Kazuki returned to Lira's stall the next morning, though he told himself it was only for food.
The sun was low, painting the dirt road gold. Villagers bartered quietly, children carried baskets, and the smell of baking bread drifted through the cool air.
Kazuki kept his hood up, shoulders tight, eyes scanning everything.Old habits.Old paranoia.
But his steps slowed when he saw her.
Lira wiped dust from the counter with the sleeve of her apron, hair slipping from its tie, face pale with lack of sleep. She looked up when she noticed him, and despite her exhaustion, a smile flickered onto her lips.
"You came back," she said.
Kazuki nodded.
He didn't know why he had come back.
Part of him hated the idea.Part of him feared the pull in his chest.Part of him recognized something in her he didn't want to confront.
Her age.
She couldn't be older than fifteen.Sixteen, at most.
His daughter would've been around that age.
Kazuki's throat tightened, subtle but sharp.A sting behind the ribs.A memory forcing itself through cracks he had spent four years sealing shut.
He kept his face blank.
Lira lifted a small basket. "These apples are fresh. Have one."
He accepted it silently.
She watched him for a moment, studying the way he stood, the way he held himself.Noticing things most people didn't.
"You always look like you're expecting something bad to happen," she said quietly.
He didn't respond.
She didn't push.
Instead, she looked down, fingers twisting together.
"My mother used to say the same thing. Before she got sick."
Kazuki's gaze shifted to her hands.
Thin.Calloused.Working hands.
"Who looks after you?" he asked, surprising himself.
Lira blinked, startled he spoke first.
"Just me," she said. "My father died when I was young. My mother is… bedridden. The medicine is expensive, so I run the stall."
Kazuki said nothing.
But the piece of him that still remembered tucking his daughter into bed tightened painfully.
Lira continued, voice wavering but steady.
"I don't mind working. But sometimes people take advantage. The collectors, especially."
Kazuki frowned.
"Collectors."
She nodded reluctantly.
"They say I owe for the land we live on. But the debt grows every month. I pay what I can, but they don't care about that. They only care about control."
Kazuki looked at her closely.
Her smile, gentle and persistent.Her exhaustion, hidden behind forced optimism.Her strength, quiet and lonely.
And her age.
It hit him again like a stone in his chest.
His daughter's age.Not exact.But close enough to reopen a wound that had never properly healed.
Kazuki's jaw clenched.He forced his breathing steady.
He refused to see her as his daughter.He refused to let the past swallow him.
But the instinct—that old protective instinct—rose in him anyway.
Something soft.Unwanted.Terrifying.
Lira reached for a second apple.Her hand trembled.
He moved without thinking.
"You're tired," he said.
She laughed awkwardly. "I guess."
Kazuki studied her again.She wasn't weak.Life had simply asked too much from her.
He remembered the way his own daughter's hands shook when she was frightened.He remembered wiping her tears.He remembered promising her she would always be safe.
And he remembered breaking that promise.
Lira set the basket down.Kazuki looked away, unable to hold her gaze too long.
"What's your mother's condition?" he asked quietly.
Lira blinked, surprised again.
"She… her breathing is weak in the mornings. Her chest hurts. Some days she can't stand. The medicine helps, but it's running low."
Kazuki absorbed every word.He didn't look at Lira as a girl.He looked at her as a responsibility he didn't ask for but couldn't ignore.
Like a ghost of the father he used to be lingered in his bones, whispering that he had failed one child already.
He would not fail another.
Not if he could help it.
He dropped a few silver coins on the counter.
Lira's eyes widened. "T-this is too much."
Kazuki shook his head.
"Use it for medicine."
She opened her mouth to protest.He turned before she could.
But he only took a few steps before the sound arrived.
Heavy boots.Mocking laughter.Voices dripping with arrogance.
"Lira. Morning, sweetheart. Time for your payment."
Kazuki stopped.
Lira went pale.
Three men stood around the stall.He recognized them immediately.Bruises on their knuckles.Unwashed hair.Cheap blades hanging at their sides.
The kind of men who thrived on fear.
The leader grabbed Lira's wrist.
"I asked for coin yesterday. You think I forgot?"
Kazuki felt something dangerous, old, and violent stir inside him.
Lira whispered, "Please… not today…"
The man laughed in her face.
Kazuki reached the stall before he realized he was moving.
"Let go."
The collectors turned.
"Look who's back," the leader said. "The quiet stray."
Kazuki didn't blink.
"Her wrist," he said. "Release it."
The leader smirked.
"Or what?"
Kazuki didn't raise his voice.
"I am asking once."
The man swung.
Kazuki shifted, caught the wrist, and twisted lightly.The thug dropped to one knee with a choked scream.
The other two backed up, startled.
Kazuki released him and stepped back, hands lowering calmly.
"Leave."
The leader glared through watery eyes.
"This isn't over."
Kazuki met his stare with eyes cold enough to still the air.
"Yes. It is."
Not for Kazuki.But for them.
They backed away, retreating down the street, muttering threats.
Lira clutched her wrist, shaken.
Kazuki looked at her once.
"You should be careful."
She managed a tremble of a nod.
"Thank you… Kazuki."
He turned to leave.
But as he walked away, that unwanted instinct twisted inside him again.
He didn't want to care.
He didn't want to feel.
But he looked at her the way a father looks at a child he cannot lose again.
And that scared him more than any monster in this world.