Far from the quiet, melancholic dinner at Yuragi Inn, Sagiri and Hibari moved through the night with the silent efficiency of trained ninjas. Their mission, a delicate infiltration of a rogue spiritualist's compound, was nearing its climax. Explosions of spiritual energy lit up the darkness, followed by the clang of steel and the swift, almost invisible movements of their bodies. They were a whirlwind of focused power, each strike precise, each dodge fluid.
As Sagiri parried a furious blow, a fleeting image flashed through her mind: Ren, his calm smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he chuckled. A warmth spread through her chest, a surprising surge of strength. She wasn't distracted; instead, the thought of him, of the life they were building, fueled her. Her movements became sharper, her spiritual energy flaring with an intensity that surprised even her. She moved with a grace she hadn't known she possessed, her kunai striking true, disarming her opponent with effortless speed.
Beside her, Hibari, dodging a volley of spiritual attacks, found her own thoughts drifting. Ren. His unexpected acceptance, the way he had looked at her when he agreed to the double proposal. A fierce, protective energy surged within her. She wasn't just fighting for the mission; she was fighting for her future, for the chance to be the best wife to him. Her competitive spirit, usually directed at Sagiri, now channeled into an almost unconscious amplification of her own power. She moved with unprecedented speed, a blur of motion, her strikes landing with a force that sent her opponents reeling. Neither Sagiri nor Hibari were consciously aware of their newfound power, of how the simple, profound feeling of love had elevated their abilities. It was as if their hearts, filled with a nascent affection, had unlocked a deeper reservoir of strength within them.
Hours later, as the first hint of dawn painted the sky, the mission was complete. The rogue spiritualist's compound lay in ruins, their objective secured. Exhausted but triumphant, Sagiri and Hibari began their journey back to Yuragi Inn, their minds already anticipating the warmth of home, the comfort of familiar faces.
"I can't wait to get back," Hibari mused, a soft smile on her face. "I'm starving."
Sagiri nodded, a rare, contented sigh escaping her lips. "Me too. I hope Chitose-san made something good."
Their footsteps quickened, a shared image forming in their minds: Ren, standing at the entrance of Yuragi Inn, perhaps wearing an apron, a stack of freshly prepared dishes in his hands. He would set them down on the table, a gentle smile gracing his lips, and offer a simple, heartfelt, "Welcome home."
A furious blush immediately painted both their faces. The image, so vivid, so domestic, sent a jolt through them. They imagined him saying it, his voice warm, his eyes soft.
"I need a bath," Sagiri declared, her voice a little breathless, quickening her pace.
"Me too!" Hibari agreed, matching her stride.
Upon their arrival at Yuragi Inn, the first thing they noticed was the unusual quiet. The usual morning bustle was absent. Chitose was in the kitchen, preparing a late breakfast, and Yuuna floated nearby, her expression unusually subdued.
"Where's Ren-kun?" Hibari asked, a faint frown on her face.
Chitose turned, a subtle sadness in her eyes. "He left yesterday evening. He said he had some errands to run."
Sagiri and Hibari exchanged a look. He wasn't here. The imagined welcome, the domestic scene, shattered. A quiet disappointment settled over them. It would have been better if he were here, they thought, after everything.
After a long, hot bath that did little to wash away their lingering disappointment, Sagiri received a new mission report. She glanced at the details. It was for tomorrow night. She sighed. She could do it then. For now, she needed rest.
Continuing from the night when Ren was in the modern condo unit of the Nakano sisters, the tension at the dinner table remained thick, almost suffocating. Futaro Uesugi, the ever-observant tutor, watched the unfolding drama with a detached curiosity, wondering how this intricate web of emotions would finally unravel.
Nino, her face a mask of righteous indignation, continued her relentless interrogation of Ichika and Ren. "I'm telling you, Ichika, this is a bad idea! You shouldn't be dating someone like him!" Her voice was sharp, laced with a protectiveness that bordered on aggressive.
Yotsuba, ever the mediator, tried to interject, "But Nino, if Ichika-chan is happy..."
"Happy?!" Nino scoffed. "She's going to get hurt! He's clearly not serious!"
Miku, usually quiet, added her own subtle disapproval. "I… I just think it's too soon, Ichika."
Itsuki remained silent, her gaze shifting between her sisters and Ren, her expression unreadable. She was neutral, yet her eyes held a protective glint whenever Nino's accusations grew too harsh.
Ren, for his part, remained calm, his answers general, honest only when absolutely necessary. He felt the conversation dragging, the air growing heavier with each passing minute. He had no intention of revealing his true nature, his reality-bending powers, or the full extent of his plans. This was a family matter, and he was merely an unexpected guest.
In the end, Nino's fervent arguments failed to sway Ichika. With a frustrated huff, Nino pushed back her chair and stormed out of the dining area, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the quiet apartment.
Yotsuba, ever the kindest, immediately turned to Ren, a genuine apology in her eyes. "I'm so sorry about Nino, Ren-kun. She can be a bit… overprotective."
Miku, too, looked at him, a flicker of remorse in her gaze. "I'm sorry too, Ren-kun. Nino didn't mean to be rude." Then, a sudden realization dawned on her. She glanced at Uesugi, who had remained a silent, stoic observer throughout the entire ordeal. Calling him here, to witness this, was absurd. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She looked at Uesugi, her eyes silently conveying her apology. Uesugi, understanding her unspoken thoughts, simply shook his head, a subtle gesture that said, It's nothing.
The night deepened, the city lights twinkling outside the condo window. Ren knew it was time to leave.
"I should get going," he said, pushing himself up from the table.
Ichika immediately rose, walking him to the door. As they stood there, a quiet moment stretched between them. Ren, wanting more than just a simple goodbye, leaned in, his lips finding hers in a soft, lingering kiss. It was a brief, tender moment, a silent promise. Then, he turned and left the condo unit.
As the door clicked shut, Miku, Yotsuba, and Itsuki, who had been watching from the living area, all flushed a deep crimson. They had witnessed the intimacy, the undeniable connection between Ichika and Ren.
A moment later, Uesugi also rose to leave. Miku, still flustered, personally walked him to the door. "Thank you for coming, Uesugi-kun," she murmured, her voice still a little breathless.
"No problem," Uesugi replied, his usual stoic demeanor firmly in place. He nodded, then stepped out into the cool night air.
As Uesugi walked away from the building, he spotted a figure sitting on a nearby bench. Ren. He thought Ren was still lingering, but he didn't care. He simply continued walking, his hands in his pockets.
"Is the world unfair?" Ren's voice suddenly cut through the quiet, his gaze fixed on the night sky.
Uesugi paused. The question, so unexpected, so profound, piqued his interest. He stopped, turning to look at Ren. Ren's eyes, now lowered from the sky, met his. Uesugi realized the question was directed at him.
"I don't know," Uesugi replied, his voice flat, and then he continued walking, leaving Ren behind.
"I see," Ren murmured, his voice barely audible.
Uesugi heard it, a faint whisper carried on the night breeze. A shiver, inexplicable and sudden, ran down his spine. He glanced around. "Is the night getting cold?" he wondered aloud, though he knew it wasn't. Meanwhile, Ren stood up from the bench, thinking he needed to find somewhere to sleep tonight since he didn't feel like going back to Yuragi right now.
The next morning, Uesugi was doing what he always did: being a good brother and son, diligently preparing breakfast for his family. It was a usual morning, a mundane start to a new day.
Then, his phone rang.
He answered.
"Your father," a voice on the other end said, grave and somber, "is dead."