Haru stirred the miso soup, steam curling up in the cozy kitchen, while Ichigo sat at the table coloring a fierce red dinosaur. It was a peaceful Saturday evening—no plans, just the three of them. Chris was due back any minute from his quick campus library run for a book. The debt collectors had been eerily silent for almost two weeks, long enough that Haru had let himself hope the extra police patrols and lawyer letters had scared them off.
The doorbell rang.
Haru wiped his hands, glancing at the clock—6:45 PM. Chris probably forgot his key again. He opened the door with a smile ready.
It died instantly.
Two men stood there. Kenji—the tall one from the street confrontation—leaned against the frame, arms crossed, smirk cold. Beside him, the stocky guy with a scar on his cheek, eyes flat and mean.
"Evening, Natsuki," Kenji said, voice smooth like oil. "Mind if we come in? Quick chat about your boy's... financial situation."
Haru's blood turned ice. He blocked the doorway, body angled to shield the view inside. "No. Whatever you want, say it here."
Kenji's smirk widened. "Feisty. Cute place you got. Kid inside, right? Hear he's got a loud laugh."
Haru's fists clenched. "Threaten him again and—"
"Relax," Scar Guy cut in, voice gravel. "We're just collecting. Chris owes big. Payments stopped. Boss wants the full amount—now fifty-five with interest. Cash tonight, or we start making life... uncomfortable."
From the kitchen, Ichigo's small voice: "Papa? Who at door?"
Haru's heart hammered. "Go play in your room, buddy. Papa's talking to friends."
Footsteps pattered away—thank God.
Kenji pulled out his phone, showing a photo: Chris walking into the library an hour ago. "We know where he is. Where the kid goes to school. Easy to grab a word if needed."
Haru stepped forward, voice low and deadly. "You lay a finger on them—"
Scar Guy laughed. "We won't. If you pay. Bring the cash to the old warehouse on 5th by midnight. Alone. Or tomorrow, things get messy."
They turned and left, footsteps echoing down the hall.
Haru slammed the door, locking it, hands shaking as he set the alarm. He called Chris—no answer. Texted frantic: Get home NOW. Collectors here. Dangerous.
Called police—emergency line, reported in-person threat. Officer promised immediate patrol, unit en route.
Chris burst in ten minutes later, face pale, phone in hand. "Saw your texts. What happened?"
Haru pulled him into the bedroom, door shut, voice low so Ichigo wouldn't hear. Repeated every word, every threat.
Chris sank to the bed, head in hands. "This is my fault. They're escalating because of me."
Haru knelt in front of him, hands on knees. "No. Their fault. Greedy bastards. We're ending this tonight—police escort to the drop, wired money, trap them."
Chris's hazel eyes filled with fear and guilt. "What if they hurt you? Or Ichigo?"
Haru cupped his face. "They won't get the chance. Aiko's picking Ichigo up in five—sleepover at hers. Police meeting us here. We're smart—they're desperate."
Chris nodded shaky, leaning forehead to Haru's. "I'm scared."
Haru kissed him soft, then deeper—reassurance turning fierce. Chris clung, kiss turning desperate, hands fisting Haru's shirt. They needed this—anchor before storm.
Haru backed him to the bed, laying him down gentle. Lips never parted, tongues urgent comfort. Shirts peeled—Chris's tee lifted slow, Haru's yanked. Skin met hot, slim pressing medium.
Mouths roamed: Haru neck kisses, nipping claiming. Chris arched, gasp breathy, grinding instinctive fear to need.
Pants undone impatient, pushed away. Bare, sweat-slick. Bodies aligned—Haru's hand wrapping firm, stroking rhythm rolls. Chris bucked, moans muffled against shoulder, legs tight.
Haru's free hand traced thigh, deepening friction. Pleasure coiled intense—eyes locked, hazel scared yet trusting, brown fierce protection. Whispers: "Stay safe," Chris panted; "Always," Haru husky.
Climax crashed shared—Chris tensing beautiful, release spilling hot muffled cry. Haru followed, shuddering deep.
Tangled after, breaths evening. Chris teary smile. "Strength for tonight."
Haru kissed temple. "We'll end this."
Aiko arrived—took Ichigo with hugs, no questions, just "Call me." Police came—plan set: wired drop, unmarked cars, arrest if they show.
Midnight warehouse cold, empty except shadows. Haru with bag (marked bills), officers hidden. Collectors arrived—Kenji, Scar, two more.
Exchange started—then chaos: "Police! Hands up!"
Shouts, cuffs, collectors down. Kenji glared at Chris in the shadows. "This ain't over."
But it was—for now. Charges: extortion, threats. Boss linked, warrants out.
Home dawn, Chris and Haru collapsed bed, Ichigo safe with Aiko till morning.
Threat interrupted—shattered quiet, but family held.