The night had settled heavy over the Hyūga household. The living room lamp cast a faint glow through the hallway, spilling a dim light into Ren's room. The boy sat on the edge of his bed, knees pulled close, fists pressed against them. His shoulders trembled in a rhythm he tried hard to hide. To anyone else, he looked like a child sulking after a quarrel—but in his heart, the storm was far more violent.
He hated how silence made him hear his own thoughts. He hated the way questions chewed at him. He hated that every time he looked at his father, he saw a wall, tall and unbroken, built from secrets he wasn't allowed to touch.
The door opened with a soft creak. Ryouji stepped inside. His figure filled the small room, and even without speaking, his presence pressed on Ren like a weight. Ryouji's eyes lingered on his son, noticing how tightly his small fists were balled, how his gaze refused to rise.
For a moment, the father said nothing. He simply stood there, breathing quietly, as if searching for the right words buried beneath years of silence.
Ren spoke first, his voice cracking under the weight of emotions he could no longer contain.
"Why do you keep lying to us?"
The words struck harder than any blade. Ryouji's lips tightened into a line. Slowly, he closed the door behind him, letting the room fall into a fragile isolation.
"I never wanted to lie," he said at last, lowering his voice. "I only wanted to protect you."
Ren's head snapped up. His eyes were wet but burning with anger.
"Protect me from what? From the truth? From knowing who you really are? I hear things, Dad. Neighbors whisper. People look at you like they know something I don't. Even Mom… she knows, doesn't she?"
Ryouji lowered himself to the floor, crossing his legs until he was eye level with his son. His large hands rested on his knees, scarred and worn from a life Ren could not yet imagine.
"You're too young to carry that weight, Ren," he said softly. "The man I was… you wouldn't want to know him."
"But I do want to know," Ren shot back, his voice trembling. "Because every day, you act like someone's going to come for us. You walk me to school, but your eyes never look at me. They're always on the shadows, on the corners. You think I don't notice? I'm not a kid anymore!"
Ryouji's breath hitched. He had lived a life where silence was survival, where speaking too much was weakness. But now silence was tearing a rift between him and his son.
Finally, he spoke, his voice rough like gravel dragged across stone.
"Before you were born… before I met your mother… I lived in a world of blood. My hands were meant to destroy, not protect. I've done things I will never forgive myself for."
Ren flinched but didn't look away. He wanted to hate his father for keeping secrets, but part of him already knew.
"There are people," Ryouji continued, "who will never forget me. To them, I'm not a man. I'm a shadow, something to be hunted. And if they find me… they'll come for us all."
The boy's throat tightened. The anger on his face faltered, replaced by fear. His voice lowered to a whisper.
"So… danger is coming here?"
Ryouji didn't answer right away. The silence itself was answer enough.
Ren swallowed hard, then wiped his tears with the back of his hand. "Then don't keep me weak. If you're afraid of them coming… then teach me. Let me fight too. I'm your son, aren't I?"
The request tore at Ryouji's chest. His instinct screamed to shelter Ren, to build walls higher and thicker. But he could see the boy's resolve, carved sharp and unyielding, so much like his own once was. Denying him would only drive him further into resentment.
Slowly, Ryouji reached out and set a heavy hand on his son's shoulder. His palm was warm, steady, carrying both strength and sorrow.
"You are my son," he said firmly. "And I swear on everything I am—I will protect you and your sister. That is my promise."
Ren's lips trembled. His eyes darted away. "But what if you can't?"
The question froze Ryouji. For a moment, his chest ached with a fear he never voiced. He drew a slow breath and pulled Ren closer until their foreheads touched.
"Then I'll make sure you are strong enough to protect yourself. If the day comes when my shadows reach you… you won't face them alone. That's the only promise I can give you, Ren. A father's promise."
The boy's fists loosened. His body shook once, then stilled. He didn't hug his father back, but he didn't pull away either.
Outside the room, Hana stood pressed against the wall, her hand trembling over her chest. Every word had slipped through the door. She closed her eyes, fighting back tears, whispering a prayer into the silence.
"Please… don't let the shadows take them from me."
She lingered there for a moment longer, her back sliding down the wall until she crouched on the hallway floor. Her thoughts were a storm—memories of her husband's haunted eyes when they first met, the way his hands sometimes shook when he thought no one was watching. She had accepted his past, but now that past was creeping toward their children. And that, she feared most.
Inside, father and son sat together in the dim light. The tension between them had not vanished; it had only shifted into something heavier, more dangerous. But it was also a bond—raw, fragile, yet undeniable.
Ren finally whispered, almost too quiet to hear.
"Then don't break your promise, Dad."
Ryouji shut his eyes, as if sealing the vow into his very soul.
"I won't."
The night deepened around them, shadows stretching long. For the Hyūga family, peace was no longer unbroken—it was fractured. And through those cracks, the past was beginning to seep in.