A tense quiet settled over the room as the two men locked eyes. Red's expression hardened, the muscles in his jaw tightening as his instincts kicked in. He'd sized up plenty of men in his life. Politicians with plastic smiles, crooked cops hiding behind their badges, gutter scum with too much to prove. Every one of them had a tell, a glimmer of intent buried somewhere in the eyes.
But this man, Hidehito Nase, had none. His stare was empty, unreadable, and that blankness alone sent a cold prickle down Red's spine. The air-conditioning felt sharper suddenly, the bead of sweat at his temple cooling against his skin. In Red's experience, men like Hidehito were the most dangerous. The kind that gave nothing away. No anger, no amusement, no fear. Just silence.
Red forced a smile and stepped forward, extending a hand. "Detective Red Harlow," he said. "Pleasure meetin' ya."
Hidehito's gaze lingered on the offered hand for a heartbeat before he took it. His grip was firm, his palm dry and rough, like sandpaper. "Likewise, Detective," he said evenly. "Your partner speaks rather highly of you."
"Does she now?" Red quirked a brow, glancing sidelong at Lightning with a faint smirk. "Hope it's only the good stuff."
Hidehito gave a single nod, slipping his hand back into his pocket. "From what I've read, and from what I understand," he said, his tone perfectly measured, "I'm inclined to agree. Forgive me, though, I'm not particularly familiar with law enforcement protocol."
"Heh." Red's grin cut wide, sharp at the corners as he cocked his head. "Wouldn't expect ya ta," he said. He gave a slow exhale, folding his arms. "So, you're the guy whippin' the girls into shape, huh? Read your file. Hell of a résumé." His gaze drifted, the faintest smirk tugging at his lip. "The Wizard of Tracen. Still a far cry from the Hand of God, though, wouldn't ya say?"
Hidehito's brow lifted, just slightly. Lightning groaned under her breath, pressing a hand to her temple before reaching out to grab Red by the shoulder and yank him half a step back. "What my knucklehead of a partner's trying to say," she said, each word bitten out through clenched teeth, "is that you're an accomplished Trainer, and he's impressed. Isn't that right, Red?"
"Yeah, yeah," Red muttered.
"If you're referring to Logan Deschain," Hidehito replied, his tone even and cold enough to still the air. Both of them looked at him. The man gave a small shrug. "Then yes, you're correct. He achieved in half a lifetime what most of us couldn't in two. Despite my own successes, I can't claim the same renown. And despite…" He hesitated briefly, the faintest flicker of thought crossing his copper eyes. "The unfortunate circumstances surrounding him, I still hold the man in high regard. As do many Trainers across the world."
Hidehito's copper eyes found Lightning. "Given that I'm aware of the rumors, the legendary Hand of God now residing here in Tokyo, I know full well I wasn't your first choice," he said, his tone calm. "And who could fault you for that? It's only natural that someone of your stature. A member of the Godly Fifteen, would hold a certain reverence for the man who once led you and your peers to the very height of the sport."
He drew a slow breath, shoulders rising and falling in quiet composure. "That being said, I understand the weight of the role you've given me. The expectations. The comparisons." His gaze softened just enough to read as human. "All I can do is give you my best, and hope that, in time, I'll prove worthy of the trust you've placed in me."
Red's eyes went wide before flicking toward Lightning. "Great," he muttered under his breath, looking away with a scowl. "Now I look like a damn jackass."
Lightning jabbed an elbow into his ribs, earning a flinch. "You are a damn jackass," she said curtly before turning her attention back to Hidehito. "Anyway, I hope the transition hasn't been too rough. Leaving Tracen to join C.H.A.S.E., that's no small leap."
Hidehito closed his eyes briefly, a faint smile crossing his face. "At my age, you'd think I'd want to spend my twilight years at the Academy," he said, his tone soft with something that almost resembled nostalgia. Then he shook his head lightly. "But I've grown weary of familiarity. Perhaps this new path will prove… worthwhile."
His gaze drifted toward the glass, watching the umas below as they sprinted the track with mechanical rhythm.
"Ya know, I been wonderin'," Red said, still rubbing his side before drawing Hidehito's attention. "I've been keepin' tabs on Academy trainers, especially the ones who make the headlines." He tilted his head. "Fumino Nase. Ring any bells?"
Hidehito's brow arched faintly.
"You wouldn't happen to be related, would ya?" Red pressed, his gaze narrowing slightly.
Hidehito paused for a moment before chuckling quietly. "Of course. She's my daughter."
Red blinked, surprised. "For real?" He scratched the back of his head, letting out a low whistle. "Huh. Guess I shoulda seen that one comin'. You two got that same, uh—'I could kill you with my stare' kinda look."
"So I've been told," Hidehito said, folding his arms neatly across his chest.
"Wait, Fumino?" Lightning raised a brow, genuine surprise breaking through her usual composure. "You mean the Fumino Nase? Youngest National Trainer in Tracen's history? The one they call the Prince of Tracen? The same one who trained Super Creek?"
Red tilted his head, lips twitching in a dry smirk though his eyes stayed sharp. "Yeah, that's the one. They're also callin' her the heir to the Hand of God. Another genius chasin' the same damn crown. Same name, same legend, same impossible shoes to fill."
Hidehito gave a quiet, thoughtful hum before speaking. "She still has far to go before she can carve a legacy worthy of such a title," he said, edged with a father's quiet pride. "But she's not the only one reaching for that summit. The world is full of young stars burning for the same glory." He turned his gaze back toward the track below. "Still, I do look forward to the day she challenges the world and earns the right to bear that name herself."
Red gave a short scoff, a crooked smirk tugging at his mouth. "Heh. Sure. But I ain't seein' Deschain handin' over that crown anytime soon."
"Make no mistake, Detective." Hidehito's words cut through the room like glass, his copper eyes fixed on Red with unsettling precision. "I said I hold the man in high regard. But admiration doesn't blind me to the truth. Logan Deschain is a man who turned his back on the sport. On his legacy."
He took a step forward, the quiet tap of his polished shoe echoing faintly against the floor. Red felt a ripple of unease crawl up his spine. There was nothing overtly threatening in Hidehito's manner, and yet there was something in the way he looked at you that made you feel as though he were dissecting your very thoughts.
"The man is a ghost now," Hidehito continued, calm but cold. "A memory. And ghosts, no matter how exalted they once were, cannot rule from a throne. Which means the crown is, by its very nature, up for the taking."
His gaze shifted to Lightning, and for the first time, there was something almost courteous in it. "My apologies if that offends you. But truth rarely flatters." He turned back to Red. "It's important to remember those who paved the way. To honor them. But reverence must never become restraint." His eyes narrowed slightly. "The past is gone, Detective. And if we keep looking over our shoulders, we'll miss what's coming straight for us."
Red's eyes widened for a heartbeat before narrowing again, his expression hardening like stone. "Yeah… ya keep tellin' yerself that," he muttered. He slid his hands into his pockets, throwing Lightning a glance that carried more weight than words. "I'm outta here. Got some leads down in Shinjuku I oughta chase. Buzz me if somethin' comes up." He turned his head, his gaze lingering on Hidehito for a second longer. "Be seein' ya."
With that, Red turned on his heel and strode for the door, the faint creak of it opening followed by a muted click as it shut behind him. Lightning exhaled, the air leaving her chest in a weary sigh as her tail gave a slow flick.
****
"I swear, that man could pick a fight in a church," she murmured, shaking her head.
"I apologize," Hidehito said after a pause, almost contemplative. "Perhaps I may have chosen my words poorly."
Lightning waved it off with a small shrug. "No, it's not on you. He just gets that way sometimes. He's got this thing about people talking down on the ones he looks up to." Her gaze drifted to the closed door. "His old man, Nate Harlow, was a legend back in the NYPD. Real hero type." She hesitated. "But… things happened. And like Deschain, his name didn't exactly stay clean. I won't elaborate further. After all, it isn't my story to tell."
Hidehito said nothing, simply listening, the faint hum of the air conditioning filling the quiet that followed.
Lightning's eyes sharpened, a subtle shift in her posture as her tone cooled. "That said," she began, "you should know something. You're entitled to your opinion, but my trainer is far from finished."
Hidehito's expression didn't change, but there was a faint glint behind his eyes as he turned back toward the window. "Of that," he said quietly, "I have no doubt."
Lightning stepped up beside him, folding her arms as she looked down at the umas now running suicide drills below.
Hidehito's gaze followed theirs, his tone returning to something almost reflective. "Quite the team you've assembled here. I must admit, I'm impressed. Convincing some of Japan's most decorated champions to come out of retirement, to trade the track for the line of duty, that couldn't have been an easy task."
"No, it wasn't," Lightning admitted, shaking her head with a dry laugh. "Most of them turned me down the moment I opened my mouth. Some outright slammed the door in my face. Offended that I'd even suggest it. You'd think I'd asked them to throw their medals in the trash." She gave a small shrug, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "It's fine, though. I'm used to it. I've done this song and dance more times than I ever did the real one on stage after a race."
Her sapphire eyes softened. "But eventually, you find the ones who understand. The girls who've seen what happens when the MRA runs unchecked. Some lost family. Others lost teammates, friends, people they loved." She folded her arms, gaze distant for a moment. "Whether it's duty, guilt, or plain vengeance that drives them, they still step up. They always do."
Her focus returned to the umas below, her tone steadying. "And when that happens, I make damn sure they've got everything they need. Not just to fight, but to survive."
Hidehito folded his hands behind his back, the movement small and contained, like a man keeping a storm to himself. "Even so," he said, "I can't shake a sense of something coming. A slow, crawling dread."
Lightning looked up, caught by the weight in his tone. He didn't need to elaborate. She already knew what that kind of feeling felt like.
He stepped closer to the glass, a palm now resting lightly on the frame as if steadying himself against the weight of what he was about to say. "Those origin stories about the MRA aren't idle gossip," he began. "They trace back to a fracture at the heart of the URA. More precisely, the illustrious Akikawa family. Two brothers, two very different ideals. So, when the split happened, lines were drawn, wagers were placed, and people chose sides. Inevitably, one faction prevailed, and the other was cast out."
"Over the decades, the victors built more than an institution, they built an empire," Hidehito said, his tone measured but edged with unease. "They amassed legitimacy, wealth, and political reach until the Umamusume Racing Association stopped being an organization and became a power unto itself. Its influence seeped into every crevice of society. Law, business, media, even government." He paused, drawing a slow breath before continuing. "The same evolution happened in the shadows. The Midnight Run Association followed that same trajectory, but without restraint or conscience."
He turned from the window, his copper eyes fixing sharply on Lightning. "And if the rumors are true, and whoever leads them now has returned to Japan, this won't be a homecoming. It'll be a reckoning."
The air seemed to still between them. "And if that sounds far-fetched, ask yourself this. If you'd been stripped of your birthright, humiliated, and cast out of the light, what would you crave most from those who did it?"
Lightning felt the weight of his words settle in her gut like lead. "So what are you saying?" she asked. "That whoever's running the show now has a personal vendetta against the Akikawas? Or…" her brow furrowed as the thought formed, "are you suggesting it's one of them. An estranged heir coming back to settle a score?"
"Perhaps… perhaps not. For now, it's conjecture," Hidehito said, jaw tightening. "But the MRA that used to skulk in the gutters took whatever crumbs were handed to them. Whoever holds the reins today isn't interested in crumbs. They want retribution. Complete, methodical, and public. If they move to dismantle the URA, this won't be a skirmish. It will be a campaign to erase everything that institution built, and they have the money, the networks, and the ruthlessness to see it through."
He let the words hang a moment, then shook his head slowly. "I don't mean to seed doubt or spread panic," Hidehito said. "I'm only laying out what I've observed and what keeps me awake at night. I pray these are just theories. If they aren't, then those girls will need every hand they can get, and so will you."
Lightning's jaw tightened. She stared at him long enough for the air to thicken, then let out a quiet breath. "You may be right," she said at last. "And if that storm comes, we might be the only thing standing in its path."
****
The scent of rich broth and stewed pork filled the cramped ramen shop, mingling with the rhythmic chorus of slurps and clattering chopsticks. Customers crowded the narrow bar, shouting for refills and extra noodles, their laughter echoing off the wooden walls.
Lady weaved gracefully between the tables, tray balanced in one hand, her smile bright and sharp beneath the fluorescent lights, jagged teeth and all. For all her rough edges, there was something magnetic about her. Customers came back not just for the ramen, but for her. The energy she carried, the grit she didn't try to hide.
Behind the counter, the portly chef in a grease-stained apron worked with quiet precision, his hands a blur as he ladled broth and dropped noodles into bowls. Lady approached one of the window tables.
"Three regulars and one special," she said, setting the steaming bowls before four weary salarymen still in their shirts and loosened ties. "Enjoy."
It wasn't glamorous work, but it was honest. After she'd been rescued from the Umagoya, Lady had believed life might finally start anew. Then Tsubaki came along, and she couldn't bring herself to burden old Ema with the care of a newborn. With no education and no credentials, every door had been shut in her face. Months passed scavenging cans and bottles for pocket change until the night the ramen shop owner caught her digging through his trash. Instead of driving her off, he'd taken her inside, fed her, and listened. By the end of that night, she had a job, and for the first time in years, a little bit of dignity.
Lady's eyes flicked to the clock hanging above the counter before turning toward the chef. "Hey, you good?" she called out, gesturing with her thumb toward the back door. "I'm thinkin' of clockin' out."
The chef didn't even glance up from the steaming pot. "Yeah, yeah, we got this. Get your tail outta here," he said with a wave of his ladle. "Say hi to Tsubaki for me."
Lady smirked. "Will do." She grabbed her worn bag from the counter, slinging it over her shoulder. "Catch you tomorrow!"
Pushing through the front door, she stepped out into the cool evening air. The scent of broth and soy was replaced by exhaust fumes and the faint tang of autumn rain. The sunset bled red and gold across the sky, painting the streets in long shadows.
She took a breath, ready to start her walk home, then stopped dead.
Standing a few paces ahead was a familiar figure. A black-haired uma in a leather jacket and black jeans, her posture firm.
Lady's stomach dropped. "Aw, hell…" she muttered under her breath, her expression flattening.
Dahlia's gaze was cold, steady. "Got a moment?"
****
The sharp clatter of a can dropping through the vending machine broke the stillness. Dahlia bent down, retrieved the black can, and cracked it open. The hiss of carbonation and the bitter scent of coffee filled the air for a moment before she took a long swallow.
Lady sat on the nearby wooden bench, her own can clutched between her palms. The dim light above painted the tired lines on her face, though the edge in her words hadn't dulled.
"I should've known those two couldn't keep their mouths shut," she muttered, teeth gritted before she took a sip. Her gaze lifted to Dahlia. "So, what's this? You come to laugh? Mock?" Her lips curled into a jagged grin. "Or maybe you're here to get on your knees and beg me to call the whole thing off."
"Neither," Dahlia said. She leaned against one of the wooden pillars, the faint hum of the vending machine behind her. "I'm not here to beg, and I'm not here to gloat." She paused, studying the woman before her. "I just want to know… the Umagoya, is it true? All of it?"
Lady's gaze dropped, shoulders sinking as the can dangled loosely from her fingers. "Yeah," she said after a long silence. Then her eyes rose again, hard and defiant. "But don't you start feeling sorry for me. I don't need your pity. My bed was made long before I came screamin' into this world, and I slept in it just fine."
Lady's grin stretched, sharp and mocking. "If there's anyone here who deserves a little sympathy, little bird, it's you." She lifted her can in a lazy gesture. "When your boyfriend dropped your name, it didn't take much to put two and two together." Her grin faltered slightly. "Your sister… Scarlet Rose."
Dahlia's jaw tightened, her gaze falling to the concrete at her feet. The mention of that name still hit like a punch to the chest.
Lady gave a weak laugh, the sound more bitter than amused. "Ain't life somethin'? Some umas get the limelight. The sponsors, the interviews, their faces plastered across every billboard in Tokyo." She tilted the can, gesturing between them. "And the rest of us? We get the scraps. Then the world pats us on the head and tells us to smile, to be grateful it ain't worse."
She leaned back, eyes narrowing. "But you know what's funny?" She took a slow sip before continuing. "I'm not curious how the sister of one of Tracen's golden girls ended up scraping the bottom of the barrel." She looked up at Dahlia. "I'm curious what took you so damn long to start sniffing around the MRA."
"Because I didn't even know the MRA existed until recently," Dahlia said, folding her arms, the cool can still in her hand. "Far as I knew, it was just a handful of reckless umas tearing up the streets for kicks." Her eyes hardened. "Forgive me if I didn't have time to play thrill-seeker. Keeping a roof over my head and food on the table didn't exactly leave room for joyrides."
"Ain't that the truth," Lady muttered, exhaling a long, tired breath. "Well, if that's all, I need to—"
"Daichi told me," Dahlia interrupted. "About your daughter. And about your debt."
Lady froze. The color drained from her face, her eyes narrowing into slits. "What about it?"
"I know why you're doing this," Dahlia said, pushing off the pillar. "I know what's at stake. You're not running for glory or riches. You're doing this because of her. Because you want to save your daughter."
For a moment, Lady said nothing. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the vending machine. Then, her shoulders eased, and her voice softened.
"My daughter, Tsubaki Heart…" she began, her gaze dropping to the can in her hands. "When she was born, she came early. Too early. I didn't even know I was pregnant till I was a month in, and I sure as hell didn't have the money to pay for an obstetrician." She swallowed hard. "They told me she wouldn't make it. Odds were slim. But my girl… she fought. And somehow, she pulled through."
Her voice wavered as she looked up, meeting Dahlia's eyes. "When I held her for the first time, I realized… she was the only good thing this damned world ever gave me. Everything else had been pain, disappointment, or loss… but her? She was my reason to keep breathing."
Lady drew a shaky breath, her eyes glassy. "I swore I'd give her the life I never had. A home. A chance. But life… life don't give a damn about oaths." Her fingers tightened around the can. "She got sick. Real bad. And the doctors said she'd need special treatment, something only a handful of clinics in Japan could do. Places that wouldn't even let an uma like me through the front door."
"That's when you started racing for the MRA," Dahlia said quietly.
Lady's shoulders sagged. Eyes heavy with a tiredness that went deeper than the work shift. "Yeah. That's when," she said. She looked at Dahlia. "If you've heard about the debt, then you know what they want."
Her gaze sharpened. "Pinks are garbage. The whole setup is messed up. Light volunteered to take the hit for a crew that only wanted to use her. Their leader got cocky, challenged me, and got her ass handed to her." She bared her teeth. "I don't know what lies they fed that girl, but by the time she knew, it was too late."
Dahlia's face hardened. "For someone who feels sorry for her, you have a strange way of showing it."
Lady's jaw tightened. "If you want an apology, don't hold your breath. Sides, none of this would have happened if you'd kept your nose out of my business. Face it, you brought this on yourself."
"At least I'm not buried in debt with only one horrible option left. Sell another uma into the same hell you escaped," Dahlia shot back.
The accusation hit something in Lady. her expression softened for the barest second before she crushed the can in her hand. Coffee sloshed over her knuckles as she snapped to her feet, the movement quick and dangerous. She closed the distance between them without blinking.
"You think I don't know what that feels like?" Lady snarled, inches from Dahlia until their breaths tangled in the cold air. "And who the Hell do you think you are, judging people who did what they had to do to survive? Don't act like you wouldn't have done the same if it meant getting your sister back on the track. If it ever came down to Light or your sister, you'd send her packing without a second thought."
Dahlia's breath hitched but her eyes didn't waver. "You're right about one thing. I walked myself into this," she admitted. "But we're both in it now, and everything's on the line. If I lose, Light and I get shipped off like livestock. If you lose, they take the only thing that matters to you."
"The race is tomorrow," she said, leaning in so close her words were a hiss. "I came here to tell you plain. I won't lose. I don't care who you were, or what you've been through. This isn't only about saving Light or protecting your daughter. It's about me, and you, and what we refuse to let them take. Light has a life to live. My sister is counting on me. I'm going to cross that finish line, even if I have to do it over your cold, lifeless corpse."
For a beat the world held its breath. The vending machine's distant clatter, the hum of the street outside, and then Lady let out a torn laugh, half a sob, half a warning. Her shoulders rose and fell. She looked at Dahlia the way someone looks at a mirror and doesn't recognize the reflection.
"Fighting words, little bird," Lady snapped, jagged teeth flashing in a grin that didn't reach her eyes. "Don't pretend you've forgotten. Like I said before, I already beat you once."
"Oh, I remember." Dahlia's stare didn't falter. "That's why it's gonna sting twice as hard when I leave you in the dust."
Lady let out a harsh scoff, the sound like gravel. "Fine. Bring it. But don't expect to walk away with all your bits intact this time. Last time was a warm-up, this one's me coming to rip you to shreds."
Dahlia let the corner of her mouth lift into a thin, satisfied smirk, holding Lady's gaze a beat longer as if savoring the promise between them. Then she pivoted on her heel and stepped away, the streetlights catching the sweat on her brow and throwing her silhouette in warm amber across the pavement. Her footsteps were steady, a slow, confident rhythm that swallowed the echo of their words; behind her, the city hummed. Distant traffic, a lone dog barking, the faint clink of a late-night shop sign folding up for the night.
Lady watched her go, chest rising and falling with a long, ragged breath. For an instant her expression softened, something like regret or exhaustion flickering beneath the jagged edge of her anger, before she squared her shoulders and turned the other way. Her boots hit the pavement with a heavier, determined tread, tail flicking once like a metronome counting down to the race. The two of them disappeared into the night in opposite directions, each swallowed by the city's amber glow and the quiet, electric promise of what tomorrow would bring.
****
The wooden door slid open with a soft thud against the frame as Lady stepped inside. "I'm home," she called, slipping off her shoes. The amber light overhead bathed the narrow hallway in a tired glow, the faint scent of incense mingling with aged wood and warm air.
Before she could take another step, the quick patter of small feet echoed down the hall. "Mommy, mommy!"
Lady's smile bloomed instantly, sharp teeth and all, as she knelt and opened her arms. "Hey, sweetheart." Tsubaki launched herself into her mother's embrace, tiny arms wrapping around her neck. Lady scooped her up, holding her close. "You been a good girl today?" she teased, tapping her daughter's nose and earning a bright giggle.
Tsubaki nodded eagerly, tail flicking behind her. "Grandma showed me how to color with crayons! Can we get more, Mommy? I only have…" she paused, counting on her fingers. "Six!"
Lady laughed softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "That's right, six crayons for my smart little artist."
They stepped into the living room where Ema was seated by the table, her aged eyes warm as she drew a smile. "Welcome home, Akane," she greeted.
Lady exhaled. "Yeah, been a long day." She lowered Tsubaki to the floor and took a seat next to her grandmother, her tail flicking as she rubbed the back of her head. "I could really use a break."
Ema chuckled softly, the sound gentle and wistful. "I remember when I was your age. Your grandfather worked at the post office, and I was a secretary at a company downtown." Her gaze drifted somewhere distant. "We didn't have computers back then. Just typewriters, endless stacks of paper, and aching fingers. I used to think they'd fall right off by the end of the day." A fond smile touched her lips before it faded. "Your grandfather always told me to quit, said he'd make enough for the both of us… that was, until I found out I was pregnant."
Lady's eyes widened for a heartbeat before dropping to the floor. Little Tsubaki sat quietly in her lap, leaning back against her chest, one hand tangled in her mother's shirt.
"For years I've sat here," Ema continued, her tone softening into something fragile, "wondering what I could have done differently the day she went missing. Maybe if I'd walked her to school. Maybe if I'd made her stay home. I've asked myself that question more times than I can count."
She gave a faint shrug, eyes glistening with the weight of years. "I know it's not my fault. Not anyone's fault except the monsters who took her. But when you're a parent, you can't help but shoulder the blame. You carry it with you, day after day. Your grandfather did too… right until the end."
"Grandma…" Lady's voice trembled faintly.
Ema dabbed the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her kimono, her expression firming through the sadness. "I failed my daughter… your mother," she said quietly. "And that's a weight I'll carry to my grave." Her gaze lifted, sharp now, yet filled with love. "All I ask is that you don't make the same mistakes I did."
Her eyes shifted to Tsubaki, who sat nestled in Lady's lap, blinking up at her with innocent curiosity. "She deserves a mother who loves her without fear or regret. Who keeps her safe, no matter what the world throws her way." Ema smiled faintly. "Don't you ever forget that."
Before Lady could speak, Ema shook her head, forcing a small, weary smile. "It's getting late, and I fear I'm in desperate need of my beauty sleep." She pushed herself to her feet with a quiet groan. "Put Tsubaki to bed, will you? Maybe read her a story, like you used to."
"Ooh!" Tsubaki's eyes lit up as she tugged on her mother's sleeve. "Can you read me the one about the princess and the beast?"
Ema chuckled softly, waving her hand as she shuffled toward the hall. "There you go." She paused by the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder. "Akane," she said gently. "Whatever choices you make, whatever happens out there. Remember, you're my granddaughter. I'll always love you."
A small, trembling smile touched her lips. "And you'll always have a home to come back to."
With that, Ema turned and disappeared down the hall, her slow footsteps fading into the hush of the house. Lady sat still, eyes lingering on the empty doorway before falling to the small uma curled in her lap. Tsubaki's tail flicked lazily, her smile bright and innocent, her little hands clutching at her mother's sleeve. The sight made something tighten in Lady's chest. A memory stirred. An old one, sharp and cruel.
She remembered looking up at her own mother that same way once, searching for warmth that never came. There was no smile waiting for her back then, no soft look of love. Only eyes dulled by exhaustion and bitterness. On good days, her mother would stare past her in silence. On bad days, mostly after a rough and abusive client, she'd lash out. Throwing whatever her hands could find, words sharper than glass.
You should never have been born.
You're a mistake.
This is all your fault.
I wish you'd just die.
Those words had carved themselves into Lady's bones. She used to lie awake at night, small and trembling in the corner of that dark room, wondering what she had done to deserve such hate. Over time, she stopped wondering. She started believing it. That she was cursed, unwanted, born to ruin everything she touched. It became her truth… until Tsubaki.
She looked down at the little girl again. When she first learned she was pregnant, she'd been terrified. Angry at the world, at the degenerate who had taken her innocence. At the monsters who brought her into this life. She'd sworn she'd never become her mother, never bring another child into pain. But when Tsubaki was born, something changed. In those tiny eyes, she saw the same silent plea she once carried. The desperate need to be loved. And in that moment, Lady made a promise she had never broken.
She was not her mother.
She would never be her mother.
And the cycle of pain ended with her.
But now, she stood on the edge of losing everything. The thought clawed at her. Of those same monsters taking her daughter, just as they had stolen her mother years ago. To see Tsubaki condemned to the same darkness, to the same cruelty and degradation, all because of the desperate choices she had made. Deals struck in weakness, and now the devil had come to collect.
"Mommy… why are you crying?"
Lady's breath hitched. Her hand rose instinctively to her cheek, feeling the wetness of tears she hadn't realized were falling. She looked down to find Tsubaki gazing up at her, confusion and worry glimmering in those innocent eyes.
Without a word, Lady pulled her daughter close, wrapping her arms around her small frame. The sob came unbidden, raw and trembling, her body shaking as she held on as if she could keep the world at bay by sheer will.
"Mommy?" Tsubaki's voice was small, frightened.
Lady drew a shuddering breath. "Tsubaki, my darling," she whispered, "I want you to remember something." Her words trembled, heavy with everything she couldn't say. "No matter what happens… Mommy loves you. Mommy will always love you, alright?"
For a moment, Tsubaki said nothing. Then her little arms tightened around her mother's neck. "I love you too, Mommy," she murmured, muffled against Lady's shoulder.
Lady shut her eyes, holding her close, as if trying to etch that warmth into her very soul, before the world tore it away.