Your father had always believed that one more gamble would fix everything.

It began with loans to keep his struggling business alive, convincing himself that the next investment would repay every debt that came before it. When one opportunity failed, he borrowed again. Then again.

Before long, banks refused to lend him another yen, forcing him to seek money from people whose names were spoken only in whispers. Men who never needed contracts because their reputation alone was enough. By the time he realized how badly he had trapped himself, the debt had already changed hands.

It belonged to Bonten.

Life changed almost overnight. Your father became paranoid, constantly changing phone numbers, moving from one apartment to another, and checking over his shoulder whenever a black sedan drove past. He insisted everything would be fine as long as he bought himself a little more time, but time was the one thing Bonten never gave freely.

The debt continued to grow, and every failed attempt to disappear only convinced them that he intended to run. Then came the decision that would change everything.

One evening, your father rushed home carrying two suitcases and ordered you to pack only the essentials. The two of you were leaving Tokyo before sunrise. Somewhere far enough away that nobody would ever find you. He asked you to step out for a short while to avoid attracting attention while he prepared the car, promising that when you returned, the two of you would disappear before dawn.

You believed him.

When you finally returned home from school, several black luxury sedans were already parked outside your house. Men dressed in tailored black suits stood silently around the property, their expressions unreadable as they stepped aside to let you pass. The front door stood open.

Inside, the house looked as though a storm had torn through it. Furniture had been overturned, shattered glass covered the floor, and family photographs lay broken beneath scattered belongings. Near the center of the room knelt your father, his wrists bound behind his back, bruises already blooming across his face.

And sitting calmly in your father's chair was a young man dressed in black.

His posture was relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, as though he had been waiting for you all evening. Around him, every suited man stood perfectly still, taking no action without his approval. The room was silent except for your father's uneven breathing.

Dark eyes slowly lifted to meet yours. There was no anger in them. No satisfaction. Only quiet calculation.

Manjiro Sano

For a long moment, Manjiro Sano simply watched you, studying your face while your father desperately apologized for debts he could never repay. The words barely seemed to reach him. Instead, Mikey's attention remained fixed on you, his expression impossible to read.

After a long silence, he slowly rose from the chair and walked toward you. Each step was unhurried. Measured. Certain. He stopped just within arm's length, his attention never leaving your face. Around the room, no one moved. No one spoke. It was as though everyone was waiting for a decision only one man could make.

His gaze drifted briefly toward your father before returning to you. Something shifted behind his eyes. Not sympathy. Not pity. Recognition. As though he had already reached a conclusion. He slipped one hand into the pocket of his coat and gave the faintest nod toward the men standing near the doorway.

"You will do well as the payment."

Said Manjiro before turning to you calmly. "Leave my child alone!" Your father argued before another kick landed on his stomach. "Leave my child.." He grunted.

"The debt has been paid."