The Akira mansion never had alarms. No yelling either. It just… woke up. Like it was alive somehow.
Sunlight spilled in through the tall glass, making the floors shine too much, almost like someone polished them all night. The whole house carried old whispers—paintings, stairs, doors—all of it felt like it remembered things.
Ren Akira yawned in the middle of all that. Bed too big, hair like a bird's nest. He sat there rubbing his face, blinking at a ceiling painted with clouds that didn't even look real.
Then—smell.Bread. Something buttery. Something sweet too.
"Mama's cooking!" he whispered, grinning, already up.
He nearly slipped running out the door, socks sliding. The hallway stretched forever, sunlight on one end, laughter echoing on the other.
"Ren!"
His mom's voice. Aya. Long hair over her shoulders, one hand pressed on her belly like she was protecting it.
"Mama!" He bolted, smacking feet on marble. Straight into her arms.
She kissed his messy head. "Good morning, my little star."
And before he could answer—whoosh—uncle Hiroshi scooped him up, spinning him like a wheel.
"Don't forget your uncle, huh?" Hiroshi boomed, nearly dropping him.
Ren screamed laughter. "Good morning Uncle Hiroshi!"
"That's better." Hiroshi crouched, tickling until Ren squealed and hid behind Aya.
Aya shook her head. "Don't wear him out before breakfast."
"Alright, alright," Hiroshi grinned, hands up.
They went to the dining hall. Chandelier glowing, big table shining. At the head—Akira himself. Straight suit, slicked hair, papers in front of him. Looked more like a king than a dad. Until Ren ran to him.
The papers disappeared. The man melted.
"Come here, son."
Ren climbed onto his lap, puffed up with pride. "Papa! I didn't trip today!"
Akira chuckled, low and warm. "Then you're stronger than yesterday." He tapped his son's chest. "But strength means nothing without kindness."
Ren nodded like he understood. He didn't. But he liked the sound.
Naomi entered then. Hiroshi's wife. Pretty in the way people train themselves to be. Straight posture, smile placed perfectly. She set food down, looked at Ren.
"Kindness comes natural to him," she said. "That's your heart, Akira."
Ren blushed. Aya smiled small. Breakfast carried on.
Hiroshi leaned in, voice heavier now. "One day, little man, you'll protect TAF. Future of our family rests with you."
Ren clenched his fists like a warrior. "I'll protect everyone! Mama, Papa, Uncle, Aunt Naomi… and my little sister too!"
Laughter. Aya rubbed her belly, cheeks soft. "She'll be proud of you."
Ren tilted his head. "She's really in there? Can she hear me?"
Aya pressed his hand against her stomach. They all held still. Then—kick.
Ren gasped. "She said hello!"
The room exploded in laughter. Naomi laughed too. Except her eyes, for just a second, turned sharp as glass. Cold. Then gone, mask back in place. Only Akira noticed.
Ren tugged his sleeve. "Papa, did I do good?"
Akira kissed his hair. "Perfect."
Later, Ren dragged Naomi into the garden to water flowers. She helped, her soft hands guiding his small clumsy ones.
"You'll be strong one day," she said, almost whispering. "Strength… opens doors."
Ren blinked at her. "Like a hero?"
She smiled bright. Too bright. "Yes. Like a hero."
Her eyes told a different story.
That night Aya lay on the sofa, stroking her belly like guarding something. Akira sat with Ren curled on his chest, reading. Hiroshi and Naomi's voices drifted across the room, laughing.
Ren's eyes closed, smile still there. Aya smiled too but hers was tighter, worried at the edges.
Akira met her eyes. His stare said: nothing will hurt them.
The mansion glowed like it always did. Light everywhere.
But light always means shadow too.
And Ren—he had no clue about the storm already waiting outside.