The city was alive with its usual rhythm, unaware of the danger that now walked its streets. Ryohta moved through the alleys and backstreets, his guard uniform discarded in favor of dark, nondescript clothing. He kept to the shadows, his movements calculated and precise. The katana was hidden beneath his coat, its weight a constant reminder of his purpose.
He had one goal: Aika.
The café, Hikari, was his destination. He had watched it from afar, through the eyes of his contacts, through the whispers of those who owed him favors. He knew her routine, her habits, her weaknesses. She thought she was safe, that the walls of her café could protect her. But she was wrong.
As he approached the café, he paused in the shadows across the street. The lights were still on, the warm glow spilling out onto the sidewalk. He could see her inside, moving behind the counter, her face calm and focused. She looked so peaceful, so unaware.
Ryohta's lips curled into a faint smile. He had waited so long for this moment. The trial, the prison, the escape—it had all been leading to this. He would show her that no one could escape him, not even behind the walls of her precious café.
He took a step forward, but then hesitated. A figure appeared in the window—Yumi. She was laughing, her face bright and carefree. Ryohta's smile faded. He hadn't accounted for her. She was always there, always in the way.
For a moment, he considered waiting. But patience had never been his strong suit. He had waited long enough.