The Parliament building was usually a place of dry whispers and polished wood. Ryo Hoshino liked the marble walls; they were cold against his back. He stood with his hands in his pockets, watching the dust motes dance in the high shafts of light.
"Where's the President! I need him now!"
The shouting started at the end of the hall. A businessman—expensive suit, face the color of overripe plum came storming toward the executive wing. He didn't see Ryo. He didn't see anything but his own rage.
Ryo tilted his head, a slow, audible crack echoing from his neck. He worked his knuckles next. As the man drew close, Ryo shifted his weight. He didn't push off the wall. He just snapped his leg upward in a high, arcing kick.
The sole of his boot stopped inches from the man's nose, but the air itself solidified into a physical hammer. The energy wave hit the businessman like a car crash.
The man staggered, his mouth hanging open.
"What do you want?" Ryo asked. He smiled. It was the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes—wide, hungry, and entirely too pleasant.
The businessman froze. He looked at the space between his face and Ryo's boot, realizing the air had just tried to cave his skull in. 'If that was the wind...'
"I... I need to talk to the President!" the man tried again, but the volume was gone.
Ryo's smile didn't waver, but it thinned. This one was slow.
"Get lost!" the businessman snapped, his terror finally turning back into a desperate, stupid bravado.
"Enough," Ryo said.
He didn't miss this time. He snapped a kick toward the man's neck. There was a dull thud, and the businessman was suddenly airborne. He went through a glass partition like a stone, the shards ringing on the floor. His head hit a jagged edge, and he slumped into a heap of wool and red.
Ryo pulled his phone out. "Yeah. Parliament. Send an ambulance. There's a stupid creature on the floor. Get it out of here."
He hung up without waiting for an answer. He had a train to catch.
"I'm coming for you, Renji Kurozawa."
Kyoto: Kawaramachi Street
The Silent Brew smelled like roasted beans and old paper. Renji sat across from a man named Takayama, their coffee steaming between them. Hikari sat beside Renji, her eyes darting toward the window every few seconds.
"An E-Rank," Takayama said, peering over his glasses as he took a sip.
"Is there a problem?" Renji asked. He blew on his coffee, the surface rippling.
"Problem? No." Takayama's smile was thin, patronizing. "Every guild needs someone to carry the bags. It's a respectable living for people at the bottom."
Renji didn't blink. He let the insult hang in the air like smoke. "Fine. Tomorrow then. Three hundred for the entry?"
"Yeah. Deal."
Takayama stood to leave, but the bell above the door didn't just chime—it screamed. Four men in masks burst in, the long barrels of shotguns glinting under the warm lights.
"Sit down! Now!" one shouted. Takayama's bravado evaporated. He sat back down, hands shaking.
Hikari stood up. Her face was white, her fists clenched so hard the knuckles were ghost-pale. "You f**king sons of a b*tch!"
A robber turned, the barrel of his pistol leveling with her chest. Crack.
The sound of the shot echoed in the small shop, but there was no blood. Renji was standing in front of her. He didn't seem to have moved; he was just... there. He held his coffee cup in his left hand. His right hand was closed into a fist. He opened it slowly, letting a flattened piece of lead clatter onto the floor.
"Silly," Renji said. "Where are your manners?"
All four guns swiveled toward him. Renji set his coffee cup on the table with a soft click.
In a heartbeat, the air in the shop felt like it had been sucked out.
There was no sound of a blade, only the wet thud of meat hitting the floor. The robbers' hands—still clutching their weapons—dropped like stones. Blood sprayed the walls in rhythmic, pulsing arcs.
"Aargh! My hand!"
They tried to turn, to stumble for the door on stumps, but Renji was a shadow. Another flicker of motion, and their legs were gone.
They collapsed into a pile of screaming, truncated limbs.
"Who is this guy?" Takayama whispered, his glasses sliding down his nose. "E-Rank?"
Renji was already back in his chair. He crossed one leg over the other and picked up his coffee. It was still warm.
The shop was dead silent, save for the wet gurgling on the floor. Renji finished his drink, stood up, and looked at Takayama.
"Hikari. Let's go." He paused at the door.
"Call the police. Tell them to take out the trash."
"How?" Hikari was practically vibrating as they walked down the street, her hands cutting the air in jagged mimics of his speed.
"How did you do that?"
Renji let out a short laugh. "You'll be that strong one day."
The light in her eyes died instantly. Her fists tightened again, that familiar, jagged grief returning to her face. Renji watched her for a second. "Why?"
"Nothing," she said, her voice small. "I just... I miss them." She walked ahead of him, her shoulders hunched.
Renji looked at the sky, the Kyoto blue turning to gold. "Mom," he whispered. "I hope you're okay. I'm coming back for you."
The house he rented was small, tucked away near the main street. When they walked in, Hikari collapsed onto the sofa, the adrenaline finally leaving her. She looked small. Too small for the world he lived in.
Renji sat on the edge of the cushion.
"Hikari."
"Yeah?" She sat up, rubbing her eyes.
"You're going to school. You can't follow me into the Gates."
Her face fell. "But I want to be a Hunter. I need to—"
"I know what you need," Renji interrupted, his voice firm but quiet. "But you have to learn first. You're like a sister to me now. Sisters go to school."
The tears started then—not the angry kind, but something older. She lunged forward, burying her face in his shoulder, her fingers digging into his hoodie. "Thank you," she whispered.
"It's okay. Stop. Tomorrow, we go. When I'm out, lock the doors. Don't open them for anyone." He held her, the weight of her head on his shoulder feeling like a responsibility he actually wanted.
She didn't answer. Her breathing slowed, her body going limp as she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. Renji carried her to the bedroom, tucked the blanket around her chin, and stepped out.
"I love you, brother," she mumbled in her sleep.
Renji paused at the door, a rare, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He closed it softly.
The Next Morning
Renji sat in the living room, watching the orange glow of the electric heater. The door opened, and Hikari stepped out, steam still clinging to her skin. She had a towel wrapped around her waist, her hair damp.
"Morning, Renji," she chirped.
Renji's head snapped toward her, then immediately did a 180. He stared intensely at the wall. "Morning! Put some clothes on. We're going to the school."
He heard her laugh as she ran back into the room.
"Right," Renji muttered to the fireplace. "The guild. I have to join that guild today."
A few minutes later, she emerged. She looked different in the new clothes—cleaner, brighter.
"Let's go, brother."
"Yeah," Renji said, finally standing up. "Let's go."
At the bus station on the edge of the city, a man stepped off the platform. Ryo Hoshino took a deep breath, the scent of Kyoto air filling his lungs. He adjusted his collar and smiled at the horizon.
"Welcome to Kyoto," he whispered. "Don't go anywhere, Renji. I'm almost there."