The wind shifted as the group stepped fully into view—eight in total, clad in worn tactical gear and mismatched clothing, wielding blades, clubs, and improvised weapons. Their eyes locked onto Raito with the certainty of hunters who had already claimed their prey.
One of them—a tall man with a jagged scar cutting across his cheek—stepped forward. "Didn't expect to find anyone out here. Shame for you," he sneered. "This stretch of forest? It's ours. People come here and vanish. Hikers, campers, wanderers… all of 'em end up the same. Dead."
Raito said nothing. His expression unreadable.
A man in the back chuckled darkly. "You're next. Cooperate, and we'll make it quick. Hand over everything you've got."
Silence.
Then, Raito smiled.
Cold. Measured. A smile that didn't touch his eyes—the kind that once made seasoned mercenaries flinch. The kind he hadn't worn in years.
"Oh?" he said quietly. "So this forest eats people alive?"
He stepped forward, eyes fixed on the scarred leader.
"Then if all of you go missing too… no one's going to ask why."
He rolled his shoulders, letting his jacket slide off and fall behind him.
"Let's see how it handles something that bites back."
The scarred man's smirk vanished. "Get him!"
The first attacker lunged.
Raito sidestepped, caught the man's arm, and—crack—dislocated the shoulder before driving a fist into his chest. The sickening sound of ribs breaking echoed like gunfire.
Two more came at him.
Raito moved like water—grabbing one by the throat and slamming him into a tree. Bark split. The second attacker slashed across his shirt, cutting fabric only. Raito responded with a backhand that sent him tumbling ten feet. He didn't get up.
Kurai purred in his mind. "Now this… this is what I wanted to see."
Another man screamed and charged.
Raito met him mid-run, drove a knee into his gut, spun behind him, and snapped his neck with brutal efficiency. The body dropped.
Three left.
"Mon… monster," one of them muttered, voice trembling.
"You call yourselves hunters," Raito said, advancing. "But you're just wolves who mistook a lamb for prey."
The wolves ran.
They didn't get far.
Raito was faster—precise, unrelenting. Every strike landed with lethal intent. His body, already a weapon forged in war, now moved with demonic speed and power, amplified by Kurai.
The last man begged.
Raito didn't pause.
When it ended, the clearing fell silent again.
Bodies littered the ground—broken, still. Raito stood among them, blood on his hands, breath steady.
"No mercy, huh?" Kurai chuckled.
Raito wiped his knuckles with a leaf. "I did this forest a favor."
He dragged the bodies into the underbrush, covering them with branches and loose dirt. It wasn't perfect, but out here, it didn't need to be.
He stepped back, scanning the area. No tracks. No trails. Nature would handle the rest.
"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Kurai murmured, amused.
"I didn't come here for this," Raito said, wiping his hands on a dead man's jacket. "But I won't pretend it didn't feel… familiar."
"It's who you are. Don't forget that."
Raito slipped his jacket back on and headed for his car.
The forest was quiet again.
But the silence no longer felt peaceful.
It felt claimed.
And now, it belonged to him.
Raito returned home just after noon, body sore but humming with leftover adrenaline. He dropped his keys on the counter, undressed, and stepped into a hot shower. Steam rose, washing away blood, dirt, and tension.
Later, dressed in a plain black T-shirt and joggers, he ruffled his damp hair with a towel and wandered into the living room. He turned on the TV. A muted news report flickered on—white noise to keep the silence at bay.
He headed to the kitchen, reaching for a pan to make eggs and toast.
Knock. Knock.
He froze.
Another knock. Lighter, but firm.
He wasn't expecting anyone.
Cautious, he opened the door—
And blinked.
A girl, maybe seventeen, stood there. Dusty clothes. Blank expression. In her arms, a baby slept peacefully.
She looked up at him, lips parting—
But before she could speak, another figure approached. An older woman—sharp-eyed, composed—stepped beside the girl. Her gaze locked onto Raito's with unsettling familiarity.
"We need to talk," she said.
Raito glanced at the quiet street. "Inside," he muttered, stepping aside. "Let's not do this out here."
They sat in the living room. The TV hummed softly in the background.
"I'm Mei," the older woman said. She gestured to the girl. "This is Raika. And the baby is Emi. They're the daughters of someone you used to work with. Ryu."
Raito raised an eyebrow. "I think you've got the wrong guy."
Mei smiled tightly. "Cut the act, Raito. Or should I say Ashura?"
That name—the codename he'd buried years ago—hit like a bullet. Only a few people knew it. Fewer still were alive.
He exhaled slowly. "Never heard of him."
Unfazed, Mei continued. "Ryu's missing. Vanished without a trace. No body. No message. Just... gone."
Raito crossed his arms. "And that's my problem because...?"
"Because he left instructions," Mei said, producing a sealed envelope. "If anything happened to him, you were to protect Raika and Emi. Until it's safe."
He scoffed. "Not my responsibility."
Mei handed him the envelope. "He figured you'd say that."
Raito opened it. Read. His jaw clenched.
It was brief—but pointed. A reminder that if he refused, certain truths about his past would find their way into the wrong hands. Dangerous ones.
Enclosed was a copy of a signed note: "I, Raito Yakamura, pledge to return the favor you did for me."
He had written that when Ryu helped him disappear from the mercenary world. He never thought it'd be called in.
Raito let out a long breath.
"That old man planned this from the start," he muttered.
Then, more sharply: "Fine. I'll do it. For now."
Raika looked down, her grip tightening on Emi. The baby cooed softly, unaware of the tension.
Raito eyed them both, his frown deepening.
"Just don't give me a reason to regret it."
Mei stood by the doorway, her gaze sharp and unyielding—like a blade pressed against Raito's throat. Despite her age, she radiated a presence that was impossible to ignore: commanding, composed, and quietly dangerous.
"I'm only leaving them with you because my son-in-law trusted you," she said, voice low and cold. "But if anything happens to my granddaughters… you won't have to worry about your enemies finding you. I'll get there first."
Raito didn't flinch. "They'll be safe," he said simply, his voice steady—so resolute it sounded more like fact than promise.
Mei stared at him for a long moment, then gave a single curt nod. Without another word, she turned and stepped out, the door closing behind her with a heavy click. Silence settled in the room—thick and suffocating.
Raito exhaled and turned to face his new reality.
Raika stood awkwardly in the center of the living room, baby Emi nestled against her shoulder. Both watched him with wide, wary eyes, like he was some alien figure dropped into their lives.
"So… where do we put our stuff?" Raika asked, voice casual, but her expression guarded.
"Guest room's down the hall. Last door on the right," Raito replied, already moving back into the kitchen.
She didn't move right away. Her eyes scanned the stark room, and she sighed. "This place is… cold. No color. No warmth. Just concrete and shadows."
"It's a house," he replied. "Not a resort."
Raika shrugged and dropped onto the couch like she owned it. "Could've at least bought curtains or something. You live like a ghost."
Raito was already regretting every part of this arrangement.
She's got a mouth on her, Kurai purred from the depths of his mind, clearly amused. Spoiled, too. This is going to be entertaining.
"This is temporary," Raito muttered under his breath.
You sure? You basically adopted a teenager and a baby.
Raika clicked through channels on the TV with one hand while Emi gnawed on her sleeve. "Do you even have real food in this place? All I saw was ramen and black coffee."
Raito opened the fridge, scanning its barren contents. "Haven't gone shopping yet."
"Well, Emi and I need more than caffeine and sodium."
He shut the fridge with a sigh, gripping the counter's edge.
You've taken down militias and assassinated tyrants, Kurai taunted. But this? This is your final boss.
Raito didn't respond. He just breathed in slowly, preparing himself for a kind of battle he never trained for.
The tension in the room thickened. Raito leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on Raika. Emi cooed softly in her lap, blissfully unaware of the storm gathering around her.
"We need to set some rules," he said calmly. "And I need information—full names, birthdays, medical history, allergies. Anything important."
Raika raised an eyebrow. "Why do you care?"
"Because if someone comes asking questions, I need to lie well enough to keep us out of trouble."
She rolled her eyes but gave in. "Raika Tsubaki. Seventeen. Emi's ten months. No allergies. No medical issues. Satisfied?"
"Almost," he said. "From now on, you're my younger sister. That's the story. You've come to stay with me for a while. That's what neighbors and coworkers will hear."
Raika blinked. "Seriously? I don't even look like you."
"You don't need to. People don't ask too many questions when the story's simple."
Raika crossed her arms. "Fine. But I'm still going to school. My grandma promised me I could keep going, and that doesn't stop just because I'm here."
Raito stood and leveled a steady look at her. "Do you even understand the situation you're in?"
"I didn't ask to be dumped here," she mumbled. "So don't act like I'm ruining your life"
"You want to go to school and leave your baby sister with me?" he said, tone flat. "I have a job. And even if I don't go in every day, I can't just vanish without people noticing."
"You think I don't have a life too?" Raika was on her feet now, her voice rising. "I'm not staying locked in here like some prisoner!"
"And what about the baby?" Raito remained calm as he replied. "You expect me—a stranger to you—to raise her while you chase normalcy? What if something happens while you're gone?"
Raika flinched but didn't respond right away. Emi whimpered in her arms, picking up on the tension.
"You said you'd protect us," she murmured, clutching Emi closer.
"I said I'd keep you safe," Raito replied, voice low. "Not that I'd play house."
A pause passed between them as he sighed. Then he added, softer now, "I'm not saying you can't go to school. But we need a plan. If I start missing work, people will notice. And if anyone starts digging into my past—"
"They'll find out who you used to be," Raika interrupted, voice quieter.
He said nothing. He didn't need to. Anyone who got close enough to dig into that part of his life wouldn't live long enough to share what they found.
Raika looked down at Emi, her voice more subdued. "I'll figure something out. I won't make you do everything."
Raito sank back into the chair. "We'll make a schedule. But don't expect me to hold your hand through it."
From the dark recesses of his mind, Kurai's voice rose again.
Ah, domestic squabbles. I never pictured you as the fatherly type, Raito.
"Shut up," he muttered, dragging a hand over his face.
Already, he could feel it—this wasn't just a temporary arrangement.
It was the start of something far more complicated.