Oaths and Ashes, Part II

Outside, Kyoto had shifted into its night rhythm—dimly lit storefronts, vending machines glowing like quiet gods, and the faint scent of rain from the clouds beginning to gather.

The safehouse hadn't changed.

Shoji doors. Faint incense. Shadows tucked into corners like secrets.

But the moment he stepped inside, Ryunosuke felt it.

Kenji was already there, seated at the low table in the center room. His hands rested on his knees. His sword was sheathed beside him, its lacquered case catching the light.

Mayu wasn't present. Not yet.

Ryunosuke closed the door behind him, took off his shoes, and stepped into the room with quiet care.

"You left without saying a word," Kenji said without turning.

Ryunosuke sat across from him. The air between them was heavier than silence.

"I had someone to meet," Ryunosuke replied.

Kenji studied him now, eyes old and unreadable. "The man in the alleyway. You know who sent him?"

Ryunosuke didn't flinch. "Yes."

"And you were responsible?"

He shook his head. "It wasn't me."

Kenji didn't press further, but his gaze lingered.

"You walk dangerous paths, Ryunosuke. Paths your father tried very hard to close behind him."

"I'm not trying to open them," Ryunosuke said quietly. "I'm trying to understand why they were there in the first place."

Kenji's expression remained unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed a flicker of thought. A hint of something unsaid.

"I saw a look in your eyes last night," he said. "The same one your father had, once."

Ryunosuke looked down at his hands.

"I'm not him," he said.

"No," Kenji said softly. "But the fire you carry—it's not new. It's inherited."

The word sat between them for a moment too long.

Inherited.

Ryunosuke rose, gently brushing invisible dust from his knees.

"There's hope for this Family," he said, his voice even, steady. "But it's not in me."

Kenji looked up, his brows narrowing.

"What do you mean?"

Ryunosuke looked at the ancestral scroll hung on the far wall. A faded ink depiction of the Hiyashi crest—half-forgotten.

"I'll explain," he said. "But I think Mayu should hear it too."

The scent of sandalwood incense hung in the air as Mayu entered the main room of the safehouse. Her boots echoed softly against the wooden floor, a sharp contrast to the silence that greeted her. She stopped in the doorway when she saw Kenji seated on the floor and Ryunosuke standing nearby, arms at his sides, eyes on the ancestral scroll.

"You wanted me?" she asked cautiously, glancing between them.

Kenji gestured for her to sit. Ryunosuke didn't move.

"I have something to say," Ryunosuke said. "To both of you."

Mayu folded her arms. "This about your little excursion?"

"No," he said. "This is about why I'm not going to be what everyone wants me to be."

Kenji straightened slightly. Mayu's eyes narrowed.

"I've been thinking about my father," Ryunosuke began, pacing slowly. "About the man I knew... and the man you all remember. They're not the same person. But maybe that's the point."

He stopped and turned to face them.

"I used to think he was distant. Closed off. But he wasn't empty—he was carrying something heavy. Guilt. Fear. Love."

Mayu blinked. "Love?"

Ryunosuke nodded. "He never said much, but he showed it. When my mom got sick, he didn't fall apart. He didn't run. He worked through it. Held the restaurant together with bare hands. I thought it was because he was stubborn. But it wasn't that. It was because he refused to fail the people who needed him."

Kenji remained still, but his gaze sharpened.

"That wasn't weakness. That was strength," Ryunosuke said. "The kind I didn't understand until I came here. Until I saw what this family has become."

Mayu's voice was cold. "And what do you think we've become?"

Ryunosuke turned toward her. "You've become what he tried to walk away from."

That struck something. She stiffened, but didn't interrupt.

He continued, "I'm starting to understand what kind of man my father really was. He wasn't just a leader. He was someone who made a choice—a difficult one. To leave this world behind. To protect me from it."

Kenji's eyes softened. Ryunosuke saw it—just a flicker. Recognition.

"He didn't leave because he was ashamed," Ryunosuke said. "He left because he loved me. And I'm not going to spit on that sacrifice by stepping into the very world he bled to keep me out of."

Mayu stared at him, a hundred thoughts passing through her eyes at once.

"And if that means I'm not fit to carry the Hiyashi name—so be it."

Kenji leaned back, exhaling through his nose.

For a moment, he looked at Ryunosuke not as an outsider, not as Riku's son… but as a man.

There was pride in that silence.

Not loud. Not spoken.

But unmistakable.

The moment passed.

Kenji rose without a word, his expression unreadable again, and walked out of the room, leaving Mayu and Ryunosuke in silence.

The door clicked softly shut behind him.

Mayu didn't move.

She just stood there, her shadow stretched across the tatami like a blade.

"You talk like you've got it all figured out," she said finally, her voice low. "Like you've seen enough to know what's right and what's just… noise."

Ryunosuke turned toward her but didn't speak.

"I've been with this Family since I was twelve," she continued, stepping closer. "I bled for it. I buried friends for it. I watched us rot from the inside while pretending we were still something worth fearing. And now you show up—Riku's son, the prodigal heir—and you think you can just say no?"

He met her eyes calmly. "I'm not saying no because I'm afraid. I'm saying no because I finally understand what my father was trying to protect me from."

"Then maybe he shouldn't have had you," she snapped. "Maybe he should've stayed and faced the consequences instead of leaving the rest of us to clean up his mistakes."

Ryunosuke didn't flinch.

"I never said he was perfect. But walking away from power when everyone wants you to wield it? That's not weakness, Mayu. That's courage."

Her jaw tightened.

"I'm not trying to replace him," he said. "I'm not trying to lead anything. I just want to do what's right."

"What's right," she echoed bitterly. "Right doesn't matter when the knives are out."

"Maybe not to you."

Mayu stepped forward again, close now—too close.

"You think you're better than us?"

Ryunosuke's gaze didn't waver.

"I think I'm different."

She stared at him, her eyes searching his face for something—maybe a crack, a weakness. Something that would let her dismiss him as naive.

But there was nothing.

Just quiet certainty.

She turned away sharply, pacing toward the wall. Her fists clenched at her sides.

"This whole place is falling apart," she muttered. "And you think the answer is walking away."

"No," he said. "I think the answer is knowing when to stop pretending you're someone you're not."

Mayu's shoulders tensed.

But she didn't speak.

Ryunosuke waited, giving her space. The silence stretched, not out of avoidance—but out of something deeper. A stalemate between two people who cared too much in different ways.

The storm didn't break.

But it was building.