It was like a jammed videotape, replaying in her mind every day. A scene never left her. The Akiyama estate was engulfed in heartless flames.
Crackle. Sizzle.
She could still hear the screaming, the collapsing beams. The world ending in smoke and ash. Her parents had exchanged a single, desperate look before yanking her by the wrist toward the car.
"Yumi-chan, listen to me," Himari's voice trembled. "We promise we'll come get you soon, okay?"
"In the meantime, you're going to stay with Aunt Alice," Akira added, looking at his daughter with a sad smile. "You get it, right?"
"What?" Her small voice cracked, hands clutching his shirt tightly. "Why don't we just go together? Let's just go together!"
"…" Akira went silent, jaw tight.
"She's got a point," he muttered hesitantly. "Mari, you should leave with her." His fingers caressing his wife's cheeks with so much love.
"What? No." Himari widened her eyes. "I can't do that."
"Mama-"
"Yumi-chan, you have to go now! I am sorry, but Mama can't be with you right now. " Himari shoved her into the back seat, tears already welling in her eyes. "Hiraii-san, this one's on you. Make sure she gets to Ms Alice safely."
"Mari!" Akira grabbed his wife by the shoulders. "Go with her! Listen to me!" Angel had never seen him like that. He never raised his voice at her mom before.
"You don't understand!" Himari shook her head over and over. "I'm not going anywhere without you-"
"Mari, please. There's no guarantee we'll live. Please. Please go with her, Mari." He sunk his head.
"Eh?" Angel blinked. She thought she had misheard.
"And that's why I'm staying," Himari whispered, grabbing hold of Akira's shirt. "Just the thought of losing you... I can't do it. I won't." She shook her head, eyes tearful.
"Mari…"
She turned to Angel with trembling hands. "My little Angel," she said, forcing a breath into her lungs. "Mommy loves you so much, okay?" She placed a shaky hand on the child's head. "I am so sorry...so sorry. You deserved the world, my baby."
"No…" Angel's voice wavered. "Mama… no."
Akira leaned towards her and pressed a soft kiss onto her forehead. "Hold on to this for Papa, alright?" He placed his worn leather bag beside her. "Papa will miss you the most, Yumi-chan."
Himari placed the journal gently in Angel's lap with the sweetest smile. "And this is Mommy's gift."
"No… no, no—" She tried to leap out of the car, but Hiraii caught her by the wrist just in time. The door slammed shut in her face.
Everything felt like a blur. Like the world was melting around her. The car then drove away.
"PAPA! NO! MAMA! PLEASE!" Her tiny fists pounded the window, weeping helplessly. "Please stop the car, Hiraii-san! Please, please, just stop the car!"
But it didn't stop. She screamed until her voice cracked. Until the estate disappeared in the smoke behind her.
.
Hiraii didn't say much on the ride. His face was composed, but his eyes held something haunted.
She was only ten back then.
The airport lights were too bright. The crowd is too loud. And everything around her moved too fast. Hiraii crouched down and placed his hand gently on her head.
"It's going to be okay, Yumi-Hīme." He whispered. "You're going to stay with your Aunt Alice until everything settles, and I will be with you throughout all, until you settle, Princess."
She didn't respond due to the exhaustion from the tantrum.
She lied to herself, saying it wasn't going to be that bad, and that her parents would come to fetch her soon because they're the strongest people on the planet.
There is no way they'll leave her alone.
Hiraii held her tiny hand and walked further into the airport.
She barely remembered the flight. She couldn't remember how long it took, who sat next to her, or what food was served. All she remembered was that it was cold, that her chest hurt, and that her parents weren't there.
In a blink, all she knew was that she now lived in a high-end apartment in Brooklyn with a woman named Alice. Her father's sister.
There was no closure.
Her parents never came for her. No calls. No letters. No word.
Mr. Hiraii was the one who kept her alive. He stayed and read her mother's journal out loud, page by page, helping her understand the poetic Japanese she couldn't yet read on her own. Her mother had written beautifully.
Every sentence felt like a fairy tale. The journal told the story of how her mother fell in love with her father and how their world had once been bright, daring, and full of dreams.
It was like an autobiography wrapped in magic. And Angel clung to every word, even though the complexity was beyond her understanding.
.
.
The clock in Aunt Alice's living room ticked slowly, its rhythmic sound filling the silence between the two figures seated on the carpet of her bedroom.
"Yumi-Hīme," Hiraii's voice was soft, calling her the familiar title the Overseers typically do. "You ready?"
The little girl nodded. Her fingers curled around the blanket on her lap as she watched him open the worn, leather-bound journal with both hands.
Hiraii cleared his throat and began to read one random entry:
April 19th
To the one reading this,Whether you're a stranger, my child, or someone the wind happened to guide here,I begin this journal on the cusp between seasons, where spring exhales its final warmth and winter inhales its first frost.
The air carries both a promise and a farewell. Just like my heart.
My story began on a night colder than usual.
My father hadn't come home.
Dinner sat untouched for days. My hands had cooked it with love, but love alone can't fill the silence. I waited. And cried. And waited again. It was the kind of waiting that hollows out your chest.
As a police officer, I should have stopped him from getting involved with the syndicates. But I couldn't.
I was his daughter before I was a cop, and daughters, no matter how strong, are always weak to the ones who raised them.
And the man who told me my father was gone like death, was a casual sigh, was Akiyama Akira. The man the entire country feared.
I met him once before when he almost died. He was terrifying, but depressing. His eyes were like a pale moon trapped under water.
At our second meeting, I saw him take three lives. And yet…I could not feel hatred or disgust towards him.
He told me my father was gone like it was a part of his to-do list, but then I noticed he eventually realised that it meant everything to me.
How my world splintered in that moment. I was left alone. Not just physically, but soul-deep. It is a terrifying thing, you know, to realise the only heartbeat left echoing in a quiet house is your own.
And yet, from the centre of that loneliness, I met the man who would become my home."
Aimi listened in silence. She couldn't grasp everything with her mind, but her heart understood. It felt almost as if her mother were still alive.
Noticing the faraway look in her eyes, Hiraii cleared his throat softly."Princess, are you alright? Shall I continue?"
She gave a quiet nod.
Hiraii flipped through the page to find those written about her daughter.
"Mrs Akiyama seems to have written this after your third birthday. That night, Mr Akiyama got hurt trying to protect your home. Your mother stayed awake for hours in the hospital hallway, writing this while he was still unconscious."
Angel hugged the pillow tighter as she listened to the next part.
"And now we have a daughter. She doesn't cry often.
She's as bright as the summer's sun, but her eyes are full of storms, just like her father, with the guts and integrity that I fell in love with.
I feel my heart at ease just watching her eat, sleep or speak.
Kira-san calls her our Angel, like she's some divine apology the world gave us after everything it took away."
Angel's lips trembled, eyes glossy.
"This reminds me, Yumi-Hime," Hiraii paused. "Why your aunt calls you Angel."
"...why...?"
"It's what Mister Akiyama always called you when he talked to you over the phone. Said you were their 'Angel in this rotten world.'"
.
.
.
After a few months, Hiraii left and didn't come back. He didn't say anything prior; perhaps it was a rush, Angel guessed. But since then, she has isolated herself fully from the world.
For two years, she didn't, more like, couldn't speak a single word. Every time she tried, something would lodge in her throat. A block, heavy and invisible. It strangled every syllable before it could form.
Angel stayed homeschooled while undergoing treatment for mental disorders. She took pills, went to therapy, and sat in white rooms with people asking her questions she couldn't answer.
"Sorry, ma'am," the psychiatrist said one afternoon, voice low and helpless. "At this point, I really don't know what else to try."
"Is there anything else we can do?" Alice asked, nearly pleading. "Please, Doctor. My brother's only wish before he left her with me was that Angel would live a good life. I can't just sit by and watch her fade like this. Please."
"Electroconvulsive therapy might help restart her cognitive response, but… she's only fourteen. She's too young for the trial."
"I'm sorry. I think it's best we continue the current treatment and give her some time instead of rushing her recovery."
Angel overheard the conversation through her bedroom door. The words sank further into the quiet numbness that had taken over her body.
She just sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the floor.
The sunset bled across the sky.