The storm had passed, but the streets still glistened as if the city refused to let go of its tears. Neon lights shimmered in the wet asphalt, the night strangely quiet except for the distant hum of traffic.
Ren Nakamura stood on the rooftop of an abandoned building, the wind tugging at his coat. From this vantage point, the city looked deceptively calm, as if the chaos of the night before had been nothing more than a bad dream. But Ren knew better. Quiet was never peace — quiet was the moment when predators hunted and when memories hit hardest.
His gaze settled on the street below. A soft, golden glow spilled from the café across the road, warming the otherwise cold night. And there, framed by the window, sat Hana Takahashi.
She was alone, her damp hair falling over her shoulders, strands catching the light like threads of gold. Her hands were wrapped around a steaming cup, and her eyes… her eyes were distant, lost somewhere between the present and a memory.
Ren's chest tightened. He had faced blades, bullets, and entire gangs without fear, yet one glimpse of her from this distance and his breath faltered. The armour he had so carefully forged over the past five years — the cold, calculating mask of Kage no Ryuu, The Shadow Dragon — cracked in an instant.
How many times had he been this close, watching over her without letting her see? How many nights had he stood in the shadows, ensuring her world stayed untouched by the darkness he lived in?
Down below, movement snapped him back to reality. Two men lingered across the street, their voices low, their eyes scanning the café. Ren's instincts sharpened. The red insignia on their jackets was unmistakable — Akuma no Kage scouts.
Not tonight.
Ren descended the fire escape in silence, his boots barely making a sound on the metal. By the time his feet touched the alley, he had become shadow itself.
The scouts didn't notice him until it was too late.
"Evening stroll?" Ren's voice was calm, almost casual, but there was a razor edge beneath it.
Both men froze, fear flashing in their eyes. "Shadow Dragon," one of them hissed, stepping back before fumbling for his knife.
Ren moved before the blade even cleared its sheath. A swift elbow strike dropped the first man, a precise kick sent the second sprawling. The fight was over in seconds, but Ren didn't stop until both lay unconscious. He dragged them deeper into the alley, tying them with wire scavenged from a crate, ensuring they would be found only when he wanted them to be.
Returning to the mouth of the alley, he glanced back at the café. Hana was still there, staring absently at the street. She looked fragile and strong all at once — her shoulders squared as though bracing herself against a world she didn't fully understand, yet her hands trembled when she brought the cup to her lips.
Ren stayed in the darkness, watching. For a fleeting second, it felt as if time stopped — as if she could sense him. Hana's head turned slightly, her gaze brushing over the shadows where he stood.
Ren's breath caught. For an instant, he wanted to step into the light, to close the distance, to tell her everything — every unsent word, every night he had fought to keep her safe, every secret that kept them apart.
But footsteps echoed from the far end of the street — more scouts, this time from Tetsu no Yami. His jaw tightened. The city never slept, and neither could he.
He melted back into the alleys, vanishing just before Hana's eyes returned to the window.
Inside the café, Hana frowned slightly, setting her cup down. Something had shifted in the air — something invisible but familiar. Her heart raced, though she didn't know why. For a moment, she felt as though someone had been there, watching over her, and a strange comfort washed over her chest.
Ren, hidden in the darkness, allowed himself a faint smile — rare, fleeting, but real. Tonight, he had seen her, close enough to touch. Close enough to remind him why he kept fighting.
He turned away from the café, his silhouette swallowed by the night. There were still battles to fight, still enemies lurking in every corner of the city. But for the first time in weeks, his steps felt lighter.
Because hope — fragile and dangerous as it was — had found its way back into his heart.