A Letter, A Balde

The kettle clicked off with a hollow pop.

Steam curled into the air as Ryunosuke poured hot water into the mug. The instant miso packet melted into cloudy broth, but he didn't stir it. He just stared at the surface—watching the tofu bits drift like leaves in a pond.

Behind him, a few guests murmured in the common kitchen of the guesthouse, but their voices were background noise. It wasn't until the old lady—Ami-san—spoke that he snapped out of it.

"You didn't sleep again, did you?" she asked, drying a bowl with one hand and eyeing him like a mother hawk.

"You've got those dark circles. Like little moons."

Ryunosuke forced a smile. "It was just a weird night. That's all."

"Weird? Or dangerous?" she asked, pausing.

"You've had that look since you got here—like you're chasing ghosts."

He didn't answer. She didn't press.

Ryunosuke took the mug and walked outside, finding a bench under the guesthouse's thin wooden awning. The sky was gray with morning haze. His hand—now healed—rested over his chest, where the ring still hung by the thin cord around his neck.

I shouldn't be here, he thought.

And yet… I am.

His eyes drifted to the end of the street, toward a figure leaning against a lamppost. A man in a brown coat, holding a phone—but not using it. He was just… watching.

Ryunosuke took a sip of his miso, then muttered softly:

"Not even trying to be subtle anymore, huh?"

He didn't move. Just sipped again, letting the heat settle in his chest.

The front door opened behind him. The local guest who'd helped him with the vending machine a few nights ago stepped out.

"Hey," the man said, yawning. "Did you hear that loud crash last night? I swear it sounded like someone fell down the stairs."

Ryunosuke shook his head. "No. I didn't hear anything."

"Weird. Must've been a dream," the guy chuckled, stretching.

"You okay though? You look kinda…"

"Tired?" Ryunosuke offered. "Yeah. I've been hearing that a lot lately."

The guy gave him a half-wave and wandered off.

Ryunosuke stood, tossing the rest of the miso into a nearby bin. His voice dropped into a whisper as he glanced back toward the man still lingering by the lamppost.

"You want me to see something, don't you?" he murmured.

"Then show me, I'm not going to run anymore..."

The man in the brown coat was still there.

Ryunosuke crossed the street slowly, not trying to hide it anymore. He stopped halfway down the block, near the alley with the rusted vending machine and cracked tile walls. He waited.

The man peeled himself from the pole and followed.

"Who are you people?" Ryunosuke said over his shoulder, loud enough to carry.

"If there's something you want to tell me, then tell me."

No response.

He walked into the alley anyway.

Footsteps followed.

Halfway through, Ryunosuke spun around, heart racing as he mustered his courage. "You've been watching me since the bookstore. You're not subtle."

The man stopped a few feet away. His eyes were dark, calculating. His voice came low and precise.

"You ask the wrong questions. To the wrong people."

"I just want to know who my father really was."

The man stepped closer, and Ryunosuke's stomach tightened.

"You think you're ready to carry his legacy?"

"Riku Hiyashi's shadow is longer than you know."

"That's why I'm here, I don't want to carry any legacy; just understand it."

The man didn't speak.

He lunged.

Ryunosuke tried to dodge—but not fast enough. A hand caught his collar, slammed him back against the alley wall. Concrete cracked behind him. The air left his lungs.

"You should've stayed in America," the man growled.

"Curiosity is dangerous here."

He raised a fist.

"Don't."

The voice wasn't Ryunosuke's.

It came from behind the man. Soft. Calm. Icy.

The man froze.

He turned slowly.

Lilith stood at the mouth of the alley, hands at her sides, eyes glowing faintly violet in the dim morning light.

The moment cracked like thunder.

The man stumbled backward, visibly shaken. He tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat. Lilith stepped forward—not fast, not dramatic, but with complete certainty. Every footfall echoed like a judgment. The winds picked up with embers of fear.

"This boy is under protection," she said, in Japanese.

"Leave."

"You…" The man looked horrified. "You shouldn't be here."

Lilith tilted her head. "And yet, I am."

He backed away, turned, and disappeared around the corner without another word.

Ryunosuke slid down to sit against the alley wall, breathing hard.

"That was…" he exhaled, "…a lot."

Lilith walked to him and crouched beside him, her coat folding like silk around her legs.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"No," he said, managing a laugh. "Just bruised pride."

"What were you thinking? You can't fight."

He looked at her, heart racing but not from fear.

"You knew he'd come?"

She hesitated, then answered softly.

"After last night; I knew someone would."

Ryunosuke let out a shaky breath as Lilith offered her hand.

"Can you stand?" she asked.

"I've had worse," he muttered, though he winced as she helped him up.

The alley seemed quieter now. The air still, heavy with the unspoken. They walked in silence through side streets, avoiding the main roads. He didn't ask where she was leading him. Somehow, he already knew.

A rooftop.

High above the city, surrounded by the glow of signs and the distant hum of Osaka's heartbeat. Lilith walked to the edge, her back to him as she looked out over the sea of lights.

Ryunosuke approached slowly. "You were waiting for him. That guy."

"I was waiting for you," she replied. "I knew you'd eventually find the path that would bring people like him to your door."

"What did he mean? 'Riku Hiyashi's shadow is longer than I know'?"

Lilith turned to him, finally, and from beneath her coat she drew a small wooden box—dark lacquered wood, bound in worn silk. She held it as if it were something sacred.

"Some inherit money," she said. "Others inherit legacies. Your father… left you this."

She handed him the box.

It was warm in his hands.

Ryunosuke slowly unwrapped the cloth. Inside was a tanto—short, curved, elegant. The blade rested in a black lacquer sheath carved with a single iris flower. His fingers hovered over it, reverent.

"This was his?" he asked.

"Yes," Lilith said. "He never drew it without reason. Never once out of pride."

"Then why give it to me?"

Lilith looked away for a moment before answering.

"Because sooner or later, the world will demand more from you than questions. You'll need something to hold onto—something real."

He lifted the blade, still sheathed. It was light. Balanced. It felt like memory wrapped in steel.

"You're not giving me a weapon," he said softly.

"You're giving me responsibility."

Lilith nodded. "Exactly."

"What do I do with it?"

"That," she said, "is up to you."

Ryunosuke held the blade close to his chest, eyes reflecting the city lights.

"It's strange," he whispered.

"I don't feel scared."

"Good," Lilith said. "That means you're ready for what comes next."

They stood side by side in the stillness of the rooftop, the weight of legacy between them—light, heavy, sacred.

They stayed on the rooftop as the night deepened—Osaka's lights flickering like reflections in water.

Ryunosuke sat with the box beside him, the tanto still sheathed. He hadn't looked away from it since Lilith handed it to him.

"He really carried this his whole life?" he asked quietly.

Lilith nodded.

"He kept it close. Even when he wasn't using it, it reminded him of where he came from… and what he left behind."

"Why give it to me?" he asked again, softer this time. "I'm not him."

"No," she replied. "But you carry his questions. That's heavier than a blade."

"How did you know my father?" 

"By chance..." She opened up. "I found your father digging into Victor Navarro."

Ryunosuke felt a chill go down his spine. "Did he really die by accident?"

Lilith fell silent and turned and reached into the inside pocket of her coat, pulling out a folded envelope.

"There's more," she said.

"Something I've held onto. I waited until you were ready."

She handed it to him gently—careful, as if the paper itself might dissolve under careless fingers.

The envelope was old. Creased. Yellowed at the edges. His name was written in Japanese calligraphy on the front: 琉之介.

His breath caught.

"He wrote this… for me?"

"Yes," Lilith replied. "He never got to say everything in person. This was how he tried."

Ryunosuke opened the letter slowly, his fingers trembling.

The handwriting was unmistakably his father's—steady, disciplined strokes.

He began to read aloud, voice cracking.

"To my son… If you're reading this, then I've already failed you in the most important way. I wanted to give you a life without shadows. But the past always finds its way back, doesn't it?"

He stopped.

Eyes burned.

"You don't have to finish," Lilith said gently.

"Not now."

He nodded, folding the letter back carefully.

"He sounds… scared. But strong," Ryunosuke whispered.

"Like he knew what was coming, and still chose to protect me."

"He loved you," Lilith said, her voice low and sincere.

"Even in silence, more than anything in this world."

Ryunosuke held the letter to his chest, the weight of a thousand unsaid things pressing into his ribs.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"For bringing this."

Lilith said nothing, but her expression softened.

The wind tugged at her coat, but she didn't move.

Neither of them did.

The envelope lay folded beside him now, next to the box.

Ryunosuke leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the city stretched endlessly below them. His voice came quiet but clear:

"My dad… He left me pieces of himself. A ring. A name. A blade."

"But I don't know what to do with any of it."

Lilith sat beside him, silent.

"So… teach me," he said. "Not how to fight. Not yet. Just… how to see what you see. How to move through this world the way you do."

Lilith tilted her head, considering. "Why?"

"Because the more I learn, the more I realize how much I don't know. About him. About this world. About you."

She let out a soft breath.

"You want to understand the shadows," she said. "But you don't yet realize how much they ask of you."

"I'm starting to," Ryunosuke replied. "I've been followed. Lied to. Hit. And you know what scares me the most?"

She didn't answer.

"That I'll keep walking through this city, keep finding pieces of him, and never know what to do with them. That I'll fail him."

Lilith turned toward him, her eyes gleaming faintly under the rooftop lights.

"You haven't failed anyone," she said softly. "You're still choosing to move forward. That's more than most."

He glanced at her hand, resting between them on the concrete. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his fingers reached out and brushed against hers.

"Then stay," he said. "Just a little longer."

She didn't pull away.

"I will."

A silence fell between them again, but this time it felt different—less like a void, more like shared breath. Shared space.

"Where do we start?" Ryunosuke asked.

Lilith finally smiled, faint and wistful.

"You start by listening. The world always whispers before it shouts."

The city lights flickered below like stars trying to break through fog.

Ryunosuke leaned back, resting on his palms, watching Lilith out of the corner of his eye. She wasn't looking at him — she was watching the skyline, her expression unreadable.

But she didn't pull her hand away.

They sat like that for a long time.

"Do you ever wonder," Ryunosuke asked quietly, "what it would've been like if we'd met under normal circumstances?"

Lilith turned her head. "What is 'normal' to you?"

"School. Cafés. Art museums. A world without shadows."

"I'd still notice you. You'd stand out anywhere."

That made her blink.

Her voice was quieter than before — barely audible over the wind.

"You don't know what I really am."

"Maybe not," Ryunosuke said. "But when you're near… I don't feel afraid."

Another silence settled — warm, and terrifying.

She shifted closer without meaning to. Or maybe she did. Her shoulder brushed his, and neither of them moved away.

"This is a bad idea," she whispered.

"Then tell me to stop."

She didn't.

His eyes searched hers — otherworldly violet, deep enough to drown in.

He leaned in slowly. She didn't move.

Their lips met — soft, unsure, brief.

But real.

For a second, the world stopped pretending to spin.

When they parted, Lilith's eyes fluttered shut, as if trying to will the moment away.

"I shouldn't have done that," she whispered, almost to herself.

Ryunosuke's reply came just as softly.

"I'm glad you did."

Her gaze flicked to him — not with anger or fear, but something deeper.

Conflict. Longing. Restraint.

"You don't understand what this means," she said.

"I don't need to. Not right now."

She nodded, barely.

The wind picked up again, cool and gentle.

She stood slowly, her coat fluttering behind her.

"Go home, Ryunosuke. Get some rest."

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

She hesitated at the edge of the rooftop.

"If you listen; you'll realize that I'm always with you."

And with that, she vanished into the night.