A voice from one of the balconies shattered the silence.

  “I’ll call the police! Is someone hurt?”

  Doors opened. Lights turned on. People stepped outside, staring down at the scene.

  The world rushed back in all at once.

  Takashi still couldn’t move.

  He was frozen. Devastated.

  “Don’t call the police,” he finally managed to say, his voice breaking as he rushed to Sota’s side.

  “We’re fine.”

  He caught Sota before he could collapse completely, holding his head so it wouldn’t hit the pavement.

  Blood was slipping from the corner of Sota’s mouth.

  Takashi pressed his hands gently against his cheeks, wiping it away with trembling fingers.

  Voices rose around them.

  “Call the police!”

  “Call an ambulance!”

  “Someone’s bleeding!”

  But in Takashi’s head, everything sounded distant. Blurred. Like he was underwater.

  He sank down onto the cold pavement, pulling Sota into his lap.

  He held him there, wiping the blood from his face over and over, not even fully aware of what he was doing.

  “Go inside! Don’t call anyone, help is on its way!”

  Takashi shouted, trying to calm the people around him. He didn’t want the police there.

  Not now.

  He took off his coat and covered Sota’s body with it, then reached for his phone with trembling, blood-stained hands.

  A cold drop of rain hit his face.

  Then another.

  Within seconds, it started pouring.

  Sota tried to speak.

  Takashi leaned down, bringing his ear close to his lips.

  “They know… everything,” Sota whispered.

  “You need to hide.” His voice cracked.

  “It doesn’t matter. Don’t speak,”

  Takashi said desperately, bending over him to shield him from the rain.

  He held Sota’s face gently in his hands.

  “Save your strength.”

  His jaw tightened as he brushed Sota’s wet hair back.

  “It’s my fault,” he whispered.

  His voice broke.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t even realize how many times he wiped Sota’s face, trying to clear the blood away, as if erasing it would make it unreal.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The rain kept falling.

  With shaking fingers, he dialed Kenta’s number.

  Kenta answered immediately.

  Takashi’s voice was shaking, barely holding together.

  “Kenta… Sota’s been stabbed.”

  “Where are you?” Kenta’s tone changed instantly... calm, sharp, focused.

  “I’m sending you the location.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Call Dr. Akiyama,” Takashi said, his voice breaking further.

  “Tell her we’re coming.”

  There was a pause, then Kenta replied firmly, “I will."

  “Kenta… please hurry.”

  The phone slipped from Takashi’s trembling fingers and fell onto the wet pavement.

  Sota suddenly coughed.

  Blood spilled from his mouth.

  Takashi quickly lifted his head, cradling him closer.

  “You’ll be all right,” he whispered, his voice unsteady, almost delirious.

  “Help is on the way.”

  The rain kept pouring down on them.

  Sota’s body was trembling from the cold.

  He slowly pressed his hand against Takashi’s.

  Looking into his eyes... eyes now filled with silent tears

  Sota smiled faintly.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Don’t speak,” Takashi begged, pulling Sota closer against his chest.

  “You’re going to be all right.”

  But he could feel it.

  Sota’s weight was changing in his arms.

  Too heavy. Too still.

  No.

  This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

  Takashi rubbed his hands over Sota’s arms, as if he could bring warmth back into them.

  His skin was cold.

  “Sota… stay with me.”

  The world around them blurred into noise. Rain. Voices. Footsteps. None of it mattered.

  He was supposed to protect him.

  That had been the only thing that mattered.

  Sota who had already carried more scars than anyone should.

  Sota who had finally begun to feel safe.

  And now he was trembling in his arms.

  Because of him.

  Takashi pressed his forehead against Sota’s, his breath unsteady.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Not loud.

  Not dramatic.

  Just broken.

  It felt like forever before Kenta arrived.

  Sota’s breathing was shallow. Uneven.

  Takashi kept counting the seconds between each breath.

  One.

  Two.

  Three

  Too long.

  When headlights finally cut through the rain, Takashi barely reacted. He only tightened his hold.

  Kenta didn’t waste a word. He ran to them, crouched down, and together they lifted Sota into the back seat.

  Takashi climbed in after him, pulling Sota back into his arms as if letting go would make it worse.

  “Yuna is ready,” Kenta said as he got behind the wheel. “He’s strong. He’ll make it.”

  Takashi didn’t answer.

  He pressed his forehead against Sota’s damp hair, listening for the next breath.

  “Drive,” he said quietly.

  Then, after a second

  “Please.”

  Kenta didn’t say anything else. He pushed the accelerator down.

  And turned on the siren.

  Dr. Akiyama was already waiting outside. A hospital bed stood ready behind her.

  The moment the car stopped, the doors opened.

  Sota didn’t respond when they called his name.

  By the time they reached her, he was unconscious.

  Takashi stepped out slowly, like the ground might disappear beneath him.

  They transferred Sota onto the hospital bed. The wheels screeched against the pavement as they rushed inside.

  Takashi ran beside them, still holding his hand.

  It was cold.

  The hallway lights blurred as they moved.

  “Mr. Mori.”

  Dr. Akiyama’s hand closed gently over his.

  “You need to let go.”

  He didn’t.

  The bed kept moving. His fingers tightened instinctively.

  “Mr. Mori,” she said again, firmer now. “We have to take him into surgery.”

  For a second, he simply stood there, still holding on.

  Then

  his fingers slowly slipped from Sota’s hand.

  The sound of the doors closing echoed down the corridor like the entrance to a tunnel with no end.

  Takashi didn’t move.

  He was still standing there, hands stained red.

  Sota’s blood.

  Loss was not new to him.

  He had buried his father.

  He had stood by his mother’s grave.

  But this...

  This felt like something was being torn out of him while he was still alive.

  He had stepped into revenge without hesitation.

  He had believed he could control it.

  Sota was never meant to stand this close.

  Never meant to become part of the cost.

  And yet...

  When those doors closed, something inside him shattered.

  It wasn’t fear.

  It wasn’t guilt.

  It was the unbearable realization that if he lost him

  there would be nothing left.

  Kenta gently placed his hand on Takashi’s shoulder.

  “You need to sit down, Takashi,” he said softly, guiding him away.

  “You’re blocking the hallway. People need to pass.”

  His voice was careful as if he was afraid something inside Takashi might shatter.

  “Look at your hands,” Kenta added quietly.

  “Do you want to wash the blood off?”

  Takashi let himself be pulled to a chair. He sat down and stared at his hands.

  “It’s all my fault, Kenta,” he said in a low, broken voice.

  “It’s not your fault.” Kenta crouched in front of him and gently turned his face so he had to look at him.

  “He knew what he was doing. You both did. You knew the price.”

  Takashi’s eyes drifted back to the operating room doors.

  “They know everything,” he whispered. “He told me tonight.”

  “So what?” Kenta snapped, his jaw tightening.

  “They’re after me. Sota told me I need to hide.”

  “Then you’ll hide,” Kenta said firmly, standing up.

  “Sota will be fine. He’s in good hands. And we’ll protect him too.”

  There was something steady in Kenta’s voice ... something strong.

  It brought a flicker of life back into Takashi’s eyes.

  “We’re too close to breaking them once and for all,” Kenta continued.

  “This is our life, Takashi. We get shot. We get wounded.Even if we die… it won’t be for nothing.”

  “What would Sota say if he saw you like this?” Kenta asked quietly.

  “You need to stay strong. For him.”

  Takashi didn’t respond.

  His gaze remained fixed on the operating room doors, unblinking.

  Nothing else seemed to exist.

  Kenta’s words reached him... he knew they did but they couldn’t move him.

  Right now, there was only one thing that mattered.

  Those doors.

  The silence behind them.

  He would have given up everything for them to open.

  And after what felt like forever… the doors finally opened.

  Takashi had never gone to wash his hands.

  He had never moved from that chair.

  Kenta’s words had faded into distant noise.

  The sound of the operating room doors sliding open pulled him to his feet.

  Dr. Akiyama stepped out, her hands in the pockets of her coat.

  Takashi stood up immediately, searching her face desperate to understand before she even spoke.

  Kenta stood right behind him.

  The look in her eyes wasn’t promising.

  “How is he?” Takashi asked.

  “We did everything we could.”

  The words settled heavily in the air.

  “Is he…?”

  He couldn’t finish.

  Behind her, a nurse approached, holding Sota’s bloodstained clothes.

  Takashi’s gaze dropped to the fabric.

  “We need to wait, Mr. Mori,” Dr. Akiyama continued gently. “He lost too much blood. The knife damaged vital organs.”

  Takashi stared at her...

  “But he’s going to be all right… right?”

  Takashi asked, gripping Kenta's arm.

  “We need to monitor him closely for now,” she said carefully. “Let’s hope for the best.”

  Her voice was steady.

  Too steady.

  And Takashi understood.