The moment he opened his eyes, dull familiar ceiling greeted him like a stranger. Unrelenting fatigue came in waves, beating his head from inside-out.
"…Can't sleep… again…"
Only source of light in his room was a strip of afternoon light slipped through a narrow gap in the curtains. Renji reached for his phone, the battery blinking red. He scrolled through the stacked notifications, a half-hearted attempt to look at reality.
'Missed call (12) – (Boss2) Shira Kurosawa'
'Missed call (35) – (Boss1) Reika Hiraga'
Along with it, one unread message, and he tapped it.
'Reika Hiraga: Pick up the phone. I need to talk.'
He stared at the screen for a moment, then let the phone fall back on the table with a groan.
"…Yeah, bet you do… what else does she want from me…?"
The cold winter air seeping through his skin. After lying there a few seconds longer—now to minutes—he finally gave up, pulling himself off the sofa where he'd spent most of the past few days, dragging his feet toward the bathroom.
Inside, he stopped in front of the smudged mirror.
"…"
He stares at it, the reflection of himself. Short, dark, wavy hair that got rumpled even more from sleep. A deadpan expression, hollowed inside and out. Dark circles carved deep beneath his eyes.
The light in those dark-brown eyes—what little remained—looked tired and burnt out. Making him look older than he should've been, for someone barely in his early twenties.
He leaned one arm against the sink, rubbing his face with the other, trying to focus his eyes.
"…What did I really get myself into…?"
His thoughts drifted back to his most recent memory —to five days ago.
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"…Shira… Listen… it's—keep this to yourself."
The shift in tone was sharp enough to douse through whatever teasing mood left.
"Rita… what happened?"
"Don't tell Renji. Or… nevermind, I'll leave it to you whether you tell him or not—and how."
Another second passed. Then the words passed with heavy reluctance.
"—Tetsuo was found dead, at one of our abandoned Asagiri warehouses."
…What…?
"…Who was it?"
"Still no clue, but my wild guess… high chance it's an insider."
"Are you alone, Rita?"
"No, I'm with Seiryuu-san."
"I see…"
"Shira, head for the rooftop building near Kaikyō Yume Tower—the one we use for pickup. The pilot already there." Reika ordered, her voice steady through the line.
"I understand, I'll return before sunrise."
"Thank you. I'll fill you the details later when we met."
Then the call ended, Shira let her eyes linger on Renji who's still inside the restaurant, still savoring his well-earned meal.
"…Tch…"
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Still contemplating her course of action, she just walked back into the restaurant, sat down, and quietly picked up her fork again, continue on her meal as if everything was normal.
"Shira-sama, this thing's tasty. I mean, seriously... Is there a place like this in Tokyo?"
She looked at him with conflicted eyes hidden behind a faint smile. "…Yes, there are some. What? planning to leech more free meals off me?"
"Sheesh… I'm not that shameless… I'll be checking it out with my own pocket money, duh… next week my salary… right…?" He ended with a nervous half-grin.
…Right…??
"Relax. You'll get paid properly."
Yessss… sweet, sweet five hundred thousand yen, secured!!
He let out a breath of relief. "So, what's our schedule after this, Shira-sama?"
She sliced her steak, chewing in thought—but before she could answer, Renji spoke again.
"You think we can make a short detour? I promised Tetsuo I'd bring him some souvenirs after all…"
Shira froze mid-bite, she put down her knife and fork, staring straight at him.
"Renji… we're heading back to Tokyo right after this."
"Oh… I thought we could relax a bit… haha…"
"Well, urgent matter… Reika-sama called just now."
"…Alright…"
After they finished their meal in casual manner, Renji drove them back to the hotel. Picking up their belongings, then checking out. Silence filled the car ride as they headed toward Kaikyō Yume Tower.
By the time they arrived, it was already another evening, where Jin was already waiting by the front entrance.
Renji stepped out first and bowed awkwardly. "H-hello, Jin-san, hehe."
Jin only looked at him back with indifferent eyes.
"Renji, give him the keys. He'll take the car back to Tokyo."
"…What? We're switching cars?"
"Not exactly. Just follow me."
She picked up her luggage and walked into the building. Renji followed, handing Jin the keys and jog after her.
Inside the elevator, Shira pressed the button for the top floor after tapping a keycard to the panel. The doors closed, and the hum of machinery filled the narrow space.
Renji leaned against the wall, eyes tracing the numbers climbing.
So… rooftop, huh? What? We're sightseeing before heading back…? Romantic much?
When the elevator slides open, a gust of cold wind rushed in, from the already-standing-by helicopter.
"…Wait, wait, wait—! we're going back with THIS?" Renji gawked with stupefied looks.
Shira glanced back over her shoulder. "First time riding one?"
"Of course I am! And that's not what I'm confused about!! If you had a damn helicopter, then WHY the heck did we drive all the way here from Tokyo in the first place!?"
"… The drive had its own purpose. Come on. Watch your head."
The rotor wash hit him hard, slapping at his clothes as they ducked toward the craft.
While Shira calmly adjusted hers and Renji's straps, The pilot gave a brief signal—then the helicopter lifted to the air, and the Shimonoseki city began to sink beneath them.
Weaving through the night, snow sky, lights smeared into streaks below. Their journey back all passed in a blur—the coastline, the sea. Until gradually, the skyline of Tokyo began to form.
Whoa… so this is how Tokyo looks like from above…
The helicopter descended and began to land smoothly, Renji caught sight of the red cross below.
Huh? A hospital?
The private hospital rising like a fortress. The kind of place meant for the wealthy—where one urgent night's stay could ruin a salaryman's annual savings.
"Well… that was a pretty fancy ride back, Shira-sama…"
Renji offered a wry smile as the woman stepped down behind him.
Shira Kurosawa—tall, composed, dark hair pulled into a simple ponytail. She passed him without slowing, already heading for the rooftop door.
"It's not like I travel in one of these every day…"
"…Okay, but—why hospital…? Did something happen to Reika-sama?"
"No… well… you'll see for yourself…"
Shira let her words hang, the weight of her voice did not quite catch up with Renji yet. As they walked, she glanced over her shoulder.
"Hey, Renji. How long have you been living by yourself?"
"…That's sudden… uuh… since my parents passed. Ever since then."
"I see."
"…What about you, Shira-sama?" After a short business trip, Renji forgot that he used to be afraid to ask Shira small question like this, even if he asked, not like that she'd answer back then.
"I've lived my entire life with Reika-sama."
"Whoa, aren't you practically family, then?"
"…You could put it that way, if it seems like that."
He didn't see her face, but somehow he could picture the faintest smile.
"To be honest, you guys do seem like sisters, even though your looks different…"
"That so."
The conversation died there as they moved deeper into the hospital.
But, man… when was the last time I've been to hospital…? Must've been years ago… and where the heck are we going…??
The atmosphere shifting subtly. The further they went, the fewer people they passed. No nurses or staff. Just long corridors and the echo of their footsteps. His unease grew every second.
"…S-Shira-sama… where exactly are we headed…?"
"…" Yet, she didn't answer. And that silence only fed his imagination.
Wait… first it was gun… katana… and the whole firearms found on 'inspection' the other day… wait… wait, wait, wait… don't tell me…?
His steps faltered and started measuring distances, eyes darting between Shira's back and their surroundings.
"Heh… Relax. We're not here to appraise your organs."
"Y-you're not… silencing me, right?" Renji blurted out with nervous grin.
"If that were the case, you'd already be silenced long ago. Stop thinking dumb stuff."
"Well—movies and manga always do that! You know, after someone sees stuff they're not supposed to—"
"It's actually happened a lot more often than you've seen in fiction," she replied casually and even in amused tone. "Far more…"
Renji stopped dead. A hard gulp slid down his throat.
"The heck! That's not reassuring at all!!"
"—We're here."
She stopped before a door near the end of the hallway. Renji stepped closer, reading the bronze plate beside it.
'MORGUE'
…Eh?
"Wait, this is really scary… why we're here? Seriously??"
Shira ignored his demand of an answer, and opened the door without knocking.
"Reika-sama. We've arrived."
The morgue was immaculate and quiet. Stainless steel surfaces gleamed. Rows of storage drawers lined the walls, enough to hold a small fortune in final farewells.
A beautiful half-Japanese face looking straight at their direction with her stern clear-amber eyes. Her ash-brown, shoulder-length hair swayed as she turns her head to them. A familiar face that Renji felt he's not seen forever albeit this short time.
Reika Hiraga was already standing when they entered. She looked composed, as always—but exhaustion leaked through the cracks.
And one smiling handsome man in his suit that seemed like a mature-successful creative entrepreneur that Renji never saw before, sitting on a chair across Reika's.
"Shira. Renji, you're here."
"You stayed all night?" Shira asked, concern edging her voice.
"Absolutely long night with her majesty here… heheh… too bad it's a very 'cold and dry' long night though…" the man chimed in lazily from his seat.
"…You haven't changed, Kouga Seiryuu…" Shira sighed.
"Hey, I deserve at least a night with Reika for my troubles," he grinned as if considering something. "Or… if you're up for it, I can settle if you want to accompany me, instead?"
"…" Shira only shot him a murderous glare with cold rage, and Reika cuts in before it drags.
"Shira… have you told him?" Her gaze slipped past Shira, landing on Renji's clueless expression.
"…I'm about to on the way here, but… changed my mind… I think it's better to explain after he sees on his own…"
"I see."
Reika stepped closer to Renji.
"…Reika-sama. It's been a while," Renji scratched his head and bow awkwardly.
"Looks like you've been well… and… sorry that I had to cut your trip short."
"It's cool… I… I had nothing else to do there anyway…"
"…Renji. I'm truly… sorry."
"N-no, really—it's okay—"
Reika studied him for a moment, guilt flickering behind her eyes. Then she resolved herself.
"Shira. Number three."
"Understood."
Renji's eyes followed Shira as she moved to the storage drawers. She opened one smoothly, pulled it out—
—and revealed a body covered in blanket, unmistakably dead.
Renji stumbled back on instinct.
"Whoa!! W-what—?"
His mind lagged behind his gut. Something felt wrong in a way he couldn't explain.
The rasp of fabric filled the silence as Shira slid the blanket down, revealing the face. Through the grayish skin, the slack jaw, the closed eyes. The world around him seemed to dull, sounds dropping out one by one until all he could hear was his own quickened heartbeat.
He stepped closer. Slowly. To the face that was upside down.
…Huh…?
Until he could really make sure, he wasn't seeing things.
… W…. why… why…? are you… here…?
"…Old man… Tetsuo…?" The name slips past his lips like a smoke.
Ringing sound rang sharply in his ears, then dulled. Colors drained from his sight. Time lost meaning to his brain.
A firm grip caught his shoulder to ground him.
"Renji."
Reika's voice cut through the haze. He looked up, barely focused on her clear-amber eyes.
"…Eh…?"
"Renji. Listen to me."
"…Why… w-what… happened to... him…?"
"It's my fault, I'm sorry."
Her explanation washed over him—every word he's sure he heard, none of it landing.
And then—
Before he knows it, he found himself already laying down at his sofa in his apartment. Already night as he stares lifelessly into his ceiling, he recalls that he part ways with Reika, Shira and that other man inside the morgue, he remembered his drive to his own apartment. But it all felt distant—like watching an unfinished, boring game from someone else's screen.
"…Tetsuo… you're… dead…?"
Barely louder than breath, disbelief scraped his throat.
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