The Man Who Walks with Ghosts

The city moved on like nothing had changed.

Cars weaved through neon-lit streets. The scent of rain clung to the air. Tokyo pulsed with life, unaware that Renjiro’s world had just cracked open.

But he felt it.

Everything was different now.

His reflection in the penthouse window stared back at him, his expression unreadable.

Akane had vanished—right in front of him.

And then there was the vision.

A memory that didn’t belong to him, yet somehow felt more real than anything he had ever known.

It had been her—standing beneath cherry blossoms, waiting.

Waiting for him.

But why?

How?

Renjiro’s fingers twitched toward his lighter, but he stopped himself. Whiskey wouldn’t fix this.

He had faced enemies in the underworld. He had fought, bled, and killed.

But this?

This wasn’t something he could fight.

And that terrified him.

Chasing Shadows

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

This time, it wasn’t soft. It was forceful. Urgent.

Renjiro exhaled slowly, pushing away the lingering traces of Akane’s presence before moving toward the door.

The moment he opened it, Ryuji stormed inside.

His second-in-command was rarely shaken, but tonight, something burned in his sharp eyes.

“You need to see this,” Ryuji said, thrusting a folded piece of paper into his hands.

Renjiro unfolded it carefully.

It was a photo.

An old one—grainy, black-and-white.

His chest tightened as he took in the image.

A traditional festival. Paper lanterns. People dressed in Edo-period clothing.

And in the center—

A woman in a crimson kimono.

Renjiro’s grip on the paper hardened.

Even with the age of the photo, he knew that face.

Akane.

Exactly as she had appeared last night.

Not younger. Not older.

The same.

His blood ran cold.

“This picture,” Ryuji said, voice low. “It’s from over a hundred years ago.”

Renjiro’s heart pounded in his chest, but his face remained unreadable.

He didn’t need Ryuji to tell him what this meant.

He already knew.

The Whisper of the Dead

Renjiro sat at his desk, the photo resting between them like an open wound.

Ryuji ran a hand through his hair, frustration laced in his voice. “She’s not human, Renjiro. This is beyond us.”

Renjiro stayed silent.

Because he wasn’t sure Ryuji was wrong.

But he also wasn’t sure if he was right.

She felt real.

When she spoke. When she looked at him.

And when she touched him—

The memory.

The temple. The cherry blossoms.

Was it a vision? A dream? A past life?

Nothing made sense anymore.

And yet, deep in his gut—

Something told him he couldn’t walk away from this.

Ryuji exhaled. “Look, I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to decide—are you really going to chase a ghost?”

Renjiro’s jaw tightened.

He wasn’t sure he had a choice.

Because if Akane had waited a hundred years—

She wasn’t done waiting yet.

And neither was he.

A Message from the Dead

The clock struck midnight when Renjiro finally stood, slipping on his jacket.

Ryuji frowned. “Where are you going?”

Renjiro grabbed the photo.

“To find her.”

Ryuji swore under his breath. “You’re insane.”

Renjiro smirked. “We already knew that.”

With that, he stepped into the night.

The city stretched out before him, pulsing with life.

But somewhere in the shadows—

Something waited for him.

And this time—

He wasn’t going to run.

End of Episode 7

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