The Shinjuki police station looked different in the morning.
Sunlight bounced off the gray concrete, softening the edges, making the building look almost welcoming. But Ren knew better. He had been here before—in the dark, in the cold, when the fluorescent lights hummed and the walls closed in. He knew what waited inside.
Takeshi parked the car across the street. "You don't have to do this alone."
"I'm not alone. You're right outside."
"That's not what I meant."
Ren looked at the building. At the flag fluttering above the entrance. At the officers coming and going, their faces blank, their eyes tired.
"I know what you meant," he said. "But if this is a trap, I'd rather be the only one caught in it."
He opened the door and stepped out.
The lobby was busier than before—morning shift, people reporting crimes, officers typing reports. Ren walked to the front desk. The same young officer from last night was there, his eyes widening when he saw Ren.
"You again."
"I have an appointment with Prosecutor Ito."
The officer blinked. Then he picked up his phone, muttered something, and hung up. "Third floor. Room 312. Someone will meet you at the elevator."
Ren walked to the elevator. The doors opened. He stepped inside.
The third floor was quieter. Fewer people. Thicker carpets. The walls were painted a pale blue, meant to be calming, but Ren felt anything but calm. A woman in a suit was waiting for him outside the elevator—mid-thirties, sharp features, a badge hanging from her belt.
"Akiyama-kun?"
"Yes."
"Follow me."
She led him down a long corridor, past closed doors and murmured conversations, to a room at the end. Room 312. She opened the door and gestured for him to enter.
The room was small—a table, four chairs, a window that looked out onto the city. A man sat at the table, his back to the door. He stood as Ren entered, turning to face him.
Prosecutor Ito was younger than Ren expected. Maybe thirty-five. Tall, thin, with dark hair and darker eyes. He wore a simple gray suit, no tie, and his smile—when it came—was tired but genuine.
"Akiyama-kun. Thank you for coming."
Ren sat down across from him. "I didn't have a choice."
"Everyone has a choice. You chose to come." Ito sat down as well, folding his hands on the table. "I've read your file. All of it. The prodigy years. The guardianship hearing. The disappearance. The case against Kenji Takahashi."
"And?"
"And I believe you." Ito's voice was steady. "I believe that Kenji Takahashi is guilty of the crimes he's been accused of. I believe he has connections inside the police and the courts. And I believe that you—a seventeen-year-old boy—have done more to bring him to justice than any of my colleagues."
Ren said nothing.
"I'm not corrupt, Akiyama-kun. I know you have no reason to trust me. But I'm going to ask you to trust me anyway." Ito pulled a folder from his briefcase. "I've already started the process of filing charges against Kenji. Human trafficking. Coercion. Stalking. The evidence you provided—the bank records, the witness statements—it's enough to indict him. But I need more."
"What kind of more?"
"I need you to testify. In court. Under oath. About everything—the break-in, the threats, the photographs. I need you to tell the jury what Kenji did to you and Hikari."
Ren's jaw tightened. "And if I refuse?"
"Then the case is weaker. Not impossible—but weaker. Kenji's lawyers will argue that the evidence was obtained illegally. That the witnesses are unreliable. That you're just a troubled kid with a grudge."
"I am a troubled kid with a grudge."
Ito smiled—a small, sad smile. "Maybe. But you're also the only person who can put Kenji away for good. Will you testify?"
Ren was quiet for a long moment. He thought about Hikari. About the photographs. About the way Kenji had looked at him in the safe house, his eyes cold and empty.
"Yes," Ren said. "I'll testify."
Ito nodded. "Then we have a deal. I'll file the charges today. The police will issue a warrant for Kenji's arrest. By this time tomorrow, he'll be in custody."
"And if he runs?"
"He won't run. Men like Kenji don't run. They fight." Ito stood up. "Be careful, Akiyama-kun. The next few days are going to be dangerous."
Ren stood up as well. "I'm always careful."
"No. You're not." Ito walked to the door and opened it. "But that's why you're going to win."
---
Ren walked out of the police station into the morning light.
Takeshi was waiting across the street, leaning against the car, his arms crossed. "Well?"
"He's filing charges. Today."
"That's good."
"It's dangerous. Kenji will know."
"Kenji already knows." Takeshi opened the car door. "Come on. We need to see Kobayashi."
---
Kobayashi's office was buzzing with energy.
She was on the phone when they arrived, her voice sharp and commanding. She hung up as they walked in, a smile spreading across her face.
"The prosecutor's office just called. They've issued a warrant for Kenji's arrest. The police are searching for him now."
Ren sat down. His legs were shaking. "That was fast."
"Ito is good. He doesn't waste time." Kobayashi sat down behind her desk. "But the hard part is still ahead. The trial. The testimony. Kenji's lawyers will do everything they can to discredit you."
"I know."
"Are you ready?"
Ren thought about Hikari. About the photographs. About the way Kenji had looked at him in the safe house.
"I'm ready," he said.
---
That afternoon, Murata's article was published.
The headline blazed across the front page of the Tokyo Shimbun: "PRODIGY'S TESTIMONY: INSIDE THE FALL OF KENJI TAKAHASHI."
The article was long—detailed, meticulous, devastating. It quoted Ren's interview extensively. It described the evidence—the bank records, the photographs, the witness statements. It named names. It exposed connections.
Within hours, the other outlets had picked up the story. NHK. Asahi. Yomiuri. Even the international news agencies were calling it: "Japanese Real Estate Heir Linked to Trafficking Network."
Ren watched the coverage on Takeshi's television, his face blank, his heart pounding.
Takeshi stood beside him, his arms crossed. "You did it."
"We did it," Ren said. "It's not over yet."
"No. But it's closer."
Ren's phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.
Congratulations, Akiyama-kun. You've won the battle. But the war isn't over.
—K
Ren showed the message to Takeshi.
"He's not going to give up," Takeshi said.
"I know."
"Then we need to find him before he finds us."
Ren nodded. But in the back of his mind, a darker thought was forming.
Kenji wasn't running. He was waiting.
And when he struck, it would be devastating.
---
That night, Ren visited Hikari again.
The new group home was quieter than the last one—fewer girls, more space, better security. Hikari was sitting in the common room, a book in her hands, but she looked up the moment Ren walked in.
"I saw the article," she said. "Everyone saw it."
"Good."
"Ren—" She leaned forward, her voice dropping. "They're going to arrest him, aren't they?"
"They issued a warrant. It's just a matter of time."
"And then what? Trial? Testimony? More waiting?"
"Yes."
Hikari looked at him. Her eyes were tired, but there was something else there—hope, maybe, or relief.
"I'm scared," she said.
"I know."
"Not of Kenji. Of what happens after. If he goes to prison—if we win—what then? Where do I go? Where do you go?"
Ren didn't have an answer. He had been so focused on winning that he hadn't thought about what came next.
"Together," he said. "Wherever it is, we go together."
Hikari smiled—a small, fragile smile.
"Together," she repeated.
The social worker coughed. The visit was over.
Ren walked out of the group home with Hikari's smile still in his mind.
The war wasn't over. But for the first time in weeks, he felt like they might actually win.