#come to think of it i think i only drew megumi today omg

[hinamie]

megu. that's it.

megu <3

[cmdrfupa]

Chance Encounters

Part three of De Novo (Toji x Reader) All chapters as well as content warnings can be found here.

a/n: It's getting somewhere omg. This series is honestly a delight to write and I want to make sure I'm really taking my time in giving something good and worth a read. warning: Naoya AND Kenjaku mentioning (i know i know but we gotta make it juicy somehow.) Thank you for reading and I hope you're well!

"When a good man is hurt, all who would be called good must suffer with him." - Euripides

The early afternoon sun beamed down gently, glinting off the glass buildings and warming the concrete sidewalks of Tokyo. Pale pink sakura buds dot the trees along the streets, some just beginning to bloom, while the breeze rustles through them with a hint of freshness.

  Toji made his way to the stadium and wasted no time finding a space that was sat off to the side, his frame hunched slightly forward, elbows resting on his knees as he watched Megumi jog out onto the field and greet the visiting team.

  He kept it as low key as possible: plain long sleeve shirt, dark wash jeans and his usual boots. He dawned a baseball cap with the brim low, shadowing over his dark features with it pulled so low.

He was succeeding at keeping a low profile, as he promised to Megumi, but Gojo plopped down next to him, making any hope of blending in vanish.

  “You made it!” Gojo grinned as he leaned back casually, one arm draped over the back of the seat behind him.

“He told me not to make myself visible. Don't think this is a good idea.”

“Nah, hes just being an angsty kid, I'm glad you made it.”

  Gojo waved out to Megumi who swiftly ignored him and gave a halfhearted nod when his eyes made it to Toji.

The arrangement was strange. A man Toji was once hired to kill and ended up getting his ass handed to him was raising his child. But it was probably the safest and most consistent housing arrangement for Megumi since he was 7.

He knew his father worked often but didn’t understand why he had to live with his “uncle”. He remembered little of him and was even told little about Toji until he met him at age twelve when his stepsister was more happy to see the man than Megumi was. But it was better than never knowing Megumi in Toji’s eyes.

  “Man you’re quiet today. No snark? No wisecracks? Who are you, and what have you done with the real Toji Fushiguro?”

  Toji snorted softly, shaking his head. ‘I’m here, aren’t I? I don’t have to banter with a grown ass brat.”

  Gojo cheesed at his retort before pulling out a pack of gum, immediately putting 4 pieces in his mouth.

  “I've got a local gig right now.”

  “Do I need to get Megs out of the city?” Gojo looked out to the field, Megumi swinging his bat awaiting his call up.

  “For now I think its fine.” Toji looked down at his hands then out at the field once Megumi was called up. Both he and Gojo clapped as the unamused teen walked on with his head down.

  “I’m only mentioning it because it involves someone you know.”

  “Oh? A scorned ex? Utahime? Oh fuck, please tell me its Utahime!”

Toji side eyed Gojo and leaned forward onto his knees.

  “Striiike one!” The umpire yelled.

  “your friends brother, Kenjaku.”

it was hard to miss the way Gojo’s teeth were grinding as he practically rubbed the fabric loose on his trousers. “Same old shit?”

“Yeah. Just worse.”

  “Striiike two!”

  The unspoken details said everything. Kenjaku was the only thing that was a stain to literally anyone he’d come across. A morally corrupt man whose only real goal was to elevate himself at every turn.

  The crack of the bat connecting with the ball echoed across the field, and both men turned their attention back to the game. Megumi took off running, his legs carrying him to past first base as he rounded the diamond with a speed that drew cheers from the crowd.

  Toji stood up, clapping with a boom and whistling simultaneously as Gojo gave a warrior yell. “Nice Megs! Thats my boy!”

  The crowd cheered as he gave a few fist bumps and trotted back to home base then to the dugout.

“Kid’s got good instincts,” Gojo remarked, a hint of pride in his tone.

Toji nodded slightly, his expression softening just enough that someone paying close attention might notice. “Yeah. He does.”

  The name Kenjaku hung in the air between them, heavy despite the lightness of the atmosphere. Gojo let out a low whistle, his sunglasses slipping slightly down his nose as he turned to fully face Toji.

  “I’ll be going as Zen'in just to make it all easier. No ties to Megs or anything. Just want a clean slate after this one and I want the boy to not have to deal with any fallout if there is any.”

  “You gonna be alright? Suguru hadn’t mentioned him being back in town so now even I feel like I’m being left in the dark here.”

  Toji’s lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smirk. “It’s a job. I’ve handled worse.” He finagled the pack of gum from the breast pocket of Gojo’s shirt and tossed a piece into his mouth. “I'll be getting a job in Getos’ club so you can give him a heads up at least. I don’t know if you want to tell him I’m investigating his brother or not. Your call.”

  Gojo blew a small bubble and popped it a few times before sliding his glasses back up. “Need a place to hideout? I have that old condo down in Yokohama if you want to lay low?”

  “Are you pitying me? Don't need that.” Toji gruffed.

  Gojo shook his head and sighed. “I don’t do pity, Fushiguro. You know that.” Gojo rubbed his hand across the nape of his neck and sat up. “But you’re my favorite broke ass and you should at least be comfortable and out of the city enough during this. Megs is a shared responsibility and I just want his dad in a good space.”

  Toji wasn’t good at whatever this is. A man he was once sent to kill now the guardian of his only child and now offering him a better place to stay than the box he was going to rent out above some random shop. He let out a low chuckle and nodded. “I’ll take your offer, I appreciate it.”

  Gojo hummed before a thought came to mind. “Fushiguro,” Gojo said after a while, his voice lighter now. “You ever think about hanging it up? You know, all the cloak-and-dagger stuff. Maybe stick around a little longer?”

Toji’s jaw tightened slightly, but his tone was calm when he replied. “That was my plan til it wasn’t. Not my style.”

Gojo shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Figured you’d say that. Guess it’s a good thing the kid’s got me to keep him balanced, huh?”

Toji didn’t answer, but the faintest flicker of amusement crossed his face before he turned back to the field. As the game continued, Gojo stayed beside him, the two men watching in silence, bound by their shared purpose: keeping Megumi safe, no matter what it took.

The club felt almost unrecognizable during the day. Without the dim lights and buzzing energy of the night, the space seemed quieter, more subdued. The faint smell of cleaning supplies lingered in the air, mixing with the distant hum of the sound system being tested. A handful of staff members, yourself included, had gathered near the bar for the midday meeting Suguru had called.

You weren’t sure why you were all here—usually, daytime meetings only happened when something big was changing. Maybe there was a new policy, or maybe someone had finally pushed Suguru too far. Either way, you were curious.

“All right, everyone,” Suguru began, his voice smooth as always. “Thanks for dragging yourselves out of bed for this. I know most of you would rather still be asleep.”

A few chuckles rippled through the group, but you stayed quiet, your gaze fixed on Suguru as he continued.

“This isn’t our usual meeting. I wanted to make sure that everyone was made aware of some changes I will be implementing,” he spoke calmly, a slight sternness with each word. “They aren’t major changes but enough that I decided it was time to bring in people who can help us expand but also reinforcements to better protect our staff.”

Suguru crossed his legs as he situated himself in the clothed chair on stage.

Ever the elusive chameleon, he was a great boss. He assured you that every entertainers concerns were going to be taken seriously always from the very beginning.

His long, raven hair sat in a loose bun at the back of his head as he tucked away a few strands from his face.

“As you all know, last week we had potential investors in the crowd coming in to see the best of Tantra. And I'm excited to say you all delivered.” the good news started a quiet wave of murmurs amongst the employees.

“Your hips did all of this.” Shoko nudged you and winked. “Your carimbo just secured us a new green room.”

You chuckled into your sleeve and shook your head. “I’m a small part of the reason. Those drinks you poor heavily into are definitely the reason.”

“Mm. You’re welcome.” you both snickered as the sound of the heavy metal doors from back stage silenced the room.

Two sets of footsteps were seemingly making their way to the front and Suguru continued. “There will be two new faces you'll be seeing around. The first being part of renovations, contract revisions and foreign talent we take in, so please welcome Kenjaku; our new resource and development liaison.”

On cue, a tall, long haired figure, similar to Suguru, walked from behind the curtains and rose his head, showing off the most unsettling, robotic smile you’d ever seen. “Little brother, its so good to be working together again.” He spoke slowly, words felt like they were dripping with falsities as he squeezed Suguru’s shoulder. The large facial tattoos he dawned made him look like Frankenstein's rejected first born. They were bold, distinct. You’d never miss him and that felt like the point.

You didn’t miss the way Suguru flinched at the contact, the sound of his own brothers voice. He seemed uninterested, disturbed even, at how he was being so chummy. “Glad to have you on board.” his tone was flat, dry.

“Now, a more serious topic. We’ve had a few issues lately,” he said, his tone turning just a touch more serious. “Nothing major, but customers who feel entitled and rude boyfriends. I decided it was time to bring in some… reinforcements. Someone who can keep things running smoothly and handle any problems before they get out of hand.”

You tilted your head slightly, curious. Reinforcement? Did he mean more security?

“And by problems,” Shoko chimed in, her tone dry as she swirled her coffee, “he means the idiots who think this is the kind of place where they can get grabby with the staff.”

A few groans of agreement came from the group, and Suguru smirked, nodding. “Exactly. Which is why I’d like you all to meet the new head of security. He will be working closely with our entertainers to ensure your safety during work hours as well as helping with private security when you have small parties, one on one dances, etcetera. Mr. Zen'in?”

the heavy footsteps seemed to make you a bit more excited at the new face. As he came from behind the curtains, that familiar scar over the lips made your eyes widen. “Zen'in?” you whispered. “he told me Fushiguro.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he walked toward the group, his broad shoulders and calm, commanding presence impossible to ignore. He wore a dark button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his usual air of casual confidence somehow even more pronounced in the stark light of day.

You blinked, trying to process what you were seeing. What the hell was he doing here?

“This is Toji Zen'in,” Suguru said, motioning toward him with a grin. “He’ll be keeping an eye on things from the inside to ensure everyone's’ safety and that patrons are behaving. He’s friendlier than he looks so please feel free to introduce yourself when you see him around.”

Toji’s gaze swept across the group, lingering on you for just a moment before moving on. His expression was unreadable, calm but with that same quiet intensity that always seemed to surround him at the diner.

You felt Shoko shift beside you, her coffee cup lowered as she poured a shot of whiskey in it. “Well, well,” she muttered, her tone laced with delight. “Didn’t expect to see him here.”

You turned to her, your brow furrowing. “You know him?”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, yeah. The Zen’in clan. Taught one of their kids, heard of em mostly though. He and Suguru have a bit of a friendly history.”

Your stomach dropped.

“That doesn’t make sense,” you said quietly, your voice almost drowned out by the murmurs of the other staff members. “He told me his name was Fushiguro.”

Shoko glanced at you, clearly amused by your reaction. “Yeah, he took his wife’s name after he had a falling out with his family. Big drama. Old money in politics, high society, the whole nine yards. Stripped him of the Zen’in name and the power that came with it.” She tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Though, I gotta say, it’s interesting that he’s using it again now.”

The pieces of the puzzle that had been floating in your mind since that day in the diner were slowly clicking into place. His guarded nature, the way he always seemed to avoid personal questions, the intensity in his gaze—it all made sense now. You too would hide yourself if you are part of a powerful clan.

But that didn’t explain why he was here.

You barely heard her explanation, your gaze locked on Toji as he exchanged a few words with some of the security team and a few ladies on stage before stepping down. His movements were deliberate, fluid, as if he knew exactly how much space he took up exactly. You felt a tightness in your chest, a mix of confusion and something else you couldn’t quite place. Anger? Betrayal? Or maybe just the overwhelming weight of trying to reconcile the quiet, brooding man from the diner with this—to put it lightly— A Zen’in.

“He’s full of surprises, huh?” Shoko added, lighting a cigarette and blowing out in the opposite direction from you. She sounded almost entertained by how you were processing this.

Before you could respond, Toji’s eyes flicked across the room, and landed on you. His gaze was sharp, unreadable, but there was a flicker of something beneath it. Recognition? Acknowledgment? Whatever it was, it sent a chill down your spine.

And then, as if sensing the weight of your stare, he made his way toward you.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as he approached. He stopped just a few feet away, his expression calm, his hands in his pockets. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the air between you charged with unspoken tension.

“You seem surprised,” he said finally, his voice low and smooth, carrying just enough weight to make you feel off-balance.

“I am,” you replied, keeping your tone steady. “Didn’t know you were looking for a job. And Zen’in? That’s not the name you gave me.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching into a faint simper. “Didn’t think it mattered.”

“Didn’t think it mattered?” you echoed, a spark of frustration slipping into your voice. “You lied.”

He shrugged, his gaze never wavering. “Not a lie. Just didn’t tell you everything. Not exactly your business to know everything, either.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Shoko cut in before you could.

“Alright, you two, let’s save the drama for later,” she said, her tone dry but laced with amusement. “Don’t want to scare off the rest of the staff on his first night.”

Toji’s smirk widened slightly, though his eyes remained locked on yours. “Guess we’ll have to talk later,” he said, his tone almost teasing, before winking and walking past you, leaving you with a mess of questions and emotions swirling in his wake.

Shoko leaned closer, nudging you with her elbow. “Careful with that one,” she said, her voice quiet enough that only you could hear. “He’s more trouble than you think.”

You glanced back toward Toji, who was now standing with Suguru and one of the bartenders near the front doors, his broad shoulders and imposing presence making him impossible to ignore. Shoko’s words lingered in your mind, but something about him—something beyond the name, the reputation, or the secrets—pulled at you in a way you couldn’t explain.

And that, more than anything else, left you unsettled.

Crude. Disgusting, fully outside of who he has been for years now.

The car was parked just down the street from the club, engine off, the silence inside broken only by the faint busyness of passing traffic. Toji sat in the driver’s seat, one arm draped over the steering wheel, his jaw tight as he stared out the windshield.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, the meeting replaying over and over in his head like some kind of punishment.

Crude, rude, disgusting behavior.

He clenched his fist, the leather of the steering wheel creaking faintly under the pressure. He’d handled it like he needed to—cold, detached, playing the role of the unapproachable bastard because that’s what worked. That’s what kept people at arm’s length, made them think twice about digging into his business or asking too many questions.

But with you?

With you, it felt like he needed be unguarded. And it was pissing him off.

He could still see the look on your face when Suguru introduced him, that flash of confusion and hurt when you heard the name Zen’in, like a puzzle piece had been forced into place and left you wondering what else about him was a lie. And then the way you looked at him during the meeting, your gaze sharp, like you were waiting for him to explain himself, to tell you why the man sitting in that room felt so far removed from the one you’d known before.

He’d played the part perfectly. Just enough of an edge in his tone to make it clear that he wasn’t interested in small talk. And for the most part, it worked. You’d barely said anything to him after the meeting, and when you did, it was short, clipped, like you were keeping yourself in check.

Exactly what I wanted, he thought bitterly, his teeth grinding together.

And yet, the memory of your expression stuck with him, digging into his chest like a splinter he couldn’t pull free.

“I can’t fucking do this.”

He let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face. What the hell’s wrong with me?

This wasn’t supposed to be complicated. You were just another person, another moving part in a world he was supposed to keep functioning smoothly. His job here wasn’t to make friends or build relationships—it was to keep things in line, to be the wall people didn’t bother trying to climb. And yet…

His fingers curled into a fist as he leaned back in the seat, his head hitting the headrest with a soft thud. He’d never been the type to care what people thought of him. He didn’t have the time or the patience for it. But now? Sitting here, replaying the meeting and the way he’d deliberately brushed you off like any of the women who were desperate for his attention, he felt disgusted. Not with you—but with himself.

Because, no matter how much he tried to act like it didn’t matter, like you didn’t matter, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d crossed some invisible line. He’d looked into your eyes, seen the faint shadow of hurt there, and for a split second, he’d wanted to say something real—something that wasn’t part of the cold mask he’d been wearing since the day he walked into the diner.

He wanted to tell you the truth.

The thought made his stomach twist, a sharp, uncomfortable pang of self-awareness settling in his chest. This is exactly why I need to keep my distance.

He knew better than to get attached. Better than to let himself linger in moments that felt too warm, too genuine. People like him didn’t get to have those things. His life didn’t allow for it—never had, never would.

And yet, the more he tried to push you away, the harder it was to ignore the way you lingered in his thoughts.

Toji exhaled sharply, his hands gripping the steering wheel again as he stared out at the growing light. This was going to be harder than he thought.

It wasn’t just that he didn’t want you to get close—it was that he didn’t know if he was strong enough to keep you from seeing through him.

How the hell am I supposed to make you hate me, he thought darkly, his jaw tightening as his fingers drummed against the wheel, when I can’t even stop myself from wanting to be real with you?

The air in the car felt stifling, heavy with unspoken frustration. Toji reached for the key, jamming it into the ignition and twisting it sharply. The engine roared to life, a loud reminder of the reality he needed to stay grounded in.

He shifted into gear, pulling out onto the street, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he drove. He’d made it through worse than this. He’d learned how to bury things deeper than anyone could ever reach.

But tonight, for the first time in a long time, he wondered if that was enough.

-------------------

The condo was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the living room, offering an uninterrupted view of the glittering skyline. Toji leaned against the doorway, his sharp eyes scanning the sleek, minimalist design of the space. It was almost too pristine—everything in neutral tones, glass and polished wood surfaces gleaming under the dim recessed lighting.

“Figures,” he muttered to himself, his lips twitching in a faint smirk. This place had Gojo written all over it—expensive, flashy, and just detached enough to feel impersonal.

Toji stepped further inside, letting the door close behind him with a soft click. He took off his shoes and sat them at the door, the echo of his heavy footsteps hitting the hardwood floors followed him as he made his way through the condo, dropping his duffel bag unceremoniously on the couch. The kitchen was sleek, the fridge stocked with a few basics, but it was the master bedroom that made him pause.

A king-sized bed sat neatly made with crisp white sheets, a low platform frame adding to the modern aesthetic. Plush pillows lined the head of the bed with a beyond fluffy comforter neatly made up across it. It was a far cry from the small, utilitarian motels and over the top lux hotels he’d grown accustomed to during his work. This room felt too comfortable, too settled—almost like it belonged to someone with a life he didn’t have.

Toji shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the bed before heading to the bathroom. The space was just as luxurious as the rest of the condo, complete with a rainfall showerhead and marble floors. He turned the water on, steam quickly filling the room as he stripped out of his clothes.

The hot water hit his skin, washing away the tension that had been clinging to him since the staff meeting. He let himself linger under the spray, his head tilted forward as the water ran through his hair and over his shoulders.

You’ve been through worse, he thought, trying to shake off the unease that had settled in his chest. The situation at the club, the meeting with you—he’d handle it. He always did.

“Being a Zen’in means separating yourself from the rest. Hold yourself to where you can’t be touched but they’d be willing to die just to hear you degrade them. The Zen’in way, cousin.”

The voice rang through his mind as the water ran over his face for a bit too long. Toji came back to the present, coughing and breathing heavily as he turned the water off.

After the shower, he changed into a pair of loose sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt, running a towel through his damp hair as he moved back into the living room. The condo was quiet, save for the faint sounds of the refrigerator and a few voices cascading in from the courtyard at the center of the complex.

He had just settled onto the oversized couch, his head leaning back against the cushions, when his phone buzzed on the coffee table.

Toji’s brow furrowed as he reached for it, flipping it over to check the screen. A text.

-Hi. Got your number from Suguru—he said it’s for emergencies, but I hope you don’t mind me using it. Just wanted to… clear the air after today.

Your name flashed on the screen, and for a moment, Toji didn’t move, his thumb hovering over the reply button. He read the message again, something in him tightening at the thought of you reaching out.

He could’ve left it alone. A quick “No problem” or even no reply at all would’ve been enough to maintain the distance he was trying so hard to keep. But instead, his thumb slid over to the call button, and before he could second-guess himself, the phone was ringing.

You answered after the second ring.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Toji said, his voice calm and steady. “Figured I’d call instead of texting. Easier that way.”

There was a slight pause on your end before you responded. “Oh. Okay. Well. Hi.”

He could hear the slight surprise in your voice, and it almost made him smirk. He leaned back into the couch, letting the weight of the day ease just slightly as he found himself speaking again.

“About the name thing,” he started, keeping his tone even. “I wasn’t trying to lie to you.”

“You didn’t think it was worth mentioning?” you asked, and though your tone wasn’t sharp, he could hear the edge of hurt lingering beneath it.

Toji let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like that. Suguru’s always known me as Zen’in. That’s the name I use in professional settings—makes things easier. Less messy.”

“Less messy?”

He chuckled, the sound low and quiet. “You wouldn’t believe the headaches the Zen’in name comes with. Fushiguro… it’s what I go by when I don’t want people connecting me to the family. But around Suguru, around work—it’s just simpler this way.”

Another pause, and then your voice softened. “Okay. I get it.”

Toji’s shoulders relaxed slightly at the sound of your forgiveness, though he wasn’t sure why it mattered so much.

“Thanks for not holding it against me,” he said, his voice dropping just slightly.

“Well, I wouldn’t say you’re completely off the hook,” you teased, and he could hear the faint smile in your tone.

A corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Didn’t think it’d be that easy.”

“So do I keep calling you Fushiguro around Ayame?”

‘Yes, please. Would make life easier.”

“Hm” you softly hummed into the phone. “I’m expecting bonus pay for all this extra work I’m having to do on your behalf.”

Toji smiled and closed his eyes. “Yes ma’am.”

  What started as a conversation to clear the air quickly shifted into something lighter, easier. You asked him about the rest of his day which led to him mentioning the condo, and he responded with a mix of dry humor and genuine observations, describing the place as “too damn big for one person” but “exactly what I’d expect from Gojo.”

Your laughter over the phone caught him off guard. It wasn’t loud or overbearing—just soft, genuine, and for a moment, it felt like it filled the quiet space of the condo.

“You sound like you’ve got a few stories about Gojo,” you chimed, amusement lacing your words.

“More than a few,” Toji admitted, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Most of ‘em would probably make you question why he’s allowed to walk around unsupervised.”

“And Suguru, the man who has mandatory quiet time before the club opens, is married to him? I just can’t see it.”

“Believe me, no one can. But it works. You’ll see when he visits the club sometimes.”

The banter came easily after that, your voice filling the silence as the conversation drifted from Gojo to other topics. Toji found himself talking more than he expected, your laughter and occasional sharp quips pulling him into a rhythm that felt too comfortable for his liking but didn’t even give it a second notice as he moved from the couch to the bedroom.

At some point, he realized he put you on speaker with the phone lying on his chest, and his right hand had drifted to his left ring finger, his thumb absently sliding over the familiar metal band there. He hadn’t even noticed when he’d started twisting it, the cool metal spinning loosely against his skin until he slipped it off entirely.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

He stared down at the ring in his palm, the weight of it suddenly feeling heavier than it ever had before. His chest tightened, a sharp pang of guilt and unease cutting through the ease he’d felt just moments ago.

You were still talking, unaware of his sudden silence. He slid the ring back on quickly, the motion almost frantic, as though putting it back could undo the thoughts that had started creeping into his mind.

“You still there?” you asked, your voice breaking through the fog in his head.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher now. “Still here.”

But even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was standing on the edge of something he wasn’t sure he could walk away from.

“I didn’t realize how late it was, sorry about that. I should let you get some rest before your first shift tonight.”

He heard you shuffle around as you spoke, assumed you were packing your outfits for the evenings show.

“Yeah. Would be a good idea. I’ll see you tonight. Be safe.” He stared down at his ring finger, the ring seemingly pulsing around it. “And let me know if you need me tonight. I’ll be in Suguru’s office by the time you get there.”

“Of course! I’ll see you tonight, Toji. Be careful.”

the call ended and Toji was left with a feeling that he hated.

“I absolutely cannot fucking do this.”

The office was suffocatingly silent except for the steady ticking of the ornate clock on the wall. Naoya sat at his desk, fingers drumming against polished wood as his other hand gripped his phone tightly. His jaw clenched, barely containing the fury coursing through him. When the call finally connected, he didn’t wait for pleasantries.

“You better have a damn good explanation for this, Kenjaku,” Naoya spat, venom dripping from every word. “Do you have any idea what your failure cost me?”

The voice on the other end was infuriatingly calm, smooth as silk and just as slippery.

“Naoya, you’re always so dramatic. Relax.” There was a pause, and Naoya could almost hear the faint sound of a chuckle. “It’s not as though your world is ending.”

Naoya’s fist slammed onto the desk, rattling a glass of whiskey that sat untouched beside him.

“Don’t patronize me, you ground snake. You promised results. I don’t make deals with incompetents. Do you understand how bad this makes me look?”

Kenjaku’s response was maddeningly casual. “Oh, Naoya. Always concerned with appearances. Isn’t it exhausting? Perhaps you should broaden your perspective. You Zen’ins are so... limited.”

“What did you just say?” Naoya’s voice dropped an octave, dangerously low. “I’ll give you one chance to explain yourself before I make you regret ever crossing me.”

Kenjaku sighed, the sound mocking. “Threats already? That’s disappointing. I thought you had more finesse. But since you insist... our deal, Naoya, is no longer my priority. Let’s just say I’ve found someone more... capable.”

The words hung in the air, their weight pressing down on Naoya’s chest. His grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “There’s no one more capable than me. Who the hell do you think you’re dealing with?”

Kenjaku’s laugh was soft, yet it sent a chill down Naoya’s spine.

“Oh, I know exactly who I’m dealing with. But it seems you’ve overlooked something... or someone. I’ve found a Zen’in who might understands power in a way you never will.”

Naoya’s heart skipped a beat, his mind racing. Another Zen’in? It couldn’t be Maki or Mai—they were too insignificant. His father? No, Naobito wouldn’t stoop to dealing with someone like Kenjaku. That left...

“You’re bluffing,” Naoya said, though the edge in his voice betrayed his growing unease. “There’s no one else. No one worth your time.”

“Oh, I assure you, they’re very much worth my time,” Kenjaku purred. “In fact, I’d say they’re a better investment than you could ever be. But don’t take it personally. You’re just... replaceable.”

The word hit Naoya like a slap to the face. Replaceable. Him? His nails dug into his palm as he struggled to maintain control.

“Who is it?” he hissed. “Tell me who you’re working with.”

Kenjaku’s tone turned almost pitying, though the mockery was still evident.

“Now, now, Naoya. Where’s the fun in that? You’ll find out soon enough. But if I were you... I’d watch my back. You’re not as untouchable as you think.”

Before Naoya could respond, the line went dead. For a moment, he sat frozen, staring at the phone in his hand as though willing it to reconnect. Then, with a roar of frustration, he hurled it across the room, shattering it against the wall.

The office was silent again. Naoya’s chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing. His mind raced, replaying Kenjaku’s words over and over. Another Zen’in. Someone who could replace him.

But who could be so bold to try and be a Zen’in.

And more importantly... why?