo smiled gently, her voice barely more than a whisper. "She's not just any girl. And you already know that."
Ren didn't reply.
But in the quiet that followed, in the silence between them, his heart gave him away.