KENJI
The ice in my glass clinked, a sharp sound in the oppressive silence of my room. It was the only concession to the tension coiling in my body—a deep, restless ache that had become my constant companion.
Celibacy.
It was a choice, a discipline I'd imposed on myself the night I decided Nicole would be mine.
It seemed logical then. A strategic move. To wait, to let the anticipation build until it was a physical thing.
The wait was supposed to be the thrilling part, the slow drawing back of a bowstring. And it is. But no one had told the bowstring it would ache with such a raw, undiluted horniness.
I hadn't touched Akane since Nicole arrived. Not once.
Why would I?
The mere thought became… unappealing.
Akane was a known quantity, a familiar taste that had gone stale. Her betrayal with Shuya? I rolled my eyes, taking a long swallow of the Yamazaki single malt.
The peaty smoke burned a clean path down my throat.
"Of course she cheated because of sex," I muttered to the empty room. She was ruled by base impulses, like an animal. Pathetic. "I would have killed her if I loved her," I mused, the statement cold and factual.
But I never had.
Her infraction was an insult to my pride, not my heart. She got off easy.
The whisky glass was cool against my palm. I poured another measure, the amber liquid catching the dim light.
"I just want Nicole."
The sigh that escaped me was one of pure, unadulterated frustration. It wasn't a romantic sigh. It was the sound of a man coveting a masterpiece locked behind glass.
My body was a traitor. The brief collision in the hallway had ignited something primal. The feel of her, even through layers of clothing, the shock in her wide eyes, the scent of her clean skin—it was all etched into my senses.
The image of her now, grown into that devastating beauty, is a constant torment. The gentle curves, the defiant light in her eyes that had somehow survived… It was a provocation.
"I need to…" The sentence hung in the air, unfinished. The options were crude and unsatisfying.
My own hand?
No. That was a release for boys, not for men who commanded empires.
My dick throbs
It felt like a surrender, an admission that I wasn't in complete control.
I could just summon some girls with a phone call to the pleasure district? They were faceless and meaningless. The idea was repulsive. It would be like eating fast food when you had a feast waiting.
But I had to wait. The plan was in motion. The education, the grooming, the careful construction of a life that I would ultimately dominate. The two years stretched before me like a sentence.
I drained the glass, the alcohol doing little to dull the edge of my need. It only sharpened it, fueling the dark, detailed fantasies that played behind my eyes.
Seeing how beautiful she had gotten wasn't helping matters.
It was agony. But it was my chosen agony. And that, in its own twisted way, made it a pleasure. The hunger was a reminder of the prize. And I always, always claimed my prizes.
– – –
AUTHOR
1 Year, 9 Months roughly flew by.
The gentle routine of classes and the quiet safety of the estate had lulled Nicole into a fragile sense of normalcy. She had grown taller, her confidence slowly unfurling like a new leaf.
But far from the university halls, in a sterile room on a private medical floor, that fragile peace was about to shatter.
The hospital room was a tomb of sterile whiteness, the air thick with the smell of antiseptic and the slow, mechanical rhythm of a life nearing its end.
The only sounds were the soft, rhythmic beep... beep... beep of the electrocardiogram and the faint, mechanical sigh of the ventilator helping air into tired lungs.
The man in the bed was a ghost of the formidable Renji Soma. The ruthless pancreatic cancer that had been his silent enemy for years had made its final, aggressive turn, whittling him down to a fragile shell draped in crisp white sheets.
Kenji sat at the bedside, his posture unnervingly straight in the uncomfortable plastic chair. He wasn't holding his father's hand. That was not their way. His hands were clasped in his lap, his knuckles white, the only sign of the turmoil beneath his icy exterior.
He watched the slow, labored rise and fall of his father's chest, each breath a visible struggle.
Renji's eyes, clouded with pain and medication, fluttered open. They found Kenji's, and a flicker of the old sharpness returned. With a trembling hand, he gestured weakly for the oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. Kenji leaned forward and carefully moved it aside.
"Kenji," Renji's voice was a dry, rasping whisper, like leaves scraping against stone. It was a sound that demanded absolute silence to hear.
"I am here, Father," Kenji replied, his own voice low and even.
Renji's gaze drifted around the room, taking in the tubes and machines that were failing to keep him alive. "All of this… the fighting, the blood… it was for the future." He paused, gathering strength, each word a monumental effort. "The old ways… they are dying. Like me. The world does not respect the sword anymore. It respects the stock portfolio. The patent."
He fixed his watery eyes on his son. "You must lead the clan… but you must lead it… honorably. Not like the Raburai dogs. With strategy. With… vision." A coughing fit seized him, a harsh, rattling sound that seemed to shake his entire frame. When it subsided, he was even paler. "The violence… It is a tool. Not the purpose. Do you understand?"
Kenji nodded slowly, his blue eyes never leaving his father's face. "I understand."
"Apex Innovations…" Renji continued, his voice growing fainter. "It is not a front. It is the future. It is our… legitimacy. You must pour your ambition into it. Make it untouchable. Make us… untouchable. The boardroom is the new battlefield. Let them see a CEO, not a… gangster."
He reached out a shaking, skeletal hand. Kenji, after a moment's hesitation, met it with his own. The father's grip was surprisingly strong, a final burst of will.
"Promise me," Renji whispered, his eyes burning with a last, desperate intensity. "Promise me you will build a legacy of power that does not need to hide in the shadows. That our name will mean more than fear."
Kenji looked at the man who had taught him everything about control, and in this moment of ultimate vulnerability, he saw the blueprint of his own destiny. He saw the end of one path and the brutal necessity of the next.
"I promise, Father," Kenji said, his voice firm and clear, cutting through the rhythmic beeping of the machine. "The Mazoku will be stronger than ever. And it will be because of Apex."
A semblance of peace, fragile and fleeting, settled on Renji's ravaged features. The fight was over. The command had been given. His hand went limp in Kenji's.
"Good… That is… good." The words were a breath, barely audible. His eyes closed, not in sleep, but in final surrender.
The EKG monitor continued its steady beep for a few more cycles, a lonely counterpoint to the profound silence that had fallen between father and son.
Kenji did not move. He sat there for a long time, holding his father's cooling hand, watching the flat line on the screen until a nurse quietly entered the room. He had agreed to the future.
But in the quiet of that sterile room, he knew his definition of "honor" and "legitimacy" would be very different from his father's. The empire would be built. But it would be built in Kenji Soma's image.
The spring air was soft on my skin as I walked away from the university gates, my backpack heavy with books but my head heavier with thoughts.
Cherry blossoms drifted down like pink snow, catching in my hair. Everyone around me was laughing, heading out for coffee, talking about their plans. Normal plans.
My 20th birthday is in a week. April 19th.
"Birthdays are supposed to be exciting," I muttered to myself, kicking a loose pebble on the path. It skittered ahead of me, a tiny, powerless thing. For most people, it's a milestone. Freedom. A celebration.
But for me? This birthday isn't a door opening. It's a clock running out. It's just one step closer to the one thing in my life that hasn't changed, won't change, no matter how many classes I take or how many smiles I fake.
Kenji.
The name is a cold knot in my stomach. Soon. The word echoes in my head. Soon, he'll decide the wait is over. Soon, he'll take what he's always said is his.
The thought makes my hands go cold, even in the warm sun. I'm scared. Not the jump-scare kind of fear, but a deep, dread-filled kind that lives in your bones. The kind you can't run from.
And my fucking luck... it never fails. My internship starts in two months. A chance to finally use my brain, to do something real.
"And it's at Apex Innovations, no less," I sighed, the words tasting bitter. His company. The heart of his empire. I'll be walking right into the lion's den every single day, working under his gaze, proving my worth to the man who owns me. I'm not building a career. I'm just making myself a more valuable possession.
I reached the quiet, tree-lined street leading to the estate—my gilded cage. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and my future was a dark, unchanging shadow waiting for me at home. Some birthday this is going to be.