(V3) Chapter 8: Silver-Haired Wolf

“Train you? For what? Smashing birthday cakes? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head somewhere, kid?”

It was still early in the morning and Haru was already on his shift at the diner. The way he wiped the tables clean was a reflection of Ayase’s memory wiped clean from everything that happened last night.

She casually greeted him in the morning, cooked him breakfast and scolded him lightly for not going to school.

That’s all that it is—how can she act like that after nearly being taken?

Doesn’t she remember the kidnapping?

Haru was shaken by the fact a bit, and his thoughts kept pressing the issue.

Haru hadn’t said anything. He didn’t want to scare her. But that empty look in her eyes—the kind where memories should’ve been—it bothered him.

His grip tightened on the rag, the smell of disinfectant too sharp in the air.

He only broke free when he felt a sickening grasp on his injured shoulder.

An agonizing yelp echoes in the empty restaurant.

Akio’s hand was gripping his injured shoulder, firm and unrelenting like a vice.

“Train for what?” the gray-haired man repeated, voice low and unimpressed. “You just got beat up by a bunch of punks and now you run to me for help? Don't you remember what you promised me? No fights, no beatdowns, no crap and no shit, Haruki?”

Haru winced, stepping back, rubbing at his shoulder. "I know, old man. But it was different from who I faced before."

Akio's sharp brown eyes narrowed beneath his messy silver hair, which was untied for once—like he hadn’t even bothered to fix it after waking up.

"Then what?"

“They weren’t punks." Haru revealed. "They were in coats and well-trained. These guys weren’t just any street dogs. They had comms, formation. One even had a gun. And there's someone they're after and it's not me.”

“Are you telling me this is about her?” he asked, drying his hands with a rag behind the counter. “Your girlfriend?"

"Girl—?!" Haru flinched, his cheeks turning beet red. “She’s not mine!”

The old man raised a brow. "She's technically yours at this point. Don't even bother lying to me about not doing lovey-dovey shit."

"UGH! Akio-san!"

Haru sank to the lounge, covering his steaming face.

A few moments after, Akio clears his throat and ties his silver hair.

"Government agents, aren't we?" he remarked.

Haru sighed, lifting his head up. “Yeah. Presumably. They tried to take her, but Ayase doesn’t remember any of it.”

Akio’s hand paused mid-tie.

“That so?”

“I don’t know if someone’s erased her memory, or if she did it herself, or…hell, maybe she’s programmed to forget such traumatic events. But she doesn’t know what happened.”

Akio walked over to the windows, pulling the blinds down halfway. Outside, the streets were starting to come alive with morning bustle, but inside, the diner felt like a war room.

“I don’t care who they are,” Haru said, voice hardening. “I can’t lose her. And I'm going lengths just to protect her.”

Akio turned, his expression unreadable. The scars and tattoos down his arm caught the early sunlight like a silent story.

“You know what your father used to say?” he muttered, voice like gravel on steel. “A man who can’t protect what he loves, better not call it love at all.”

Haru looked down.

“That’s why I came to you.”

Akio snorted, crossing his arms. “I’m not running a dojo. I’m flipping eggs and pouring coffee for salarymen who cry into their toast.”

“I don’t need a sensei either." Haru refuted. "I just need someone who won’t go easy on me.”

“Get me out of that.” he flicked his hand dismissively. “I don't want the same crap from happening just like years ago.”

That ‘accident’.

It's an incomplete puzzle, blurred by the grief and anguish his experiences dealt him.

And it seemed like his body devoured the memories itself, just like Ayase.

“Please,” the word felt foreign on Haru's tongue. He'd never beg, not even for something as simple as this. “I barely walked out of that alley alive. I need to fight back the next time they send people who don’t bother leaving me breathing.”

Allain's words of his inability to protect Ayase still stung his pride. She chose him, and now, it's his responsibility to ensure her safety.

“I’d rather die trying than sit and watch her get taken,” he added, voice firm and determined.

Silence.

Akio stared for a long moment, possibly reconsidering. Then, a knowing grin forms on his lips.

"And you can't call that one 'love'?"

Haru flushed and hid his face again. "DAMN IT! STOP TEASING ME!"

Akio-san loved every second of Haruki breaking his character. He was born composed, methodical and cold, just like his father. Yet Haru had managed to slip through those cracks and show emotion, showing off an affectionate side of himself probably inherited from his mother, a counterbalance that only Akio had witnessed.

His experiences molded him into a reckless brat, but now, he was standing at the opposite pole—warm and vulnerable.

The older man chuckled to himself, shaking his head. He grabbed the nearest frying pan and threw some steak and glazed it with wine.

"Of course, I won't let you die either." he grinned. "I've spent half of my life raising your ass and you think I'm gonna let you get killed in front of me now?"

Haru blinked, stunned.

He'd never considered that. Akio was always taking care of everything. Just for a promise that he'll never step on that same place again—violence. He would do whatever it takes until Akio says otherwise—for both their sakes.

But Akio also knows Haru, and the old man saw the hesitation in his boy's eyes when he talked about protecting Ayase.

He knew there would come a day when Haru wouldn’t be able to keep that promise anymore…and he has to be in it as a last resort. That he will not hesitate. Not even for one moment.

He served Haru a medium-rare steak and walked back behind the counter. He pulled out a carton of cigarettes—unlit—and tossed it aside before rummaging for something else.

“You’re lucky your father saved my ass all those years ago,” he narrated. “Otherwise I’d let you rot in that damned orphanage.”

"Of course you can't." Haru responded with a mouth full of meat. "You always found me to be your own son."

Akio rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

A moment after, he found what he was looking for.

A small, familiar black key.

He slid it across the counter.

Haru picked it up. "You're serious?"

He fumbled with it between his fingers, and just as it danced, memories flashed in his head, clear and raw.

Their faces, names, voices.

Their expressions, cold and stiff.

Metallic limbs flying overboard.

Bloodstains on brick walls.

Men on black jackets falling one by one in front of him.

Those lifeless eyes he stared down.

A ‘silver-haired wolf’ by his side.

And a promise that when it is all over, there will be no more blood, no more pain and no more death.

“I’m old, not soft. I don’t take in lost causes.” Akio reasoned out, breaking Haru's spell.

“I’m not lost.” he argued.

“We’ll see.”

Akio grabbed his apron again and turned back toward the kitchen. The hiss of the stove returned, along with the clatter of pans. But the air hadn’t lightened.

“I’m only doing this because your father wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t,” he said, not looking back. “And because you’re too damn stupid to stay out of trouble.”

Haru cracked a small grin. “So...you’ll train me?”

“No." Akio-san simply said with a sardonic grimace. "I’ll break you. Then we’ll see if anything worth keeping is left.”

He turned around, smiling now.

“Be back within a couple of weeks for me to prepare everything.”

The bell on the diner door rang as a customer stepped in.

Haru immediately stood up, slid the keys in his pocket and bowed down.

"Good morning, welcome to Poccha Teishoku!" he greeted politely—albeit too out of character.

The stranger smiled in reply as he headed towards their table.

Haru grabbed his notepad, but his mind was already past the next order.

That abandoned warehouse. Training. Blood, sweat, pain.

He was ready for it.

Because next time—they were coming for Ayase.

And next time, he’d be ready to bleed for her.