---April 18, 2016
---At Tokyo, Japan
Takashi walked beside Aiko, licking his ice cream as they strolled through the park. The sun was shining, and the air was filled with the sounds of laughter and birds chirping. Aiko glanced at Takashi, a smirk playing on her lips.
"So, Takashi, what are you going to do with your future?" she asked, her tone teasing but genuinely curious.
Takashi stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing in thought. After a moment, he looked up at her with a determined expression.
"I just want to make my mother proud.." he said simply.
Aiko chuckled and patted his head affectionately.
"You can do it, Takashi. I believe in you..."
---Present day...
---May 2, 2016
---At Shibuya Tokyo, Japan
The warmth of the memory faded, replaced by the cold, sterile environment of a hospital morgue. Aiko's lifeless body lay on a metal tray, a bullet hole beside her head. Days had passed since the chaotic confrontation, and the weight of grief hung heavy in the air.
Takashi stood over her body, his eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and fury. The sterile smell of the hospital clung to him, amplifying the sense of loss and finality. His hands clenched into fists as he struggled to process the enormity of what had happened.
A doctor entered the room, offering a sympathetic look.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he said gently, his voice carrying the practiced empathy of someone who had delivered similar news countless times.
Takashi barely acknowledged him, his mind racing. The memory of Aiko's encouragement, her unwavering belief in him, played over and over in his head. It fueled the fire within him, transforming his grief into a burning desire for justice.
"I'm going to make them pay," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.
"For Aiko. For everyone they've hurt."
The doctor nodded, understanding the depth of Takashi's pain but unable to offer any comfort that could ease it.
"If there's anything we can do, please let us know."
Takashi turned away, his thoughts consumed by the image of Aiko's lifeless eyes. He knew what he had to do. He would find Ryujin and his fellow morons, and he would make sure they could never hurt anyone else again.
As Takashi left the hospital room, he was met by Yoichi and Aiko's parents in the hallway. Yoichi's face was a mask of distraught anger, his eyes red and swollen from crying. The moment Yoichi saw Takashi, he rushed at him, fists clenched and shaking.
"This is your fault!" Yoichi shouted, his voice cracking with grief and rage.
"You should have protected her! You should have been the one that died!"
Takashi stood there, silent and expressionless, as Yoichi's words washed over him. His face was a blank canvas, devoid of any emotion, a stark contrast to Yoichi's raw anguish. Yoichi's father quickly stepped in, grabbing his son by the shoulders and pulling him away from Takashi.
"Yoichi, stop it!" Aiko's father commanded, his voice firm but pained.
"This isn't helping."
Yoichi struggled against his father's grip, still glaring at Takashi. "He didn't do anything! He just let her die!"
Takashi's eyes met Yoichi's, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something â a shared pain, a mutual understanding of the depth of their loss. But it was quickly buried under the weight of the silence that enveloped them.
Aiko's mother, tears streaming down her face, placed a hand on her husband's arm.
"Please, let's not do this here," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"We need to focus on Aiko."
Yoichi's father nodded, pulling Yoichi back a few steps.
"We'll get through this together," he said, his voice softening.
"Blaming each other won't bring her back."
Yoichi's anger gave way to sobs as he buried his face in his hands. Aiko's parents led him away, casting one last, sorrowful glance at Takashi. Takashi watched them go, his heart heavy with guilt and sorrow, but his resolve hardening with each passing moment.
He turned and walked down the sterile hospital corridor, his mind set on the path ahead. Aiko's death had to mean something. He would find Ryujin and his accomplices, and he would make sure they paid for every life they had taken, every tear they had caused.
---Meanwhile...
---At outskirts of Shibuya, Japan
Ryujin, Kenji, and Sato found themselves in a secluded area on the outskirts of the city. The tension was palpable as Ryujin and Kenji's argument grew more heated by the second.
"We need to stay and face this!" Ryujin shouted, his face twisted with anger.
"Running away won't solve anything!"
Kenji, equally furious, retorted, "Are you out of your mind? That kid isn't going to let any of us live. We need to get as far away from here as possible!"
Sato stood off to the side, his phone pressed to his ear. His focus was elsewhere, his voice low and urgent as he spoke to his wife, Yumi.
"I promise, I'll return soon," he said, his voice breaking slightly.
"How are the kids? Is your tummy okay?"
Yumi's soft voice responded, filled with concern and love. "The kids are fine, and the baby is kicking a lot. But Sato, what's going on? You sound... different."
A faint smile crossed Sato's lips as a tear slid down his cheek.
"I'm okay," he lied, wiping the tear away quickly.
"Just... tired. I miss you all so much."
Yumi's voice softened even more. "We miss you too. Please, come home safe."
"I will," Sato replied, his voice cracking. "I promise."
Meanwhile, Ryujin and Kenji's argument continued to escalate.
"We can't just leave everything behind," Ryujin hissed.
"That little Pianist will find us, no matter where we go. We need to end this."
Kenji shook his head, his frustration evident. "It's not about leaving everything behind, it's about survival. I'm not staying around to get killed because of your stupidness."
Sato ended his call, his expression somber as he looked at the two men.
"Enough," he said quietly, but firmly.
"Arguing won't change what happened. We need to figure out our next move."
Ryujin turned his glare towards Sato. "Our next move?...You mean your next mistake?"
Sato clenched his fists but kept his voice steady. "We can't undo the past. We need to stay focused on surviving this and finding a way out."
Kenji, still seething, muttered, "Yeah, well, maybe if we hadn't taken orders from a narcissistic, we wouldn't be here."
Ryujin took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Fine. But from now on, we don't make any more mistakes. We have to be smarter. We can't afford another screw-up."
Sato nodded, his mind still on Yumi and the promise he had made. "Agreed. But we also need to consider our options carefully. We can't just react out of fear or anger."
The three men fell into a tense silence, each lost in their thoughts. Ryujin's mind raced with plans and contingencies, Kenji nursed his wounded pride, and Sato held on to the faint hope that he could find a way back to his family.
In the cold, quiet outskirts of the city, they knew they were far from safe. But for now, they had no choice but to stick together and face whatever came next, hoping against hope that they could find a way to survive the chaos they had created.
---Until...
As the tension hung in the air, Ryujin let out a frustrated sigh. Kenji suddenly stumbled, his face pale and strained. Sato rushed to help him, his expression tight with concern.
"He's bleeding through the bandages," Sato muttered, inspecting Kenji's wound.
"Ryujin, we need more supplies. Go to the gas station and get some bandages."
Ryujin scoffed, mocking Kenji as he stepped back. "Seriously, Kenji? Can't even keep your guts in?"
Kenji winced, too weak to respond. Sato looked at Ryujin with a stern look. "Just go, Ryujin. We need those bandages."
Grumbling, Ryujin turned and walked towards the gas station. He hated being ordered around, but he knew they had no choice. He stepped into the dimly lit store, scanning the aisles for medical supplies.
As he reached for a pack of bandages, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Ryujin pulled it out, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of Aiko's number on the screen. A smirk crept across his face as he answered.
"Hello?" Ryujin said, his tone mocking.
There was a brief silence before Takashi's voice came through, cold and filled with anger.
"You bastard. Where are you hiding?"
Ryujin chuckled, leaning against the counter.
"Little pianist. I was wondering when I'd hear from you. Listen, why don't you just fâ"
Before he could finish, Takashi cut him off. "You think this is a game? I'm coming for you, Ryujin. You and your pathetic little crew. You'll pay for what you've done."
Ryujin's smirk faded slightly, but he kept his tone dismissive. "Yeah, yeah. Big talk from the kid who couldn't protect his friend."
Takashi's voice was icy. "This isn't over."
Ryujin ended the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket with a scoff. As he grabbed the bandages and headed towards the register, he couldn't shake the feeling that things were spiraling out of control.
Returning to the car, he handed the supplies to Sato, who immediately began rewrapping Kenji's wound.
"What took you so long?" Sato asked, not looking up.
"Just ran into an old friend," Ryujin replied, his smirk returning.
"Don't worry about it."
Kenji groaned in pain, his face contorted in agony.
"We need to move," Kenji said weakly.
"That crazy kid will not stop."
Ryujin nodded, his expression hardening. "Yeah, I know. We'll find a place to lay low for now. But we need to be ready. Takashi's out for blood, and he's not going to rest until he finds us."
As they drove off into the night, Ryujin couldn't shake the feeling that their time was running out. Takashi was closing in, and they were running out of places to hide. The only question was how long they could stay one step ahead before the inevitable confrontation.
But for now, all they could do was keep moving and hope that when the time came, they were ready to face whatever Takashi had in store for them.