Sundays in central Tokyo possessed a completely different rhythm than the rest of the week. The frantic, high-speed pulse of the morning commuter rush was replaced by a slow, easy-going hum. The streets were filled with couples taking leisurely strolls, groups of friends laughing outside crepe stands, and families enjoying the warm, mid-spring sunshine.
For Renji, it was a rhythm he was still learning how to deeply appreciate.
He had intentionally left the family town car and the driver back at the estate. He simply wanted to blend in and enjoy the city like a normal guy.
He was dressed comfortably but impeccably, wearing a slightly oversized, cream-colored knit sweater over a plain white t-shirt, paired with dark, straight-leg denim and clean white sneakers. His dark hair fell naturally around his face, lacking the rigid, highly styled hold the agency usually demanded.
His first stop was a multi-story lifestyle and stationery department store.
Wandering through the quiet, air-conditioned aisles, Renji found himself inevitably thinking about his sisters. He stopped by the high-end stationery display, his eyes scanning the glass cases.
'Akari had been devouring her light novels lately, carrying that thick paperback with her everywhere she went.'
He gestured to a sales associate and purchased a beautiful, brushed silver bookmark adorned with a small, tasteful sapphire-blue tassel.
A few floors down, in the basement food hall, he stopped at an artisanal sweets counter. There he bought a beautifully wrapped, limited-edition box of imported pastel macarons for both of his sisters, especially for Yume.
Carrying the small shopping bags, Renji stepped back out into the sunlit street.
As he walked down the wide pedestrian avenue, enjoying the breeze, he noticed the subtle shifts in the crowd.
It started with a few hushed whispers. A group of four girls, two wearing high school uniforms for weekend club activities, and two in bright, casual middle school clothes, had stopped dead in their tracks near a bubble tea stand.
Renji didn't have to look directly at them to feel their eyes on him, though he kept his pace relaxed.
"Wait, is that really him?" one of the high schoolers whispered loudly, furiously tapping her friend's shoulder.
"It has to be! Look at how tall he is! And he posted a picture in that exact sweater on his story this morning!"
After a few seconds of frantic, whispered debate and aggressive shoving, the bravest of the group, one of the high school girls, stepped forward, her face flushed a bright shade of pink.
"U-Um! Excuse me!" she called out, her voice pitching up with nerves.
Renji stopped and turned, offering a polite smile. "Yes?"
The girl immediately froze, her eyes widening as she took him in up close. Her friends huddled tightly behind her for moral support. "A-Are you Kamishiro Renji-san? From the PRNC Agency?"
"Yes, I am," Renji nodded, his tone gentle.
"We knew it!" one of the middle school girls squeaked from the back.
The leader took a deep breath, clutching her smartphone to her chest. "We are huge fans! We follow all your shoots! So… U-Um, if it's not too much trouble, could we possibly take a picture with you?"
"Sure, I don't mind at all," Renji smiled, stepping slightly closer so he wasn't blocking the flow of pedestrian traffic.
The girls let out a collective, muffled shriek of excitement. They quickly scrambled to arrange themselves, fumbling with the phone camera. Because Renji was significantly taller than all of them, he naturally bent his knees a little, leaning into the frame so the girl holding the phone wouldn't have to awkwardly stretch her arm to capture everyone.
"Ready? One, two, three!"
The camera clicked.
"Thank you! Thank you so much, Kamishiro-san!" the girls bowed repeatedly, clutching the phone like it contained a sacred artifact. "We'll keep supporting you! Please do your best!"
"Thanks. Enjoy the rest of your weekend," Renji replied warmly, giving them a small wave before continuing down the street.
He walked away feeling slightly amused.
Nakata's data analytics had been entirely correct; his recent shift toward a more approachable, visible presence online had definitely increased his real-world recognition. But as long as it remained this polite and manageable, he didn't mind the fame at all.
A little further down the avenue, Renji decided it was time for a break.
He spotted a high-end, open-air café with a spacious wooden terrace facing the street. The smell of freshly roasted espresso beans drifted warmly through the spring air.
He ordered a simple iced Americano at the counter, picked up his drink, and found a quiet table in the corner of the terrace.
He set his shopping bags on the empty chair across from him, leaned back against the comfortable wicker seat, and took a slow sip of the bitter, freezing coffee.
As he watched the crowds walk by, he simply let his mind go blank. It was a rare, beautiful kind of peace.
About ten minutes into his break, he heard the light, rhythmic click of low heels approaching his table.
"Pardon me for interrupting your break," a smooth, polite voice said.
Renji looked up. Standing near his table were two women, likely in their mid-to-late twenties.
"Are you Kamishiro Renji-san?" the woman who had spoken asked, offering a small, respectful smile.
Renji set his iced coffee down on the table.
"I am," Renji answered, his voice steady and even.
"We thought so," the second woman smiled, her tone polite. "We just wanted to quickly say that we really admire your work. We both work in the apparel industry, and your recent spread in the Men's Canvas spring issue was fantastic. You carry the high-end tailoring very well."
"Thank you. That means a lot, especially coming from people in the industry," Renji replied, offering them a genuine, appreciative smile. "The styling team for that shoot was excellent, so I can't take all the credit. But I'm glad the final product resonated."
"We'll be looking forward to your upcoming campaigns," the first woman said, giving a slight, polite bow of her head. "Enjoy your coffee, Kamishiro-san. Sorry again for the intrusion."
"Not an intrusion at all. Have a great Sunday," Renji nodded back.
As the two women walked away to find their own table inside the café, Renji picked up his Americano again.
That interaction felt different than the teenagers but equally validating. It proved that his brand wasn't just built on a cheap, fleeting school idol gimmick. He had legitimate professional reach, and it was exactly the kind of solid, respected career foundation he wanted to build upon.
After finishing his coffee, Renji decided his next destination.
He left the café and walked a few blocks over, stepping through the sliding glass doors of a massive, multi-story game center. The atmosphere shifted instantly. The quiet spring morning was immediately replaced by the deafening, chaotic symphony of electronic music, flashing neon lights, and the clattering sound of hundreds of arcade buttons being mashed simultaneously.
He walked over to a digital change machine, slipped a crisp thousand-yen bill into the slot.
For the next hour, Renji simply had fun.
He played a retro fighting game, his fingers flying across the worn plastic buttons as he absolutely decimated the AI opponent. He sat in one of the immersive, wrap-around racing simulators, gripping the force-feedback steering wheel and drifting a digital sports car around a track.
Eventually, he found himself standing in front of a brightly lit crane game. Inside, a mountain of round, incredibly soft-looking Shiba Inu plushies stared back at him.
He dropped a coin into the slot and gripped the joystick, carefully lined up the metal claw, and hit the drop button. The claw descended, grabbed the plushie directly by the head, lifted it into the air… and then predictably went completely limp at the apex, dropping the toy right back where it started.
Renji stared at the machine, a highly amused smile crossing his face. No matter what world you were in, no matter how overpowered your character design was, arcade claw machines were always a universal scam.
Still, he didn't care. and dropped three more coins in, adjusting his strategy, and on the fourth try, the claw successfully dragged a small, round plushie into the drop chute.
He picked it up, tossing the soft toy lightly in his hand. 'I'll give this one to Yume too,' he thought. 'She'll probably end up naming it something ridiculous.'
By the time he stepped back out of the game center, the midday sun was high in the sky. The streets were even more crowded now.
Renji stood near the edge of a bustling crosswalk, the bags containing the gifts for his sisters held loosely in one hand. He checked the sleek silver watch on his wrist. It was just past noon.
He debated his options. He could find a nice restaurant around here and grab a decent bowl of ramen or a tonkatsu set for lunch. But then again, Honda, the family chef, had mentioned he was preparing a slow-braised beef stew for the weekend, and it felt like a crime to miss out on that level of culinary skill.
As he stood there contemplating his lunch options, a voice suddenly cut clearly through the ambient noise of the crowd.
"…Young Master?!"
Renji blinked, turning his head toward the source of the sound.
Standing a few feet away, holding a plastic shopping bag from a nearby grocery store, was Miya.
The young Kamishiro estate maid looked completely different outside of her crisp, black-and-white uniform. She was wearing a comfortable, oversized beige cardigan over a simple floral dress, her hair pulled back into a casual, messy bun.
Standing right beside her was a boy who looked to be about sixteen years old. He had the same wide, expressive eyes as his older sister.
Miya was staring at Renji like she had just seen a ghost casually strolling through Shibuya. Her eyes were wide, and her jaw was slightly slack. She had clearly never expected to see the heir of the Kamishiro family standing alone outside a noisy arcade, holding a shopping bag and a Shiba Inu plushie.
Renji looked at her, then glanced at the younger boy standing next to her.
A smile spread across Renji's face.
"Hello, Miya-san," Renji greeted, his deep voice carrying easily over the noise of the street. "Enjoying your weekend off?"