Morning sunlight bathed the back courtyard in soft warmth, casting golden lines through the trees and over the tiled stones.
Haruki stood by the garden wall, phone pressed to his ear.
"Yes, Mister Yamashita. The project file you asked for is already finished."
"I’ll send it to the office later this afternoon."
A pause. Then a polite chuckle.
"No, it’s nothing. I just woke early today. Everything’s going well."
A soft hum of agreement, then he nodded.
"Understood, sir. I’ll be on standby if anything else comes up."
He ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket.
Behind him, Kyouko was doing her morning stretches, dressed in a soft, light workout outfit. Her movements were slow and deliberate, graceful in that effortless way that only she could carry.
She smiled over her shoulder, her long hair catching the morning light.
"Still working, even when you’re home?"
Haruki walked over and sat on the porch steps.
"Just a quick check-in," he said, watching her.
"I like being productive early. Especially when I get to spend the rest of the morning watching you ."
Kyouko gave a soft laugh, finishing her stretch.
She walked toward him, and gently sat beside him.
They shared a quiet moment—birds chirping softly in the background.
Haruki reached for her hand, fingers lacing through hers.
But somewhere down the street...
A man in a dark hoodie stood by a vending machine, pretending to select a drink—eyes locked on the house.
Watching. Studying. Waiting.
The man muttered under his breath, lighting another cigarette with a flick of his cheap lighter.
He stood beside a vending machine down the street, pretending to be casually browsing the drink selection—but his eyes never left the house.
The house was too secure.
Tall hedges. Security cameras. An automated gate.
And worst of all—no line of sight to the backyard.
Nothing. Not even shadows.
He pulled out the crumpled folder again from his coat.
Haruki’s photo. His rough schedule.
"Scooter... yeah. That black one. But he rarely goes into the office..."
"Now I have to wait... wait for him to come out."
"Once he’s on the road... I follow him.
Then I find the opening."
He crushed the cigarette underfoot and stepped back into the alley, melting into the shadows.
He slipped into the narrow alley, hidden behind a utility pole.
The morning sun felt warm—but he couldn’t feel it anymore.
He pulled out his old phone and tapped the screen.
Three unread messages.
The first one was a photo from his wife.
The second—his daughter, smiling in a crisp new school uniform, flashing a peace sign beside a cherry blossom tree.
The third—an automated receipt.
Tuition: Paid in Full.
He stared at the screen, silent.
He glared at the house across the street.
His eyes narrowed, burning with frustration.
"When the hell is he coming out?"
The day wore on. Quiet. Still.
The house remained sealed, undisturbed.
He slammed the side of his fist against the alley wall.
"If he doesn’t come out in three days... I have to wait three days?"
He looked at his phone again.
His wallet—nearly empty.
But there was no going back now.
"Even if it takes a week."
He sat down on the cold concrete, pulling his hoodie tighter.
He had a job to finish.
And no second chances.
After hours of waiting.
The gate creaked open.
He sat up straight inside his small, beat-up car, parked half a block away beneath the shade of an overgrown tree.
A young man. Black jacket. Clean haircut. Calm. Confident.
He rolled the scooter out slowly, adjusting his helmet as the automatic gate fully opened.
The man’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, heartbeat picking up.
Haruki revved the engine gently and pulled onto the road.
The gate slid closed behind him.
Then he turned the ignition.
The old car coughed to life.
No sudden movement. No headlights.
He slipped into traffic, three cars behind, careful not to draw attention.
"Finally..." he muttered under his breath.
The scooter came to a stop at the traffic light.
Haruki rested one hand on the handlebar, the other adjusting his grip slightly.
A calm expression on his face.
Just another ordinary morning ride.
Behind him... three cars back...
The man’s breathing slowed.
His eyes locked on the scooter’s slim frame.
The engine of his car rumbled under his hand.
He pushed the gas hard.
The tires squealed as the car lunged forward—
Weaving around the cars ahead, ignoring the honk that followed.
Picking up speed—fast.
Haruki was still moving forward through the intersection.
The man gritted his teeth.
His hands tightened on the wheel as the car surged toward the scooter from behind—fast, reckless, without hesitation.
The sound of shattering plastic and twisting metal echoed down the street.
Haruki’s scooter jolted forward with brutal force—its rear end crumpled beneath the speeding car.
His body lifted off the seat, airborne for a brief, sickening moment—
before slamming hard onto the asphalt, rolling twice across the road.
His helmet hit first. Then shoulder. Then the sickening skid of his body across the street.
The car screeched to a stop.
Smoke hissed from the engine.
Glass cracked. The hood buckled.
The man behind the wheel flung open the door and rushed out—his voice loud, panicked, but rehearsed.
"I’m sorry!! I’m sorry!!"
People nearby gasped—
A couple crossing the street screamed.
"Someone call an ambulance!!"
He knelt beside Haruki, who lay motionless, his chest barely rising.
Blood slowly pooled beneath him—thin, red lines trailing from a gash on his forehead.
His eyes were closed.
No sound came from his lips.
"Please—please help!" the man shouted again, now looking around as others rushed forward with phones in hand.
But inside, his heart was calm.
Meanwhile, in the Harusawa residence—
The gentle clinking of kitchen utensils echoed softly.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting golden rays across the tidy counter.
Kyouko stood by the stove, humming a quiet tune as she stirred the soup.
Her voice, barely above a whisper, carried warmth.
"Haruki would be back in the evening~"
She swayed lightly as she moved between the counters.
"I wonder what I should wear for him~"
She reached up to adjust the spice rack, a faint blush touching her cheeks as she imagined his eyes on her.
His hand reaching for her waist.
His smile. His voice.
She glanced up at the wall clock.
Only an hour had passed.
Haruki had said he’d be back quickly—just dropping off the project files.
He’d even promised to take her out today.
A real date. A quiet place. Just the two of them.
She smiled, heart fluttering.
She turned back to the cutting board, resuming her quiet hum.