Chapter 3
The Bureau was a place of sharp knives and sharper tongues. Most Hunters barely noticed Renji beyond throwing him carcasses or barking orders. But one man did.
His name was Choji.
A B-Rank Hunter, Choji wasn't the kind that bathed in arrogance. His armor was always scratched, his sword nicked and patched, and his smile crooked. Unlike the glittering elites who strutted around like gods, Choji seemed… human.
The first time he spoke to Renji was over a wyvern carcass. Renji had been struggling to carve through the thick scales, his knife slipping in his blistered hands.
"Careful there," Choji had said, stepping beside him. "You'll slice your own hand before you cut that hide."
Renji flinched, expecting ridicule. Instead, Choji took the knife, twisted it expertly, and opened the scale seam with a single motion. Then he handed the blade back.
"See? Not strength. Leverage. Remember that."
From that day on, Choji lingered near Renji whenever his squad returned from Gates. Sometimes he shared food with him — meat cooked over embers, far richer than the scraps renji could buy. Other times he simply talked, telling stories of hunts gone wrong, near-death escapes, and ridiculous arguments between squadmates.
Renji, at first wary, found himself laughing. The sound felt foreign, rusty in his throat, but Choji made it easy.
And as the weeks passed, they became something more than worker and Hunter. They became friends.
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Brothers
One evening, after the Bureau closed, Choji dragged Renji to a quiet corner of the city where the air didn't stink of blood. He brought two cups of cheap ale and set one in front of Renji.
"To surviving another day," Choji said, raising his cup.
Renji stared at it. "I don't drink." saying it with a smile of his face..
"Then sip. Water or wine, doesn't matter. Just drink with me."
They clinked cups, and for the first time in years, Renji felt a warmth that wasn't born of fire or sorrow.
As time passed, he began to open up.
He told Choji about his father — about the fire, the war, the way he burned saving them. He told him about Rachel, about her drinking and the sickness that stole her life. He told him about Lily, the little sister who was the only reason he kept moving forward.
And he told him about the nights when despair gnawed at him, when the weight of being powerless pressed too hard on his chest, and he thought of just… letting go.
Choji listened in silence. Then he slapped Renji's shoulder, hard enough to sting.
"Kid," Choji said, his voice rough but steady, "the world doesn't give a damn how heavy it feels. But you—" he poked Renji's chest— "you're still standing. And if you're still standing, you haven't lost."
Renji lowered his gaze. "Sometimes I feel like giving up. But every time, Lily looks at me and tells me not to. She says, oni chan, you can't give up. You're my big brother. You're the strongest person I know.'"
His voice cracked at the memory.
Choji chuckled softly. "Smart girl. Smarter than both of us."
For the first time, Renji smiled without forcing it.
The Weight of Hope
From then on, Choji became more than a friend. He became a brother. The kind of brother Renji had never had but always needed. They trained together when Choji had time, the B-Rank showing him small tricks of the blade, ways to stand, how to breathe in a fight. Renji wasn't strong, not with his empty body, but Choji's lessons planted seeds.
"You're sharper than you think," Choji often said. "One day, you'll surprise them all."
Renji never truly believed it, but those words kept him warm on the coldest nights.
And each time he staggered home, exhausted from carving monsters, Lily would greet him with the same bright smile and the same words:
"Welcome home, oni chan. You didn't give up today, right?"
He would kneel, hug her tight, and whisper, "Never. Not today. Not ever."
Because giving up meant breaking his promise.
And breaking his promise meant failing Rachel.
Failing Lily.
Failing himself.
Renji did not know it then, but the bonds he forged — with Lily, with Choji, with the ghosts of his past — would be tested in the cruelest fire
The days blurred together for Renji, each one painted in shades of gray.
Wake before dawn. Boil water for Lily. Prepare a small breakfast. Walk her to the station. Then drag his weary body to the Bureau, where the stench of monster carcasses never seemed to leave his skin.
The work was brutal. He carved open scales tougher than steel, separated bones that radiated faint mana, and packed flesh into containers destined to be reforged into armor and weapons for Hunters far stronger than he could ever hope to be. His hands were a roadmap of cuts and calluses. His back ached constantly. But he never complained — not when Lily's smile was the only light left to him.
Three months had passed since Rachel's death. The pain of that night still haunted him. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he saw her reaching through the flames, her voice breaking as she begged him to protect Lily. He remembered his own screams, raw and desperate, as he held her cooling hand. That grief had hollowed him out, but it had also forged an iron vow in his chest.
Every day, when exhaustion threatened to crush him, he remembered Lily's words:
"Don't give up, oni chan. You're the strongest person I know."
It was enough to keep him moving.
Choji
On one such weary afternoon, Renji found himself working beside Choji, a broad-shouldered Hunter with messy black hair and a laugh that could fill an entire room. Despite being a B-rank, Choji often lingered in the Bureau's lower divisions, helping with dismantling work whenever he wasn't assigned to raids.
"You're cutting that drake wrong again," Choji said with mock seriousness, pointing at the carcass Renji was struggling with.
Renji grunted. "Then do it yourself."
Choji chuckled, snatching the blade from Renji's hand and carving the flesh with practiced ease. "See? Clean, neat, and faster. You're hopeless without me."
"Or maybe you just enjoy showing off."
Choji laughed again, but there was warmth in it. Over the weeks, the two had grown close. For Renji, Choji was the first real friend he'd made since his father's death. For Choji, Renji was someone who didn't care about rank or mana scales — someone who saw him as a person, not just a Hunter.
They shared meals, traded stories, and occasionally drank cheap sake on the Bureau's rooftop after long shifts. Choji often told tales of battles inside Gates, though he softened them when Renji was listening, as if he didn't want to scare him.
One evening, as they sat under the cracked neon lights of a convenience store, Michael finally opened up.
"My mother died three months ago," he said quietly.
Choji didn't interrupt. He just listened, the humor gone from his eyes.
"She drank herself sick after my father…" Renji's voice faltered, but he forced himself to continue. "After he died saving us during the war. She blamed herself. And in the end, she…"
His throat tightened.
"I buried her with my own hands. And I promised her I'd take care of Lily. No matter what. But some days, Choji, it feels like I can't do it. Like I'm too weak."
Choji placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "You're not weak, brother. You're carrying a weight most men would collapse under. And you're still standing. That's strength."
Renji's eyes stung, but he managed a small smile.
The next week, Renji found himself confessing something else: the debts.
The landlord, the bills, the school fees. How even working himself to the bone wouldn't be enough.
Choji frowned thoughtfully, then leaned closer. "What if I told you there was another way?"
Renji raised an eyebrow. "Another way?"
"Gates," Choji said. "Not fighting — don't look at me like that. Mining. Every Gate is filled with crystals and magic gemstones. Hunters bring them back, and the Bureau sells them for insane prices. All you'd need to do is swing a pickaxe. No monsters, no combat. I'll be with you. I won't let anything touch you."
Renji scoffed. "Me, inside a Gate? Without mana, I'd be dead in two minutes."
Choji laughed, clapping him on the back. "Then it's a good thing you'd have me. Seriously, Renji — one job, one million yen. Enough to wipe most of your debts. Enough to set you and Lily up for a better life."
"One million…" Renji whispered, his chest tightening.
The thought lingered long after he left work. That night, as Lily studied at the table, he watched her quietly, imagining her graduating without worry, smiling without fear. He thought of opening a ramen shop, a place where she could eat warm bowls of broth every day.
A fragile dream, but one worth chasing.
The next morning, Renji gave Choji his answer.
"I'll do it."
Choji grinned, his eyes bright. "Good. Tomorrow, we walk into a Gate together. Trust me, brother — this is the start of something better."
Renji nodded, though unease gnawed at his gut.
Still, for Lily's sake, he had to believe.
That Evening
When Renji returned home, Lily was still awake, hunched over her notebooks. Her pen danced furiously across the page, her lips moving silently as she memorized terms.
He smiled faintly, setting his bag down. "Shouldn't you be asleep by now?"
Lily looked up, blinking. A strand of hair fell across her cheek. "I can't. I've been thinking about the future."
Renji raised an eyebrow. "The future? You're only sixteen. That's supposed to be my job."
She smiled softly, but her gaze didn't waver. "I want to be a doctor, Renji . Not just any doctor. I want to help people like… like Mom. People who've lost themselves, or who can't fight their way out of pain." Her voice cracked, but she pushed on. "If I can save even one family from going through what we did… then I'll know my life meant something."
Renji's throat tightened. He sat across from her, resting his rough hands on the table. "Lily…"
She leaned forward, her eyes shining. "But more than that, what I really want… is for you to be happy too. You've given up everything for me. If I can make you smile again, then that's my dream."
For a moment, Renji couldn't speak. His chest ached with the weight of her words.
He reached out, ruffling her hair gently. "Don't worry, Lily. Soon… I promise everything will change. You'll be a doctor. You'll help people. And I'll be there, cheering you on every step of the way."
Her eyes brightened. "You mean it?"
"I mean it," Renji said firmly. "You just have to trust your big brother a little longer."
Later that night, after Lily had fallen asleep at the table with her notes scattered around her, Renji draped a blanket over her shoulders. He lingered there, watching her breathe softly, his hand trembling against the back of her chair.
"Don't worry, Lily," he whispered into the quiet. "Tomorrow… tomorrow everything begins to change."
And as the city lights flickered faintly through the cracked windows, Renji closed his eyes, carrying his fragile hope like a lantern against the dark.