The Memory That Shouldn’t Exist

The air inside the penthouse was thick with an unspoken weight.

Renjiro wasn’t a man easily shaken, but right now, as he stood across from a woman who should not exist, he felt something he hadn't felt in years.

Unease.

Akane stood near his desk, running delicate fingers along the edge of his whiskey glass. The way she moved—calm, assured, like she belonged here—unsettled him more than if she had walked in screaming.

Finally, Renjiro spoke, his voice even. “How do you know me?”

Akane lifted her gaze to meet his. And for the first time, something flickered there.

Recognition.

Pain.

Loss.

"You already know the answer,” she whispered.

Renjiro clenched his jaw. “I don’t.”

Akane tilted her head slightly, studying him. “Then tell me… why do I feel so familiar to you?”

The question hit him harder than it should have.

Because it wasn’t wrong.

She did feel familiar.

The way she spoke. The way she looked at him—like she had known him forever.

Like she had lost him once before.

A Name That Shouldn’t Be Spoken

Renjiro exhaled, stepping closer. Enough games.

“You say I already know,” he murmured. “Then tell me why I can’t remember.”

Akane’s lips parted, but for a moment, she hesitated—like she wasn’t sure if she should say it.

Then, finally—

“Because some things aren’t meant to be remembered.”

A strange pulse ran through Renjiro’s chest.

The words shouldn’t mean anything—but they did.

They felt like a whisper from somewhere else, from somewhere before.

He took another step, closing the space between them. “Who are you, Akane?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she reached forward—too fast, too natural—and pressed her fingers against his chest.

And the moment she touched him—

Everything shifted.

A Vision That Wasn’t His Own

Darkness swallowed the room.

For a moment, Renjiro wasn’t standing in his penthouse anymore.

He was somewhere else.

Somewhere old.

Somewhere forgotten.

The scent of burning incense filled his lungs. The sound of distant temple bells echoed in his ears. And before him—

A woman in a crimson kimono stood beneath the cherry blossoms.

The wind carried the petals around her, but she didn’t move.

She just stood there—waiting.

And then—

She turned.

And her face was Akane’s.

Renjiro’s heart pounded in his chest.

This wasn’t possible.

This memory wasn’t his.

And yet—

It felt real.

Too real.

Then, Akane spoke—not the one in the vision, but the one standing before him in the present.

Her voice was soft, but her words were sharper than any blade.

“You weren’t supposed to remember,” she whispered.

And just like that—

The vision shattered.

The Ghost Who Refuses to Leave

Renjiro stumbled back, the familiar weight of his penthouse returning around him.

The city lights. The scent of whiskey. The cold air against his skin.

But something inside him had changed.

He looked at Akane, his breath unsteady.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded.

Akane said nothing.

She simply stood there, her dark eyes full of something impossible to name.

“I—” His voice faltered.

He should be questioning her. Threatening her. Demanding answers.

But instead, all he could ask was—

“…Have we met before?”

Akane’s lips parted, but she didn’t answer.

She only watched him, like she was waiting for him to figure it out.

Then, without a word—

She was gone.

Vanished.

Like she had never been there at all.

Renjiro’s fingers curled into fists.

His heartbeat was loud in his ears.

He had spent his life tearing through the underground world of the Yakuza, leaving no stone unturned, no secret buried.

But this?

This was something else.

Something deeper.

Something that had been waiting for him long before he ever knew it existed.

And now—

It refused to let him go.

End of Episode 6

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