Chapter 3
The Hunter Bureau was a place of sharp knives and sharper tongues. Most Hunters barely registered Renji beyond tossing him carcasses or barking orders. Yet among the sea of towering figures and glittering armor, one man noticed him.
His name was Choji Namikaze.
A B-Rank Hunter, Choji was nothing like the haughty elites parading through the Bureau's halls. His armor was scratched and patched, his sword nicked from countless battles. His smile was crooked, his laugh rough around the edges. Where others glimmered like gods, Choji was different
The first time Choji spoke to him was over a wyvern carcass. Renji's knife had slipped repeatedly against the thick, glistening scales, his blistered hands shaking with fatigue.
"Careful there," Choji said, stepping beside him. His tone wasn't mocking. "You'll slice your own hand before you cut that hide."
Renji flinched, bracing for ridicule. Instead, Choji grasped the knife, twisting it with ease, opening the scale seam in a single fluid motion. He handed it back without a word.
"See? Not strength. Leverage. Remember that."
From that moment, Choji lingered near Renji whenever his squad returned from Gates. Sometimes he shared food meat roasted over embers, far richer than the scraps Renji could afford. Other times, he simply spoke, recounting tales of hunts gone wrong, near-death escapes, and absurd quarrels between squadmates.
Renji, at first wary, found himself laughing. The sound was rusty, foreign to his ears, but Choji made it feel natural. And as weeks turned into months, a bond grew. They were more than just worker and Hunter; they became friends, companions in a world that had offered Renji nothing but hardship.
One evening, after the Bureau closed, Choji led Renji to a quiet corner of the city, far from the stench of blood and rotting flesh. He produced two cups of cheap ale, setting one in front of Renji.
"To surviving another day," Choji said, raising his cup.
Renji hesitated. "I don't drink," he said with a small, awkward smile.
"Then sip," Choji replied with a shrug. "Water, wine… doesn't matter. Just drink with me."
They clinked cups, and for the first time in years, Renji felt warmth that wasn't born of fire or sorrow. A small ember of life, flickering steadily in the darkness.
As the days passed, Renji began to open up. He spoke of his father, Daichi, who had given everything to save them. He spoke of Rachel, of the sickness that claimed her and the bottle that dulled her pain but stole her life. He spoke of Lily, the small, stubborn girl whose existence kept him moving forward.
He also spoke of despair nights where the weight of powerlessness crushed him, where the thought of giving up felt like a relief. Choji listened silently, then placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Kid," Choji said, his voice rough but steady, "the world doesn't care how heavy the burden feels. But you," he jabbed Renji's chest, "you're still standing. And if you're still standing, you haven't lost."
Renji lowered his gaze. "Sometimes… I feel like I can't keep going. But then Lily looks at me and says… 'Oni-chan, you can't give up. You're the strongest person I know.'"
Choji chuckled softly. "Smart girl. Smarter than both of us."
For the first time in years, Renji smiled without forcing it.
From then on, Choji became more than a friend. He became the brother Renji never had but had always needed. They trained together when Choji could spare the time, learning small tricks of the blade, how to position, how to breathe under pressure. Renji was far from strong, his body still lean and untested, but Choji's lessons planted seeds that would one day grow into strength.
"You're sharper than you think," Choji would say, clapping him on the shoulder. "One day, you'll surprise them all."
Renji never fully believed it—but the words were a shield against the cold nights and the heavy stench of blood that clung to him even at home.
And each night, Lily greeted him with unwavering brightness:
"Welcome home, Oni-chan. You didn't give up today, right?"
Renji would kneel, hug her tight, and whisper, "Never. Not today. Not ever."
Because giving up meant breaking a promise. And breaking a promise meant failing Rachel, failing Lily, failing himself.
One weary afternoon, as Renji worked beside Choji carving a drake's carcass, Choji leaned over.
"You're cutting that all wrong," he said with mock severity.
Renji grunted. "Then do it yourself."
Choji snatched the knife and sliced through the flesh with ease. "See? Clean, neat, fast. You're hopeless without me."
"Or maybe you just enjoy showing off," Renji muttered.
Choji laughed, but warmth laced it. They had grown close over weeks of shared labor, meals, and stories. For Renji, Choji was the first real friend since his father's death. For Choji, Renji was someone who saw him as a person, not a Hunter rank.
Later, under the neon glow of a convenience store, Renji finally spoke of his burdens.
"My mother died three months ago," he said quietly. "She drank herself sick after my father… he died saving us during the war. She blamed herself. In the end… I buried her myself. I promised her I'd take care of Lily. But some days… it feels like I can't do it. Like I'm too weak."
Choji's hand pressed firmly to Renji's shoulder. "You're not weak, brother. You're carrying a weight most would collapse under. And you're still standing. That's strength."
Renji's chest tightened, but he managed a small smile.
Then, Choji leaned closer. "What if I told you there's another way?"
Renji raised an eyebrow. "Another way?"
"Gates," Choji said. "Mining. Not fighting. Every Gate is filled with crystals and mana gems. Hunters bring them back, Bureau sells them for insane prices. You just swing a pickaxe. No monsters, no combat. I'll be with you. One job, one million yen. Enough to wipe your debts. Enough to set you and Lily up."
Renji's chest tightened at the thought. One million… enough to give Lily a life without constant struggle.
The next morning, he gave Choji his answer.
"I'll do it."
Choji's grin split his face. "Good. Tomorrow, we walk into a Gate together. Trust me, brother this is the start of something better."
Renji nodded, unease gnawing at his stomach, but hope—fragile, flickering....burned brighter than ever.
That Evening
When he returned home, Lily was still at her desk, hunched over her notes. Her pen moved furiously across the page, lips whispering the words she memorized.
"You should be asleep," he said softly.
"I can't," she replied. "I've been thinking about the future."
Renji raised an eyebrow. "The future? That's my job."
Her eyes shone with determination. "I want to be a doctor, Renji. Not just any doctor...someone who helps people like Mom. If I can save even one family from losing themselves like we did… then my life will have meant something."
Renji's throat tightened. "Lily…"
She leaned forward, eyes bright. "And I want you to be happy too. You've given up everything for me. If I can make you smile again, that'll be my dream."
He reached out, ruffling her hair gently. "Don't worry. Soon… everything will change. You'll be a doctor, helping people. And I'll be cheering every step of the way."
"Really?"
"I mean it," he said firmly. "You just have to trust your big brother a little longer."
Later, after Lily fell asleep with scattered notes around her, Renji draped a blanket over her shoulders. He lingered, watching her rise and fall with each breath, his hand trembling against the back of her chair.
"Don't worry, Lily," he whispered. "Tomorrow… tomorrow everything begins to change."
And as the city lights flickered through the cracked windows, Renji closed his eyes, carrying his fragile hope like a lantern against the dark.