Renji stepped into his grandmother's room. The gun felt cold and steady in his hand. His eyes swept the shadows, looking for whatever had made that sound. The room was small and quiet. Moonlight came through the cracked window, painting everything silver and gray.
His grandmother lay in bed under a thin blanket. Her chest moved up and down, slow and uneven. The air smelled like medicine and dust, the silence broken only by the faint wheeze of her lungs.
Renji's shoulders relaxed, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. He was being jumpy, "Too much stress. Too much fear." he thought, shaking his head.
His clear eyes softened as he watched her for a moment, the tension draining from his body. He turned to leave, ready to fall onto the couch and forget this night had ever happened.
CRASH!
The front door exploded inward, shattering the stillness like a gunshot. Wood splintered and metal bent backwards. Heavy boots thundered across the living room floor, shaking the thin walls of the apartment.
Renji spun, his pistol snapping up, heart pounding in his ears. Three men stormed in, their presence filling the cramped space like a storm cloud. They were built like tanks, clad in black Kevlar vests that gleamed dully under the flickering light.
Badges flashed beneath their jackets, but their eyes—sharp, predatory, and gleaming with malice—belonged to wolves, not cops. The air grew thick with the stench of cheap cologne and the raw edge of power unchecked.
Renji's finger twitched on the trigger, his instinct screaming to fire. But his gaze darted to his grandmother's sleeping form, her fragile body just feet away. One stray bullet, one misstep, and she'd be gone. His jaw clenched, and he held his ground, the pistol still aimed at the intruders.
"Evening, punk," the leader sneered, his voice gravelly and laced with venom. A jagged scar ran down his cheek, twisting his face into a permanent scowl. His name tag read Harlan, but the badge looked fake. "We know what you did tonight. Figured you'd come home to lick your wounds."
The second man, beady-eyed and twitchy, kicked over Renji's duffel bag. Cash and jewelry spilled across the floor, glinting in the dim light. He let out a low whistle, his lips curling into a greedy smirk. "Well, damn. This ain't no small-time pickpocket's haul. Gold watches, sapphire earrings, some weird-ass antiques—hell, you even got a little gold Buddha in here. Kid's been busy."
"Renji's eyes narrowed, his voice cold as steel. "You boys here to arrest me?"
The third cop, a hulking figure with a jaw working a wad of gum like a machine, grinned wide, showing yellowed teeth. "Nah, kid. We ain't here for paperwork. We're here to collect."
Harlan stepped closer, his sidearm leveled not at Renji but at the bed, where his grandmother slept. "How 'bout we all sit down and have a little chat? You got five seconds before I put a bullet through grandma's oxygen tank."
Renji's blood turned to ice, his heart lurching in his chest. His grip on the pistol wavered, his mind racing. He couldn't risk her getting harmed.
Slowly, he raised his hands, letting the gun slip from his fingers. It hit the floor with a dull thud. "Don't touch her," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, a warning wrapped in desperation.
"That's more like it," Harlan said, nodding to the gum-chewer. The big man moved fast, grabbing Renji's arms and twisting them behind his back. Plastic cuffs bit into his wrists, the sharp edges cutting into his skin.
They shoved him into the rickety wooden chair by the window, the impact jarring his wounded shoulder. Pain flared, hot and sharp, but Renji bit back a groan, his eyes locked on Harlan.
Beady-eyes prowled the room, rummaging through Renji's loot with greedy hands. He stuffed cash, jewelry, and the strange antiques into a second duffel, his movements quick and careless.
"Kid like you got some serious guts," Harlan said, stepping close enough for Renji to smell the cigarette and stale coffee on his breath. "But you're dumber than a bag of hammers. Bleeding the rich? That's our job. Daring to attack our prey, tsk-tsk..."
Unseen by the intruders, a faint movement stirred on the bed. Renji's grandmother, her face etched with the lines of a hard life, had opened her eyes. They gleamed in the moonlight, sharp and awake. Her wrinkled hand moved slowly, silently, slipping beneath her pillow.
Her fingers curled around cold metal—a grenade, its pin still in place. She had always known about Renji's nights, the blood on his clothes, the stacks of cash and weapons he hid under the floorboards, the wounds he tried to patch up before she saw.
She had never spoken of it, never judged him. He was her boy, her reason to keep breathing, and she'd kept his secrets. But now, these men had come into their home. Now, they threatened her grandson.
Her grip tightened, her eyes narrowing with a fire that age and sickness hadn't dimmed.
"You gettin' all this?" Beady-eyes called, zipping up the duffel with a satisfied grunt. "Let's bounce—"
BLAM! BLAM!
Two bullets tore into Renji's gut, the force slamming him back in the chair. Blood sprayed across the wall, a crimson arc that glistened in the moonlight. Pain exploded through him, white-hot and blinding. He gasped, his vision swimming, his hands straining against the cuffs.
"No!" he choked, blood bubbling at his lips.
Harlan spun, his gun swinging toward the bed, to his other target.
And then she moved.
Her bony hand yanked the pin free with a soft click. The grenade gleamed in her grip, small but deadly. Her eyes locked with Renji's—filled with love, with sorrow, with a fierce, unyielding resolve.
Time seemed to slow, the moment stretching into eternity.
"Grandma…?" Renji whispered, his voice breaking.
She smiled at him. One last time.
BOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!
The room erupted in fire and chaos. Flame roared outward, swallowing everything in its path.
Shrapnel tore through flesh, wood, and drywall, the apartment becoming a furnace of heat and light. The shockwave hit Renji like a tidal wave, splintering the chair beneath him and hurling him backward.
Glass shattered as he crashed through the window, the night air rushing past him in a deafening howl. Cold and fast, from five stories down. The city spread out below like a map of lights.
The world spun—sky, city, stars, all a blur. Shards of glass glittered around him like falling stars. His body twisted in the air, weightless for a fleeting moment.
Then—WHAM!
A black truck roared through the street below, its stereo blasting chords of hardcore rock. It slammed into Renji before he could hit the ground, the impact like a sledgehammer.
His body crumpled against the grille, bones snapping like dry twigs. Blood streaked across the windshield, leaving a dark smear under the streetlights. The truck didn't slow—the drunk driver thinking he'd hit a road bump, its tires screaming as it tore down the road. It kept going, leaving him behind.
Renji hit the pavement hard. The world went quiet. No sound. No light. Just darkness creeping in from all sides. His body was broken. His blood was spreading across the asphalt. His heart had stopped beating.
But in his pocket, something pulsed. The pendant. The fish symbol glowed brighter. The two halves of the circle began to spin. Faster and faster. Like a wheel of fortune.
Black-and-white light poured out of the metal. It covered Renji's soul and with a flash of bright light, it disappeared from the world.