"Who else would it be, Mr. Kamitani?" Seijurou's eyes locked onto his. "It's going to be you."
Mr. Kamitani stood in a stunned, heavy silence. The air felt thick. He looked at the man in the car—this billionaire who had just confessed to a hit-and-run—and felt a wave of pure disgust.
Seijurou, seeing the silence, leaned back and crossed his arms. A slow, arrogant smile spread across his face as he closed his eyes.
"What's the matter, Mr. Kamitani? Why so shocked? A man of my status... a wealthy CEO... is giving you the opportunity of a lifetime. Most lawyers would sell their souls to have my name on their client list. Think of the fame. The money."
Mr. Kamitani let out a short, rough chuckle. He brushed his hair back with a shaky hand, his eyes cold. "Fame? Money? Is that what you think I want?"
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I see why your wife chose another man over you, Seijurou Kanzaki. You're a fool. And if you keep this up? I bet even your son, Kashima, will find a way to leave you behind too."
The smile vanished from Seijurou's face. His eyes snapped open, burning with a sudden, violent rage. "You shut your mouth! You don't know anything about my family! You're just a bottom-feeder lawyer in a crumbling district!"
"I'd rather be a bottom-feeder than a blind idiot drowning in gold." Mr. Kamitani snapped back. "I don't support criminals. No matter the price." He waved a hand in disagreement, as if shooing away a fly. "Stop wasting my time. I'm done listening to you."
Mr. Kamitani turned his back and began to walk away.
"Ayato Kamitani! Get back here!" Seijurou screamed from the car, his neck straining as he leaned out the window. "Don't you walk away from me! You're throwing away a golden opportunity!"
From down the street, Kento was walking toward the Amamiya house, his bag slung over his shoulder. He froze when he heard the screaming. He saw his father standing in the middle of the road, and then he saw the black Mercedes.
"Dad?" Kento called out, hurrying over. "What are you doing here? Who is that?"
Mr. Kamitani looked at Kento, his irritation flaring. "Kento, not now. Go inside. Don't pay attention to him."
"But Dad—"
"I said go inside!" Mr. Kamitani shouted, his patience completely gone.
"Ayato Kamitani!" Seijurou's voice boomed from the car, full of a dark, low threat. "If you won't help me willingly, I have other methods to force your hand. Don't test me."
Mr. Kamitani's face turned bright red with fury. He rushed back toward the car. "What did you say? You think you can threaten me? What are you going to do, you coward?!"
Kento ran after him, grabbing his father's arm. "Dad! Stop! Calm down! What is wrong with you?"
Seijurou let out a dark, mocking laugh. "See? Every dog gets to know its place when the master raises his voice."
Kento's eyes narrowed. He stepped in front of his father, looking Seijurou right in the eye. "Mister you've got a lot of nerve for someone hiding behind a steering wheel."
Kento muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe you should leave before I strip off whatever 'reputation' you think you have left. You look pathetic."
Seijurou's jaw tightened. He looked at Mr. Kamitani. "Is your father so weak that he needs a dumb creature like you to fight his battles?"
Kento opened his mouth to retort, but Mr. Kamitani put a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Kento, stop. Go to the Amamiya house. Now."
Kento shook his hand off. "No. I'm not leaving you with this madman."
Seijurou leaned out further, a fox-like smile playing on his lips. He looked at Mr. Kamitani and chuckled. "You want to know what I can do to force you? You want to see the reality?"
He slowly raised a finger and pointed it directly at Kento. "For starters... I could hurt your son."
The air went cold. Mr. Kamitani's eyes filled with a sudden, sharp terror. "What?"
Kento rolled his eyes, letting out a sharp laugh. "Oh, wow. I'm so scared. A billionaire threatening a student. Very 'manly' of you."
"Shut up, Kento!" Mr. Kamitani shouted, his voice trembling. He looked at Seijurou. "Be a man, Seijurou. Face your own mess before I expose everything myself."
Seijurou didn't blink. "I'll give you time until 12:00 A.M. tonight. That's your deadline. After that, I stop playing nice and I start doing what I wish."
"I'm not giving you an answer." Mr. Kamitani grumbled.
"I'll be waiting for it anyway." Seijurou replied. He looked at Kento one last time, his gaze chillingly calm. "I'm not mad, kid. Your father is the mad one. He's risking your life just for his own stubborn pride."
Kento grabbed his father's hand, pulling him away. "Let's go, Dad. He's lost his mind."
Seijurou watched them walk away, the orange sun reflecting off his eyes. "Don't worry." he called out as the Driver started the engine. "I'm leaving. But remember... 12:00 A.M. Tick-tock, Mr. Kamitani."
The sound of the Mercedes engine eventually disappeared into the distance, leaving the street in a silence that felt bruised.
The sun hung low, casting long,
uneven shadows that looked like grasping fingers reaching for the Amamiya house. The air there still tasted of exhaust and unspoken threats, the orange light making the dust in the air look like sparks from a dying fire.
But as the path turned away from the bypass and deeper into the residential district, the light began to fade.
At the Kamitani residence, the atmosphere was completely different. The tall, neighboring apartment blocks had already swallowed the sun, covering the house into a cool, stagnant shade.
There, the air was still. It didn't smell like rain or expensive leather; it smelled of old paper, cold tea, and the quiet dust of a home where the clock ticked too loudly.
A single, narrow ray of dying sunlight managed to pierce through a gap in the heavy curtains, illuminating millions of dust particles that hung in the air like tiny, frozen stars.
Every object seemed to hold its breath. Two pair of school shoes sat neatly by the entrance, their laces tucked in. On the wall, a framed photo of young Kento and Shido and Mr. Kamitani was partially swallowed by the shadows, their smiling faces fading into the grey twilight.
The air carried the faint scent of old books, but there was no sound of a kettle boiling, no rustle of a newspaper, and no footsteps on the stairs.
The air conditioner in Kento's room hummed a steady, mechanical lullaby, keeping the air at a crisp 23°C. Outside, the world was drowning in the heavy blue of a Tokyo evening, but inside, the curtains were drawn tight, sealing out the tragedy of the streets.
The room smelled like Kento—clean laundry and old paper. On the low table, two mugs sat forgotten, the tea inside long gone cold.
Hori was sprawled across Kento's bed, her blonde hair spreading out like a silk crown against the blue sheets. Her pink eyes were fixed on the ceiling, glowing with a restless light. She looked like a fallen angel who was bored of heaven.
Beside the bed, Kashima sat on the floor, leaning his back against the mattress. One leg was tucked in, while the other was pulled towards his chest, providing a support for his arm as he scrolled through his phone. His blue eyes were hidden by his blonde bangs, his expression calm—until he spoke.
"You miss him already, don't you?"
Hori let out a long, dramatic sigh that filled her chest. "No." she said, her eyes never leaving the ceiling.
"I was just wondering where he got that brain of his. He's obsessed with reincarnation and destiny... it's so unscientific. Mr. and Mrs. Kamitani are such practical, serious people. Kento is just... he's a weirdo."
Kashima let out a small huff of amusement. He kept his phone away and stood up, the floorboards creaking slightly under his weight. He didn't just stand; he towered, bending over the bed and closing the distance between them until Hori's pink eyes were forced to focus on him.
"It's not weirdness, Hori. It's genetics."
Kashima whispered. He reached out, his fingers steady as he brushed a stray blonde strand away from her face.
"Sometimes, recessive traits from generations ago skip the parents and land straight on the child. It's a matter of—"
He stopped.
Hori's heart wasn't just beating; it was thumping against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her face had turned a shade of red that rivaled a sunset. She looked like she was about to short-circuit.
Kashima blinked, his cool blue eyes filled with genuine confusion. "What? Are you alright? You're... sweating."
He reached out his other hand, moving toward her forehead. "Do you have a fever?"
SNAP!
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