Time slipped by, minute after minute, like sand falling through an hourglass. The stars stretched across a clear night sky, their faint silver glow swallowed by the wash of amber streetlights and the distant hum of neon that painted the city below. For once, there wasn't a storm in sight. No thunder rolling in from the bay, no lightning splitting the skyline. Even the sharp, metallic tang of rain on asphalt had vanished, replaced by the easy calm of dry air and the faint buzz of late-night traffic. For the city's weary souls, it was a rare kind of peace.
Across the quiet streets, Daichi and Light kept their distance as they followed Lady, weaving through narrow alleys and crowded blocks. Every few turns brought a close call. Lady pausing mid-step, glancing over her shoulder, her sharp eyes narrowing. Each time, Daichi and Light ducked behind whatever they could find: a half-toppled mailbox, a vending machine, even a stack of trash bags. The ridiculousness of it wasn't lost on Light. Despite her nerves, a giddy spark flared inside her. For once, she felt like one of those detectives from the late-night dramas she secretly adored.
Their trail led them through the city's veins. Onto the trains, across the river, and deep into the Sanya ward. The moment they stepped off the platform, the air changed. The city's polish faded, replaced by something older, grittier. The buildings here felt frozen in time, their facades chipped and blistered with rust and memory. Faded billboards clung to cracked walls, their lights flickering weakly.
Daichi slowed his pace, unease creeping into his chest. He'd never set foot in this part of Tokyo before, and it felt like stepping into a forgotten corner of the world. The people who lingered on the sidewalks looked up as they passed. Tired eyes, sunken faces, the kind of stares that made it clear they didn't belong. Homeless tents lined the curbs, cardboard shelters patchworked together, shadows moving quietly within.
Daichi swallowed hard, forcing down the knot in his throat, but his eyes never left Lady, and Light's grip never left his arm. They followed her through the maze of narrow streets until the bright storefronts thinned out into quiet rows of aging homes. The air grew stiller here, heavy with the scent of old wood and dust. The shophouses gave way to small, squat buildings that might once have been charming, but now wore decades of neglect: peeling paint, crooked fences, windows patched with tape and stubborn hope.
As Lady turned down a narrow lane, Daichi and Light pressed themselves against a wall, peeking carefully around the corner.
She stopped in front of a corner house, an old wooden structure that looked like it had been pulled straight out of another century. Its slatted walls and paper windows were worn to a dull gray, the paint flaking where the sun had beaten it for years. Vines crawled up the outer walls, spilling over the cracked stone fence. Despite its decay, there was a quiet dignity to it, a kind of care that had kept it standing long past its time.
Lady reached for the sliding door but hesitated, her hand hovering above the handle. Then she turned sharply, eyes sweeping the street. Daichi's breath caught in his chest. Light froze beside him, ears twitching, face pale. But Lady wasn't looking at them. Her gaze fixed on something behind her.
They leaned a little farther out from the corner, and saw them. Two figures standing under the dim streetlight, a man and a woman dressed in crisp gray suits that looked far too expensive for this part of town. Their posture was rigid, their expressions unreadable behind black shades. Shades that made no sense at this hour.
"Who the hell are they?" Daichi whispered, narrowing his eyes.
Light's gaze sharpened. "I've seen them before," she murmured, tilting her head toward their coats. "Look at their lapels."
Daichi squinted, catching the glint of silver on their jackets. The pins were small, but familiar, an emblem not unlike the MRA's, though slightly different in design. His brow furrowed. "That's the same badge that Hazama guy had… just not exactly the same."
Light nodded slowly. "I don't know who they are or what they want," she whispered. "But I've seen them talking to Lady before. Always alone. Always away from the crew."
"Well, whatever they are," Daichi muttered, his jaw tightening as he kept his eyes on the pair. "They're bad news. I've worked enough night shifts to know when someone's dirty."
Light swallowed, her throat dry, teeth pressing into her lower lip as she watched the two figures stepping out from under the dim streetlight as they approached Lady. A faint shiver ran through her tail.
Lady's expression shifted, her features hardening as the man spoke. His voice was too low for Daichi or Light to catch, just the faint rhythm of words carried on the wind. Lady's gaze dropped to the cracked asphalt at her feet, her shoulders rising and falling with a quiet exhale before she gave a small nod. With a tilt of her head, she turned away, walking down the narrow road. The suited pair followed in step behind her, their polished shoes clicking against the pavement until the three disappeared around the corner.
Only then did Daichi and Light finally let out the breaths they'd been holding.
"I wonder what that was about," Daichi whispered, still staring down the road.
"I don't know," Light replied, her ears twitching as she glanced around the empty street. "But I think we've had enough detective work for one night. We should really head home before—"
"Well, hello there."
The voice came from behind them, gentle, lilting, and yet both Daichi and Light nearly jumped out of their skins. They spun around, stumbling back a step. Light's tail puffed out in alarm, her ears rigid.
An elderly woman stood before them, barely reaching Daichi's waist. Her back was slightly hunched. Her gray hair tied neatly in a bun. She wore a lavender kimono patterned with soft pink sakura petals, and her wrinkled face carried the kind of warmth that disarmed even the most startled hearts.
"Oh my, I didn't mean to frighten you," she said kindly, tilting her head. "Goodness, are you two friends of Akane?"
"A-Akane?" Daichi blinked, confusion flickering across his face.
Light elbowed him lightly in the ribs and leaned in. "She probably means Lady," she whispered.
"Oh—oh! Yeah, right," Daichi stammered, forcing a nervous laugh. "Friends? Uh, not exactly, we're more like, uh…"
"Colleagues!" Light cut in quickly, smiling wide. "We work with her at the ramen shop. She left something behind, so we came to drop it off."
The old woman's eyes brightened, her smile deepening. "How wonderful. I'm so glad my Akane has found such kind friends. She's not always the easiest girl to get close to."
"Tell me about it," Daichi muttered under his breath, earning himself another sharp elbow from Light.
"I'm Kamakura Light," she said, straightening before offering a polite bow. She then gestured to her companion. "And this here is—"
"Daichi. Yamamoto Daichi," he added quickly, bowing as well. "It's a pleasure, ma'am."
"My, such well-mannered youngsters," the old woman said warmly, her eyes creasing with delight. "Your parents must be very proud." She stepped past them with small, measured strides, the soft clack of her wooden clogs echoing off the quiet street. "By the looks of it, Akane isn't home just yet. Why don't you come inside for a while? I've just brewed some tea, and I have sweets, too."
Light's eyes widened slightly. "Oh, no, we couldn't possibly impose."
"Yeah, really," Daichi added, raising his hands awkwardly. "You don't need to trouble yourself—"
"Nonsense," she interrupted gently, waving a hand. "You've come all this way. It's only proper to rest your feet and enjoy a little treat." Her words softened as she turned toward the gate. "Besides, I don't get many visitors these days. Humor an old lady, won't you?"
Light glanced at Daichi, who gave a helpless shrug, his expression caught somewhere between reluctance and resignation. She turned back, a kind smile forming on her lips. "You know what? That sounds lovely," she said, stepping forward to gently take the old woman's arm.
"Bless you, dear," the woman replied with a soft chuckle, patting Light's hand affectionately.
Daichi let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he trudged after them. "Yeah, sure," he muttered under his breath. "Tea and sweets. Perfect. At least until Lady shows up and murders us both."
****
The streetlamp above them buzzed and sputtered, casting a sickly pool of yellow over the narrow alley. Trash bags bulged against overflowing bins, and the gutter moved with a slow, oily trickle that smelled of rot and old rain. Lady leaned her back against the lamp's concrete post, shoulders loose but ready, jagged teeth flashing as hazel eyes pinned the pair across from her. Her ears twitched. Her tail flicked once, impatient and sharp.
"Maybe your ears don't work the first time," she said, digging a pinky into her ear as if to clear it. The motion was casual, dangerous. She flicked a mote of wax onto the ground and didn't bother to look at it. "I told you before, my home is off limits."
"Yeah, well, we didn't exactly want to show up at your nine-to-five," the man shot back, hands shoved into his pockets. "Wouldn't exactly be a look good for you now, would it?"
Lady's expression went flat as iron. "Keep jawing like that, Masao, and you'll find out fast what happened to the last sumbitch who tried."
Masao's smile cracked into something jagged. His stubble caught the lamp's light like broken glass. He looked like he was itching for a fight.
"Cool it," the woman said, stepping forward, her heels clicking against the pavement. Her hair was a dark wave that framed her face, glossy even under the flickering light. "We didn't come here to start trouble."
"No," Lady said, tilting her head, "you came to collect." She let the word hang between them. "I told you, Inoue, like I've told you and your cackling hyena here a thousand times before. You'll get it. I… I just need more time."
"Hate to break it to you, cupcake, but time ain't exactly on your side." Masao leaned in. "You've been late three times. That's three strikes. Soto-san's already put your name on the ticket."
The alley seemed to shrink around them, shadows pulling tight against the walls. A bottle rolled somewhere in the dark, the faint clatter echoing between the concrete. Lady's jaw set hard, the cords in her neck straining. Whatever trace of the easy-going waitress from earlier remained was gone. Replaced by something feral and cornered, her glare sharp enough to cut.
"Not to mention," the man went on, folding his arms, "you and your sorry excuse for a crew haven't exactly been lighting up the leaderboard." He tilted his head, smirking. "In fact, you've been bleeding red for weeks. You lose, you fold, you borrow, then you fold again." He clicked his tongue, the sound sharp in the still air. "Where I'm from, we call that a bad investment."
"You sleazy little—" Lady started, her teeth flashing, but he raised a hand, cutting her off.
"And," Masao added, drawing out the word with mocking emphasis, "you just had to go and get yourself mixed up with the new blood. Racing for pinks, no less." He then gave a dramatic sigh, rolling his shoulders. "You're bleeding out. Like a carcass left to bake on the sand. And instead of crawling out, you dig deeper, with money that isn't even yours."
Inoue gave a slow shrug, lips curving in something between pity and warning. "Hate to rub salt in it, but he's right." She slid off her sunglasses, revealing sharp sapphire eyes that caught the flicker of the streetlight. "Look, kid, we've cut you a lot of slack. More than most ever get, but we're plum out of chances, and you're shit out of excuses."
Her gaze hardened, the easy tone gone. "We're not talking spare change here. This is six figures, real money, and the MRA doesn't take kindly to red flags on accounts that big." She leaned forward slightly. "You don't get this squared soon, they're not just coming for your crew—they're coming for everything you've got."
Lady froze, the color draining from her face. For the first time that night, the hard edge in her expression faltered.
"Of course," Masao said smoothly, stepping in before she could find her footing again. He clasped his hands together. "We can make all this all… disappear. You might not have the cash, but you've got certain…"
His gaze slid over her, slow and invasive, until her jaw clenched and her teeth flashed in warning. "Assets. Well, not you, exactly, but your crew. After all, one of them's been dragging you down, hasn't she? More liability than investment." His grin stretched wider, predatory.
"What are you—" Lady started, then stopped dead, realization dawning across her face. Her pupils shrank, breath hitching.
"I'm sure you can read between the lines," he said softly.
****
Daichi's gaze wandered across the small living room, taking in every detail of the space. The once-cream cabinets had aged into a pale yellow, their edges framed in black where the paint had worn away. The tatami floor beneath him, soft yet firm, was marred with lines and fading, its scent faintly earthy and familiar. The single lamp overhead buzzed softly, casting a warm amber light that flickered against the corners, leaving the shadows to hum quietly in the background.
The room was a patchwork of years gone by. Cardboard boxes taped and torn, stacked neatly in the corners, filled with newspapers dated decades past. Faded photographs lined the walls, their edges curled, each one capturing laughter, warmth, and lives that had long since changed. Despite its age and clutter, the house didn't feel oppressive. It felt lived in. It felt human.
Daichi held a cup of steaming green tea between his hands, the warmth seeping through his palms. He took a slow sip, savoring the quiet, his eyes drifting to the small coffee table where plates of sweets sat. Simple things, but made with care.
Then his attention turned to Light. She was laughing softly, her usual guardedness replaced by something bright and easy. In her lap sat a young uma girl, no older than five, her gray hair cut to her shoulders, ears and tail twitching with joy as Light moved her little arms along to a cheerful tune. The child's giggles filled the room, echoing off the old walls like something pure. Her bright gray eyes sparkled, catching the lamplight, alive with warmth and innocence.
Daichi smiled without meaning to, the sound of their laughter easing something in his chest he hadn't realized was tight. For the first time in a long while, the world felt still. Not perfect, not clean, but gentle.
The door slid open with a soft clack, and the scent of brewed tea drifted in as Ema stepped back into the room. Her gentle eyes found Light and the little girl giggling together, and a smile warmed her worn face.
"My, my," she said, lowering herself gracefully to the tatami and folding her hands in her lap. "It's been so long since I've seen my little Tsubaki this happy." Her gaze lingered on them fondly. "You've got quite a gift with children, my dear."
Light smiled softly. "Well, Ema-san, my youngest sister's around Tsubaki's age." Her words grew quieter, her eyes dimming. "After my mother passed, I helped out at home while my dad worked. When he… went away, we were separated." She looked down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes. "I just hope they're safe, and that they're loved."
Ema's expression gentled, her hands tightening in her lap. "Oh, child… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to stir up painful memories."
Light shook her head quickly, managing a small, wavering smile. "It's alright. I like to think we'll find each other again someday."
Ema nodded, her eyes soft with empathy. "You've carried more than your share of weight, haven't you? Just like my dear Akane… and her mother."
Daichi blinked, curiosity flickering across his face as Light tilted her head.
Ema's gaze drifted toward a framed photograph hanging on the wall. A young couple with gentle smiles, the man in a suit, the woman in a traditional kimono, and between them a teenage uma in a school uniform, her face bright with youth.
"I had a daughter once," Ema said quietly. "She was about your age when that picture was taken." A small smile tugged at her lips, wistful and worn. "You remind me so much of her."
The room fell still for a moment, the air thick with something fragile.
"She was an uma too," Ema continued softly. "Didn't care for racing, though. Strange, I know." She let out a tender chuckle. "She wanted to be a nurse." Her voice wavered, and she drew in a slow breath. "But one day, on her way home from school… she was taken."
Daichi and Light went pale, their breaths catching in unison. A chill crept through the small room, swallowing the warmth that had filled it only moments ago. Tsubaki, blissfully unaware, continued to rock in Light's lap, humming the remnants of her song.
"We searched everywhere," Ema said, her body trembled with the weight of memory. "The police combed the streets, city after city. For months, we hoped. Prayed." Her gaze fell to her lap, fingers tightening slightly. "But as days became weeks, and weeks became months, hope began to wither. People told us to move on, to let her go." She drew a slow, shaking breath. "It wasn't until years later, and after my husband had passed, that I finally learned the truth."
The silence in the room deepened. Ema's eyes glossed with grief as she continued. "She was taken because she was an uma," she said. "And forced into a life as a stable girl."
Daichi frowned, confusion crossing his features. "A Stable… what?" He turned to Light, but the sight of her made his words die in his throat. She had gone still, utterly rigid, one trembling hand covering her mouth. The color had drained from her face, her ears flattened, and her eyes were wide with something close to dread.
"No," she whispered. "No, that's… that's horrible."
Ema nodded solemnly.
Daichi swallowed hard, setting his cup down with care, though his hands shook slightly. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm a little lost here. What's a Stable Girl?"
Ema turned her sorrowful gaze toward him, while Light's eyes glistened with tears she refused to let fall. When they spoke, almost in unison, one weary, the other trembling, their words peeled the warmth from the air. And as Daichi listened, the meaning sank in. His face twisted slowly from confusion to disbelief, then horror. The cup in his hand rattled against the table.
****
"No," Lady hissed, the word breaking through gritted teeth. Then louder, raw and furious, echoing through the alley. "Hell no! You twisted, goddamn son of a bitch. No way in hell. I might've done some low and shady shit in my life, but I ain't selling anyone to an Umagoya!"
She jabbed a trembling finger at him. "And the fact that you bastards are even thinking of bringing that shit back—"
Masao caught her off guard with a low laugh, ugly and unbothered. "Back?" he said, almost pitying. "Oh, you poor, sad, sad little thing." He tilted his head, that grin never faltering. "It never went away."
Lady's rage drained from her face, replaced by something colder. Shock, revulsion, a hint of fear. Her lips parted, but no words came. The light above them flickered, and for a long moment, the alley was silent.
"See, most folks think the MRA's just about street racing," Masao continued, spreading his hands like he was selling salvation. "And they'd be correct, but that's only half the story. See, we've come a long way the past decade. From worthless bottom feeders to a global empire. Networks stretching across continents, money moving through channels most people don't even know exist." His grin widened, slick and easy. "And one of those ventures caters to a very, very… niche market. Clients with extremely specific tastes."
He rolled his shoulders with a lazy shrug, head tilting just enough to make the smirk on his face look practiced. "While some like to play chase the tail under silk sheets," he said smoothly. "Others? Well, they're more into the whole mix, match and blend, till they get something faster, stronger. All in the name of the sport, naturally."
Masao then licked his lips, eyes glinting under the amber light. "Something I'm sure you'd know a thing or two about, cupcake."
Lady's eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening as the air between them grew heavy.
He paused, a cruel light flickering in his eyes. "Come to think of it," he said, almost fondly, "it almost reminds me of those Pocket Racers I had as a kid. You build them up, tune them just right, then switch them on and watch them go. Around and around, faster every time. Until they burn out." His grin spread, sharp and mean. "Then, you salvage what you can, toss what's left, build a new, better one, and start all over again."
With a flourish, he then spread his arms, like he was showing her the scope of his world. "But of course, just like the MRA, it's all incredibly discrete. In fact, discretion's the only rule that matters." He leaned in until his grin was inches from her face. "Nothing personal. Just business."
Inoue's eyes flared, and the man instinctively stepped back, palms raised as if warding off a strike. "Yeah—discrete is the operative word." She let the silence press against Lady for a beat, then fixed her gaze on her again. "Look, I know this is the last thing you'd ever agree to, given your… history. But you're running out of both options and time. You bomb this race, and that bargaining chip you're clutching? It disappears."
"Well get it through your thick skulls. I ain't selling anyone. Not now, not ever." Lady shoved off the lamp post, spine straightening. "There isn't a single thing you can say or do to change my mind."
The man tipped his head, sliding his shades down to the bridge of his nose and off. Dark hollows ringed his bright hazel eyes, making his grin look guttered and dangerous. "Really?" he said. "Sad to say, but Soto-san ain't famous for patience. Or mercy. Screw this up, lose the girl, and one of you'll be taking her place." His smile widened until it was all teeth. "And if it ain't you…"
"Don't," Inoue snapped.
****
The air in the room seemed to drop a few degrees, the soft hum of the lamp overhead now loud against the silence. Daichi sat frozen, the weight of Ema's words pressing down on him like lead. His mouth opened, then closed again, the horror etched clear across his face. "Damn," he finally murmured. "I don't even know what to say."
Light swallowed hard, her arms tightening around Tsubaki, who had curled up against her chest, drowsy and content. "When I was little," she said quietly, "they used to tell us to behave. Listen to your parents. Eat your vegetables. Don't stay out late." Her voice cracked slightly. "Because if we didn't… the Umagoya Man would come and take us away." She exhaled shakily, staring into the distance. "I thought it was just a story to scare us. I didn't think it was real."
Ema let out a breath that trembled on its way out. "When they raided the facility… my daughter was already gone," she said softly. "They never found her remains. But what they did find…" Her eyes drifted toward the sleeping child in Light's lap. "Was her daughter."
Light and Daichi both looked up sharply.
"Akane," Ema continued, "she was fourteen at the time." Her hands clenched gently in her lap as she looked at Tsubaki. Peaceful, small, unaware. "And like her mother… she was…" Her throat closed, the rest of the words dying there.
A heavy silence fell. Confusion flickered between Daichi and Light, until Ema finally met their eyes, her next words soft and devastating.
"Let's just say," she whispered, "Tsubaki isn't Akane's little sister."
The color drained from their faces. Daichi's breath caught. Light's arms tightened protectively around the little girl as the terrible truth settled in, thick as ice.
****
"Maybe your pretty… little… girl," he finished, the words like a thrown match.
Everything in Lady changed at once. Her face went blank, then hard as flint.
Inoue hissed, "Masao, you freaking idiot."
Masao's mouth was still shaping an answer when a fist slammed into his cheek. The sound of bone against bone cracked in the alley. He staggered, head whipping to the side, and a spray of blood spat the pavement. For a heartbeat he was winded, dazed, his hand flying to his face.
Lady lunged, fury tearing out of her, but Inoue was already across her, grabbing her around the waist and wrenching her back with iron-quick reflexes.
"I'll kill you!" Lady snarled, twisting and thrashing, teeth bared. "I'll rip your throat out and bleed you like a pig!"
Masao threw his head back with a laugh, blood glistening on his teeth. "Woo, I felt that!" he said, sweeping a hand through his hair as though savoring it. "Told you, Inoue. Punches always land sweeter when they're packed with love." He dragged a thumb across his split lip and grinned wider. "Especially mommy'slove."
Lady erupted, a raw, animal sound ripped free from her as she lunged forward, teeth bared, fingers curled like claws. "You lay one grubby finger on my daughter and I will tear you apart!" she snarled. "You hear me? I'll—"
In one smooth motion, Inoue hooked an arm under Lady's and flipped her clean off her feet. The world spun before Lady hit the pavement hard, the impact cracking through the narrow alley.
"Calm. Down. Now." Inoue's command was sharp as a whip, her knee pinning Lady's shoulder to the ground. She shot Masao a glare that could've cut steel. "You just had to go there, didn't you?"
Masao only chuckled through a wince, blood still running down his chin. "What can I say?" he muttered, thick with amusement. "I've got a way with words."
"You filthy little masochist," Inoue snapped, teeth bared. "I swear I'm goanna kick your ass when we're done here!"
"Oooh, I love it when you talk dirty to me." Masao grinned, licking the blood from his lip as if it were dessert. "Careful now, partner. Don't go threatening me with a good time," he drawled, puckering his lips in an exaggerated kiss that made the alley smell sour with mockery.
"Let me go!" Lady screamed, her fingers raking uselessly at Inoue's grip. "I'll kill you. I'll kill you both!" She thrashed, but the woman's hold was iron-cold and precise.
Inoue's eyes didn't flicker. She leaned in until her face was a breath from Lady's. "Once again, as much as it pisses me off to say it, he's not wrong." She tightened her grip a fraction. Lady's cry hitched. "Look, I don't want this any more than you do. But you need to choose. Think long and hard about what matters more. Some worthless uma you don't give two shits about, or your precious little girl."
She released her and straightened, smoothing the front of her coat as if straightening a uniform. "You have until your next race. Either way…" The command in her posture left no room for argument. "We're done here."
Masao tossed a final smirk at Lady as he and Inoue turned and walked away. "Be seeing you real soon, cupcake," he said, and the sound followed them down the alley like a promise.
Lady lay sprawled on the cracked asphalt beneath the sputtering streetlamp, the light cutting her features into hard, unforgiving planes. The adrenaline that had powered her fury ebbed away like tidewater, leaving raw exhaustion in its place. Her chest rose and fell in ragged, uneven breaths. Tears gathered along the rims of her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, carving clean, salt-bright tracks through the grime.
She rolled onto her side and curled inward, folding herself small as if the motion could shrink the weight of what she'd heard. Her jaw worked until her teeth ground together. The sound of her sobs was low at first, then torn and ragged, a long, keening cry that swallowed the alley's sounds and hung in the night air. Each convulsion was a small violence against her body. Grief and rage braided so tightly they could not be pulled apart.
****
"When Akane was brought to me, she was already a few weeks along," Ema said quietly, her hands folded neatly in her lap, though the tremor in her words betrayed the calm she tried to keep. "My poor girl… she was terrified. She didn't understand what was happening to her, and it broke my heart to see it." Her gaze drifted toward the dim lamplight above, eyes glistening as memory pulled her somewhere far away. "The government sealed her records, gave her a new name, a new life. And I—" she exhaled softly "I did my best to give her the love she'd been denied."
Her words wavered as she continued. "It wasn't easy. She didn't trust anyone at first. She hated to be touched. The first few months, she'd hide in the closet whenever someone came to the door. If I raised my hand, even just to brush her hair away, she'd flinch. And when she broke a plate, or spilled tea, she'd cry, beg me not to hurt her."
Daichi's knuckles whitened around the teacup, the faint tremor in his hand betraying the storm behind his eyes. Across from him, Light's eyes shimmered with tears she didn't bother to wipe away. She held Tsubaki tighter, the little girl shifting in her arms with a soft murmur but never waking.
"That was five years ago. She's come a long way since then," Ema went on, her tone gentler now, almost proud through the sorrow. "She's made peace with her past, or at least learned to live with it." Her gaze softened as it fell on the sleeping child. "Tsubaki is everything to her. She's rough, yes… loud, stubborn, and fiery, but she's kind. Every bit of strength she has, she pours into giving that little girl the life she never had. A life free from fear."
Tsubaki's small body convulsed without warning, a sharp, rattling cough breaking the quiet like shattered glass. Light startled, and Daichi half-rose from his seat before Ema lifted a hand, her face calm though her eyes had softened with concern.
"Oh, dear…" she murmured, holding her arms out. "Hand her to me, please."
Light rose quickly, cradling the trembling child as she placed her gently into Ema's waiting arms. The old woman rested Tsubaki against her lap, steady and practiced, before reaching for a small box on the coffee table. She withdrew an inhaler, pressed it to the girl's lips, and released a sharp hiss of medicine into the air. Within seconds, the coughing eased. Tsubaki drew in a wheezy breath, then another, each steadier than the last. Her eyelids fluttered, her small hand clutching weakly at Ema's sleeve.
Light eased back onto her knees, worry creasing her brow. "Is she alright?" she asked softly.
Ema rocked the child gently, one hand brushing the gray fringe from her damp forehead. "She will be," she said. "Tsubaki has a condition… something with her lungs, her breathing. I don't recall the name, but she's been frail since birth." Her eyes lifted briefly to meet theirs. "I suppose you can understand why."
The meaning landed heavy between them.
Daichi hesitated before asking, "Isn't there something that can be done? Some kind of treatment?"
"Of course, dear," Ema said, her tone warm but tired. "But the medicines, the care, those things cost more than we could ever afford. Akane keeps saying she's working on something, that she'll find a way." She looked down at Tsubaki, thumb tracing gentle circles over the child's hand. "She never says what. Only that it's for her."
Light and Daichi exchanged a look, one that needed no words. The air between them tightened with understanding.
Daichi's gaze drifted to the little girl, her breathing now steady against Ema's lap, and in her fragile frame he saw a reflection of another face—Dahlia's. Her tear-streaked cheeks, the desperate plea when she begged him for a ticket into the MRA. He swallowed hard, guilt knotting in his chest.
All this time, he'd written Lady off as a thug. A violent, arrogant racer with nothing but greed in her heart and a thirst for violence. But sitting here, staring at the reason behind her choices, he realized she wasn't that different from Dahlia after all. Both had been handed a cruel lot in life. Both had someone they were fighting for.
The soft scrape of the front door sliding open cut through the quiet, pulling every gaze toward the narrow entryway.
"I'm home," came a weary voice from the hall.
Light and Daichi stiffened instantly, their bodies snapping upright like guilty children caught where they shouldn't be. The sound of footsteps approached, slow but steady.
"Grandma, how's—"
Lady stopped dead in the doorway. Her eyes went wide for the briefest moment before narrowing to sharp slits as the air in the room seemed to tighten around her. The color drained from Daichi's face. Light's tail gave an anxious flick.
"Um…" Daichi managed, his laugh brittle as he lifted a hand in a half-hearted wave. "Hi?"
The word hung there, pitiful and small, against the thunderous silence that followed.