Aiko stared at the man before her, the man who had just claimed her as his, her mind struggling to reconcile the chillingly beautiful face with the demonic speed and cold power she had just witnessed. His eyes, now back to a normal, deep brown but still holding an unnerving intensity, pinned her in place.
"Belong... belong to you?" she stammered, taking an involuntary step back, her hand hitting the counter. "You can't just... You're Yakuza! You just..." You just killed someone, her mind screamed, though she didn't dare say it.
"I am Ishikawa Kaito," he corrected her, his voice devoid of inflection. "And the man I incapacitated will recover. Eventually." He took a step closer, his presence filling the small space behind the counter. "But the Kageyama will not be so forgiving. They know you saw them. They know you saw me. Leaving you here is sentencing you to death. A very unpleasant one."
He reached out, his fingers brushing against the pulse point on her wrist. Aiko flinched but didn't pull away, paralyzed by a mixture of fear and a strange, unwilling curiosity.
"You have two choices," Kaito continued, his touch sending a jolt through her system. "You can stay here and wait for them to return. Or you can come with me." He let go of her wrist. "Choose."
It wasn't a choice. It was a threat wrapped in the illusion of one. Her safe, ordered world had shattered, leaving only this terrifying man and the monsters he fought. Staying meant death. Going with him meant... what? Becoming a prisoner? A possession?
"I... I have a life," she protested weakly, clutching at the remnants of her old reality. "My job..."
"Your job is irrelevant," he cut her off coldly. "Your life, as you knew it, is over." He turned his back on her, a dismissive gesture that stung more than any threat. "I have already arranged for your 'sudden family emergency.' You have five minutes to gather anything irreplaceable. Then we leave."
He walked towards the front of the store, pulling out a sleek black phone, already moving on, already managing the fallout. Aiko stood frozen behind the counter, the silence broken only by the hum of the refrigerators and the frantic pounding of her own heart.
Five minutes. Five minutes to pack up a life she could never return to. Numbly, she moved to the small back room. There wasn't much. A photo of her grandmother. A worn paperback novel. Her cat, Mochi, who blinked sleepily at her from his perch on a stack of inventory boxes.
The cat. Panic seized her again. "My cat," she said, rushing back out. "I can't leave my cat!"
Kaito glanced up from his phone, his expression unreadable. "Fine. Bring it." He didn't sound pleased, but he didn't argue.
Moments later, Aiko stood on the rain-slicked pavement outside the SmileMart, clutching a small duffel bag and a cat carrier containing a very confused Mochi. Kaito locked the store door behind them – her store – with a key she didn't know he possessed. A black, impossibly sleek car slid silently to the curb, driven by a grim-faced man in a suit who didn't even glance at her. Kenji.
Kaito opened the back door. "Get in."
The ride was silent and tense. Aiko stared out the window at the familiar streets of her neighborhood blurring past, feeling like she was watching her own ghost. They drove for what felt like hours, leaving the cozy, familiar parts of Tokyo behind, heading towards the cold, glittering towers of the financial district.
The car descended into the private underground garage of a ridiculously luxurious high-rise. Kaito led her wordlessly to a private elevator, then down a silent, carpeted hallway to a heavy, unmarked door. He opened it and gestured her inside.
The apartment was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a panoramic view of the entire city. The furniture was minimalist and expensive. It was beautiful, sterile, and utterly soulless. It screamed money and power, but held no warmth.
"You will stay here," Kaito said, closing and locking the door behind them. The sound echoed with a chilling finality. "Do not leave. Do not contact anyone. Everything you need will be provided."
Aiko turned, clutching Mochi's carrier like a shield. "For how long?"
"For as long as it takes," he replied vaguely. He walked towards the window, looking down at the city lights. "Consider this your new reality, Tanaka-san. A golden cage, perhaps. But a safe one."
He turned back to face her, his eyes holding that same cold, possessive light she had seen in the store.
"Welcome home."