Renji was enraged throughout his entire ride home.

With the same anger, he stormed up the creaky stairs of his apartment building, chaos in his mind.

Who the hell did that bitch Akira think she was? Did she think she could really scare him off? Shoving him on the wall like that, slapping his balls? As if being abrasive would make him back down.

It pissed him off more than it normally should, but he didn't care. Renji didn't like being opposed, being confronted, being manhandled like that.

No one got away with treating him like a fool, especially not some overzealous bodyguard with a chip on her shoulder.

He entered his quiet apartment,v shutting the door loudly and tossing his backpack onto the sagging couch.

As he paced the apartment, Akira's face flashed in his mind: those cold purple eyes, that ponytail with the white streaks, her suit clinging to that ridiculous body.

And that proud, stoic look on her face after she'd harassed him.

Hate simmered in Renji's veins, twisting into something darker, more primal. He'd show her. He'd hate-fuck her senseless, he'd use her until she begged for mercy.

Begged him to stop, or maybe to keep going.

The thought fueled his rage, making his blood boil hotter. She thought she could block him from Hana? She'd learn the hard way what happened when someone got in his path.

Needing to channel the energy, Renji headed to the tiny kitchenette. He needed to stay sharp, stay awake through the night for what he had planned.

He filled the kettle with water from the tap, the stream hissing as it hit the metal, and set it on the stove. While it heated, he rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out a chipped mug and a jar of instant coffee—strong stuff, the kind that could wake the dead.

The kettle whistled soon enough, piercing the quiet, and he poured the boiling water over the grounds, stirring vigorously until the brew turned inky black.

The bitter aroma filled the air.

Renji took a sip, wincing at the heat but relishing the burn. Just what he needed.

With the cup in hand, he made his way to his study desk and set the mug down with a clunk, pulled out the chair with a scrape against the linoleum floor, and flipped open his old laptop.

The screen flickered to life, its stupid, loud fan whirring like an overworked insect.

He thought about using some of the money he'd gotten from Haruka to get a new laptop, but he ignored that for now and focused on what he wanted to do.

Determined, Renji cracked his knuckles, eyes narrowing as he opened a browser and typed into the search bar: "Akira Mina, private security."

The results loaded quickly, the top hit leading to a professional website for Kurogane Security Firm, a high-end private security company based in Tokyo.

From the looks of it, it was the same outfit that Hideo works or worked for. That explained how she knew about the "last guy" and his suspicions.

Renji made a face. It made perfect sense; these firms rotated personnel for big clients like the Hoshizawas.

He clicked through to the company's page, scanning through information about the private security outfit that was informative but not exactly helpful.

He headed to the "Our Team" section, and found Akira's profile buried under a generic "Field Operatives" tab.

As expected from a security firm, it was sparse. There was only minimal info to prevent targeting or infiltration.

A professional headshot of Akira was on the screen, showing her in that black suit with her ponytail and white streak hair, and an expression as silent as ever.

Name: Akira Shimane Mina. Age: 32. Expertise: Close-quarters combat specialist, certified in Krav Maga and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu; proficient in firearms handling and tactical driving; background in corporate intelligence gathering with five years at Kurogane, prior experience as a police academy dropout turned private sector enforcer.

Renji leaned back, sipping his coffee thoughtfully.

He made a mental note not to get into any physical fights with her. It made sense now as he remembered how she had held him so tightly that he couldn't move a muscle.

She could probably snap him in half if he wasn't careful.

The interesting part was her being a police dropout. It could be a vulnerability he could take advantage of. Was it a scandal, a failure? Hmm..

On the other hand, her intelligence background meant she'd be good at spotting cons, so he'd have to play smarter around her.

So far, the only advantage he could see was that if he could rattle her psychologically, play on any insecurities, she might slip up.

Still, it wasn't enough for Renji.

He needed more. More importantly, an address or details of her family.

Security agents like her scrubbed their online presence, they were mandated to, but everyone left crumbs from the past. Renji knew that.

Cracking his neck, he delved deeper, employing a trick he'd picked up from shady online forums: reverse image search combined with full-name cross-referencing across social media platforms.

He saved her headshot, uploaded it to a specialized search engine that scraped public profiles, and paired it with "Akira Mina Shimane" plus variations.

The algorithms did their thing, pulling from archived posts, forgotten accounts, and tagged photos. Minutes ticked by and Renji sipped on his coffee as he waited.

Soon enough, bingo.

An old Facebook post from a decade ago popped up, buried on a relative's account.

Renji leaned in to get a good look at it. It showed a younger Akira, maybe early 20s, standing on a quaint street corner, arm around an older woman who bore a striking resemblance: same sharp features, though softer with age, clearly her mother.

They smiled at the camera, casual in jeans and sweaters, the background looked like they were in a place with traditional wooden shops and cherry blossom trees.

But what caught Renji's eye was a signboard in the frame: "Welcome to Izumo—no, wait, zooming in: "Izumo Taisha Shrine Souvenirs."

He quickly searched for: Izumo Taisha, a famous shrine in Shimane Prefecture, located in the town of Izumo.

A quick map check confirmed it. It was a small, historic town known for its mythology and rural charm, population under 200,000, far from Tokyo's hustle.

Renji smiled wickedly, leaning back in his chair. So that's where you're from, you daring bitch, from the little town of Izumo.

'I wonder what she'd be willing to do to avoid this information from reaching the public.'

Grinning grimly to himself, a sharp knock interrupted him, snapping the grim away as he turned to the door.

Then he glanced at the clock.

9:04 PM.

'Oh.' Renji smirked. He knew exactly who it was.

The remnants of his anger disappeared, replaced by a hungry anticipation.

His balls were no longer empty; after the day's frustrations, he had plenty of cum to pump out so he was good and ready for this babymaking session.

Rising smoothly, he closed the laptop lid and strode to the door, peering through the peephole for confirmation before swinging it open.

There stood Reina, wearing a thin, black sheer lingerie set that pressed into her plump voluptuous body, straining over her ample curves like they were too small for her.

Her giant mommy tits, her love handles on that curvy waist, her thick, soft thighs. Such a cock-hardening body she had.

Her face held that slutty, eager expression he loved: eyes downcast demurely, lips parted in a breathy pout, cheeks flushed with anticipation. She shifted her weight, pressing her thighs together as if already aching for him.

"Your cock sleeve is here," she purred. "Ready to get pumped full of your cum and make you a baby, Master."

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