The flight was scheduled for the next day, but Kenshiro had one final wish before leaving—he wanted to visit his parents' graves.
Something within him felt heavy, like a lump of unresolved pain that needed to be faced before he could move on, even if just a little.
The taxi hummed softly as it passed through the highway.
Miyagi prefecture was left behind hours ago... they were approaching Tokyo soon.
Tall trees lined both sides of the road, blurring into a green haze.
The sky was turning orange with the setting sun, casting long shadows across the winding road.
Inside the car, the silence was peaceful. Misaki, sitting beside him, looked over and broke it gently.
"We'll check into the hotel first, right?" She asked, her voice soft, nearly drowned out by the rumble of the engine.
Kenshiro nodded. "Yeah. It should be close to the cemetery. I don't want to waste too much time. I'll visit their graves tonight, no matter how late it gets."
Misaki watched him quietly for a moment before replying, "Are you sure you're ready? You don't have to force yourself."
Kenshiro smiled faintly but didn't answer right away. His eyes looked ahead, distant.
"I'm not sure about anything anymore," He said after a long pause. "But I know I need to see them. If I leave without doing that... it'll eat at me."
Misaki's eyes softened. "Okay. Just promise me you won't go alone. I'll come with you."
"You don't have to," He said.
"I want to," She replied simply.
There was silence for a moment, and then Misaki leaned back against the seat, her eyes growing heavy with exhaustion from the long journey. Within minutes, she had dozed off, her head tilted gently to the side, her breathing slow and steady.
Kenshiro glanced at her, a faint warmth flickering in his chest. She had been there through everything—quietly, patiently. Like a shadow, never too far behind. He was grateful, even if he rarely said it.
As she slept, he turned to look out the window.
The highway stretched endlessly ahead, smooth and grey. The cars passed now and then, their headlights beginning to flicker on as twilight deepened.
Then Kenshiro's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of a truck.
It had been behind them for a while now, but something was off. It was maintaining distance, always staying close, but never overtaking.
And now, as the taxi approached a long curve, the truck began to speed up, its engine growling louder.
Something twisted in Kenshiro's gut. His instincts screamed.
He leaned forward urgently. "Driver, pull to the side. Now!"
The driver blinked, startled. "Huh? What—?"
"Move!" Kenshiro shouted.
But it was already too late.
The truck surged forward with a loud roar, closing the distance in seconds.
Kenshiro's eyes widened as he watched it veer dangerously to the left, straight toward them.
Without hesitation, Kenshiro threw himself between the front seats. He grabbed the steering wheel and yanked it sharply to the side, slamming his other hand onto the handbrake.
The taxi screeched violently, tires skidding, metal groaning under the sudden force.
CRASH!!
The truck slammed into the rear corner of the taxi—but just missed the passenger compartment. The impact sent the vehicle spinning sideways before it came to a jerking halt against the guardrail.
The world was silent for a second before the chaos erupted.
The cars behind the taxi screeched and honked, coming to a stop. The doors opened, and some of the people hurried over, footsteps echoing.
Kenshiro groaned, his head pounding. He blinked, disoriented, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead. He blinked again and looked to Misaki—her body limp, her head against the window, but still breathing.
With a growl, Kenshiro slammed his shoulder against the car door.
BANG!
The metal bent and groaned before giving way. He climbed out, stumbling slightly as people rushed over.
"Kid! You okay?" Someone asked.
Kenshiro ignored them. "Help me get her out!"
Two men rushed to the other side. Together, they gently pulled Misaki out. She stirred, wincing, her hand reaching for Kenshiro.
"I'm... I'm okay," She muttered.
Kenshiro supported her with one arm. "You're bleeding."
"So are you," She said weakly, forcing a faint smile.
Thanks to someone using their brains and calling for help, Paramedics arrived minutes later since Tokyo was very close.
The driver had taken the worst of it—his head was bleeding badly, and he had passed out at the wheel.
Misaki and Kenshiro only needed first aid, though they were advised to visit the hospital.
But Kenshiro declined.
"We're fine," He insisted. "Just treat the wounds."
His eyes never left the highway.
The truck that hit them was gone.
It had just disappeared.
"It was them," Kenshiro whispered to himself. "Someone tried to kill us."
He clenched his fists tightly, nails digging into his palms.
Misaki, now sitting on the pavement, looked up at him, thinking about something, but she didn't speak.
------
It was already past 8 PM by the time they arrived at the hotel. The receptionist blinked in surprise at their worn-out appearances—torn sleeves, bandaged foreheads, dirt-streaked faces.
"We have a reservation," Kenshiro said calmly.
They checked in, and a bellboy helped carry their luggage to the room.
Inside, the moment the door closed, Misaki dropped onto the bed with a sigh.
"I don't even care if there's dirt on the sheets," She muttered.
Kenshiro sat on the edge of the bed beside her, rubbing his temple.
"You should rest," She said softly. "You've been tense the whole ride."
Kenshiro didn't respond. His mind kept replaying that moment when the truck came out of nowhere, like a shadow trying to erase him.
"They tried to kill us," He thought silently, his eyes narrowing dangerously as killing intent rose in them.
Kenshiro stood and walked to the window. Tokyo's lights shimmered outside—blinking, pulsing, unaware of the war burning in his chest.
"Well, you should take a shower and rest," He said. "I am going out to pay a visit to my parents."
Misaki sat up. "No. I will go with you."
"It's alright. You're hurt."
She walked over and touched his shoulder. "But..."
He turned to her, and for a second, something softened in his gaze. But then it disappeared, buried under layers of pain and purpose.
"No. Not this time. This is something I have to do alone."
Misaki looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. But be careful."