Hina sat on the veranda with a light shawl around her shoulders, her hair loosely tied, a cup of barley tea in her hands. She stared at the garden, lost in thought.
The night before replayed in her mind. The whispers, the stares, her father's look, Yuto's steady hand at her waist. And her own voice, clear and calm, silencing a room that had never looked at her like that before. She hadn't expected the power of it or how heavy it would feel afterward.
She then heard soft footsteps behind her.
Emi appeared in a flowing robe, her hair still undone, eyes warm with sleep but alert in the way only a mother's could be.
"Didn't think you'd be up this early," Emi said, settling beside her with her own tea.
"I couldn't sleep," Hina murmured.
They sat in silence for a while, watching as a pair of sparrows fluttered near the garden stones.
Then Emi spoke, her voice low. "You did well last night."
Hina let out a quiet breath. "I didn't feel like I knew what I was doing."
"You weren't supposed to," Emi said. "That was the point. You stepped into a room full of people twice your age, with twice your experience, and still held your ground. You didn't let them define you."
Hina looked down at her tea. "But I didn't even want to be seen like that. Not yet. I was scared. Still am."
Emi smiled faintly. "You think I wasn't?"
Hina blinked. "You?"
"When I first married your father," Emi said, eyes soft with memory, "I thought I'd just be the wife who kept the house and smiled when needed. But I knew I could not be someone who stayed in the shadows. I wanted someone who could stand beside your father. And I had to learn quickly how to carry myself like someone worthy of being heard."
Hina stayed quiet, listening.
"It wasn't the power I feared," Emi continued, "it was losing myself inside it. But I found that the only way to keep my voice was to keep using it. Even if it shook."
Hina bit her lip. "What if I'm not like Papa? Or like you? What if I'm not meant to lead anything?"
"You don't have to be like us," Emi said gently. "You have to be you. And if you choose to lead, then let it be from your own heart. Not from anyone's expectation."
Hina's throat tightened. "Last night… I realized people already see me as the future. I didn't choose it. But it's happening."
Emi reached over and took her hand. "Then shape it, Hina. Don't just carry the name, define it. That's how legacy becomes yours."
They sat there for a while, the morning light stretching over them, quiet but full of promise.
"I'm scared," Hina admitted softly.
"You're allowed to be," Emi said. "Just don't let it stop you."
And for the first time, Hina didn't feel like she had to carry it all alone.
Later that morning, after the tea had cooled and Emi had gone inside, Hina made her way quietly down the hall toward her father's study.
The door was already open.
Ren Kazama sat at the desk, reviewing reports with his usual expressionless calm. The windows were open, letting in the soft rustling of bamboo leaves outside.
He looked up when she appeared.
"You're early," he said.
"I couldn't sleep," Hina murmured.
He closed the file he was reading and gestured to the chair across from him.
Hina sat.
For a few moments, neither of them spoke.
Then Ren said, "You handled yourself well last night."
She met his gaze, surprised. "You… think so?"
"You were tested," he said. "And you didn't falter. You didn't wait for someone else to speak. You calculated. You struck. Then you held."
"I didn't do it to win," she said quietly. "I did it because I didn't want someone else controlling the room."
Ren's lips curved, almost imperceptibly. "That's how I knew you were ready."
She blinked. "Ready for what?"
"For the weight," he said. "Of the name. Of being a Kazama—not just by blood, but by choice."
The words settled over her like silk and stone.
"I'm still not sure if I want it," she admitted.
Ren didn't argue. He simply leaned back, folding his arms.
"You have time. But remember this—there's no perfect moment to step into power. You either hold it, or someone else does. And when it's yours to inherit… they'll never wait politely for you to decide."
Hina nodded slowly, absorbing every word.
As she stood to leave, Ren's voice stopped her.
"Hina."
She turned.
"I don't expect you to be me," he said. "But I'm watching. And I see you.".
Hina paused at the doorway, her father already returning to his documents, his mind shifting back into strategist mode.
But something rooted her to the spot—an impulse, quiet but insistent.
"Papa," she said, turning back.
Ren looked up again, patient but unreadable.
She hesitated. Then stepped forward, the weight in her voice steadier than before.
"I know you've started discussing things with Yuto," she said. "Mafia matters. Strategy. Influence. The world behind the curtain."
Ren said nothing, but the slight arch of his brow encouraged her to continue.
"I want in," she said softly. "Not because I'm your daughter. But because… I need to understand what I'll eventually stand beside—or in front of."
The silence that followed wasn't cold. It was sharp, deliberate.
"You're asking me to teach you," Ren said at last. "Not protect you."
"I've never needed protection," Hina replied. "I need preparation."
Ren slowly closed the folder in front of him.
"You want to know how to survive in our world?"
"I want to know how to shape it," Hina said. "And I want to learn from you. Like Yuto is."
Ren studied her.
Not as a father.
As a leader. As a man who had spent years carving power from silence.
"You'll start sitting in on debriefs," he said after a moment. "Not all of them. Just enough to see how things move."
She nodded, trying not to let her heart race too visibly.
"Later this week, we'll meet with two allies from Nagoya," Ren continued. "You'll sit beside me. You don't speak. You listen. You watch. You absorb."
"Yes, sir."
He gave a single approving nod, barely a shift in expression, but enough to signal what it meant: You're being let in.
As Hina turned to leave once more, Ren's voice stopped her again.
"You carry your mother's heart," he said, his tone quieter now. "But you carry my eyes."
She paused, swallowed once and nodded.
And as she left the room, her mind reeled, not with fear…
But with purpose.
For the first time, she wasn't just the heir waiting on the sidelines. She was stepping into it.