RED STRINGS | ITADORI YUJI X FEM!READER

22

Your eyes widened, your heart skipping a beat as something caught your gaze outside the window. There, walking away, was a figure you never thought you'd see again—an alabaster-haired head, moving steadily, with a child beside him. The child had wild, sea-urchin-like hair.

Saturo... nee-chan.

Your brother's best friend. Your mind raced, memories of them both flashing in a blur. It felt like a lifetime ago when things were simple, when everything hadn't shattered into pieces.

But before you could even process the rush of emotions, before you could call out to him or do anything—the car was already moving on, pulling you further away from her and from whatever fleeting hope you thought you saw.

The car ride stretched on, an endless expanse of highway cutting through the outskirts of the city. The landscape outside seemed to blur, the familiar world slipping further away as the hours passed in heavy silence. The cold man was absorbed in his phone, his attention completely elsewhere. But Masachiro... he only watched you, his gaze lingering as you quietly peered out the window, lost in your thoughts.

After a long while, he gently placed a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back from the window with a soft but insistent touch. "Your neck will hurt at this point..." His voice was low, his tone almost tender as he rested his other hand lightly on your head. "You want to do something else?"

His words hung in the air, unexpected and kind, a stark contrast to the coldness of the situation. Why was he being so gentle? He was a stranger, yet there was something about him that felt... different. Something in the way he cared, in the way he looked at you, made you wonder if there was more behind the stoic exterior. But you couldn't figure it out. All you could feel was the warmth of his touch, a fleeting comfort in the middle of everything that had fallen apart.

Masachiro pulled out his phone, his fingers gliding over the screen. "Let me see what we can do," he murmured, his voice a soft, steady presence in the otherwise quiet car. Curious, you leaned in slightly, your eyes catching a glimpse of his wallpaper.

The image froze you for a moment—Masachiro, younger, with a soft smile on his face. In his arms, he cradled a small baby wrapped in cloth, their delicate features barely visible but unmistakably precious. A sense of warmth, unexpected and quiet, stirred within you as you stared at the photo.

Masachiro continued to scroll through his phone, his attention absorbed as he navigated through it with practiced ease. "Ah, now you won't get bored," he said, a slight grin tugging at his lips as he opened a game on the screen.

He handed the phone to you, his eyes never leaving the road. It was clear he was trying to distract you from the pain, from the whirlwind of confusion and sadness that must have been overwhelming your thoughts. He wasn't trying to fix everything—he knew he couldn't—but in that moment, he was offering you something small to hold on to, something to divert your mind, if only for a little while.

The car finally came to a halt, the engine's hum dying down as the vehicle settled into silence. You looked out the window, your gaze drawn to the vast expanse before you—a sprawling, traditional Japanese estate, the kind of place that felt both ancient and imposing. Its beauty was undeniable, but something about it sent an unsettling shiver down your spine.

Masachiro's brow furrowed, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a mix of confusion and wariness. "Why are we here? Is there a meeting I forgot about?" he muttered to himself, but his question was quickly answered by the cold man beside him.

"No," the cold man replied with his usual calm demeanor, "They wanted to meet her." He gestured toward you with a small but deliberate motion.

Meet you? The words hung in the air, but before you could even begin to process them, Masachiro stepped forward, intending to escort you inside. But as his hand reached for the door, he was stopped—firmly.