Meanwhile,
2018...
The glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across the cluttered office. Papers, case files, and old newspaper clippings were strewn across the desk as Takemichi and Naoto worked tirelessly.
Takemichi, hunched over a stack of documents, furrowed his brows. "There's not much known about the leader..." He bit his bottom lip, frustration evident in his tense shoulders.
Naoto, seated across from him, tapped a pen against the desk. "Kiryu-gumi has been around for decades, but they've always kept their leader's identity in the dark. Even in police records, it's mostly speculation and secondhand reports."
Takemichi flipped through an old article, his eyes scanning for any useful information. "How's that even possible? A Yakuza organization this powerful, and we don't even have a name?"
Naoto sighed, leaning back in his chair. "We do have a name." He reached for a thin file and slid it toward Takemichi. "Yuto Kiryu."
Takemichi quickly grabbed the file, flipping it open. The first thing he saw was a blurred, low-quality photo of a man in a suit, his face turned away from the camera. Underneath, the details were sparse; age unknown, involvement unclear, connections widespread.
"Yuto Kiryu..." Takemichi muttered. "But this..."
"He's allegedly the previous leader, disguised himself under the name Yuto L/n. He used his mother's maiden name for his public persona during his reign many years ago." Naoto explained.
Takemichi's eyes scanned the limited information on Yuto Kiryu—no, Yuto L/n.
"So he hid in plain sight..." he murmured. "But if he was the previous leader, then that means-"
"He's no longer in charge," Naoto confirmed. "The Kiryu-gumi we're dealing with today is far more ruthless than during his reign. Even back then, he was a shadowy figure, but at least his organization had a certain... code. Now? The current leader is running things differently."
"And no one knows who he is?"
Naoto shook his head. "No name, no records. Only a face that none of our databases can match. It's like he doesn't exist."
Takemichi frowned, staring at another grainy surveillance photo attached to the file. The man's features were clear enough to be recognized yet completely unfamiliar.
A nameless leader. A Yakuza group more brutal than ever.
Takemichi flipped through the articles, his eyes darting between the grainy image of the current Kiryu-gumi leader and the memories in his head.
That face, he'd seen it before. Multiple times in the past. Even before he leaped back to the future..
This person wasn't just some unknown Yakuza boss. It was the same person who had ended Manjiro in the previous future.
There was no way this was a coincidence. No way he was just a random name in the underworld.
There had to be a connection.
Between him and Manjiro.
Between him and her.
"Hey... ever heard of Y/n Sakamaki?"
Naoto glanced up from his screen, arching a brow. "Sakamaki? I remember that's the last name of one of our previous ministers."
"Yeah, but I mean Y/n Sakamaki. His daughter." Takemichi replied. "Can you run that name in the database and tell me what you find?"
Naoto narrowed his eyes, but without questioning further, he began typing. The soft clacking of the keyboard filled the silence as Takemichi continued scanning the articles in front of him.
His gaze fixated on the clear image of the current Kiryu-gumi leader.
That resemblance...
He couldn't shake it off.
A bad feeling gnawed at his gut.
"I found it, Takemichi."
Naoto's voice snapped him out of his trance.
"What does it say?"
Naoto's eyes remained fixed on the screen as he scrolled through the database, his fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard.
"Not much... except that she passed away twelve years ago from suicide".
Takemichi flinched. "Passed away?"
"Yeah—wait..." Naoto's expression shifted, his brows furrowing. "What now?!"
Naoto didn't answer immediately. Instead, he grabbed one of the printed photos of the now Kiryu-gumi leader and placed it beside the image of Y/n displayed on the screen.
Takemichi hurried over, peering down at the two images side by side.
His heart dropped.
His gut feeling had been right all along.
The resemblance was undeniable. The same eyes, the same bone structure.
The time leaper took a step back, his breath hitching as he stared at the screen in disbelief. "Y/n-san... no..." His voice wavered.
Naoto's gaze snapped to him. "Wait, do you know this girl?"
"Y—Yeah..." Takemichi swallowed hard. "Chifuyu and I... we saved her after she tried to kill herself in the past."
Naoto's fingers hesitated over the keyboard. "Kill herself...?" He turned back to the screen. "It says here that the cause of death was suicide."
Takemichi's head whipped around. "There's no way this is true! We just—we just saved her...!!" His voice cracked with desperation.
"Maybe these two are two different people. Or they're related.."
"No." Takemichi shook his head frantically. "I asked her. She had no other relatives."
Naoto furiously tapped the keyboard, trying to put the pieces together. His eyes widened. Then, slowly, he turned to look at Takemichi.
Their eyes met.
They had reached the same, impossible conclusion.
Naoto let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple. "...No wonder we couldn't find him in the database."
Takemichi clenched his fists. "God, no..."
"The current leader..." Naoto murmured.
"Was never a man."
Back to 2006...
Y/n's breathing became ragged, her chest tightening as panic set in. She staggered backward, her legs nearly giving out. Her hands trembled violently as she gripped the edges of the rocking chair for support.
The letter, the words, her name.
Her.
She gasped, her throat constricting. Her mind screamed at her to make sense of it, but nothing clicked.
"This... this can't be right."
She forced herself to look at the album again, her fingers shaking as she flipped back through the pages. The baby. Yuto's face, full of love. The way he held the child so delicately, protectively.
The notes written beside each photo.
"One week old."
"One month old, already smiling at me."
"Two months. I swear, she recognizes my voice."
"Three months. My little princess."
Then, nothing.
Y/n clutched her head as a sharp pain pulsed through her skull, memories she barely recognized flashing in fragments—warm hands holding her, a deep voice humming softly, a blurred silhouette that felt... familiar.
Those memories, ones that she buried in the back of her mind, believing they meant nothing after living such miserable life with Minato.
She didn't see any reasoning to reminisce and bask in them, despite those little happy, warm memories being her only comfort and gentle moments with Minato—ones that still made her ser Minato as her father... and a human being.
But was that man in her early memories really Minato?
Her stomach churned, and she stumbled forward, knocking over a small lamp. The loud crash barely registered in her ears.
"No... No, no, no—!"
She looked at the letter on the floor, the words mocking her, taunting her.
What is happening?
Y/n couldn't breathe. Her mind spun, struggling to piece everything together, but the more she tried, the worse the pounding in her head became.
She needed to move, get out of this room before she lost herself completely.
Gripping the armrest of the rocking chair, she pushed herself up, but her legs wobbled. Her balance faltered, her vision blurred at the edges, a cold sweat breaking out over her skin.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell.
Yuto was back.
Panic surged through her veins. She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to see this.
She turned, eyes darting to the letter still lying on the floor. Shit. If he found out she had been in here-if he knew what she had just learned..
Move, Y/n. Move.
Ignoring the pain in her skull, she forced herself toward the door, each step unsteady, her heartbeat pounding louder than the ringing in her ears. She had to get out. Had to pretend she never saw any of this.
Y/n managed to make it out of the room, her thoughts spiralling out of control. But as she stepped into the hallway, she froze.
The door hadn't opened.
Yuto wouldn't hesitate to walk in and announce his return. After all, this was his house. But now? Nothing.
A sickening feeling settled deep in her gut.
Her body moved before her mind could fully catch up, instincts taking over as she hurried to the kitchen. Her hands fumbled for the nearest drawer, pulling it open with a sharp clatter.
A kitchen knife.
The person who rang the doorbell... It wasn't Uncle. It can't be him. This all felt too weird.
Her mind raced, trying to figure out everything.
Don't tell me... Kiryu-gumi found me already?
Then, Uncle Yuto...!
Her heart clenched painfully in her chest.
No, no, no! Please, God. Don't let something happen to him too..!
Y/n's grip on the knife tightened as she heard the click of the lock turning. Her eyes darted around the penthouse. Then, her gaze landed on the kitchen island.
A perfect spot.
Without making a sound, Y/n crouched down, slipping behind the kitchen island, pressing her back against the cool surface. Her breathing was shallow, her heartbeat deafening in her ears.
Stay calm. Wait for them to get comfortable.
The door creaked open. Heavy boots stepped inside.
One... two... three pairs.
She clicked on her tongue, realizing she was outnumbered.
Dealing with adults, and to make it worse, a group of possibly professional assassins was different than dealing with a bunch of immature hooligans.
The three men spread out, rifling through the penthouse like scavengers, throwing furniture aside, kicking open doors, and searching every room.
"Where the hell is she?" one of them grumbled, frustration lacing his voice.
"Check the bedroom again," another barked.
Y/n just listened to their careless footsteps thudding across the floor, overturning anything that could be hiding her. Then their voices grew clearer, closer.
"What about the President?"
"Our boss has his hands full with him, so don't worry. Our only concern is taking that girl alive."
"Man, can't believe this bitch caused the tension between them."
"Yeah.. and she didn't even know shit. What's going through the President's head?"
Y/n felt a chill crawl up her spine.
A rift between them? Because of her? President? Were they talking about Yuto?
How was he connected to all of this?
Y/n took a slow, deep breath, shutting her eyes as she focused on the sounds around her. She forced herself to drown out her fear and listen.
The first man, he was near the hallway leading to the bedroom, his boots thudding against the wooden floor as he checked the closet. His heavy breathing and the occasional grunt told her he was getting impatient.
The second man was near the living area, shifting through cabinets and drawers, muttering curses under his breath.
But the third one...
He is close. Too close.
She could hear his footsteps mere feet away, just on the other side of the kitchen island where she was hiding. Unlike the others, he wasn't moving much, standing still, maybe scanning the area. His boots barely scraped against the marble floor as he adjusted his stance.
Y/n clutched her knife tightly, biting down her bottom lip.
She had no choice but to protect herself.
Y/n moved swiftly, her body operating on pure instinct. Without hesitation, she climbed onto the kitchen island and launched herself at the nearest man. Her hand clamped over his mouth, muffling his startled gasp, and in one clean motion, she sliced his throat.
His body jerked, eyes wide with shock, but he couldn't make a sound. She held him steady as he slumped lifelessly to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.
But she wasn't alone.
The man in the living area must have heard something—perhaps the dull thud of a body hitting the floor.
It didn't matter.
She was faster.
Before he could even turn fully, she was already upon him.
He didn't even have the time to notice her presence before she clamped a hand over his mouth and shoved him backward. The weight of her body forced him onto the floor, his struggles weak against her momentum.
Y/n hesitated for only a fraction of a second, long enough to swallow down the fear clawing at her throat before she raised the blade high and drove it deep into his neck.
A sickening gurgle escaped him as his body convulsed beneath her. Then, silence.
Two down.
One left.
Her footsteps light as she approached the bedroom. The last man had his back turned, completely unaware of the fate that had already befallen his comrades. She slipped into the room without a sound, gripping the knife tightly in her bloodied hand.
This time, she didn't bother covering his mouth.
The moment he turned and saw her—disheveled, covered in crimson, her eyes darkened with pure murderous intent—his face twisted in confusion, then horror.
He couldn't react, as she had lunged at him first.
The first stab landed square in his gut, forcing a choked gasp from his lips. He tried to reach for his gun but another strike came. And another. And another.
His scream tore through the air as Y/n kept going, her movements relentless, each plunge of the blade more forceful than the last.
By the time she finally stopped, panting, her hands were trembling. The man lay motionless on the floor, his body unrecognizable beneath the deep, brutal wounds.
He was dead. Definitely dead.
Y/n staggered back, chest rising and falling rapidly. She wiped her face with her sleeve, smearing blood across her cheek.
She dropped to her knees, her back pressing against the cold wall as she stared blankly at the lifeless body before her. The room smelled of iron, thick and suffocating. Her hands, her clothes, everything was drenched in blood.
Again.
She took a deep breath.
I killed... again.
Her grip on the knife loosened, the weapon slipping from her trembling fingers and clattering onto the floor. It felt so distant, the sound barely registering in her ears.
Her mind was blank. Numb.
Y/n's vision blurred as tears welled up, spilling onto her bloodstained hands. The trembling wouldn't stop, no matter how tightly she clenched her fingers.
"Ryuji..." Her voice cracked.
"I'm sorry... I broke our promise."
A sob wracked her body as she hunched over, gripping her arms as if that could hold herself together. But the weight of her guilt was crushing.
She had sworn; never again.
But she failed.
And she could still remember his face.
Ryuji, the only person who saw that side of her, bringing her secret to his grave. The one who smiled at her even as he was dragged away in handcuffs.
"Don't cry, Y/n. I got this. You just have to stay out of trouble, okay?"
She had promised him that day. Promised to never kill again.
But here she was.
Hands stained. Promise shattered.
Y/n's hands clenched into fists as the memories clawed their way back. Her vision swam, not from the blood on her hands now, but from the past she had tried so hard to forget.
She was only eleven. Ryuji was only eleven.
They were just kids.
"Oi, watch where you're going, brat."
Y/n didn't really hear the words when she was shoved back, nearly losing her balance. She looked up; three high school boys towering over them, sneering.
She had only bumped into one of them. Just an accident.
"We should teach these little shits a lesson," one of them muttered.
And before she knew it, Ryuji had stepped in front of her.
"Ryuji—"
"It's fine, Y/n," he had said, smiling over his shoulder. "Just stay back."
Then they attacked.
Three against one. Fists and kicks rained down on Ryuji, his body hitting the pavement with a sickening thud.
"Stop—Stop it!" Y/n had screamed, but they just laughed.
She was frozen, paralyzed, as she watched Ryuji curl up, shielding his head while taking every blow. Blood smeared across the concrete.
And then, she saw it. A glint of metal.
A knife, lying a few feet away, probably dropped by one of them.
Something in her snapped.
Red.
All she saw was red.
The next thing she knew, she was on top of the ringleader, fists pounding into his face. Again. Again. Again.
He was screaming, but she couldn't hear it. His friends tried to pull her off, but she was too fast, too vicious. She fought like a cornered animal, relentless and terrifying.
She didn't stop until his face was unrecognizable.
The other two? They barely managed to crawl away. But she had already ensured they'd never walk properly again.
"Y/n—!"
A pair of arms wrapped around her, yanking her off the barely-breathing ringleader.
It was Ryuji.
His face was bloodied, his hands shaking.
"It's over. Stop. Just stop!"
Her breath came in sharp gasps. The realization of what she had done hit her hard.
Sirens. Blue and red lights flashed against her tear-streaked face.
"No-no, no, no." She backed away, hyperventilating. "What do I do—Ryuji, what do I—"
He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.
"Run."
"W-what?"
"RUN!" he shouted, shoving her away.
Her legs moved on their own. She ran, heart pounding, mind blank.
She didn't stop.
Not until she realized—
Ryuji was still there.
She turned back.
The police were dragging him away. He was cuffed, his small wrists looking so wrong in those chains.
And yet, he smiled at her.
Like nothing was wrong.
Like he hadn't just thrown away his life for her.
Y/n wanted to scream. Wanted to tell them it wasn't him. That it was her.
But no words came out. She could only watch as they took Ryuji away.
Two years. Two years in juvenile detention.
Because of her.
Only for him to lose his life after being released.
Y/n felt emptier than ever. She lay against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Ryuji, Mom... all these people protecting me...
Her fingers curled weakly.
"...They did the wrong thing," she whispered to herself.
They protected the wrong person.
Her chest ached, but she didn't know if it was from grief or guilt. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe she was just... tired.
THUD.
A sharp pain exploded at the back of her head out of nowhere.
Her body gave out instantly, collapsing to the floor. The world spun violently, her limbs heavy as if her strength had been stolen in an instant.
Through her fading vision, she barely made out a blurry silhouette. A man.
He was holding a phone to his ear.
"Target secured."