Seijurou leaned back, his fingers tracing the edge of a priceless tablet. He looked out at the crumbling neighborhood like he was watching a movie about a different world.
"You know, Mr. Kamitani," Seijurou began, his voice smooth and slow. "People wait months just for a glance at my schedule. Governors, bankers, even stars... they all bow when I enter a room. They understand that my time is the most expensive thing in Tokyo."
Mr. Kamitani didn't look impressed. In fact, he didn't look at Seijurou at all. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. The screen lit up, casting a pale glow on his face.
Swish. Swish.
His thumb moved across the screen. He was checking a grocery list.
"Steak... miso paste... and a big box of strawberries."Mr. Kamitani muttered to himself, completely ignoring the billionaire.
The air in the car turned cold. Seijurou's eyes narrowed. He wasn't used to being ignored. He took a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm. He forced a thin, fake smile onto his face.
"I suppose that's why they call you the 'Shield'," Seijurou said, his voice tightening.
"You have nerves of steel. You are a very rare man, Mr. Kamitani. Most lawyers are dogs, but you... you are a lion."
Mr. Kamitani finally locked his phone and looked up. He gave Seijurou a dry, bored look.
"Tell me something I don't know, Mr. Kanzaki,"
Mr. Kamitani snapped. "If I wanted to hear a fan club speech, I'd go to the courthouse. Say what you came to say, or get off my street."
Seijurou's face went pale. His jaw tightened so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek. He had finally lost his patience.
"You really don't know when to be grateful, do you—"
Before Seijurou could finish, the bodyguard snapped. He couldn't watch his master be insulted anymore. With a shout of anger, the big man rushed forward. His heavy boots thumped against the dirt, and he raised a massive fist, aiming right for Mr. Kamitani's head.
"Apologize to the Chairman!" the bodyguard screamed.
Mr. Kamitani didn't move back. He moved forward.
In a blur of motion, he caught the bodyguard's wrist and grabbed his index finger. He stepped to the side and twisted the hand with a sharp, brutal flick.
CRACK.
"AAAAAGH!"
The bodyguard's scream was high and sharp. He hit the ground hard, his knees thudding into the stones. He was bent over, his face turning purple as he stared at his own twisted finger. He let out a groan, his breath coming in gasps.
Mr. Kamitani didn't let go. He looked over the groaning man's head and stared directly at Seijurou.
"Is this the best you can do, Mr. Kanzaki?" Mr. Kamitani asked, his voice dripping with insult. "Sending a dog to do a man's job? It's embarrassing."
Seijurou stared at his bodyguard on the ground. His eyes were empty and terrifying.
"Get up," Seijurou said. His voice was a low, freezing whisper.
The bodyguard trembled, his face pale from the pain. "Chairman... forgive me, I—"
"You have ten seconds to vanish," Seijurou said, his eyes fixed on Kamitani with terrifying stillness. "If you are still in my sight when I finish this sentence, I will have your legs broken to match your hand. Go."
The bodyguard didn't wait for a heartbeat. He scrambled to his feet, clutching his ruined wrist, and fled into the darkness of the alley without looking back.
Mr. Kamitani sighed, looking totally annoyed. He straightened his shirt and looked at his watch again. "Great. Now I'm behind schedule. Are we done with the circus?"
Seijurou leaned back into the deep shadows of the seat. He looked like a king sitting on a throne, watching a commoner through a window.
"How can I make it up to you, Mr. Kamitani?" Seijurou asked. His voice was smooth, but it felt like a cold breeze. "Money? A new suit? Or perhaps a car that doesn't smell like old dust?"
Mr. Kamitani didn't even look at the Mercedes. He wiped a smudge of dirt off his sleeve. His face was bored, but his eyes were sharp.
"For starters," Mr. Kamitani said, his voice flat. "You can stop wasting my time with these games. I have a family inside, and your presence is ruining a perfectly good Saturday."
Seijurou's fingers tightened on the leather armrest. For a split second, his calm mask slipped, and his eyes flashed with anger. But then, he let out a short, quiet laugh.
"I see," Seijurou said. "You aren't interested in gifts. Very well. I know exactly how to pay you back for your trouble."
He reached into the pocket of his tailored jacket. He didn't pull out a checkbook. He pulled out a small, old-fashioned silver pocket watch. He flipped it open, the metal clicking loudly in the quiet street.
The afternoon sun was low in the sky, covering the power lines and old rooftops in a soft golden light. Shido walked with a slow, rhythmic scuff-scuff of his sneakers against the uneven sidewalk.
In his right hand, a thin plastic bag crinkled with every movement. The milk carton inside shifted, making a dull slosh-slosh sound that felt heavier than it actually was.
"Premium, my foot," Shido huffed, his blue hair messy in the orange light. "That old man at the shop really thought he could play me. 'Fresh from the farm'—please. The cow probably died of old age before this hit the shelf. It's practically ancient history in a bottle."
He adjusted his grip, the plastic handle leaving a red mark across his palm.
"I bet Kento is at home right now, probably laughing with Hori and Kashima. They're probably sharing a big bowl of ice cream while I'm out here fighting for my life in the humidity."
"I'm basically the maid of this family," Shido grumbled, the plastic bag swaying heavily against his leg.
He stopped walking for a second. He looked up at the orange sky, letting a dramatic silence hang in the air as he adjusted his grip.
"No... wait," he whispered, his smirk returning. He stood a little taller, imagining the sunset was his own personal spotlight. "Maid? That's low-tier. I'm a hero. A legendary hero on a top-rank quest. I'm carrying a carton of milk instead of a holy sword, but the sacrifice? The struggle? It's basically the same thing."
He nodded to himself, satisfied with his new title, and continued down the street with a bit more energy in his step. "Kento better be ready to clap when I walk through that door."
As Shido turned the corner and the Amamiya house came into view, he suddenly stopped.
Parked right in the middle of the cracked, diary street was a Mercedes. It was so clean, so shiny, that it looked like a diamond dropped into a pile of coal. The afternoon sun hit the car, and the light reflected off its smooth surface, shining against the old, rusty fences nearby.
"Whoa," Shido whispered, his light blue eyes widening. "A Mercedes? In this dump?"
His gaze moved from the car to the man standing beside it. The man was tall, with dark hair and a perfectly straight back. He looked calm and in control, the kind of person who made others nervous.
Shido stared. He'd seen that jacket before. He'd seen that posture before. Slowly, his eyes traveled up to the back of the man's head. Not a single strand of hair was out of place. Not a single hint of silver.
"Wait..." Shido's mouth fell open. His brain felt like it was trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. "Is that... Dad?"
He took a step closer, narrowing his eyes. It was definitely him. "Holy crap," Shido whispered.
He quickly hid behind a pile of old wooden boxes. "Since when did Dad look like some movie star?" Shido muttered. "Look at that jawline. He looks like he's about to shoot a high-budget commercial ad or something."
Shido reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a strawberry candy. He unwrapped it with a sharp crinkle and put it into his mouth, chewing hard as his blood pressure rose.
"Okay, think, Shido. Think," he whispered to himself. "A luxury car. A handsome dad. A secret meeting."
A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.
"He's meeting a rich woman! I knew it! Dad is pulling a sugar mommy!" He did a little silent victory dance behind the wooden boxes.
He leaned closer to the pile of boxes, already imagining his new life.
"If she's as rich as that Mercedes, maybe Dad can finally get me that Limited Edition Designer Wardrobe I saw in the magazine. Or even better..."
He paused, a mischievous smirk crossing his face as he thought of his girlfriend.
"I'll ask for a Private VIP Lounge Pass at that new rooftop cafe in Shibuya. I'll take Tamiko there for our next date. She'll blush so hard she might actually faint."
He felt a weird sense of pride. He adjusted his position, crawling slightly to the left to get a better view of the 'lady' in the back seat.
"Go on, Dad," Shido cheered internally. "Use those moves. Show her the 'Shield of the Court' charm."
Shido moved a few inches further, his heart thumping against his ribs. He stayed low, trying to get the perfect angle. He expected to see a woman with long hair and expensive jewelry.
Instead, his eyes landed on the man sitting in the deep shadows of the back seat.
Shido froze.
The man looked around forty, but he didn't look like any normal forty-year-old. His short blonde hair was neatly styled, every strand perfectly in place, like it had never been messy before. His skin was pale and smooth, almost too perfect. And his pale green eyes were sharp and steady, cold enough to make anyone feel uneasy under his gaze.
He wore a crisp black suit over a white shirt, with the top buttons left open. No tie. Just raw, expensive confidence.
But it was his expression that made the candy stick in Shido's throat.
The man looked arrogant. His lips were curled into a faint, mocking smile, and his eyes were cold—as if the entire neighborhood, and everyone in it, was beneath him.
Shido's eyes widened.
GULP.
He swallowed the candy whole. The hard sugar burned down his throat, but he barely felt it. The grocery bag slipped from his fingers. The milk tilted, almost falling—
He caught it at the last second, the carton hitting his chest with a dull thump. His heart was pounding just as hard.
"No way," Shido breathed, his face turning white. "That's... that's Kashima's father. Seijurou Kanzaki."
"THE ICE KING." He whispered.
A thin layer of sweat formed on Shido's forehead, catching the last light of the sun. The playful spark in his eyes faded. No smirk. No teasing.
The jokes about sugar mommies… they suddenly felt childish. Distant. Like something he had said in another life.
For the first time, he wasn't laughing
He stayed low, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.
Shido's shadow trembled against the rough wood of the crates."What is a guy like that doing here?" Shido's mind raced.
Shido's shadow trembled against the rough wood of the piled up boxes. His gaze darted from his father's calm shoulders to the cold, golden-haired man sitting in the back of the Mercedes. The orange sunset made the car's paint look like fire.
"...Please tell me we didn't do something stupid," Shido breathed.
He shifted his weight, his sneakers crunching softly on the road. His heart drummed against his ribs.
"We didn't break anything, right? Not a gate. Not a window. Not a car." His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "I am way too pretty for prison."
He squeezed his eyes shut, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the grocery bag. The plastic crinkled, sounding like a gunshot in the heavy silence.
"Please leave. Please leave. Please leave,"
he mouthed, a silent prayer. "Go back to your skyscraper. Go back to your own world. Just get out of this street."
His mind flashed to Kento, probably lounging on the sofa right now, completely unaware of the monster outside the Amamiya gate.
"Dammit, Kento," he grumbled. "Why aren't you here? Why am I the only one seeing this?"
Mr. Kamitani stood on the cracked roadq like a courtroom floor, shoulders straight, gaze steady. He didn't need marble walls; wherever he stood became his ground. The Shield of the Court—a man who spent years between the powerless and the powerful. He did not step back. He did not bend.
Across from him, inside the polished silence of the Mercedes, sat a different kind of power.
Seijurou Kanzaki did not need to stand. The city stood for him. Towers of glass carried his name. Half of Tokyo breathed under the weight of his influence. He didn't raise his voice; he didn't need to.
One man fought for those with nothing. The other built an empire owning everything.
The sunset burned between them, a line drawn in fire. Small stones under one pair of shoes. Imported leather under the other. Dust in the open air against filtered silence behind tinted glass.
Neither man looked away. It wasn't just a meeting; it was a boundary.And the street suddenly felt too narrow to hold them both.
Shido looked up at the fading sky, his eyes wide and desperate. He pressed his palms together for a split second, the grocery bag hanging from his wrist.
"Alright. Whoever's in charge up there," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I'll give up sweets for a week. No—three days. Just make Blondie get back in that car and leave."
He paused, a single drop of sweat rolling down his temple.
"...Okay, fine. Two days. Final offer."
He swallowed hard, the strawberry candy long gone but the bitterness still in his throat.
"Please."
Then—the world broke.
A sharp, digital buzz ripped through the silence.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Shido's heart nearly jumped out of his chest. His pocket glowed a bright, neon blue against his leg. He moved quickly and clumsily, his fingers slipping as he looked for the phone. The screen lit up his panicked face in the fading evening light.
One name flashed on the screen: TAMIKO 💖
The vibration tore through the silence like a gunshot.
In the still street, the sharp buzzing sounded far too loud, it hit the polished surface of the Mercedes and breaking the silence of heavy air.
Shido jumped back.
His shoulder slammed into the pile of boxes behind him. They wobbled dangerously, wood rubbing against wood before settling with a loud noise.
Shido grabbed them, his breath caught in his throat.
Too loud. Everything felt too loud. The wood rattled in his hands. The plastic bags crinkled like a storm. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold the heavy pile still. His heart beat so hard it hurt.
The phone was still buzzing in his hand. He couldn't drop the boxes, so he wildly pressed it to his ear, pinning it with his shoulder.
"Not now, not now," he hissed. "Tamiko? Listen, I—"
Tamiko was talking on the other end, her voice small and cheerful but Shido could barely hear her over his own breathing.
"Yeah... yeah, I'm on my way," he whispered. "I've got the milk. Just... tell Mom I'm coming. Bye!"
He ended the call and stayed frozen in the dark. He held his breath, praying that the boxes wouldn't fall—and that the man in the car hadn't heard a single word.
He tilted his head to end the call and stayed frozen in the dark, praying the boxes wouldn't fall—and that the man in the car hadn't heard a word.
Shido struggled to hold the heavy pile, but the boxes were too big. As he shifted his weight, his phone slipped from his shoulder and hit the road with a sharp clack.
"Dammit," he muterred, glaring at the wooden boxes. He was annoyed, his face red with heat as he finally forced the pile to stay still.
Once the boxes were steady, he reached down and snatched his phone from the dirt. He flipped it over. A long, sharp crack ran across the screen.
"Are you kidding me?" he whispered, cursing under his breath. He stared at the broken glass, feeling a mix of anger.
He looked back at the two men. The silence between his father and Seijurou was so heavy it felt like it might explode.
'Please,' Shido prayed, 'don't let them fight. Dad still uses a flip phone—he can't take on the King of Tokyo in a street fight. He'll probably try to give him a legal lecture while getting punched.'
But then, the journalist in him kicked in.
He gripped his broken phone, opened the camera, and snapped a photo. The flash was off. He looked at the blurry image of the Shield facing the King.
"Kento and Kashima are never going to believe this," he muttered, staring at the shot of the Shield facing the King. "They'll say I'm lying again. Not this time. I've got the evidence."
He didn't wait for a second look. He turned, gripped. He hurried toward the Amamiya house, slipping inside the door before anyone could spot him.
The door clicked shut, finally cutting off the heavy, frozen silence of the street. Shido leaned his back against the wood, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
'I can't believe it,' he thought, his pulse hammering. 'The Ice King is standing right outside this house. If Dad actually picks a fight with him, I'm going to have to explain to the police why I was just standing there holding a bag of milk.'
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to calm down. When he opened them, the world felt bright again.
Tamiko was there.
She was sitting on the floor of the entryway, pulling on her sneakers. The light from the hallway caught the dark shine of her hair. She looked up, her calm eyes immediately locking onto his.
"Shido?" She stood up quickly. "You're pale, and you're sweating! Are you okay? Did something happen out there?"
---
✦ 🔮 A GLIMPSE INTO THE NEXT CHAPTER 🔮 ✦
"What awaits beyond this page...?" 🌙
(灬･◡･灬)♡
'Is that the new word for getting dumped? The most powerful man in Tokyo can't even keep his own wife from fleeing to a different continent.'
"The world needs more people like you, Mr. Kamitani.".
---
🌙 The stars may fade, and memories may sleep...
But the Spiral continues to turn.
Until we meet again beneath the same forgotten sky.
(ﾉﾟ0ﾟ)ﾉ
— SakuraShinomiya