The city lay hushed in midnight silence, neon lights flickering like fading stars across the rain-slicked streets. Ren Nakamura sat in his dimly lit room, his jacket still damp from the rooftop fight earlier. The scent of blood and steel lingered faintly, though his body bore no wound. It was not his enemies that scarred him tonight — it was his heart.
Exhaustion weighed heavy. He leaned back, closing his eyes, and soon drifted into the uneasy grip of sleep.
The dream came softly, like a whisper slipping past the shadows.
He stood in a sunlit garden, a place he had not seen since childhood. The scent of blooming lilies drifted around him, and the world, for once, was without gunfire, without knives hidden in alleyways. A single figure stood ahead, radiant against the light. Hana.
She turned slowly, her hair catching the golden glow. Her smile was gentle, yet it struck him with the force of a blade to the heart. "Ren," she called, her voice carrying warmth he thought he had forgotten.
He reached out, and in that instant, time seemed to pause. Her hand slipped into his, slender fingers curling with trust, as if the world had never built walls between them.
But shadows crept at the edges. He could feel them — the faceless figures of his enemies, the weight of the Kage no Ryuu mantle pressing against his chest. The blood on his hands threatened to spill onto her white dress, staining it crimson. He pulled his hand back, ashamed, afraid.
Yet Hana stepped closer, refusing to let go. Her touch was soft, tender, as if she knew every scar, every battle, and still chose him. "Even if the world stands against you… I will not."
His throat tightened. He wanted to believe, yet his life was built on violence and deception. He lowered his head. "I don't deserve you."
She smiled — a smile that both healed and broke him. "Then fight, Ren. Not for me. Not for them. Fight for yourself… so you can return to me."
For the first time, his steel heart trembled. Her words rang like truth, unshaken by bullets or blood. He wanted to hold her forever, to bury his face in her shoulder and forget the weight of his secret empire. And so, he pulled her into his arms, the warmth of her body melting the endless winter of his existence.
But then — the garden shattered. Gunfire ripped through the dreamscape, crimson spreading across the lilies. Hana's figure slipped from his embrace, fading like mist under the morning sun.
Ren awoke with a gasp, chest heaving, his hand clutching the empty sheets beside him. Sweat dripped down his temple, his breath uneven. The faint sound of the city outside reminded him he was still trapped between love and war.
Yet his heart whispered the memory of that dream, soft but relentless: her voice, her touch, her unyielding gaze.
He pressed a hand to his chest. "Hana…"
It was only a dream. And yet, it felt more real than the blood he spilled, more eternal than the shadows he commanded.
And in that fragile silence before dawn, Ren Nakamura — The Shadow Dragon feared by all — allowed himself a moment of weakness, holding on to the dream of the only woman who could break him.