The celebration lasted exactly one hour.
Kobayashi had warned them not to get comfortable. "Kenji is convicted, but the sentencing is in two weeks. His lawyers will appeal. And your father —" she looked at Ren "— he knows about the letter now. He won't stay silent."
Ren stood outside the courthouse, the cold wind biting his cheeks. Hikari stood beside him, her hand in his. Reporters swarmed the steps, shouting questions, cameras flashing. Takeshi pushed through the crowd, clearing a path to the car.
"Get in," Takeshi said. "Now."
They drove to Mrs. Tanaka's halfway house in silence. The city blurred past the windows — neon lights, crowded streets, the endless hum of Tokyo. Ren stared at nothing, his mind replaying the moment in the courtroom when Kenji's lawyer had held up his mother's letter.
Someone had given it to them. Someone had stolen it from Kobayashi's safe — or copied it, or photographed it. Someone inside their circle.
"We have a leak," Ren said.
Takeshi glanced at him. "I know."
"Who could have taken it? Kobayashi kept it in a locked drawer. Only she had the key."
"Unless someone made a copy before she locked it away."
Ren thought about everyone who had been in Kobayashi's office. Takeshi. Hikari. Mrs. Tanaka. Yuki. Akemi. Any of them could have done it. But why? Who would want to help Kenji?
Unless the leak wasn't for Kenji. Unless it was for someone else. Someone who wanted the letter public.
Someone like his father.
"Pull over," Ren said.
Takeshi pulled the car to the side of the road. "What's wrong?"
"I need to think."
He stepped out of the car. The street was quiet — a residential neighborhood, houses with small gardens, bicycles chained to railings. Ren walked to a lamppost and leaned against it, his breath misting in the cold air.
His father had the letter now. Or someone working for him. That meant his father knew that Ren knew the truth. That meant his father would come for him.
Not with violence — not yet. His father was too smart for that. He would come with lawyers. With court orders. With accusations of mental instability and manipulated memories.
He would try to make Ren look crazy.
Just like he had done with Ren's mother.
"Ren." Hikari's voice was soft behind him. She had followed him out of the car. "Talk to me."
"My father is going to come after me. He's going to try to destroy me. To discredit me. To make sure no one believes what my mother wrote."
"Then we fight him. Like we fought Kenji."
"Kenji was a stranger. My father is —" His voice cracked. "He's my father."
Hikari stepped closer. "He's not your father. Not really. A father doesn't poison his wife. A father doesn't abandon his son. He's just a man who shares your blood. That's not the same thing."
Ren looked at her. At her steady eyes, her firm jaw, her hands that were reached out to him.
"You're not alone," she said. "You've never been alone. Not since the day I showed up at your door."
He took her hands. They were cold, but he held them anyway.
"I know."
"Then stop acting like you have to do this by yourself."
Ren nodded. He pulled her close, just for a moment, just to feel her warmth. Then he let go.
"Let's go home."
---
Home was still Takeshi's apartment.
Hikari couldn't stay overnight — Mrs. Tanaka's rules — but she could visit until nine. She sat on the couch, her legs tucked under her, a cup of tea in her hands. Ren sat beside her, close enough to touch.
Takeshi was in the kitchen, making phone calls. Kobayashi was on her way.
"He's going to try to get the letter excluded from evidence," Kobayashi said as she walked through the door. "If he can prove it's a forgery, your testimony in the Kenji trial could be compromised. They could call for a retrial."
"The letter isn't a forgery."
"I know. But proving that will take time and money. Time and money we don't have."
Ren stood up. "Then we need to find proof. Real proof. Medical records. Witnesses. Something that ties my father to my mother's death."
"Your mother's medical records are sealed. We'd need a court order to unseal them."
"Then we get a court order."
Kobayashi sighed. "It's not that simple. The judge who sealed them is the same judge who presided over your guardianship hearing. Judge Yamaguchi."
Ren's blood went cold. "She's been removed from the bench."
"Her rulings still stand. Until another judge overturns them."
"Then we find another judge. Someone who isn't corrupt."
Kobayashi looked at him. "You're asking for a miracle."
"No. I'm asking for justice."
---
That night, after Hikari left, Ren sat alone in the dark.
His phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.
Hello, Ren. It's been a long time.
His father.
Ren's hands shook. He typed back: What do you want?
To talk. Man to man. No lawyers. No police. Just us.
I don't have anything to say to you.
I have something to say to you. About your mother. About what really happened.
Ren stared at the words. His heart pounded. This could be a trap. It probably was a trap. But if there was even a chance — even a small chance — that his father would confess...
Where?
The old house. Tomorrow at noon. Come alone.
The old house. The house where Ren had grown up. The house where his mother had died.
He didn't respond. He didn't need to. His father knew he would come.
---
The next morning, Ren told Takeshi.
"I'm going to see my father."
Takeshi's face went pale. "That's a terrible idea."
"I know."
"Then why are you going?"
"Because I need to know the truth. And he's the only one who can tell me."
Takeshi grabbed his arm. "He'll lie. He'll manipulate you. He'll —"
"I know." Ren pulled his arm free. "But I have to go. For my mother. For Hikari. For myself."
"Then I'm coming with you."
"No. He said alone."
"Ren —"
"If he sees you, he won't talk. He'll leave. And I'll never get another chance."
Takeshi stared at him for a long moment. Then he nodded.
"I'll be outside. In the car. If you're not out in an hour, I'm coming in."
Ren nodded. "One hour."
---
The old house was in a neighborhood Ren hadn't visited in three years.
The streets were the same — wide, tree-lined, too quiet. The houses were large, set back from the road, with walls and gates and security cameras. Ren walked up the driveway, his heart pounding, his hands in his pockets.
The front door was unlocked.
He stepped inside.
The house smelled the same — like lemon polish and old money. The floors were marble. The walls were covered in paintings that his mother had hated. A staircase curved up to the second floor, where his old bedroom used to be.
His father was waiting in the living room.
Akira Akiyama was sixty years old, but he looked younger. His hair was dark — dyed, probably — and his face was smooth, unlined. He wore an expensive sweater and slacks, and his smile — when he saw Ren — was warm and familiar.
"Ren. You came."
Ren didn't smile. "You said you had something to tell me."
"I do. Sit down." Akira gestured to a leather chair. "Please."
Ren sat. He didn't want to, but his legs were shaking, and he needed to be off them.
Akira sat across from him. "You've grown. The last time I saw you —"
"I know when the last time was."
Akira's smile faded. "You're angry."
"I'm not angry. I'm done."
"Done? What does that mean?"
"It means I know what you did. To my mother. To me. To everyone who got in your way."
Akira was silent for a moment. Then he leaned back in his chair.
"You think you know. But you don't. Not really."
"Then tell me."
Akira looked at him. His eyes were cold, empty, the eyes of a man who had stopped feeling a long time ago.
"I didn't poison your mother," he said. "I just stopped paying for her treatment. There's a difference."
Ren's breath caught. "That's still murder."
"It's neglect. At worst, manslaughter. And no one can prove I did it intentionally." Akira's voice was calm, measured. "I made sure of that."
"Why? Why did you want her to die?"
"Because she was going to leave me. She was going to take you and half my money. I couldn't let that happen."
Ren stood up. His hands were shaking. "You're a monster."
"I'm a businessman. I made a calculated decision. It wasn't personal."
"It was personal to me."
Akira stood up too. "You can hate me if you want. It won't change anything. Your mother is dead. I'm still here. And you — you're a seventeen-year-old boy with no money, no power, and no future. What are you going to do, Ren? Tell the police? They won't believe you. Tell the media? They'll destroy you."
Ren looked at his father. At the cold eyes, the empty smile, the man who had killed his wife and felt nothing.
"I'm going to destroy you," Ren said. "Not with violence. Not with revenge. With the truth. With evidence. With everything I can find."
"You won't find anything."
"I already found something. Your name on my mother's medical records. Your signature on the form that stopped her treatment. Your bank statements showing where the money went."
Akira's smile faltered. "You have those?"
"I have copies. In a safe place. If anything happens to me, they go to the police. And the media. And everyone else who needs to see them."
Akira stared at him. For the first time, Ren saw something like fear in his eyes.
"You're bluffing."
"Try me."
The room was silent. The clock on the wall ticked. Somewhere outside, a car drove past.
Akira stepped back. "You've changed."
"Yes. I have."
"Not for the better."
"That's your opinion."
Ren turned and walked to the door. His hand was on the handle when his father spoke again.
"Ren."
He stopped.
"Be careful. The people I work with — they're not like me. They're worse. If they find out you have those documents —"
"Then they'll come after me. I know." Ren opened the door. "Let them."
He walked out.
---
Takeshi was waiting in the car, his face tense.
"What happened?"
"He confessed. Not on tape — I wasn't recording — but he admitted it. He stopped paying for her treatment. On purpose."
Takeshi's jaw tightened. "That's not enough for a conviction."
"I know. But it's a start."
"What's the next step?"
Ren looked at the house — the big, empty house where his mother had died — and felt nothing.
"We build a case. We find witnesses. We find evidence. And we destroy him."
Takeshi started the engine. "Where to?"
"The halfway house. I need to see Hikari."
---
Hikari was in the garden.
The winter sun was low, casting long shadows across the bare soil. She was kneeling by the flower bed, her hands in the dirt, her breath misting in the cold air. She looked up when Ren walked through the gate.
"You saw him."
"I saw him."
"Did he confess?"
"He admitted he stopped paying for her treatment. He said it wasn't personal. Just business."
Hikari stood up, brushing dirt from her knees. "That's horrible."
"That's my father."
She walked to him and took his hands. Her fingers were cold and damp.
"Are you okay?"
"No. But I will be."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
She pulled him close and held him. He buried his face in her hair and breathed.
Together.
Always together.