Rewrite Our Love? Too Late

Nitta Yoshifumi.

A young officer in the notorious Yamaguchi-gumi, one of Japan's most feared yakuza organizations.

His life motto? A man driven by blood, violence, and money.

A thin scar sliced through his left eyebrow—an old souvenir not from fists, but from his intellect-driven battles in the shadows.

The scar on his head told another story: a time when he failed to light a cigarette for his boss, Naito Tatsuhiko, and was clobbered with an ashtray in punishment.

Outside the violent underworld, Nitta nursed a softer side—collecting antiques and indulging in the rare thrill of auctions.

His father was gone, leaving behind a mother and a younger sister, Nitta Mika, who lived peacefully in the countryside.

Though he held a rank among the yakuza, Nitta Yoshifumi usually avoided direct violence.

But manpower shortages lately forced him twice onto the frontlines.

The last mission? Kidnapping a wealthy heiress.

For the yakuza, that was supposed to be child's play.

Yet for Nitta himself, carrying out the job was foolish.

If he had time to study the target's habits, he could have made more money trading stocks instead.

Besides, kidnapping was too risky for such low returns.

But when the gang gives an order, refusal is not an option.

And just as a bad feeling crept over him—

During the abduction, he encountered a monster.

A man who looked human, yet moved like a demon, dispatching over a dozen hardened gangsters with effortless cruelty.

This monster was a cursed chef—treating everyone around him as nothing more than ingredients for a meal.

He tore apart a two-meter-tall musclebound thug, leaving behind only a pile of shredded flesh barely reaching his knees.

Nitta concluded there was no shame in running from such a being.

He ran.

He was punished for it, but compared to his comrades, turned into pools of blood, his punishment felt trivial.

His judgment had been right.

Yet less than two months later, the gang sent him on another mission.

Another kidnapping.

But this time, the target was an ordinary child.

Nitta was speechless.

Had the boss lost his mind?

Where was the profit in kidnapping a regular kid?

His PTSD from the last attempt still fresh, Nitta even considered injuring himself—anything to avoid the task.

But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Thinking it through, that monster must have been a professional bodyguard—like something from a seinen manga: orphans abandoned on a remote island, trained by assassins, forced to kill comrades to graduate.

Or maybe, Nitta thought wryly, more like Naruto.

Now, on the streets, the atmosphere was tense.

All three groups—Yukima Azuma, Shinomiya Kaguya's party, and the yakuza—stood frozen for a moment.

Shinomiya Kaguya frowned deeply.

The last attack had at least left clues.

That night, she'd attended a dinner party, stayed out overnight.

With so many people involved, leaks were inevitable, no matter how tight the Shinomiya family's security was.

But this time?

She'd brought only a trusted driver and a few bodyguards.

The location was a Shinomiya Group-owned business.

And yet, they'd been ambushed.

Kaguya's mind spiraled.

Could someone inside the Shinomiya family be trying to kill her?

Her three older brothers were no easy foes.

As for Yukima Azuma…

When he saw the familiar faces of the attackers, he clicked his tongue in disbelief.

Was this yakuza really this brazen?

Attacking the Shinomiya heiress twice in a row?

No fear of annihilation by the conglomerate's wrath?

He glanced at Kaguya and shook his head helplessly.

If one of the three Shinomiya sons had been here, even a single ambush would have wiped the Yamaguchi-gumi off the map.

To most of the Shinomiya family, Kaguya was nothing more than a pawn—a tool for political exchange, not worth risking a war over.

Pushing the thought aside, Yukima decided: since they'd already met on the street, he might as well settle this—consider it a small favor for the Shinomiya family's hospitality.

"Hey, hey!"

Yukima's voice cut through the tension, carrying the cocky bravado of a low-level street thug.

Among the large, muscular yakuza, a third instinctively stepped back, unnerved by the seemingly harmless taunt.

"Brother Nitta, why are you backing down?"

"Yeah, Brother Nitta, are your legs shaking?"

"The legendary Shibuya Dragon—scared stiff by some high school kid?"

Their leader's retreat stunned the underlings.

They'd never seen Yukima Azuma before, but now doubted their own courage.

Nitta's face paled.

Forget the "Shibuya Dragon" title—it was a bluff based on his scar.

Even if he were the Shibuya Dragon—against this guy, he'd be dead before moving.

"You idiots don't get it! That guy's a super-assassin trained by a financial conglomerate!"

"We're pulling out! Preserve our forces! Loyalty to the organization above all!"

Nitta desperately scrambled backward behind his men.

His cowardice drew sneers from those usually tasked with guarding turf.

"Leader this spineless? Scared of a kid?"

"This Yamaguchi-gumi's done. That officer spot might as well be mine."

"Super-assassin?"

"Did you hit your head, Brother Nitta?"

Someone finally voiced the doubt.

"Can't you feel the killing intent?"

"This isn't petty street tricks—this is true horror born of mountains of corpses and oceans of blood!"

Nitta trembled, realizing the monster's gaze was fixed on him.

The pressure crashed over him again—like last time.

Yet Yukima Azuma hadn't even activated his shogi aura technique.

That killing intent was… Nitta's own PTSD manifesting.

"What the hell are you babbling about? I'm going in—let's see what happens!"

A thug wielding a cleaver shouted and charged.

Seeing this fool rush forward, Nitta quietly pulled out his phone to record.

This time, he'd catch the whole thing.

Then show it to the boss—proof the job was impossible.

Is a yakuza's life even a life?

As the cleaver swung down, Yukima raised his fingers, mimicking the motion of placing a shogi piece.

The moment the blade came down—checkmate.

The attacker's eyes rolled back, foam formed at his mouth, and he collapsed unconscious.

Momentum carried him forward, and Yukima smoothly followed with a punch and shoulder throw, laying him flat with flawless technique.

If you didn't watch closely, it looked like masterful martial arts.

Witnessing Yukima effortlessly subdue an armed thug, the doubters took a collective step back.

Being good at fighting was one thing.

But that whispered horror, the unseen killing intent? That was terrifying.

They remembered Nitta's rambling—super-assassin, killing intent, true horror.

Though no supernatural powers were shown, chills ran down their spines.

"Nani!?"

"Boss Nitta, what do we do now? Where did he go?"

"Shit! Brother Nitta ran!"

"Then why the hell are we standing here? Run!!"

Their leader's car lights faded as he fled.

Seeing the chaos, the gangsters scattered like startled birds.

Yukima clicked his tongue.

Running so soon? Last time, they showed at least some fight.

Just then, Shinomiya Kaguya and Hayasaka Ai arrived, flanked by the Shinomiya family's bodyguards.

"Are you okay?"

Hayasaka hurried over, grasping Yukima's hand and checking him head to toe.

From behind, she'd seen him take on an armed thug—a dangerous scene.

Though she knew his terrifying martial prowess could handle a whole gang alone, concern welled up.

Because she cared.

Pulled close by Hayasaka's care, Yukima let out a soft chuckle.

After confirming he was unharmed, Hayasaka sighed in relief.

Looking up, she met Yukima's smile, and a sudden blush spread across her cheeks.

Even she hadn't expected herself to show such open worry.

"Even though you abandoned me, I still can't stop worrying about you…"

For now, at least, she remained in the guise of "Hasaka."

Though both knew the truth, this thin veil preserved a shred of pretense—keeping their complicated relationship just a little more concealed.