Chapter 14: The One Who May Not Return || Kaeranu Mono

  Shunsuke’s apartment, Roppongi, Minato-ku → October 3rd, 2022

  “To walk beside him was to risk never seeing him return.”

  Miyu sat curled up on the couch in Shunsuke’s apartment, a sliver of late morning sun slanting through the window and illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The hum of his laptop, a low, constant whisper, was the only sound aside from the soft. He’d lent it to her for studying, but as it powered on, she blinked at the unfamiliar interface. Everything was different—sleeker, colder, an obsidian mirror to the cluttered warmth of her own desk at home. The minimalist icons and clean lines felt like a stark reflection of the distance she still felt from a part of him.

  She sighed softly, the sound swallowed by the quiet apartment. “Why does it look so different from mine?” she murmured to herself, her fingers hovering over the trackpad like a nervous bird.

  Kuro, a black shadow, leapt onto the couch beside her, plopping down with a satisfied grunt. His presence was a grounding anchor in the unfamiliar space, a warm, fuzzy weight against her thigh. She reached out and stroked his fur absently, the soft texture a comfort as her mind was still tangled in confusion. The apartment was a sanctuary, a quiet space away from the noise and dangers of her family’s life, but it was also a place filled with unspoken mysteries.

  Pulling out her phone—a well-worn Sony Xperia with a cracked screen protector—she opened her messages. The familiar interface was a balm, a small piece of home in this foreign world. She tapped out a note to her brother.

  Hey Shin,

  Sorry to bother you, but I need help.

  Shunsuke lent me his laptop for studying, but it looks nothing like mine at home.

  I can’t find anything.

  Please help your little sister ( ╥ω╥ ) — Miyu

  She hit send, then leaned back, fingers still brushing through Kuro’s fur as she waited for Shin to reply. The apartment was quiet, but her thoughts weren’t.

  After a little while, her phone rang. It was Shin.

  Miyu picked up, already hearing his soft chuckle through the receiver.

  “Let me guess,” he said, amused. “Shunsuke has a MacBook?”

  She tilted her head, frowning at the screen. “I don’t know… It looks so different,” she sighed, sounding defeated.

  Shin laughed. “Is there an apple on the back?”

  Miyu groaned. “Yes. Why does it look so weird? I don’t understand anything.”

  “You’ve entered the Apple dimension,” Shin teased. “Nothing makes sense unless you’ve been indoctrinated.”

  She rolled her eyes but smiled. “I just wanted to study, not solve a puzzle.”

  “Hang tight,” he said. “I’ll walk you through it. But next time, tell Shunsuke to lend you something normal.”

  Kuro chirped softly from beside her.

  “Huh? What was that?” Shin asked, sounding mildly irritated.

  Miyu chuckled. “That was Kuro. Shunsuke’s raccoon.”

  There was a pause. She could practically hear the question marks forming in Shin’s head.

  “…He has a raccoon?”

  “Yep.”

  Another pause. Then Shin sighed. “Can’t Shunsuke do normal?”

  Miyu laughed. “I guess not.”

  After a while, Shin had walked her through the basics, patiently explaining how to navigate Shunsuke’s MacBook. Miyu sighed with relief.

  “Thank you, Shin. You saved my nerves.”

  He laughed softly. “It’s fine, little sister.”

  In the background, she heard her father’s voice, distant but unmistakably warm.

  “See you soon, Miyu,” Shin added, and then the call ended.

  Miyu smiled and set her phone aside, finally ready to focus. She opened the textbook beside her and began to study, though her thoughts kept drifting.

  Her father had promised to come by soon, bringing Yuki with him. She’d asked him to—now that Shunsuke wasn’t home, it felt like the right time. Originally, she and Shunsuke had planned to visit her parents together today, to give Yuki and Shunsuke a chance to bond properly. But plans shifted, and now Yuki would come here instead.

  Maybe that was better. This way, Yuki could finally meet the apartment’s true ruler—Kuro, sprawled across the couch like a fluffy little emperor, surveying his kingdom with lazy indifference.

  After a while, a notification blinked onto the corner of the screen—a message sent from Shunsuke’s phone. Miyu blinked, confused. It wasn’t a text. The icon was different, a small document with a folded corner. She clicked it open, her fingers hesitant, a strange premonition creeping over her.

  Inside, just one line, stark and unwavering against the white background.

  My father knows, and he isn’t happy. But you’re my world, and I chose you over everything.

  Her breath caught, held suspended in her chest like a fragile thing. The words were simple, distilled to their terrifying core, but they hit like thunder, echoing in the sudden silence of the room. Her heart fluttered—not with joy, but with a rising tide of ice-cold anxiety. A shiver traced its way down her spine, and her hands began to tremble, the heavy laptop feeling suddenly insubstantial on her knees.

  She knew what the Kawamura-gumi was capable of. The stories whispered in hushed tones between her family's men weren't just folklore; they were a grim reality. They didn’t forgive. They didn’t forget. And they certainly didn’t tolerate betrayal, especially from within their own ranks. For a son to choose an enemy over the family was an act of profound defiance, an act that could only be seen as a direct challenge to their power. The punishment would not be a simple lecture. It would be an example.

  It was not simply forbidden to love the enemy. It carried consequences. It was an act of war. And in a single, heartbreaking sentence, Shunsuke had not only expressed his love for her but also his allegiance. But he had picked her nevertheless. His message, with its simple finality and the weight of the sacrifice it implied, felt like a promise made in the shadow of a coming storm. With the slanting sunlight now acting more like a cruel spotlight than a balm, the serene silence of the apartment was broken and a horrible, new reality was revealed. In Shunsuke's sanctuary, Miyu was more than just a visitor. It was because of her that he had risked everything.

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  The silence that had been so reassuring now seemed sinister, and she became acutely conscious of the security camera, the locked door, and the separation from her family. She had unwittingly brought a piece of the chaos and danger of her world to Shunsuke's doorstep by allowing him to bring her into his world of comfort and tranquility.

  Suddenly, her eyes fell on a folder on his desktop. It was named “Mochi.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she read it, a strange warmth blooming in her chest. She had a feeling this folder wasn’t about the sweet, rice-dough treat. With a trembling finger, she clicked it open.

  Inside was a collection of photos of her. Candid shots, captured in quiet moments she hadn’t even realized he’d noticed: reading on the sofa, laughing with Kuro in the park, dozing in the car with her head against the window. Her breath caught. He had kept them, every fragment of her, like treasures.

  Her heart fluttered, her earlier anxiety melting into something else—something overwhelming. Silent tears blurred her vision. She wasn’t sad. She was moved to her very core.

  “You defied your blood for me,” she whispered into the stillness, the words tasting bittersweet. “Even though I’m just a hafu.”

  Kuro stirred, as if he could sense her trembling. He nudged her hand with his wet nose. She let out a shaky laugh, stroking his soft fur.

  “Thank you, Kuro,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

  Just as the last tear trickled down her cheek, the doorbell rang. The chime, sharp and sudden, cut through the quiet of the apartment, and Miyu flinched, her heart leaping into her throat. She looked up from the laptop, placing it carefully on the coffee table as if it were a fragile artifact. She glanced at the security camera interface; a wave of profound relief washed over her, powerful enough to make her knees weak. Her father was standing at the door, with her daughter Yuki standing next to him.

  Miyu let out a deep, shaky breath, the tension she had been holding for what felt like an eternity finally releasing. A genuine smile, a mix of relief and pure joy, bloomed on her face as she hurried to the door.

  "Konnichiwa, otosama," she said gently, her voice quivering a little but only because she was happy.

  Her father returned her smile, his eyes softening as he looked at her. Then Miyu knelt down, holding her arms out for Yuki. “Konnichiwa, Yuki-chan.”

  Yuki’s eyes, as big and bright as black opals, shone with pure excitement. “Mama!” she squealed, a sound that was sweeter than any melody. She launched herself into Miyu’s embrace, and Miyu hugged her tightly, burying her face in the scent of her daughter’s hair, the comforting smell of home.

  Miyu nodded, her smile unwavering. “Yes, Shunsuke did say he doesn’t mind,” she said. “Can I make you some tea, Father?”

  Her father nodded, and Miyu set Yuki gently back on the ground. The air was suddenly still, expectant. There was a soft, almost imperceptible tapping on the wooden floor. Kuro, who had retreated to the bedroom after hearing the doorbell, now peeked curiously from the doorway. His shadow stretched long and thin behind him in the fading light. Yuki’s eyes, as big and bright as black opals, shone with pure wonder as she caught sight of him.

  "Oh…" she breathed, her voice a soft, careful whisper, "is that Kuro?"

  She took a hesitant step forward, as if approaching a mythical creature. The raccoon sat perfectly still, watching her, his dark eyes like twin buttons, his head tilted to the side in an expression of profound curiosity. When Yuki held out her small hand, her fingers trembling with excitement, he didn't move. He simply sniffed the air, and then, with a soft, melodic chirp, he plopped down and rolled onto his back. The little creature, who had been a quiet shadow and a source of comfort to Miyu, had just given a silent invitation, a gesture of complete trust to her daughter. It was an unspoken welcome, a small, perfect moment of peace that settled over the room like a soft blanket.

  Miyu went to the kitchen, the clatter of teacups a familiar comfort as she began to prepare tea. She and her father watched Yuki, their gazes warm with shared affection. Yuki, with a soft squeal of delight, was now gently rubbing Kuro's belly, her face alight with pure joy. Kuro was in heaven, chirping softly in response, a sound of utter contentment.

  "He's so soft!" Yuki giggled, her voice a sweet bell in the quiet room.

  Miyu's father, Yuu, settled onto the sofa, his posture relaxed. He watched the scene with a rare, gentle smile on his lips. "I didn't think Shunsuke would have such an exotic pet," he said, his voice firm yet carrying a warm undercurrent. "Kuro is illegal, isn't he? Did he bribe the government to be allowed to have him?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

  Miyu giggled softly as she brought him a teacup, the warmth of the porcelain a pleasant contrast to the cool air. "Shunsuke has told me that Ryuichi had Kuro registered under a special permit. Emotional support animal," she explained, her voice soft.

  Yuu took the cup, his fingers brushing against hers for a moment. He nodded, a grateful expression on his face. "Also bribed by Ryuichi, then," he said with a low chuckle, a look of respect in his eyes. "We don't have emotional support animals in Japan as far as I know, but there are loopholes. And knowing Ryuichi, he used every single one of them."

  Miyu smiled, a soft, fond look in her eyes. "Ryuichi always handles problems related to laws," she chuckled. "Just like mother does for us."

  Yuu let out a soft laugh, the sound a warm rumble in his chest. "That's true," he said.

  Yuki was now playing carefully with Kuro, and the raccoon, for his part, was gentle, careful to not accidentally hurt the child. Miyu’s heart swelled with warmth. This was what she had always wanted—a quiet, peaceful moment where her two worlds could come together. The love she had for both Shunsuke and her family, for her past and her future, felt unified in this moment.

  "Father, let us go on the balcony," she said, a bit hesitant, her voice dropping to a serious tone. "I need to speak with you about something."

  Her father nodded, his expression shifting from relaxed warmth to quiet concern. He followed her out onto the balcony, a space that was more than just a space—it was Kuro’s garden. The small area was a testament to Shunsuke’s careful planning, with climbing structures, small bamboo plants swaying in the breeze, and moss-covered rocks. A patch of artificial grass provided a safe place to play, and shaded nooks were lined with soft bedding. If Kuro ever wanted, he could curl up there and nap under the sky.

  They sat down on a wooden bench Shunsuke had placed there. Yuu looked at the various features of the small, man-made sanctuary. "A little garden on the balcony," he mused. "It's a nice idea, but it surprises me that Shunsuke is such a person that wants this."

  Miyu smiled, looking out at the sky as the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the clouds in shades of orange and pink. "He did it for Kuro," she said gently. "So the raccoon has some little sanctuary."

  Yuu put his cup down on a little table next to the bench. “You wanted to speak with me about something,” he said, his tone concerned but warm. “What is on your mind, my daughter?”

  Miyu looked at her father, her hands fidgeting with her sleeves. “Shunsuke…” she whispered. “His father knows. He wrote to me that he defied him, for me…” Miyu’s voice cracked a bit.

  Yuu took a deep breath. He knew what she wanted to ask, and he felt bad to give her the honest truth. “Shunsuke betrayed his family with this,” Yuu explained, taking her hand. “I’m sorry, Miyu, but…” he took another deep breath. “You can be happy if he comes home.”

  The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp. Miyu’s eyes widened, the warm glow of the setting sun on her face suddenly feeling cold. Her father’s words were a statement, not a question, a grim reality delivered with a gentle touch. "If he comes home." The quiet finality of the phrase echoed in her mind, a terrifying emptiness.

  “What do you mean, if?” she asked, her voice a fragile whisper. She was afraid to hear the answer, but she had to know. “Father, what is going to happen to him?”

  Yuu squeezed her hand gently, his thumb tracing a slow, steady circle on her skin. He looked at her, and she saw the sorrow in his eyes, a depth of sadness that transcended a simple family conflict. This was not a punishment for a childish mistake. This was a consequence.

  “He is the son of a yakuza leader, Miyu. To put it simply, he disobeyed a direct order from his father, and for what? For a woman from a rival family,” Yuu explained, his voice low and serious. “His father is known for being a merciless person.”

  Miyu’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. Her mind flashed to the stories she had heard, the hushed rumors of the Kawamura-gumi’s brutality. The image of Shunsuke, with his quiet strength and gentle smiles, was a stark contrast to the violence she now associated with his name. He had put himself in danger. For her.

  Yuu’s gaze, which had been fixed on the horizon, slowly turned away, settling on his lap. The easy warmth he had radiated moments before was gone, replaced by a profound, familiar sorrow. “You need to think about letting him go. For your sake and Yuki’s. If Shunsuke doesn’t come back…”

  Miyu’s body began to shake, a tremor that started deep in her core and worked its way out to her trembling hands. The thought of a world without Shunsuke, of a future where he was gone because of her, was a searing pain. Tears, cold and silent, streamed down her face. “I can’t, father,” she whispered, her voice a thin, strained thread. “I can’t forget him…” She looked at her hands, still trembling. “I can’t explain it, but it feels like I’ve known him for years, even though we’ve only been together since…” Just two weeks. It felt impossible, yet she knew in her heart it was true.

  Her father said nothing, but a pained expression crossed his face. He looked at her with an understanding that transcended words. “He didn't just choose a girlfriend his father dislikes, Miyu. He pledged his loyalty to the Nakashima-gumi over his own blood. In our world, there is no greater betrayal. Shohei cannot let that stand. He must make an example of him, or he looks weak.”

  Miyu looked away, her head bowed as if under a physical weight. The harsh reality of his words was a cold shower. "I understand that," she whispered, a plea. "But we can't just abandon him." Her father said nothing more, only pulled her into a tight, warm hug.