The Ghost Who Walks Among Us

Tokyo’s skyline stretched beyond the penthouse windows, bathed in neon blues and fiery reds. The city was alive, yet inside this room, an eerie stillness crept through the air.

Renjiro sat motionless in his leather chair, his fingers tapping absently against the rim of his untouched whiskey glass.

His mind was a storm, but one thought refused to settle—

Akane had spoken to him like she knew him. Like she remembered him.

And then, there was the shrine.

The abandoned house.

The stone lantern carved with his name long before he was even born.

Renjiro had spent his life unraveling mysteries, but this—this was something else entirely.

This was a nightmare that refused to let him wake up.

And nightmares, he had learned, only got worse when you started asking questions.

Then—

A knock.

Soft. Deliberate.

His muscles tensed.

No one ever knocked.

His men wouldn’t dare. Anyone else wouldn’t know where to find him.

Which meant—

He rose, moving slowly toward the door, his fingers already brushing the handle of his knife.

Then he pulled it open.

And there she was.

A Visitor Who Was Never Meant to Arrive

Akane stood in the dim hallway, her crimson kimono flowing like spilled ink against the pale light.

Her expression was unreadable, but her presence—her presence was something Renjiro couldn’t ignore.

Neither alive nor dead.

Neither past nor present.

Just there.

“Surprised?” she asked, her voice a quiet ripple in the silence.

Renjiro didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure if he should.

She tilted her head slightly, observing him with a gaze that felt far too knowing.

“You let your guard down.”

The words sent an unfamiliar chill through him.

Not because they were a warning.

But because they sounded like something she had told him before.

Somewhere. Sometime.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said finally, his voice calm despite the unease curling in his chest.

A small, almost amused smile flickered across her lips.

“Neither should you.”

Renjiro studied her for a long moment, searching for answers in the stillness between them.

Then, against every instinct screaming at him to shut the door—

He stepped aside.

A Ghost Who Doesn’t Belong to the Past

Akane moved inside like she had always belonged there.

No hesitation. No fear.

She crossed the room, her footsteps light, her presence as intangible as smoke—yet every fiber of Renjiro’s being told him she was real.

He closed the door and leaned against it, watching her.

“Are you real?” he asked.

She didn’t turn.

Instead, she traced her fingers along the surface of his mahogany desk, her nails barely grazing the polished wood.

“Would it matter?” she murmured.

Renjiro’s jaw tightened. “I don’t have time for riddles.”

Akane finally looked at him, her dark eyes holding something ancient and unreadable.

“Then stop chasing ghosts.”

He exhaled sharply. “You say that like I had a choice.”

She took a step closer.

The air shifted.

“No,” she said softly. “You say that like you don’t already know the truth.”

Something in her tone made the room feel smaller.

Colder.

Renjiro wasn’t a man who let emotions control him.

But right now—standing before her, feeling her presence settle into the very bones of this place—

He had never been more certain that he was already part of something he didn’t understand.

And Akane…

She was the key to it all.

End of Episode 5

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