The rain drummed steadily against the windowpane, a muted rhythm that filled the quiet of Takagi’s apartment. He sat on the edge of his bed, the small device in his hand feeling heavier than it had any right to. His phone. Something he wielded with effortless authority for business, logistics, and even the occasional confrontation. But tonight, it held a different kind of power—one that had left him paralyzed all day.
His thumb hovered over the small analog screen, the faint glow casting shadows over his face. Her number stared back at him, a door he wasn’t sure he wanted to open yet. He had always been decisive, methodical, never one to hesitate when it came to handling clan matters or making hard calls. And yet, here he was—gripped by an almost schoolboy nervousness.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He sighed, leaning back against the headboard. She’s just a woman, Takagi. A dangerous one, sure, but a woman. Why is this so hard?
He felt foolish. Silly, even. He’d faced down rivals, stared death in the eye, and bled for the Nagasawa-kai without hesitation. Yet now, with nothing but a text message standing between him and Akiko, he was tied up in knots. His thumb moved over the screen, his thoughts a whirlwind of half-formed sentences and overanalyzed meanings.
"What would I even say?" he muttered to himself, shutting the phone off in frustration. Tossing it onto the bed, he exhaled sharply. Maybe he’d text her in the morning. Maybe not. The feelings swirling in his chest were unfamiliar, an unwelcome cocktail of anticipation, curiosity, and something softer he didn’t want to name.
Takagi rubbed the back of his neck, finally kicking off his shoes. He pulled a white t-shirt over his head, mostly covering the tiger and cherry blossom tattoos that coiled across his back and arms. He tossed his button-down shirt from the day onto a chair in the corner and lay down on the bed, still in his suit pants and socks, staring up at the ceiling. The faint flicker of neon light from the window painted shifting patterns across the room.
“Get a grip,” he whispered to himself.
The knock at the door came sharply, cutting through his thoughts. He frowned, glancing at the clock. It was late—almost midnight. And with the rain coming down in sheets outside, who would bother?
His first thought was Sho. Maybe something had gone wrong with Ayaka, and the kid needed a shoulder to lean on. Or maybe there was a message from Kondo, some clan business that couldn’t wait until morning.
He rose from the bed, grabbing his phone out of habit and padding across the small apartment to the door. The knock came again, softer this time, hesitant.
He unlocked the door and pulled it open, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to greet whoever was there.
And then he froze.
Standing in the hallway, framed by the dim light of the building's overhead fixtures, was Akiko.
She wasn’t the confident, composed woman he’d met at the mall. She wasn’t the steely, intimidating presence he knew her to be from her clan’s reputation. Tonight, she looked different—smaller, more vulnerable, with strands of her black hair clinging to her face from the rain. Her usual air of authority was muted, replaced by something softer, almost hesitant.
Her dark eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of them said a word.
The rain continued to fall behind her, a steady, quiet rhythm that seemed to underline the tension between them.
“Akiko,” Takagi finally managed, his voice low, caught between surprise and concern.
She offered a faint, almost apologetic smile, but there was a sadness in it, a weight she seemed to be carrying. “Tetsunori,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the rain. “I’m sorry to bother you so late. I found your address online.”
He didn’t move, still caught in the shock of seeing her standing there, at his door, at this hour. A dozen questions raced through his mind, but none of them seemed appropriate in the moment.
Finally, instinct took over. “Come in,” he said, stepping aside, his tone gentler than he intended.
She hesitated briefly, then nodded, stepping inside and brushing past him. Her scent, faint but distinct, lingered as he closed the door behind her.
Akiko stood in the center of his apartment, her posture uncertain as she glanced around. It wasn’t much—clean but spartan, with few personal touches. Takagi caught himself watching her, trying to read her expression, her body language. Whatever had brought her here, it wasn’t small.
He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You’re soaked,” he said, motioning toward the small bathroom. “Let me grab you a towel.”
She didn’t reply right away, her eyes lingering on the room’s shadows before she finally nodded. “Thank you,” she said, her voice as soft as before.
As he stepped away to retrieve the towel, Takagi felt his chest tighten. Whatever spell she had cast over him at the mall hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown stronger. And now, with her standing in his apartment, looking so different from the woman he thought he knew, he realized just how little control he had over whatever this was.
When he returned with the towel, she took it with a small, appreciative nod, their fingers brushing briefly. He watched her dry her face and hair, unsure of what to say or how to act.
Finally, he broke the silence. “What’s going on, Akiko?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with concern.
She looked at him, her dark eyes searching his face for something—reassurance, perhaps, or maybe just understanding.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” she said quietly.
Takagi leaned back slightly, his hand still resting on the doorframe as he studied her face. She didn’t flinch under his gaze, but he could see the cracks in her composure—the faint tremble in her lips, the tightness in her jaw. She was terrified, that much was clear, but she was fighting to project strength.
His instincts told him this wasn’t a game or a trap. Whatever had brought her here was genuine, raw.
“Come on,” he said gently, motioning toward the living room.
Akiko followed him hesitantly, her steps light, as though she didn’t want to disturb the space. The room was modest but inviting, the centerpiece being two plush recliners angled toward each other at 45 degrees. Takagi gestured for her to sit in one, and she lowered herself gracefully, clutching the towel in her lap.
“Tea?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “That would be nice. Thank you.”
Takagi moved to the small kitchenette, pulling a kettle from the stove and filling it with water. The faint clatter of metal on porcelain as he retrieved two cups filled the quiet, a sound that felt strangely comforting.
When the kettle was on, he returned to the chair across from her and eased into it, his movements deliberate. He studied her as she sat there, her hands gripping the edges of the towel. She looked small in the oversized chair, her usual air of authority dimmed by whatever was weighing on her.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Is this about today?” he asked. “The mall?”
She shook her head slowly, her hair falling over one shoulder.
Takagi frowned, the concern in his eyes deepening. He wasn’t used to seeing her like this—so vulnerable, so human. The Akiko he had envisioned was always sharp and unshakable, a woman who moved through life with purpose and precision. This was something else entirely.
Her voice broke the silence, quiet but firm, laced with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “Takagi... I need to know I can trust you.”
Her eyes met his, and for a moment, he saw them glisten, almost watery, though she quickly blinked the tears away. It was as if the weight of her words, the vulnerability they carried, had cost her something to say.
Takagi straightened, his expression softening. “You can,” he said simply, his voice steady. “But trust goes both ways.”
The kettle began to whistle, breaking the tension. Takagi rose without hesitation, retrieving the kettle and pouring two cups of matcha tea. He set one down in front of her and kept the other in his hand, sitting back down and watching her closely.
She lifted the cup, her fingers wrapping around it as if seeking warmth. For a moment, she said nothing, her eyes focused on the swirling steam.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that,” she said finally, her voice almost a whisper.
“Then tell me what’s going on,” Takagi said, his tone gentle but firm. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
Her gaze flicked to him again, searching his face as though looking for something—reassurance, understanding, maybe even strength.
“It’s not easy to explain,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “But I need someone I can count on. Someone who isn’t...” She trailed off, the unspoken word Hanabira hanging heavy in the air.
Takagi nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “Take your time.”
Akiko took a slow sip of tea, her hands steadying as she cradled the cup. For the first time that night, she let herself exhale, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly. But as she glanced back at Takagi, her expression still carried the weight of unspoken fears.
“I’ll tell you,” she said finally, her voice soft but resolute. “But you have to promise me... this stays between us.”
Takagi’s nod was slow and deliberate, his gaze steady as he silently reassured her. “Whatever you need to say, I’m listening,” he said softly.
Akiko hesitated, her fingers tightening around the teacup in her lap. Her jaw worked as she fought to find the words, her breath uneven. Finally, she spoke, her voice trembling.
“Today… I was almost…” Her words faltered, and she swallowed hard. “I was almost assaulted. In that way.”
Takagi’s expression froze, the faint steam rising from his tea the only thing moving between them. He didn’t interrupt, though his grip on his cup tightened.
Akiko continued, her voice unsteady. “Fujimoto Ryusuke... He came to my office. I don’t even know how he got in. He just walked in, acting like he owned the place.”
Her words tumbled out faster now, as though she had opened a floodgate she couldn’t close. “He started getting closer and closer. I told him to stop, to leave, but he just laughed. Like it was all some joke. Like I didn’t matter.”
Takagi’s jaw clenched, but he stayed silent, letting her speak.
“If it wasn’t for Takahashi Daichi…” Her voice broke, and tears welled in her eyes. “He walked in, just in time. Ryusuke had me pinned against the wall. Daichi pulled his gun on him, told him to get out.”
Takagi nodded slightly at the name. He knew Daichi—once met him at a clan gathering. A senior member of the Hanabira-gumi, Daichi was known as one of the old guard, the type who still held onto the yakuza’s original code of honor. It was good to hear he hadn’t changed.
“But my father…” Akiko’s voice grew quieter, a bitter edge creeping into her words. “When Daichi told him, all he could do was talk about Fujimoto sending a message. How it was some power play. Like I wasn’t even a person. Just… just a symbol in their stupid game.”
Her hands shook as she set the teacup down on the table, gripping the towel instead. Tears spilled down her cheeks now, unbidden, and she made no attempt to hide them.
“Every time I close my eyes, I see his face,” she whispered. “That disgusting, lecherous smile. I can’t… I can’t get it out of my head.” She stood up suddenly, fearfully, and then just stood there, staring at the floor.
Her voice cracked completely, and she broke into quiet sobs, her body trembling as she tried—and failed—to keep her composure.
Takagi didn’t move at first, stunned by the weight of what she had just told him. His chest burned with a mix of anger, shock, and a deep, gnawing indignation. Fujimoto Ryusuke—a senior member of her own clan—had done this. He was supposed to be her ally, her protector. Instead, he’d betrayed her in the worst possible way.
And her father’s indifference…
Takagi’s mind raced, but something deeper—something instinctual—guided his next move. Slowly, he set his own cup aside and leaned forward, his voice soft. “Akiko...”
Without fully thinking it through, he reached for her, his arms encircling her gently. She flinched at first, a faint gasp escaping her lips, her body stiffening as he pulled her into the embrace.
“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice steady, soothing. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
For a moment, she remained rigid, her breath hitching in short, uneven bursts. But gradually, as his warmth enveloped her, she began to relax. Her hands gripped his shirt, clutching it tightly as though anchoring herself to him.
And then she broke completely.
The tears came in earnest, a flood of pent-up fear, frustration, and pain pouring out of her as she buried her face in his shoulder. Her sobs were raw, shaking her entire frame, and Takagi held her firmly, one hand gently resting on the back of her head.
“It’s okay,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible over her cries. “Let it out.”
She cried like she hadn’t in years, her tears soaking into his shirt as the weight she had been carrying spilled out. Takagi didn’t try to stop her or rush her, his arms steady around her, offering comfort she didn’t even know she needed.
For reasons he couldn’t fully articulate, holding her felt right. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was empathy. Maybe it was something deeper, something he didn’t want to put a name to yet. Whatever it was, he stayed with her in the moment, offering her the quiet strength she needed.
As her sobs slowly began to subside, her grip on his shirt loosened slightly. She took a shuddering breath, her face still pressed against his shoulder, as though reluctant to pull away.
“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible.
Takagi said nothing, just tightened his hold on her slightly, letting her know he wasn’t going anywhere.
Takagi tightened his hold on her, his heart aching as her sobs softened against his shoulder. He didn’t rush her or try to pull away; instead, he let her lean on him, her trembling body seeking the stability she so desperately needed. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low and steady, like a quiet anchor in a storm.
“Akiko, listen to me,” he began, his words slow and deliberate. “None of this is your fault. You didn’t deserve what happened today. Not from him, not from anyone. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”
Her hands clung to his shirt again, her knuckles white as fresh sobs bubbled up, raw and unrestrained. She shook her head slightly, her voice cracking as she spoke through the tears.
“Everything… everything fell apart when my mother died,” she choked out. “She was the only one who ever made me feel safe, like I mattered. And after she was gone…” She took a shuddering breath, her words spilling out like a dam breaking. “I thought—I thought I could prove myself to my father. That if I worked hard enough, if I was good enough, maybe he’d see me. Maybe he’d care.”
Her sobs grew louder, her words broken by hiccups of anguish. “But no matter what I do, it’s never enough. It’s never…” She trailed off, shaking her head violently, her face buried against his chest.
Takagi’s jaw tightened as anger surged within him—not at her, but at the world she was describing. The cold, callous father who saw her as nothing more than a pawn; the men in her clan who dismissed her, mocked her, or worse; the suffocating weight of expectations and isolation she carried every day.
“You’ve been through hell,” he said quietly, his hand moving in slow circles on her back. “And you’re still standing. That takes strength, Akiko. More than most people will ever have.”
She shook her head again, her voice rising, brittle and despairing. “But I’m tired, Takagi. I don’t want to be strong anymore. I don’t know who to trust, who to turn to.” Her grip on his shirt slackened slightly, her shoulders trembling as her voice dropped to a broken whisper. “But you… you were kind to me. That one day. That stupid little moment… and I…”
Her breath hitched, and she pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes puffy and red, but they held a raw sincerity that made his chest tighten.
“That moment made me feel something I haven’t felt in so long,” she said, her voice quivering. “Love. Not from my father, not from anyone. Just… love.”
Her words struck him like a blow, and for a moment, Takagi didn’t know what to say.
“It’s pathetic, isn’t it?” she said bitterly, her tears streaming again. “The only person I can trust in my life is someone I’ve known for half an hour. That’s how cold my world is. That’s how empty it feels.”
Her shoulders began to shake violently, her sobs wracking her body as she clung to him. “I don’t want to do it anymore, Takagi. I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want this life.”
Takagi felt a lump rise in his throat as he pulled her close again, holding her tightly as though trying to shield her from everything that had brought her to this breaking point. His hand rested on the back of her head, his other arm wrapped securely around her trembling form.
“You don’t have to do it alone,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside him. “Not anymore.”
She cried harder at his words, her sobs muffled against his chest, but something about the way she held onto him felt different—less desperate, more grounded, like a drowning person clinging to a lifeline.
Takagi didn’t let go, didn’t rush her or offer hollow reassurances. He simply held her, letting her grief pour out, knowing that in this moment, she didn’t need solutions—she just needed someone to care. And for reasons he couldn’t fully explain, he cared deeply.
As her sobs racked her body, Akiko’s legs began to tremble, her strength giving way under the weight of her emotions. Takagi felt the shift almost immediately, her knees buckling slightly as she leaned more heavily against him. Without thinking, he adjusted his hold, his grip steady and firm, guiding her as her knees gave out completely.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you.”
Still wrapped in his embrace, they slowly sank to the floor together. Takagi moved with her, keeping his arms around her, making sure she didn’t feel unsupported for even a moment. The cool hardwood pressed against his legs, but he barely noticed.
Akiko slumped against him, her cheek resting against his chest, her breaths coming in uneven gasps between sobs. Her fingers clung to the fabric of his shirt as though it were the only solid thing left in her world.
Takagi leaned his back against the recliner for support, settling them both into a more comfortable position. His arms remained around her, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other lightly rubbing her shoulder in slow, calming circles.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. The sound of the rain outside filled the quiet space, mingling with the soft echoes of her cries. Takagi’s own thoughts churned as he held her, the gravity of her pain sinking into him like a weight he hadn’t expected.
She felt so small in his arms, so vulnerable, and yet the strength it must have taken her to show up here, to let her guard down like this, wasn’t lost on him. He couldn’t stop the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior—anger at the men who had done this to her, at her father’s indifference, at the world that had made her feel so alone.
But right now, anger wouldn’t help her.
“You don’t have to carry this by yourself,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not anymore.”
Akiko’s grip on his shirt tightened slightly, her breath hitching as another wave of emotion overtook her. She buried her face against his chest again, her sobs quieter now but no less raw.
Takagi held her through it, his steady presence grounding her as she let everything out. For reasons he couldn’t fully explain, he didn’t want to let go. Whatever had brought her here tonight, whatever had made her choose him of all people, he felt an undeniable pull to be the one she could lean on.
After what felt like an eternity, her sobs began to subside, her breathing evening out. She didn’t pull away, though, and he didn’t make her. They stayed there, sitting on the floor together, the world outside fading into the background.
“It’s okay,” he murmured again, his voice gentle. “I’m here.”
For the first time in a long time, Akiko felt like someone truly meant it.
The room was quiet now, save for the faint patter of rain against the window. Akiko’s sobs had finally subsided, leaving her feeling drained but strangely lighter. She shifted slightly in Takagi’s arms, sitting up enough to wipe at her face with trembling fingers.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I… I’m sorry for bringing all of this to you. You didn’t deserve to get pulled into my mess.”
Takagi shook his head, his expression soft yet resolute. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m glad you came to me, Akiko. Really.”
She looked at him, her dark eyes still glassy, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. But all she saw was steady reassurance, the kind of quiet strength she hadn’t realized she needed until now.
Her gaze dropped to her lap, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her skirt. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Takagi placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, grounding her. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. And you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”
Akiko blinked, his words catching her off guard. She felt her chest tighten again, but this time it wasn’t panic—it was something softer, more uncertain. She opened her mouth to reply but was stopped by a sudden wave of lightheadedness. Her hand shot to her forehead, and she swayed slightly.
Takagi’s hand was at her back in an instant, steadying her. “You’re exhausted,” he said firmly. “You need rest.”
She nodded weakly, the adrenaline of the evening finally wearing off and leaving her utterly depleted. Takagi stood, extending a hand to help her to her feet. She hesitated for a moment but took it, letting him guide her toward the bed in the corner of the room.
“You can rest here,” he said, his voice steady but gentle. “I’ll take the chair.”
Akiko stopped, glancing toward the bed and then back at him. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face—a final, instinctive flash of Can I really trust him? It lasted only a moment before the exhaustion won out.
“Okay,” she said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Takagi grabbed a spare blanket and pillow from a nearby closet, handing them to her. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
He turned to leave, intending to settle into the recliner, but her voice stopped him.
“Takagi,” she said, her tone quieter than before.
He turned back to her, his expression curious but patient.
“You don’t have to sleep in the chair,” she said hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. “The bed… it’s big enough.”
Takagi blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He shook his head slightly. “I don’t think that’s right. Not after what you’ve been through today. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—or worse, remind you of anything.”
Akiko’s fingers tightened on the edge of the blanket, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I just don’t want to be alone,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “And I trust you. I don’t know why, but I do.”
The sincerity in her words hit him harder than he expected. He stood there for a moment, weighing her request against his own instincts.
“Are you sure?” he asked finally, his tone cautious but warm.
She nodded, her eyes meeting his with a rare vulnerability. “I trust you, Takagi. Please… stay.”
He hesitated a beat longer, then nodded. “Alright.”
Moving carefully, he flipped off the light switch and sat down on the other side of the bed, keeping a respectful distance as he lay back. Akiko shifted closer to him, her movements hesitant, before finally settling beside him.
“Here,” he said softly, opening one arm slightly. “If it helps.”
She hesitated again, then leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. His arm closed around her gently, holding her without tension, his warmth steady and reassuring.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice already growing faint with exhaustion.
“Anytime,” he murmured back, his voice low and steady.
“Why are you helping me? Being so nice to me?” Akiko’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as she broke the silence.
Takagi paused, the question catching him off guard. He glanced down at her before answering, his tone steady. “Because a woman in pain came to my door asking for help. Turning her away just… isn’t in me.”
Akiko let out a small, breathy chuckle, though it was tinged with weariness. “Do you get a lot of distraught women showing up at your door?”
“You’re the first,” Takagi replied, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Her chuckle turned genuine this time, the faint sound easing some of the weight in the room. But then her expression shifted, her tone turning even and curious. “Takagi… why did you approach me at the mall today?”
Takagi exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting for a moment before meeting hers. “Honestly? I wasn’t going to. When I first saw you, I thought it’d be smarter to avoid any interaction at all.”
Her brow arched slightly, curiosity lighting her tired features. “What changed your mind?”
His lips twitched into a self-deprecating smile. “Because the moment I saw you, I realized I couldn’t look away. Something about you… you made my heart skip in a way I wasn’t ready for.” He paused, as though searching for the right words. “Against all my better judgment, I decided to take the risk. I thought… maybe there was a chance you’d feel the same. I couldn’t just walk away without trying. It was reckless, impulsive… but I couldn’t help it.”
Akiko giggled softly, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. “Well, Takagi Tetsunori, I’m glad you took the risk.”
“Me, too.”, he warmly said.
Her words settled over him like a gentle warmth, easing the tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding. Without thinking, he pulled her a little closer, his arms tightening around her just slightly.
The quiet that followed wasn’t heavy or awkward—it was comfortable, shared. And in that moment, they both felt a fleeting sense of peace that neither had thought possible just hours earlier.
The rain continued its soft rhythm outside as the two of them lay there, the silence settling over them like a balm. Within minutes, Akiko’s breathing evened out, her body relaxing completely as she drifted off to sleep.
Takagi stayed awake a little longer, his own thoughts swirling, but the warmth of her trust—the sheer weight of what it meant—lulled him into calm. As his eyes closed and his breathing matched hers, the small, shared moment of peace became something neither of them would forget.
As they slept, the world outside didn’t. Nagoya’s rain-slicked streets pulsed with an undercurrent of tension, the quiet happenings of scheming and maneuvering rippling through the city’s underbelly. In hidden rooms cloaked with smoke, messages were sent, deals whispered, and alliances tested. The raid on the Hanabira gambling den had been a spark, small yet bright, igniting a feud that had been smoldering for months. The Nagasawa-kai’s move was bold, provocative, and far from unnoticed. Retribution loomed in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.
For Akiko, the stakes were more personal than ever. Her delicate position within the Hanabira-gumi—once a careful balancing act of ambition and survival—was now under threat from forces beyond her control. The raid, the growing tension, and the shameful audacity of Fujimoto Ryusuke had all left their marks. Even her rare moment of respite in Takagi’s arms carried its own risks. To her father and the clan, trust in an enemy was tantamount to treason, a betrayal that could cost her more than her position.
For Takagi, the night’s peace was but a fleeting pause. As an enforcer for the Nagasawa-kai, he knew that every decision carried weight, every moment of calm a precursor to chaos. His budding connection with Akiko wasn’t just a personal gamble—it was a dangerous play that risked exposing them both. The rivalry between their clans was sharpening, and there was no room for softness or distraction. Yet, as the rain whispered against the glass, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of resolve. Whatever came next, whatever dangers lay ahead, he knew one thing: he wasn’t ready to let her go.
The city was restless, its rival factions poised to draw blood. And for Akiko and Takagi, the coming storm would test not just their loyalties but their very survival.
