The apartment had never been so quiet.
Ren stood in the doorway of Takeshi's spare bedroom—the room where Hikari had slept for the past week. The futon was still there, neatly folded, the way she had left it that morning. Her pillow still smelled like her—jasmine and something clean, like soap and hope. Her toothbrush was still in the bathroom. Her hairbrush was still on the shelf. Her presence was everywhere, and nowhere at all.
Takeshi stood behind him, his shadow falling across the floor.
"You should sleep," Takeshi said.
"I don't sleep."
"You should try."
Ren turned around. "What's the point? She's not here. Nothing matters."
Takeshi's expression didn't change. But something in his eyes softened—just a little.
"That's not true," he said. "You matter. She matters. What you're fighting for matters."
"Fighting?" Ren laughed—a hollow, bitter sound. "We lost. The court ruled against us. She's in a group home with people she doesn't know, and I can't even visit her without permission. What exactly am I supposed to fight?"
"The decision. Kobayashi is already filing an appeal. It'll take time, but—"
"We don't have time. Kenji is still out there. And now Hikari is alone. Vulnerable. Easy to find." Ren's voice cracked. "Do you understand what that means? He can get to her now. He doesn't have to go through me. He can just... walk into that group home and take her."
Takeshi was silent for a moment. Then he walked to the window and looked out at the river.
"I know," he said quietly. "That's why I'm not sleeping either."
---
Ren spent the night on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
His phone lay on his chest, dark and silent. No messages from Hikari—the group home didn't allow phones, at least not for the first few days. He had known that. Kobayashi had warned him. But knowing and feeling were different things.
At 2 AM, he sat up.
He couldn't do this. Couldn't sit here, doing nothing, while Hikari was alone and scared and probably crying herself to sleep in a room full of strangers.
He grabbed his jacket and walked to the door.
"Where are you going?" Takeshi's voice came from the darkness. The investigator was sitting in the kitchen, a cup of cold coffee in front of him, his eyes red but alert.
"Out."
"It's two in the morning."
"I need to think."
Takeshi stood up. "I'm coming with you."
"No. I need to be alone."
Takeshi studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Take my phone. The GPS is off. If you're not back in two hours, I'm coming to find you."
Ren took the phone and walked out.
---
The streets of Kamata were empty.
The bars were closed. The restaurants were dark. A single convenience store glowed at the end of the street, its fluorescent light spilling onto the wet pavement. Ren walked past it, past the shuttered shops, past the apartment buildings where people slept peacefully in their beds.
He didn't know where he was going. He just walked.
His mind was a storm. Hikari's face. The judge's voice. The bailiff's hand on her arm. The way she had looked back at him, her eyes wide with fear and hope and something that looked like love.
Together, she had whispered.
And he had promised. But promises didn't mean anything when the law said otherwise.
He found himself at the river.
The same river that flowed past Takeshi's apartment, wider here, darker, the water moving slowly toward the bay. A bench sat near the edge, facing the water. Ren sat down.
The cold seeped through his jacket. The wind carried the smell of salt and diesel and something else—something old and sad.
He sat there for a long time.
And then he heard footsteps.
Not heavy. Not threatening. Just footsteps—someone walking along the river path, someone who was also awake at 3 AM.
"Mind if I sit?"
Ren looked up. An old man stood beside the bench. He was tall, thin, with white hair and a weathered face. He wore a worn coat and carried a walking stick that looked more decorative than functional.
"It's a public bench," Ren said.
The old man sat down. He didn't say anything for a while. He just looked at the river, the same way Ren had been looking.
"You're young to be out this late," the old man said finally.
"So are you."
The old man laughed—a dry, rasping sound. "I'm eighty-three. I can be out whenever I want."
Ren said nothing.
"Something's bothering you," the old man continued. "Something big. I can see it in your eyes. The same eyes I had when I was your age."
"What happened when you were my age?"
The old man was quiet for a moment. Then he said: "I lost someone. The person I loved most in the world. She died. And I spent the next sixty years wondering what I could have done differently."
Ren looked at him. "Did you ever figure it out?"
"No." The old man smiled—a sad, gentle smile. "But I learned that sitting by the river at three in the morning doesn't help. It just makes you cold and tired."
"What does help?"
"Moving. Doing. Fighting. Even when you think you've lost, even when everything seems hopeless—you keep moving. Because the moment you stop, they win." He stood up, leaning on his walking stick. "Whoever took her from you—don't let them win."
He walked away, his footsteps fading into the night.
Ren sat on the bench for another ten minutes. Then he stood up and walked back to Takeshi's apartment.
---
At 8 AM, Kobayashi called.
"The appeal is filed," she said. Her voice was tired, but there was something underneath—determination, maybe, or anger. "It'll take at least two weeks for the court to review it. In the meantime, I've requested a visitation hearing. We should be able to get you in to see Hikari within a few days."
"Days," Ren repeated. "Not weeks?"
"Days. The judge who handled the guardianship case is on vacation, so we have a different judge for the visitation request. She's more... sympathetic."
"Sympathetic how?"
"She doesn't like separating families. Even unconventional ones." Kobayashi paused. "But you need to understand something, Ren. When you visit Hikari, you'll be supervised. A social worker will be in the room. You can't touch her. You can't pass her anything. You can't even whisper without being overheard."
"I don't care. I just need to see her. To make sure she's okay."
"She's not okay. Group homes aren't okay. But she's alive, and she's safe, and that's what matters for now."
Ren ended the call.
Takeshi was standing in the kitchen, making coffee. He didn't ask what Kobayashi had said. He just poured two cups and handed one to Ren.
"We're going to get her back," Takeshi said. "Whatever it takes."
Ren nodded. But he didn't believe it. Not yet.
---
The next three days were the longest of Ren's life.
He went back to school—because Kobayashi said it would look good for the appeal, because Takeshi said he couldn't hide forever, because Hikari would have wanted him to. The whispers followed him everywhere. There's the prodigy. The one who lived with that girl. The one whose mother died.
He ignored them.
He worked his shifts at the bookstore—because he needed the money, because he needed something to do with his hands, because sitting alone in the apartment was driving him crazy. His boss, a tired man named Mr. Yamamoto who had never asked a single personal question, looked at him once and said, "You look like hell, kid. Take a break if you need it."
Ren didn't take a break.
He came home every night to an empty apartment. Takeshi was usually out—following leads, talking to contacts, trying to find Kenji before the police did. Ren sat on the couch, staring at the wall, replaying every moment he had spent with Hikari.
The first night she had come to his apartment. The way she had smiled when she said, "You're late." The way she had made coffee every morning, black, no sugar, the way he liked it. The way she had talked to her jade tree. The way she had kissed his forehead.
I love that about you.
He closed his eyes.
I love that you're stubborn too.
He had said it. He had meant it. And now she was gone.
---
On the fourth day, the visitation was approved.
Ren stood outside the group home—a large, gray building in a neighborhood he didn't recognize—his hands in his pockets, his heart pounding. Takeshi stood beside him, his face grim.
"You want me to come in?" Takeshi asked.
"No. I need to do this alone."
Takeshi nodded. "I'll be in the car. Take as long as you need."
Ren walked to the entrance. A buzzer sounded. A voice crackled through the intercom.
"Name?"
"Ren Akiyama. Here to see Hikari Tachibana."
A pause. Then the door clicked open.
The inside of the group home was clean, institutional, depressing. Beige walls. Fluorescent lights. A smell of disinfectant and overcooked vegetables. A social worker met him in the lobby—a woman in her forties, with kind eyes and tired smile.
"You must be Ren. I'm Suzuki. I'll be supervising your visit." She gestured down the hallway. "She's in the common room. She's been asking about you every day."
Ren followed her.
The common room was small—a few couches, a television, a bookshelf with worn paperbacks. And there, sitting on the couch, her hands in her lap, her eyes fixed on the door—
Hikari.
She looked different. Thinner. Paler. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, and she wasn't wearing any makeup. She looked younger, somehow. More vulnerable.
But when she saw Ren, her face lit up.
"Ren—"
She started to stand, but the social worker held up a hand.
"Remember the rules, Hikari-chan. No touching. No physical contact. You can talk, but stay in your seats."
Hikari sat back down. Her eyes never left Ren's face.
Ren sat on the couch across from her. The distance between them was only a few feet, but it felt like miles.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine." Her voice was steady, but her hands were shaking. "They feed me. They give me a bed. It's not... it's not terrible."
"You're lying."
She smiled—a small, sad smile. "I'm lying. It's terrible. I hate it here. The other girls are nice, but they're not... they're not you."
"I know."
"I miss you. I miss the apartment. I miss Saburo. I miss waking up to the smell of your terrible instant coffee."
"It's not terrible. It's efficient."
She laughed—a real laugh, the first one he had heard from her in days. "You're such an idiot."
"I know."
They sat in silence for a moment. The social worker watched from the corner, her expression neutral.
"The appeal is filed," Ren said. "Kobayashi is working on it. And I'm going to see you every chance I get. Every day, if they let me."
"They won't let you every day."
"Then every other day. Or twice a week. As often as I can."
Hikari's eyes glistened. "You're going to exhaust yourself."
"I don't get exhausted. I get determined."
She smiled again. But this time, the smile didn't reach her eyes.
"Ren."
"What."
"There's something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you before."
Ren's heart stopped. "What?"
Hikari looked at the social worker. "Can we have a moment? Privately?"
Suzuki hesitated. Then she nodded and stepped into the hallway, leaving the door open but out of earshot.
Hikari leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Kenji contacted me. Two days ago. He sent a message through one of the staff members here."
Ren's blood went cold. "What did he say?"
"He said he knows where you are. Where Takeshi lives. Where Kobayashi's office is. He said if I don't withdraw my testimony and agree to go with him willingly, he's going to hurt you. All of you."
"Did you tell the police?"
"The staff member denied everything. No proof. Just his word against mine." Hikari's voice trembled. "I'm scared, Ren. Not for myself. For you."
Ren reached out—forgetting the rule, forgetting the social worker, forgetting everything. His hand almost touched hers.
"Akiyama-kun." Suzuki's voice from the doorway. "No touching."
He pulled his hand back.
"Listen to me," he said, his voice low and intense. "You're not going to withdraw anything. You're not going to go with him. You're going to stay here, stay safe, and let me handle Kenji."
"How? He's everywhere. He has connections. He has money. What do you have?"
Ren looked at her. At her fear. Her hope. Her love.
"I have you," he said. "That's enough."
The visit ended five minutes later. Ren walked out of the group home, his hands in his pockets, his mind racing.
Takeshi was waiting in the car.
"How is she?"
"She's scared. Kenji contacted her."
Takeshi's face darkened. "What?"
"He sent a message through a staff member. Threatened to hurt us if she doesn't cooperate."
"Which staff member?"
"She didn't know his name. But he works there. Which means Kenji has someone inside the group home."
Takeshi started the car. "We need to tell Kobayashi. And the police. And everyone else who can help."
Ren nodded. But in the back of his mind, a darker thought was forming.
Kenji had someone inside the group home. That meant Hikari wasn't safe. Not really. Not while Kenji was still free.
And the only way to make her safe was to find Kenji first.
No matter what it took.