Still on the night of 8 July 1999, Zaboru finally returned home from the AKAI offices. His steps were steady, but the moment the front door clicked shut behind him, his body reminded him of the truth—he was still recovering. The accident had been severe. Even with the Enlightenment Body accelerating his healing, it couldn't erase reality overnight. His muscles still ached in that deep, stubborn way that made every movement feel heavier than it should. His skin carried a dull sting under the surface, a quiet warning that he'd been closer to dying than he wanted to admit.
He loosened his collar, exhaling slowly, and for a brief second his mind tried to push forward—tomorrow's schedule, tomorrow's tasks, tomorrow's meetings. But the soreness pulled him back, anchoring him to the present.
Ayumi was waiting inside. She had just come back from Akaishidan too, her hair slightly messy from a long day, her expression tired but sharp—like she'd been holding herself together on purpose until she could see him with her own eyes. Zenshin and Arumi were already asleep, and the house felt gentle and quiet, wrapped in the soft hum of the night. It was the kind of silence that made his breathing sound loud.
Ayumi stepped closer and studied him for a second, not just looking at his face—looking at how he stood, how he moved, how he carried the pain like he didn't want anyone to notice.
Then she spoke the moment she was sure he was listening. "Zabo, tomorrow I'm taking paid leave for three days. It's already been accepted."
Zaboru blinked, confused, like his brain needed time to switch from work mode to home mode. "Huh? Why?" he asked, then added carefully, "Do you have plans to go somewhere?"
Ayumi exhaled slowly, then reached up and pinched his cheek like it was made of marshmallow—gentle, but firm, like she needed to prove he was really here, really warm, really alive.
"Aww… aww," Zaboru complained, half laughing. "What is it, Ayumi?"
Ayumi didn't laugh back. Her eyes stayed locked on his, sharp and trembling at the same time. The tiredness on her face wasn't only from work. It was something deeper, something she'd been holding inside since the hospital.
"Do you even notice what happened?" she asked quietly.
Zaboru's smile weakened.
"You just recovered from a big accident," Ayumi continued, voice lower. "You almost died, Zabo." The words came out with a tiny shake, like they hurt her tongue. "And then you… you come home and act like it was nothing. Like you just tripped. Like your body is a machine you can restart."
Her fingers slipped from his cheek. Her hand hovered near his shoulder—hesitating—like she was afraid that even touching him too hard might break him again.
"Your body is still recovering," she said, and her voice sharpened in frustration. "But you keep pretending you're fine. You keep walking back into work like you're invincible because you have that weird strong body."
Ayumi swallowed. Her eyes were shining now, and she looked away for a second like she hated that she was about to cry—then she looked back at him even harder.
"Do you know how afraid I was when you were lying there in the hospital?" she whispered. "You were so still. Too still. And every time the machines beeped, I kept thinking—what if the next beep stops? What if I look away for one second and you're gone?"
Her breath hitched, and she pressed her fist lightly against his chest, not to hurt him, but like she needed him to feel it.
"I hate it," Ayumi said, voice cracking. "I hate that you can almost disappear from me and then come back smiling, already thinking about meetings. I hate that you treat your life like it's only yours to spend." Her eyes narrowed, angry and terrified at the same time. "You have a son. You have a daughter. You have me. And you still walk like you're alone."
Ayumi inhaled shakily. "I waited for you to realize it by yourself… but you didn't," she said, voice tight. "It's been almost two weeks. You rested for three days, and then you went right back to work again like it was nothing—like the hospital never happened, like that bed and those machines were just a bad dream."
Her fingers clenched against his shirt. "I kept telling myself, maybe tomorrow he'll slow down. Maybe tomorrow he'll listen to his own body. But every day you just… push forward."
Zaboru opened his mouth, but she didn't let him dodge with jokes.
"So for these days," Ayumi said, stepping closer, "I want you to stop working for a while. Just for a little." Her arms wrapped around him, tight—too tight—like she was trying to anchor him to the world. "I want you to rest. I want you to eat properly. I want you to sleep without thinking about the next task. I want you to stop pretending you're okay when your body is still hurting."
She buried her face against him, voice muffled and shaking.
"Spend time with me… with our family." Her grip tightened again, almost desperate. "Because after seeing you like that… I realized something."
Ayumi's breath trembled.
"Time with you isn't normal anymore," she whispered. "It's precious."
Zaboru froze for a second. The words hit him late, like his mind had been running ahead and only now his heart caught up. He contemplated, then let out a long sigh.
"I… almost died, huh?"
The sentence came out quieter than he expected.
He lifted his hand and caressed Ayumi's hair slowly, carefully, as if he was apologizing without saying it. "Okay," he said, voice soft. "Okay, okay. We'll take a holiday."
Ayumi's shoulders loosened, and she nodded. The relief on her face wasn't dramatic, but it was real—like she could finally breathe again now that he wasn't trying to turn her fear into a joke.
Zaboru swallowed, feeling a strange tightness in his chest. He had faced deadlines, rivals, boardrooms, even violence—but Ayumi saying she was afraid to lose him… that was the kind of thing that went straight through his armor.
"Thank you," he whispered, almost to himself. Then, louder, "I'm sorry."
Ayumi gave a small smile, the kind that said she didn't need perfect words—she needed him alive.
After that, she went to clean herself before sleeping, moving quietly through the house. Zaboru followed a moment later, stepping into the shower and letting hot water wash over his shoulders. The steam filled the room, and for the first time all day, he allowed himself to stop thinking about tasks.
When he finally looked up, the mirror caught him.
The scars had already healed. The bald head from the accident was still there, making his face look sharper, almost unfamiliar. He stared at his reflection, then lowered his gaze to his own hands.
'It's not about me anymore.'
He flexed his fingers slowly, remembering how those hands had carried a child out of danger that make the accident.
'I have a son. A family. A wife now.'
He looked into the mirror again, eyes steady. The old thought—this is my new life—felt wrong now, too distant, too casual.
'I can't think of this as a "new life" anymore,' he admitted to himself. 'This is just… my life. And I have to treat it that way. I have to be careful. I have to come home.'
A faint chuckle escaped him, tired and grateful at the same time.
'Still… saving that little girl was worth it.'
He exhaled, shoulders easing.
'Thank God I didn't die.'
Zaboru thought 'Lets have time with my family'
Zaboru then went to his bedroom and slipped into bed beside Ayumi. The mattress dipped softly under his weight, and for the first time in days he let his shoulders relax without forcing them.
Ayumi turned her body to face him. Even in the dim light, her smile was bright—warm, teasing, and honest. Zaboru smiled back and gently caressed her hair, fingers moving slowly like he wanted to memorize the feeling.
Ayumi chuckled and patted his bald head, fingers brushing over it like it was something precious. "Hehehe… baldy. My baldy."
Zaboru grinned, trying to act confident, but his eyes still searched her face for the answer. "Well… I'm still handsome, right?"
Ayumi smiled and nodded without hesitation. "Always, Zabo. You'll always be handsome."
She leaned closer, her voice softer. "And even if you weren't… I'd still look at you the same. I didn't fall for your hair."
Zaboru let out a quiet laugh, warmth rising in his chest. "Then what did you fall for?"
Ayumi's eyes narrowed playfully. "Your annoying confidence." She tapped his forehead lightly. "Your stupid courage. Your big dreams, your amazing abilities And the way you still come home to us, even when the whole world tries to drag you away."
Zaboru's grin slowly softened into something more vulnerable. "I'll come home," he promised, almost like he was saying it to himself too.
Ayumi patted his head again and giggled. "Good. Because I'm keeping this baldy safe."
Zaboru let out a quiet laugh, then pulled her into a hug. He stared into her eyes—beautiful, steady, and stubborn in the way he admired most. In that moment he felt it clearly: how lucky he was.
Not just because she was beautiful.
Ayumi was smart. Strong. The kind of woman who could walk through shadows and still choose the light. A gamer who actually understood what made games fun, and a developer who could build with her own hands instead of only talking about ideas. And after everything—after fear, after exhaustion, after watching him almost slip away—she still looked at him like he was worth protecting.
Zaboru's throat tightened.
'I really married someone incredible,' he thought.
He kissed her gently, then again, slower, as if promising something without saying it out loud.
Ayumi's smile softened, and Zaboru held her close, grateful—not only that he survived, but that he survived into a life where she was his wife.
Then, for the next five days, the Renkonan family actually rested. Even Zanichi—the ZAGE CTO and Zaboru's father—took leave as well, which almost felt unreal. No late-night calls. No urgent fixes. No meetings that "can't be moved." For once, the entire family moved at a human pace.
They went to different places around Japan just to enjoy themselves, and Zaboru fully committed to those five days like it was an important project with only one objective: be present. Zaboru, Ayumi, Arumi, Zenshin, Sanika, Zanichi, and Keiko stayed together, ate together, laughed together, and let the days pass without counting minutes.
They even went to Hokkaido to explore—cool air, wide streets, and scenery that felt like it could wash stress out of the lungs. Zenshin got excited over every little thing, dragging Zaboru's hand toward anything that looked fun. Arumi spent most of the trip half-asleep in warm arms, then suddenly wide awake at the worst timing, babbling like she owned the world. Keiko kept smiling the whole time, as if seeing the family together like this was the real reward. Sanika acted annoyed at first, but she laughed more than she wanted to admit.
And Zaboru… he didn't check his schedule. He didn't secretly plan the next quarter in his head. He just walked beside Ayumi, listened to her, and let his body recover properly. For the first time since the accident, the healing felt real—not only in his muscles, but in his heart.
To be continue
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