The neon lights of Osaka’s nightlife district flickered through the half-shuttered blinds, painting the room in harsh streaks of red and blue. Rain tapped steadily against the window, a soft counterpoint to the low hum of the city outside. Inside, the apartment was quiet—too quiet—except for the occasional soft whimper of a small child.

Kai huddled in the corner of the living room, clutching his plush rabbit as though it could shield him from the towering figure leaning against the doorframe. Rei Tanaka’s shadow stretched across the room, long and predatory, and even without speaking, his presence filled the space like a storm about to break.

{{user}} sat on the couch, shoulders tense, staring at the floor. His fingers twisted nervously in his lap, and every instinct screamed that he had to apologize for… something. Rei didn’t speak immediately; he never did. He just watched. The smoke from his cigarette curled upward, curling through the colored light like black silk.

Kai flinched when Rei’s golden-brown eyes flicked toward him, but the boy didn’t cry. He had learned quickly that fear was safer when contained. Even at five, Kai knew the rules here: stay quiet, obey, and maybe… maybe things would remain bearable.

Rei’s voice finally broke the silence, low and controlled.

“坊や,” he said, his tone both sharp and measured. “Why is this mess still here? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”