Location: ISHIDA RESIDENCE
UPPER FLOOR
SEPTEMBER 14, 2025 — 1:10PM
Ren stands in the center of his bedroom. He is motionless. He isn't breathing. He's weighing the air. Through the heavy oak door, the rhythmic clink of a tactical belt marks the guard's position. Tanaka. Ren can hear the man shifting his weight. The squeak of leather holsters against a nylon tactical vest. Tanaka checks his watch every thirty seconds.
Ren moves to the window. He peels back the sheer silk curtain just enough to see the street. Kaito is a charcoal silhouette against the white pavement. He's leaning against a Maybach 62. It is a relic of excessive luxury that reflects the afternoon sun like a mirror. Around him, eight men fan out. They move with a synchronized silence. They form a perimeter of black wool and earpieces that leaves exactly zero gaps in the front lawn.
Ren pivots. He scans the room. His eyes land on the ensuite bathroom. He walks toward it. His gait is heavy and deliberate. He makes sure the floorboards creak to convince Tanaka he is moving away from the door and toward the vanity.
Inside the bathroom, Ren cranks the shower handle. The roar of the water hitting the porcelain fills the tiled space. It masks the sound of his real work. He doesn't pack a suitcase. Suitcases are for people who intend to arrive at a destination. Ren grabs a pre-stashed nylon bag from the linen closet. Law books for weight. His worn-out leather ballet slippers. A multi-tool. He kicks the screen out of the narrow frosted window. The plastic frame snaps with a muffled pop.
"Ishida?" Tanaka's voice is a low rumble through the oak. A heavy, impatient knock follows. "Five minutes. Don't fall asleep in there. Mr. Vane is not a man who enjoys waiting."
Ren is already halfway out the window. He snaps a carabiner onto the radiator pipe. It is a custom-anchored steel cable he rigged months ago for an escape his father never saw coming. He drops.
He doesn't hit the ground. He hits the forty-five-degree slope of the lower roof. The slate tiles are slick with the morning's humidity but Ren's sneakers find purchase. He sprints across the jagged peak of the house. His body leans into the wind. He reaches the edge and launches himself toward a stone gargoyle on the neighboring annex. It is a twelve-foot gap. For a heartbeat he is suspended over his father's neglected rose garden. He is a gray shadow against the blue sky.
He catches the stone. His fingers dig into the weathered granite. He snaps his body up and vaults the annex railing. Behind him the bathroom door splinters. Tanaka's roar of frustration is a distant echo swallowed by the city's roar.
Ren drops fifteen feet from the annex and crashes through a manicured hedge. The leaves tear at his gray shirt. They leave green streaks on the fabric. He rolls onto the gravel driveway and pops up into a crouch. He's twenty yards from the Maybach.
Kaito is still leaning against the car. He hasn't moved a muscle but his eyes are locked onto Ren. He doesn't reach for a weapon. He just watches with an infinitesimal tilt to his head as if he's critiquing a difficult performance.
Ren offers a jagged grin. He raises a hand and gives a mock, two-finger wave. "Check the fine print, Shark! I'm taking a personal day! Refund my father's soul at your earliest convenience!"
Kaito finally speaks. His voice carries over the distance without him needing to raise it.
"You're twelve seconds late for your departure, Ren. And you're tracking hedge-clippings onto a driveway I just had steam-cleaned. It is unprofessional."
The air suddenly tastes like copper.
Two white SUVs shriek around the corner of the residential block. They bank so hard the tires leave black ribbons of burnt rubber on the asphalt. The rear windows slide down in unison. They reveal the matte-black barrels of suppressed submachine guns.
Pop-pop-pop-pop.
Gunshots shred the quiet of the neighborhood. A ceramic planter three inches from Ren's head explodes into a cloud of red dust and terracotta shards. He hits the pavement. The smell of cordite and burnt rubber fills his lungs. To his left, he sees Kaito move. Not toward safety, but toward the threat. The Shark is already behind the armored car door. His hand goes to the waistband of his trousers.