A lotus.

Chapter 95: A lotus.

Walking up, I looked around, taking in the familiarity of the place I was in. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. The walls were painted in a calming shade of blue, a color chosen by my mother to evoke serenity. The wooden floor creaked softly underfoot as I shifted in bed, the familiar sound reminding me of countless mornings spent in this very room.

The bed I lay in had been mine since childhood, its slightly worn edges and the faint indent in the mattress a testament to the years I'd spent growing up here. The bedspread, a deep shade of navy blue, was covered in tiny flecks of dust that caught the morning light, giving it a subtle shimmer. The scent of lavender, from the sachets my mother always placed under my pillow, filled the air, blending with the faint aroma of breakfast cooking downstairs.

'This is my home,' I thought, a sense of belonging settling over me like a comforting blanket. 'This is where I belong.'

The certainty of this truth warmed me from within, dispelling the cold tendrils of uncertainty that had once plagued my heart. I wasn't the child who had rejected light, nor the mercenary who had been cast out by it. I was someone new, someone who had absorbed the experiences, the strengths, and the weaknesses of those former selves and forged them into something greater. 'I am now my own person, with the abilities from those two.'

My phone buzzed on the bedside table, pulling me from my reverie. I reached for it, the cold metal of the device grounding me in the present. The screen lit up, displaying a notification—a simple message, but one that caught my eye. It was a reminder of an appointment, one I had made long before, back when things were different.

'Those tired eyes are gone,' I realized, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. I used to hide the exhaustion, the weariness that came from constantly fighting battles—both within and without. I had learned to deceive others, to put on a mask of normalcy, but now, for the first time, I felt that the mask could be put away. Those two personas, the child and the mercenary, had merged into something new, something stronger. The thoughts that had once haunted me, the dark whispers I had buried deep within my mind, were now silenced. I was free.

The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, and I realized it was almost time for breakfast. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cool wooden floor beneath my feet. The morning routine was something I had taken for granted in the past, but now, each step felt significant, a ritual that grounded me in this new reality.

I descended the stairs, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon growing stronger with each step. The sounds of clattering dishes and soft laughter filled the air—a symphony of domestic life that I had often overlooked. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw my father, Ryuga, standing in the kitchen, helping my mother, Ryo, with breakfast. He was setting the table, handing plates and utensils to her with a practiced ease that spoke of years of routine.

"Oh, someone is awake, finally!" Dad said with a groan, his voice tinged with mock annoyance.

*Smack!*

"Don't tease him! He was tired!" My mother's voice carried a playful scolding tone as she swatted him lightly on the arm. Her expression was one of loving reprimand, a look she often wore when Dad's teasing crossed the line between jest and jest with a bit too much truth.

"Ow, ow, I won't tease him, alright!" Dad grinned, rubbing the spot where she had smacked him, though the twinkle in his eye told me he was far from repentant.

"Don't worry, Mom, it's fine." I said, my voice coming out steadier than I expected. It felt good to speak, to engage in this morning banter that was so quintessentially us.

"It's a good thing that you got a nice, long sleep. It's a good thing, indeed," Dad said, nodding his head as if in deep agreement with himself.

"Shut it, you!" Mom swatted him again, this time a bit more forcefully. "Don't put those idiotic ideas in his head!"

"Alright, alright…" Dad mumbled, though his grin remained, the corners of his mouth twitching with the effort to contain it.

I stood there, watching them, a warmth spreading through my chest. The scene was so ordinary, so familiar, yet it felt like I was seeing it for the first time. My parents, bickering playfully as they always did, were a constant in my life, a foundation I had taken for granted. But now, in this moment, I was struck by the depth of their love for each other, and for me. It was a love that had weathered every storm, a love that had endured despite everything.

Then I noticed something else. Both of them were looking at me. Their expressions had shifted from playful to something else—something deeper. Their eyes widened slightly, and I could see the shock in their gazes, a mix of surprise and something I couldn't quite place.

"…Is something on my face?" I asked, confusion creeping into my voice. I thought I'd gotten a pretty good night's sleep, so why were they staring at me like that?

"Nothing…" Mom's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if she wasn't entirely sure of what she was seeing.

"Yes, truly nothing," Dad added, though his tone was firmer, more composed. He was better at hiding his emotions, but I could tell something had unsettled him.

*Ding!*

My phone chimed again, pulling my attention away from their strange behavior. I walked over to where it lay on the counter, picking it up and glancing at the screen. Another notification, another reminder of something mundane. I nodded to myself, filing the information away for later.

"Mom, Dad, I'm going to head outside for a bit," I said, slipping the phone into my pocket. I needed some fresh air, some time to process everything that had happened.

"Sure," came the reply from both of them, almost in unison. There was something in their voices, a lingering trace of the shock I had seen in their eyes, but I chose to ignore it. I needed to clear my head.

As I stepped outside, the cool morning air greeted me, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees that lined our street. The world felt new, alive in a way it hadn't before. I took a deep breath, savoring the crispness of the air, the freshness that filled my lungs. It was a stark contrast to the heaviness I had felt for so long.

••••••

Back in the house, Ryo and Ryuga stood in the kitchen, their eyes still fixed on the spot where Ren had just been. The shock was slowly fading from Ryo's face, replaced by a mixture of emotions she couldn't quite name.

"What…was that?" Ryo finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, the image of Ren's face—his expression—etched into her mind.

"A smile," Ryuga replied softly, his voice tinged with a kind of awe. He turned to face his wife, his eyes searching hers for the understanding he knew she shared. "He wore a smile.A genuine smile."

Ryo blinked, her mind racing to comprehend the significance of what her husband had just said. A genuine smile—such a simple thing, yet it was something they had not seen on their son's face in so long. The weight of the years of pain, of struggle, of the battles Ren had fought both inside and out , one which he made sure his parents didn't know about, yet being a parent they are , they had already known about this.

"A beautiful, warm, and sweet smile," Ryuga continued, his voice filled with a quiet reverence. It was as if he were describing a miracle, something precious and fragile that had just been revealed to them.

"But... did you see?" Ryo whispered, her eyes filling with an emotion too deep for words. "It was... different. Not just sweet—it had... something else."

Ryuga, sensing the shift in his wife's voice, turned to look at her, his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, it was sweet... but it also felt... dangerous." She hesitated, trying to put her feelings into words. "Like a smile that carries something... dark underneath. Like a lotus but one with with thorns."

Ryuga's face softened with understanding, and he nodded. "A smile of survival," he murmured. "The kind you wear when you've gone through hell and come out alive, but scarred. I suppose he was going through something...."

Ryo looked into her husband's eyes, recognizing the truth in his words. She bit her lip, fighting back tears. "It's just... he hasn't smiled like that in so long. I thought... I thought he was lost."

Ryuga gently took her hand. "He was never lost, Ryo. He was just finding his way." His voice was calm, reassuring, but laced with a deep sorrow of its own. "We have to trust that he's stronger now. That whatever smile he shows... is his own."

Ryo squeezed his hand tightly. "I just... hope it doesn't mean more suffering. I hope it's finally over for him."

Ryuga smiled faintly, a glimmer of hope lighting his features. "It's not over, but it's changed."

A parent knows about their child more than anyone else even if the said child doesn't tell them what's bothering them and hides the problem. That's just who parents are. They are an adult.

And they knew , ryuga and ryo knew that their son wasn't the same.

He was no longer just a reflection of two; he was the lotus, a symbol of harmony forged in struggle.