Akari and Kenji split up, their previous confusion now replaced by a chilling urgency. The idea that Ryouta had simply vanished wasn't sitting right. Not with the kind of tech they knew the family possessed, and certainly not with the raw, untamed power Ryouta himself sometimes hinted at. They widened their search perimeter, their synchronized movements a testament to years of training.
The estate grounds eventually gave way to the quiet, snow-dusted streets bordering the property. The air grew colder, biting at their exposed skin. Most of the capital's snow had been cleared, but out here, on the fringes, it lay undisturbed, a pristine blanket over the sleeping city. Akari cut down a narrow alleyway, one that smelled faintly of stale trash and damp concrete, the kind of place even the street lamps seemed to avoid.
"Anything, Akari?" Kenji's voice crackled in her ear, strained.
"Negative, still just... wait." Akari stopped dead, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes, sharper than any night vision goggles, picked out a dark shape huddled against a dumpster. It was too still, too small to be a stray animal. A knot of ice formed in her stomach.
She moved quickly, her boots crunching softly on the fresh snow. As she got closer, the shape resolved into a familiar form. "Kenji, I found him," she said, her voice tight, a tremor she couldn't quite control. "He's in the alley. He's... down."
Kenji was there in seconds, his face grim. Ryouta lay sprawled in the snow, his arms awkwardly splayed, one leg bent at an unnatural angle. His normally vibrant jacket was dusted with white, and his breath plumed faintly in the frigid air. He was utterly still.
"Ryouta!" Kenji knelt immediately, his hands flying to check for a pulse. It was there, thin but steady. A wave of gut-wrenching relief, quickly followed by a fresh surge of panic, washed over him.
Akari was already running her hands over Ryouta's limbs, her touch light and precise, checking for injuries. "No major trauma," she murmured, her eyes scanning his head, his torso. "No blood, no visible cuts. Just..." Her fingers brushed against his left hand, near the base of his pinky. A sharp intake of breath. "His hand. Two metacarpals. Broken."
Kenji swallowed hard. Two broken bones. From a single impact, judging by the lack of other injuries. And Ryouta, for all his cockiness, was no stranger to a brawl. He'd handled street thugs before without a scratch. This wasn't some random mugging. This was something else entirely.
A cold sweat pricked their skin, despite the freezing air. *Two broken bones.* From a single blow. And Ryouta, the grand-nephew of the family head, lying unconscious in a snowy alley. This was more than a reprimand; this was a disaster. They had failed, spectacularly. Ren was going to kill them. Or worse, Grandfather.
"We need to get him back," Kenji said, his voice flat. He gently scooped Ryouta up, the young master surprisingly light despite his height. Akari moved to cover their tracks, brushing away the snow where Ryouta had fallen, making it seem as if he had never been there.
They returned to the estate with a newfound urgency, carrying Ryouta through a service entrance and directly to the infirmary wing. Once Ryouta was stabilized and attended to by the medical staff – who confirmed Akari's assessment, two clean breaks in the hand, no other significant injuries – Kenji and Akari headed straight for Ren's office.
Ren was, as always, meticulously organized. His desk was spotless, his posture perfect as he reviewed reports under the soft glow of a desk lamp. He looked up as they entered, his expression calm, if a little tired.
"Report," he said, his voice even. He took in their dishevelled appearance, the flakes of melting snow on their shoulders, and a flicker of something unreadable crossed his face.
"Young Master Ryouta was found unconscious," Akari stated, her voice formal despite the underlying tension.
Ren's pen paused mid-stroke. He set it down, slowly. His composure, usually so unyielding, seemed to waver for a fraction of a second, almost imperceptibly. "Unconscious? Explain."
Kenji stepped forward. "We located him in an alleyway, roughly a mile outside the estate. He was unresponsive. Medical staff confirmed two metacarpal fractures in his left hand. No other injuries of note."
Ren's gaze sharpened, a sudden intensity in his eyes. A muscle in his jaw twitched. For a man who prided himself on his unwavering composure, the news clearly struck a nerve. "A mile out? And no other injuries? From a single blow, then." It wasn't a question. He knew.
"Yes, sir," Akari confirmed. "It appeared to be the result of one very powerful kick."
Ren leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant, contemplative. A place like this, so far from the capital's more... active districts, was usually quiet. Relatively untouched by the kind of "awakened" individuals who possessed such raw power. For someone to appear with enough force to incapacitate Ryouta, who for all his youthful bluster, was hardly a pushover, was profoundly disturbing. The boy had been practically untouched in countless skirmishes.
"Remarkable," Ren murmured, almost to himself. He stood up, walking to the large window overlooking the snow-covered gardens. The capital was a hotbed for those with extraordinary abilities, but out here, away from the neon glow and the shadow organizations, it was rare. To encounter someone strong enough to break Ryouta's bones with a single kick…
He turned back to them, his expression a mix of concern and a dangerous curiosity. "You two are dismissed. Ensure the perimeter is secured. And keep this quiet. Absolutely no word of this incident beyond us three, and the medical staff, understood?"
"Understood, sir," they replied in unison. As they left, they could feel the weight of his thoughts. Ren was outwardly calm, but the revelation of a powerful "awakened" individual operating so close to the family estate, an individual capable of such a precise and devastating blow, had undoubtedly shaken him to his core. Ryouta's little adventure had just become much, much more complicated.