Yuji woke up to pain.
It wasn’t the sharp kind. It was deep, dull, everywhere. His ribs felt cracked. His head throbbed. His vision blurred when he tried to sit up.
But none of that mattered.
The room was too quiet.
No crying. No tiny breaths. No weight against his chest.
His heart dropped.
“Mai…?” His voice came out broken.A nurse rushed over, gently pushing him back down. “Please don’t move. You were badly beaten.”
Yuji grabbed her sleeve. “Where’s my daughter?”
Her hesitation said everything.
“She was taken,” the nurse said softly. “Some men came while you were
unconscious.
They had documents. They said they were family.”
Yuji stared at the ceiling.Family.
A hollow laugh escaped his throat, raw and empty.He didn’t scream. He didn’t cry.Something inside him simply… shut down.
He left the hospital against medical advice.
Every step hurt, but the pain kept him awake. Kept him focused. He followed rumors. Asked questions. Walked until his legs nearly gave out.
People avoided his eyes when he mentioned the Hoshizora name.Power did that.
On the fourth day, he found the orphanage.
It was clean. Quiet. Smiling posters on the walls. Donations proudly listed. A place pretending to be kind.Yuji stood at the gate for a long time.His hands were shaking.Not from fear.
From rage so heavy it felt calm.He walked in.
“I’m here for my daughter,” he said.The woman at the desk frowned. “Sir—”
“She’s three weeks old,” Yuji continued.
“Black hair. Born premature. She cries when she’s hungry and calms down when you hum.”
The woman’s face changed.Minutes later, the director came.“That child was placed here legally,” the man said carefully. “You should leave.”
Yuji leaned forward. His eyes were sunken, lifeless.
“She was stolen,” he said quietly. “And I’m taking her back.”
Security moved.
Yuji didn’t fight.
He reached into his pocket and placed something on the desk.
A hospital bracelet. Torn.
Bloodstained. With Mai’s birth date printed on it.
“She came out of my wife screaming,” Yuji said. “She stopped crying when I held her. She knows my heartbeat.”His voice cracked for the first time.“If you don’t give her back,” he whispered, “I will tell the world what kind of money runs this place.”Silence.
Ten minutes later, they brought Mai.She was crying. Her tiny face red. Her hands flailing weakly.
The moment Yuji took her, his knees nearly gave out.
“I’m here,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry I was late.”Mai’s crying softened. Her fingers curled into his shirt.
Yuji closed his eyes.
For the first time since waking up in the hospital, he breathed
.
That night, sitting on the floor of a cheap room with Mai sleeping on his chest, the truth finally settled.Hiroshi Hoshizora had ordered it.But Aiko had allowed it.
That realization hurt worse than the beating.
He thought of her tears. Her promises. Her shaking voice when she said she loved him.
If she loved Mai, she would have fought. If she loved him, she would have stayed.Instead, she chose safety.
America. Her family. A clean escape.Yuji stared at the wall, jaw clenched.“I don’t hate you,” he said quietly into the dark.Then he corrected himself.“No… I do.”
The words didn’t burn.They felt honest.
Hiroshi found out days later.The orphanage called, furious, panicked. Threatening consequences.Hiroshi listened calmly, then ended the call.
He summoned Yuji.Yuji didn’t go.
Instead, Hiroshi received a message.She’s mine. Touch her again and I won’t stop.
No anger. No explanation.Just a line drawn in blood.
Aiko learned the truth in America.Her aunt’s voice trembled over the phone. “Your father… things went wrong. The baby—”Aiko’s heart stopped. “Mai?”“She’s gone.”
The phone slipped from her hand.She called Yuji immediately.Once. Again. And again.No answer.
She sent messages.Please talk to me. I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know. Yuji, where is Mai?Across the ocean, Yuji deleted every message without reading past the first line.
He didn’t feel anger.He felt nothing.Months passed.
Yuji worked until his body begged him to stop. Two jobs. Sometimes three. He learned how to live on instant noodles and exhaustion. How to wake up at every sound Mai made. How to smile for her even when his chest ached.
People pitied him.He didn’t care.Hatred was simpler than love.Hatred stayed.
Late at night, holding Mai as she slept, Yuji sometimes remembered the boy he used to be. The one who believed love could fix everything.He didn’t recognize him anymore.“I won’t forgive them,” he whispered to his daughter. “Not for what they did to you. Not for what they did to me.”
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