Dragon Raja

35 - Renata

A weary figure stood beneath the dim ceiling light, gazing out the window, stalking all the people minding their business on the streets. Her eyes were unwavering, her expression was always stoic. Only someone close to her would be able to see the turmoil raging behind her icy glare.

The hotel room remained dark, almost lifeless most of the time. On the 15th floor in a building right on the outskirts of Tokyo, the room was only used for sleeping.

Even then, sleep was always the last thing on both of their minds.

"What troubles you?" a voice called out from behind her.

Footsteps, long and languid, traveled from the entryway and into the viewing room. From their window, they could practically see all of Tokyo. Despite all the fluorescent lights shining through their window, her reflection was the only thing either of them could pay attention to.

Helpless.

Conflicted.

She crossed her arms over her petite chest and hugged herself tightly.

"Can't you hear?"

She nodded her head at the communication device perched up on the dark wooden table beside the window.

"What about it? The plan seems foolproof," he replied with a shrug, "they have a devil who claims he can defeat the king of devils,"

She finally turned her body around to face him sternly. Her bare feet lightly tapped on the wooden floor.

"You know what I mean," she sighed weakly, "Z,"

He ran his slender fingers through his snow-white hair, and his mischievous red eyes twinkled beneath the dim light illuminating the room. He took it upon himself to sit in the resting chair beside the table, where the communication device buzzed with static.

She watched him closely, for any sign that he was just as concerned as she was.

"Maybe I'll find a way to get your real voice back," he teased, and she scoffed at the smirk forming at the ends of his lips. "considering you're finally beginning to act like yourself again,"

She shuffled uncomfortably in her spot. She took the chair adjacent to him, hands in her lap fiddling with the edge of her skirt.

"I haven't been myself for so long," she breathed out, solemnly, as if reminiscing about her past. "I don't know if I can ever go back,"

Z remained silent, no response in the world would be able to comfort the disarray she felt in her chest. The conflict which ran amok in her mind.

"You two, make haste and take your positions inside!"

A voice came through on the communication device. The voice of a rich and entitled leader, as Z would put it, Caesar Gattuso.

"Ah," Z exclaimed with interest, "seems like Y/N is finally going inside,"

"We should be there," she huffed, "what's going to happen when she finds out?"

Z shrugged nonchalantly, and she couldn't tell if he was being truly sarcastic or simply using it as a facade to hide his inner conflicting thoughts. She pressed her palms on her thighs to ease the slight nervous trembling.

"Zero," he called her name. After so long, it no longer felt foreign to the tongue. "Why are you so worried?"

She shook her head and stood abruptly. The waves of her grown-out blonde hair fell past her shoulders. She glared at Z, not surprised that he was merely smirking in his seat, chin resting on his knuckles as if he was watching her and listening to the communication device with amusement.