"Sae-chan, you seem to be in a really good mood. Did something happen?" my mom asked, her voice carrying that teasing lilt only mothers have.
I blinked, slightly startled. Is it really that obvious?
Am I… making some kind of weird face right now?
My hand instinctively reached up to touch my cheek. It was warm. Ah… no wonder. I must've been smiling like an idiot ever since Hayato left.
"H-Hayato promised to go somewhere with me," I confessed, unable to stop the small, fluttering smile that tugged at my lips.
Just saying it out loud made my chest tighten with warmth. The mere thought of going out with him—just the two of us—was enough to make my heart leap.
Every time I'm with him, it races like crazy. But it's not just that—it's the way he makes me feel safe, the kind of calm I've never known before. Like… his presence alone is enough to keep my fears away.
And yet… there's this ugly part of me too.
When he gets too close to someone else, I feel it—jealousy, sharp and bitter. Insecurity that coils around my heart and whispers doubts. Just imagining him walking away, leaving me behind, it feels like the world would collapse.
There's also something else. Things I haven't told him. Things I'm hiding.
And I feel awful about it. Guilty.
But more than that… I'm terrified. What if he finds out and sees me differently? What if he became disgusted of me? What if he pulls away from me?
I don't have anyone else besides him and Mom.
If I lose him… No. No, I don't even want to think about it.
"I see," my mom said with a teasing lilt that pulled me back from the edge of my dark thoughts.
She even made a dramatic show of wiping imaginary tears from the corner of her eyes.
"My little Sae-chan is finally going on her first date… Ah, how time flies. Children really do grow up in the blink of an eye."
Then, with a soft, wistful smile, she added, "If your father were still with us, he would've given that Hayato boy a hard time—maybe even challenged him to prove his worth. But… knowing him, if it was Hayato, he'd probably give his blessing with a proud grin."
"W-What!" I blurted out without meaning to, my voice shooting up an octave. A date? That word hit me like a lightning bolt. I hadn't thought about it that way, but… yes. That's exactly what it is. A date—with Hayato.
My heart immediately went into overdrive, and I could feel the panic creeping in. What should I do? What should I wear? I don't have a clue!
Even though I was trying to stay calm, I could tell some of that chaos was leaking out—my hands fidgeting, face burning.
"Why? What's wrong?" my mom asked, amused, clearly enjoying my flustered reaction. "You obviously like him, Sae-chan. There's no need to hide it—especially after the request you made to me. And frankly, I don't see any problem at all. From what you've told me… and from what I've seen, Hayato's a good boy. You have my full blessing to go ahead and date him."
Her words only made it worse. I am completely on board with the idea—there's no denying that anymore—but it's just so embarrassing to admit it out loud to her.
Seriously, if she keeps this up, i feel like my heart's going to burst from just imagining it.
But then—a sound cut through the moment.
Ding!dong!
The doorbell rang, echoing through the house. Both Mom and I turned toward the source, exchanging a brief, puzzled glance. We weren't expecting anyone. We are new here, hardly anyone ever visited us, and certainly not at this hour.
Only important notices or delivery ever reached our doorstep.
Then a thought flashed in my mind—Could it be Hayato? Maybe he came back to grab something he forgot?
The idea alone made my heart skip. Without thinking, I jumped to my feet and rushed to the door, a mix of nerves and excitement blooming in my chest.
But that was my mistake.
I didn't even check the peephole. I simply flung the door open—
—and instantly froze.
Standing there was a tall silhouette of a man. Familiar.
Too familiar.
A face from the past we desperately tried to forget. One that should have never returned.
His smile spread wide when he saw both me and Mom. But there was no warmth behind it—only a venomous shadow in his eyes, a twisted grin that radiated nothing but ill intent.
My stomach dropped. We knew this man. And we never wanted to see him again.
Cold sweat ran down my spine as my instincts screamed danger. Both Mom and I froze for a second, but I snapped out of it and desperately tried to slam the door shut.
But it was too late.
His hand caught the door with ease, and no matter how hard I pull, he didn't budge. Against an adult man like him, I didn't stand a chance.
With a sickening grin, he forced the door open and stepped inside like he owned the place. The air around him turned heavier with every step.
"Sae-chan," he said in a falsely sweet tone, mocking familiarity dripping from every syllable, "isn't it a little rude to shut the door in someone's face?"
Then, with a casual flick, he reached behind and locked the door.
A shiver ran down my back. The click of the lock sounded louder than it should've, like a final nail in the coffin.
This was bad. Very bad.
My lips refused to move, frozen by the storm of fear and confusion raging inside me. How did he find us? Why now? What does he want?
Before I could gather my thoughts, my mother stepped forward and pulled me behind her, shielding me with her own body like a lioness guarding her cub.
Her voice rang out, sharp and furious, slicing through the heavy silence like a blade. "Kurosawa! What are you doing here?!" she demanded, her eyes blazing with fury. "I told you—no, I warned you—never to show your face to us again!"
There was no trace of fear in her stance, only righteous anger and protective instinct. After everything she learned about this man… there was no way she could greet him with anything less than fury.
"Now, now, no need to be so worked up," he said with an eerie calm, that twisted "smile" never leaving his face—cold, emotionless, completely unfazed by our fear or my mother's fury.
"I loved you both, didn't I? Even if it was only for a few years, we were still a family," he continued, his voice softening, taking on a pitiful tone as if he were the victim in this story. "I looked after you, cared for you. So tell me…"
His expression warped into something grotesquely mournful, voice cracking with mock sorrow, "Why? Why did you accuse me of something so horrible? Why throw me away like garbage? I only wanted to give her a little love…"
The room grew colder with each word, his delusion pressing down on us like a suffocating fog.
My mother's expression contorted—disgust and fury blazing in her eyes, as though each word from that man's mouth was filth she couldn't tolerate a second longer. I felt the same. Just looking at him made my skin crawl.
"Stop spewing your twisted nonsense!" she snapped, her voice sharp and filled with rage. "That's enough—I'm calling the police."
Without wasting another second, she turned and reached for the telephone.
"Stop right there, if either of you value your lives."
Kurosawa's voice dropped to a chilling coldness, devoid of pretense or playfulness. As he reached into the bag on his other hand, our breaths caught in our throats—my mother froze mid-step, and I felt my blood run cold.
And then we saw it.
The unmistakable shape of a gun gleamed beneath the hallway light as he slowly revealed it. Our eyes widened in horror. That's… that's a gun!
"K-Kurosawa, put that thing down. W-What do you want?" my mom asked, her voice trembling as she slowly stepped back toward me, arms raised in the air in a gesture of surrender. I knew she wasn't just afraid—she was trying to shield me, to protect me no matter what happened.
Kurosawa chuckled, his grin stretching unnaturally wide as he kept the barrel of the gun trained on us. "Now we're talking," he said, eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. He looked at us like a predator savoring the fear of his prey. "My legs are getting tired from standing here. Be a dear and lead the way to the living room."
We couldn't resist—not with that weapon in his hand.
But just as we were about to take a step, the doorbell rang again.
Ding! Dong!
Kurosawa, still closest to the door, checked the peephole. His face twisted with irritation as he clicked his tongue. "Tch. That same brat."
Without hesitation, Kurosawa turned toward us and seized my wrist in a painful grip. I winced, but he only tightened it further, dragging me closer like a shield.
"Open the door," he ordered coldly. "I'll hide. Act normal and get rid of him quickly. If you try anything funny…"
He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't need to. The barrel of the gun pressing against the side of my head said more than words ever could. My mom's face paled, her hands trembling as she slowly nodded, forced to obey while her eyes flicked between me and the door.
As Kurosawa started to walk away, keeping me at his mercy, I felt my heart sink.
Hayato… why? Why did you come back?
-------
A few minutes ago.
I stood still, eyes locked on the silhouette of a man entering through the front gate. My blood simmered with fury, the sheer audacity of him showing up at their home igniting every fiber of rage within me. My fists clenched instinctively, but I forced myself to breathe—deep, steady. Now's not the time to let emotion cloud judgment.
Moving silently, I crept closer, hugging the outer wall of the property and peeking through the outer entrance. There he was—standing at their door, having just rung the bell. My first instinct was to strike him down right then and there, catch him off guard and end it in one blow. But doubt stopped me.
Sanae told me about him, but I've never actually seen him. What if I got the wrong person?
But then the door opened—and I saw her. Sanae's face… her expression contorted with fear, a fear so raw and paralyzing.
That one look was all I needed.
This is him.
The bastard. There was no longer any room for doubt.
After he stepped inside, I moved swiftly, pressing myself against the wall just beside the door. My breath shallow, I focused everything on listening—every sound, every word.
And what I heard made my blood run hotter with every passing second.
His voice oozed with false sweetness, masking the filth in his words. The way he twisted everything, trying to paint himself as some kind of victim—it made my stomach churn. But it wasn't just the way he spoke. It was what he said.
"I just wanted to give her some of my love."
I nearly lost it right then and there.
Disgusting.
But I forced myself to stay still. I had to be smart. That's when I heard it—something that made my pulse spike for a different reason entirely.
A gun. He had a damn gun.
My thoughts raced back to earlier—how, when he arrived, his hand was resting close to his bag. Even then, I had a bad feeling.
Good thing I didn't rush in. If I had… things could have gone dengerous.
This complicates things far more than I anticipated. If I died this time, i planned to ambush him at the doorstep before he had a chance to step inside.
But now… knowing he's armed, that reckless approach feels less like bravery and more like suicide.
(AN: Remember folks, dying is always painful. What's more, if you are shoot to death.)
While I was caught up trying to come up with a better plan, I heard that bastard—Kurosawa, as Aunty called him—ordering them to move to the living room. My heart sank. I realized then that every second I spent overthinking might be another second they were in danger.
I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling inside me as I scolded myself, "Why the hell are you hesitating now, idiot? You've trusted this mysterious power this far… so trust it once more."
(AN: Hayato still don't know if there is a limit to this power, nor do we.)
This isn't the time to second-guess. It's now or never. With my decision made i pressed the doorbell.