Shido's heart did a violent somersault. Seeing her was like stepping out of a storm and into a warm room.
'She's so cute when she's worried about me,' he thought, his inner self practically crying with joy. 'Look at those eyes. She's a literal angel. I should buy her every sweet in the city.'
On the outside, he forced himself to look cool. He wiped his forehead with his thumb and flashed his signature, confident smirk. He held up the grocery bag like it was a trophy.
"Me? I'm perfectly fine, Tamiko," he said, his voice smooth and steady again. "I just did a high-speed dash to get here. A king has to stay in peak physical condition, you know? I can't let my fans down."
He gave her a playful wink, though he hoped she wouldn't notice how much he was actually panting.
"Anyway," he asked, looking at her bag.
"Where are you heading?"
Tamiko tilted her head, her expression softening. She wasn't fooled by his act, but she clearly appreciated the effort. "My shift at the cafe starts soon. Grandma needs help with the evening rush."
Shido looked at her, and his playful mood shifted into something more serious. He knew how hard she worked to keep her scholarship and help her family. He felt a sudden, fierce need to protect her.
"Wait right there," Shido said firmly. He pointed a finger at her, his face full of determination. "Don't move an inch. I'm going to hand these things to Mom and then I'm walking you to the cafe."
Tamiko waved her hands, a pink blush creeping up her neck. "No, Shido! It's fine. It isn't a long walk, and you look like you just ran a marathon!"
Shido stepped closer, his tall frame casting a shadow over her, but his eyes were soft. "I insist. A man doesn't let his girl walk into the dark alone. Not while I'm around. Give me sixty seconds."
Tamiko stayed still, her mouth slightly open. She looked at his messy hair and the cracked phone in his hand, then up at his bright, ridiculous eyes.
'He acts so silly sometimes,' she thought, her heart fluttering. 'He talks about being a King and showing off, but he only ever uses that strength to stand by me. He's the loudest person I know, but he's the only one who makes me feel at peace.'
A small, shy smile grew on her face. "Okay... I'll wait for you."
Shido flashed a grin that could light up the whole street. "Good. Don't go anywhere!"
He turned and dashed toward the kitchen, his heart finally beating for a much better reason.
The 3:00 PM sun beat down on the quiet street, turning the dust into a golden haze. Mr. Kamitani didn't shift his weight. He stood with his arms folded, watching Seijurou with a flat, unimpressed look.
He glanced at the silver watch in Seijurou's hand and let out a short, dry breath that was almost a laugh.
"What's that supposed to be, Mr. Kanzaki? Checking the time so you can pretend you're a responsible father for once? Planning to pick up your son from school?"
He shook his head, looking almost pitying. "Go ahead and keep checking that watch if you like. It won't change the fact that the school's closed."
Seijurou didn't snap back. He didn't even blink. The flashes of anger from before had vanished, replaced by a stillness that was far more unsettling. He kept his eyes fixed on the open face of the watch, the silver surface gleaming in the afternoon light.
The silence stretched out, long and heavy. The only sound was was the distant hum of the neighborhood and the steady, metallic tink... tink... tink of the gears.
Finally, Seijurou spoke. His voice was no longer mocking—it was cold and practical.
"Twelve hours ago," Seijurou said.
Mr. Kamitani's brow furrowed slightly. The mockery in his eyes shifted into a brief flash of confusion. "What?"
Seijurou finally closed the watch with a soft, final snap. He looked up, his pale green eyes locking onto the lawyer's with a chilling, focused intensity.
"Twelve hours ago, Mr. Kamitani."
The 3:00 PM sun continued its slow crawl across the sky, casting the shadow of the Mercedes like a dark stain over the dirt. Seijurou didn't look away from Mr. Kamitani. The silence after "Twelve hours ago" was thick, like the air before a summer storm.
"So," Seijurou began, his voice dropping into a smooth, conversational tone. "Tell me, Mr. Kamitani. What does a man of your... reputation... do with his days lately? I've always been curious about the 'Shield's' personal clock."
Mr. Kamitani didn't move an inch. He shifted his weight, his leather shoes crunching softly on the ground. "Are we talking about my working hours, Mr. Kanzaki? Or the fact that I spent my morning fixing a leaky sink and looking over old case files? Because I can assure you, neither would interest a man who runs this whole city."
Seijurou let out a soft laugh—a sound that felt strangely out of place in the dusty alley.
"Case files? No, no," Seijurou waved a hand away, his fingers long and elegant. "I know nothing of the law. I'm a simple man of business, a layman compared to you. I meant your routine. The quiet moments. The things that make a man feel... human."
Mr. Kamitani's jaw tightened. He reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against his grocery list—a physical reminder of the life he actually cared about. He looked at the billionaire, his eyes flat.
"My 'human' moments are private," Mr. Kamitani said. "But since you're so interested in the schedule of a commoner, why don't you tell me yours? I'd love to hear how a person of
your importance spends his weekend. I'm sure it's fascinating."
The sarcasm was dry enough to catch fire.
Seijurou's smile didn't falter, but his gaze drifted toward the dashboard. "Lately? I'm afraid I haven't quite been in my right senses. The pressure of the position, perhaps. I've found myself... mistreating people. Even those who carry my own blood."
'Mistreating them?' Mr. Kamitani thought. He pictured the tabloid headline he'd seen at the grocery store yesterday. The one with the blurry photo of Seijurou's wife—the world-famous actress—boarding a private jet with her latest co-star.
'Is that the new word for getting dumped? The most powerful man in Tokyo can't even keep his own wife from fleeing to a different continent.'
"Take Kashima, for instance," Seijurou sighed, a sound like dry leaves skittering on pavement. "My son. Our bond... it's shattered. I've been quite cold to him lately. I've said things to him—things that ensure he no longer looks at me as a father, but as a stranger. I've pushed him away until there's nothing left but silence between us."
Seijurou traced the edge of the leather seat.
"He spends all his time here now, doesn't he? He thinks he can find a new home with your family. He thinks that your son's friendship can replace the bond I destroyed. But he's wrong. When a father breaks something like that, it stays broken. He is alone, even when he's sitting in your living room."
'You sound proud of it,' Kamitani thought. A wave of genuine disgust hit him. 'You broke your own kid just to prove you could, and now you're bored because he doesn't talk to you.'
"Mr. Kamitani?"
The lawyer blinked, snapping back to the present. He realized he had been staring at the Mercedes' logo, lost in his own irritation.
"Are you listening to my grief?" Seijurou asked, leaning slightly forward. He sounded almost hurt, but the look in his eyes remained strangely cold.
Kamitani let out a long, audible sigh, his shoulders dropping just a fraction. "Mr. Kanzaki, of all the people in Tokyo, of all the priests and therapists you could hire... why did you find me to share your family drama with? I'm just a man trying to get his shopping done."
Seijurou's fingers dug into the leather of the seat. For a second, his calm face cracked, showing a sharp, ugly anger that didn't match his expensive suit. He took a slow breath, smoothed his hair, and forced his face back into a cold, fake smile.
'You're about to snap,' Kamitani thought, watching the billionaire's hand shake. 'Good. Let's see what's really under that expensive mask.'
"I thought it was appropriate," Seijurou said, his voice tightening. "After all, we are both fathers. And more importantly, we are fathers of children who are... remarkably close friends. Wouldn't you agree?"
Mr. Kamitani's hand went still in his pocket. He didn't like the way Seijurou said 'close friends'. The joke about the Hollywood wife was gone.He looked at the silver watch still gripped in Seijurou's hand, then back to those pale green eyes.
"Fine," Kamitani said, his voice dropping low. "I'm listening, Mr. Kanzaki. Say what you came to say."
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