Early Morning Confessions.

Chapter 96: Early Morning Confessions

The Okushaki café was quiet this early in the morning, with a pale golden light filtering in through the large windows. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and freshly made food lingered in the air, mingling with the warmth of the wood-paneled walls. The sun had barely started its climb, casting long, soft shadows over the tables.

At one of those tables sat Akeshi, his red hair catching the sunlight as he leaned back in his chair. Across from him sat a young girl, Rina, a book spread out before her. She listened attentively as Akeshi explained something to her in a soft, firm tone.

"That's enough for today, Rina," Akeshi finally said, tapping the page of the book gently. "You're getting better. Go on now. Head back to your room."

Rina blinked, her brown eyes wide with admiration, but she obediently closed her book, slid off the chair, and offered Akeshi a quick, shy smile.

"Thank you, Ake-nii-san," she said, bowing slightly.

Akeshi nodded, his expression unreadable. "Study well. See you tomorrow."

As Rina left the café, the door swinging shut behind her, a silence settled over the space, broken only by the soft clinks of a distant barista , a colleague of Akeshi, cleaning cups. Akeshi's gaze drifted toward the window, watching the world outside slowly wake up.

"You're here earlier than I thought," came a familiar voice, low and calm.

Akeshi didn't need to turn around to know it was Ren. The boy who sat opposite him now was different from the one Akeshi had known before. There was something new in his posture, in the way his garnet eyes held a quiet intensity. But there was still that undercurrent of youth, a boy who had not yet fully stepped into the world of men.

Ren sat down, sliding into the seat Rina had vacated, and for a moment, neither spoke. The weight of unspoken words settled between them, thick and unyielding.

"I guess we both have our morning rituals," Ren said eventually, resting his elbows on the table, his hands clasped loosely together.

Akeshi leaned forward slightly, his leaf green eyes sharp, focused. "It's more than a ritual," he replied, voice steady. "It's necessity."

Ren tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his gaze. "Necessity? Teaching a ten-year-old in a café this early in the morning?"

Akeshi's lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Not just teaching. It's about something bigger. I'm trying to build something—an influence. Success isn't handed to people like me, Ren. It has to be constructed, bit by bit."

Ren exhaled softly, looking down at his hands, then back up at Akeshi. "Influence, huh? You've always had that about you. Even before, when we were neck and neck in the class. Everyone respected you for it. You… make it look easy."

Akeshi's smile faded, replaced by a hardness in his gaze. "Easy?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "You have no idea what it's like to push yourself past the breaking point. To work so hard you forget what it feels like to hurt. Because if you stop, even for a moment, that pain comes rushing back in, and it'll drown you."

Ren shifted, the weight of Akeshi's words settling into his chest like a leaden stone. "Is that what you've been doing? Working until you forget?"

Akeshi didn't answer immediately. Instead, his eyes traced the rim of his coffee cup. "It's all I know how to do," he said quietly. "I've made a life out of forgetting."

Ren watched him for a long moment, then let out a small, almost bitter laugh. "You've always been ahead of me, Akeshi. Always pushing forward, while I… while I stayed behind. Locked in my own world. My own crisis."

Akeshi's gaze flickered back to Ren, studying him closely. "You're not that kid anymore, Ren. You've changed."

Ren met his eyes, and for a brief moment, the mask he wore slipped, revealing a boy still grappling with the shadows of his past.

"You're right. I'm not," Ren said, voice soft, yet resolute. "And you're part of the reason for that."

Akeshi blinked, surprised. "Me?"

Ren leaned forward, elbows on the table, his expression serious now. "That time you punched me? When I was spiraling—lost between who I was and who I was pretending to be—that hit brought me back. You didn't let me drown in it."

Akeshi's brows furrowed. "You think a punch fixed everything?"

Ren shook his head. "No, not the punch. But what came after. The way you didn't coddle me. You didn't pretend everything was fine. You told me to get up. To face it."

For a moment, Akeshi was silent, the weight of Ren's words hanging between them. His leaf green eyes softened, just slightly, as he stared at Ren.

"I didn't think you'd take it that way," Akeshi admitted quietly. "I didn't know what else to do. You were heading down a path I've seen before. And I knew where it would lead."

Ren's eyes darkened for a moment, remembering. "The two sides of me—the boy who rejected light and the man who was rejected by it—I thought I had to choose one. But you showed me that wasn't true. That I could be more than those two halves."

Akeshi looked at him, the depth of understanding in his gaze more than words could express. "Sometimes, it takes someone else to pull you out of your own mind."

Ren smiled softly, a genuine smile, one that felt almost foreign to him. "Yeah. And for that, I'm glad you were there to pull me out."

The café seemed to breathe around them, the quiet morning stillness wrapping them in its embrace. The two boys sat, not as distant acquaintances, but as something deeper—two people who had seen the darkest parts of each other and come out the other side.

Akeshi leaned back in his chair, looking at Ren with an expression that was both tired and determined. "I'm still not done, you know. Building that influence. It's not just about power or success. It's about making sure I don't have to rely on anyone. Ever again."

Ren nodded, understanding now in a way he hadn't before. "You're afraid of being left behind. Of losing everything."

Akeshi's eyes darkened, a flicker of pain crossing his features before he schooled his expression into something more controlled. "I don't have the luxury of losing. Not after everything. I am not used to it. But when I do..." his eyes gazed at the coffee mug in front of him yet his eyes looked distant as if there was something that was hidden deep beneath those leaf green eyes, "...I can't take it well, y'know losing."

The memory of Akeshi's past— Where two people whom he had thought were hair everything left him— no, it was him who said that they need to leave him, those memories hung heavy in the air, unspoken but felt. Ren didn't press him on it. Instead, he met Akeshi's gaze, a newfound resolve in his own.

"I get it," Ren said softly. "I've been fighting my own battles, too. But I'm not alone anymore. Not now."

Akeshi's eyes softened, just slightly, before he looked away, back at the window. "No. You're not."

For a moment, they sat in silence again, the weight of their words settling around them like the morning light that streamed through the windows. The world outside was waking up, and with it, the two boys at the café table had woken, too—changed, but still themselves.

Akeshi finally stood, sliding his chair back with a soft scrape. "I've got to go. The day's just starting."

Ren nodded, but there was a newfound calm in his posture, a sense of peace that hadn't been there before. "Yeah. Me too."

As Akeshi walked past him, he paused, his hand brushing the back of Ren's chair for the briefest moment.

"Don't lose sight of who you are, Ren," Akeshi said, his voice low but steady. "You've come too far."

Ren smiled, his heart lighter than it had been in years. "I won't. Thanks, Akeshi."

And with that, Akeshi walked out into the morning light, his red hair catching the first rays of the sun. Ren watched him go, a quiet sense of understanding settling in his chest.

The two of them had come from different worlds, but somehow, in the quiet of an early morning café, they had found something in each other that made the journey forward just a little less lonely.

Ren stood up, his hands in his pockets, and smiled to himself as he walked toward the door. The sun was just beginning to rise, and for the first time in a long time, Ren felt like he could finally breathe.

From the torn paper of alcoholic red waters and the broken rocks of blood-red depths, only a lotus remained—serene, whole, and ever-growing.