Oaths and Ashes, Part III

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a paper lamp in the corner. The quiet held like a thread stretched tight between them.

Mayu stood with her back to Ryunosuke, shoulders drawn taut, arms folded across her chest.

"You think I don't ask myself those same questions?" she said finally, her voice barely audible. "Every day I wonder if this Family is worth the blood we've spilled. If Kenji's restraint is wisdom… or cowardice. If I'm just clinging to something already dead."

Ryunosuke's voice was quiet. "Then why stay?"

She didn't answer.

He took a step toward her.

"Why do you follow the orders of men you don't believe in?" he asked. "Why keep cleaning up after a legacy that's done nothing but eat itself alive?"

Still no answer.

So he pushed.

"Is it loyalty?" he asked, softer now. "Or just fear of not being needed anymore?"

That landed.

She turned sharply, face hard—but behind it, something cracked. A flicker of doubt. Of pain.

"You don't know me," she said.

"I don't have to," Ryunosuke replied. "I've seen that look before. In my mom's eyes, when she tried to hold everything together after my dad left. In mine, when I realized I couldn't bring him back. You're carrying something that won't let you breathe, Mayu. And it's not loyalty. It's guilt."

She stepped forward, chest rising and falling with restrained fury.

"I fought for this Family. I gave everything."

"I know," Ryunosuke said calmly. "And that's why I'm asking you now…"

His voice lowered. No accusation—just truth.

"Who are you really loyal to?"

Mayu froze.

The question hung between them like a blade balanced on a fingertip.

She didn't move. Didn't blink. Her eyes shimmered for a brief moment—but whether it was from rage or something else, he couldn't tell.

Ryunosuke didn't press further. He just stood there. Waiting.

Letting her feel the weight of the question.

And then, softly, she turned away again. Not in defeat, but in retreat—from herself.

He didn't follow.

Because she needed space.

And because he'd already said what needed to be said.

The silence between them didn't break.

Mayu stood still, back to Ryunosuke, arms limp at her sides now. Her breath was steady, but shallow. She didn't turn to face him again.

Then a knock echoed through the hallway—sharp, deliberate.

Kenji slid the door open without waiting for an answer. His expression was grim.

"They've called for you," he said to Ryunosuke. "The elders want to speak. Now."

Ryunosuke gave a single nod. He glanced once more at Mayu, who still wouldn't meet his gaze, then followed Kenji down the hall.

The walk felt like a march to a silent execution.

The elders had gathered in the main chamber—four men, draped in black robes that smelled of old incense and pride. They sat behind a low lacquered table, scrolls arranged in ceremonial display, not one of them making eye contact.

Kenji stood to the side, arms folded. Mayu entered quietly behind them, her expression unreadable now.

Ryunosuke stepped forward and bowed, just enough to be polite.

One of the elders cleared his throat.

"Ryunosuke Hayashi," he said with formality thick as iron. "You have rejected your inheritance. You have disrespected the bloodline you were born from. And you have refused the path laid before you."

"I didn't ask for that path," Ryunosuke said calmly.

Another elder leaned forward, voice gravelly. "Blood is not chosen. It is bound. To turn your back on the Hiyashi name is to renounce the protection of your ancestors. Your place among us—"

"—Was never mine to begin with," Ryunosuke finished.

The room fell dead still.

Kenji shifted, but said nothing.

The eldest of them all—the one with a trembling voice but eyes that still gleamed—spoke next:

"Then we have no choice but to declare you… mukōmono. An exile. You will not speak for us, fight for us, or be protected by our name. You are no longer of the Family."

Ryunosuke stared at them, and for a moment, there was silence.

Then he spoke, softly, almost with a hint of sadness.

"You never cared about tradition, did you?"

The elders stiffened.

"You talk about blood, but it's only ever been about control. My father saw it. That's why he left. And now… I see it too."

He stepped back and gave a short bow—not of respect, but of finality.

Kenji didn't move. His jaw was tight, his hands behind his back clenched into fists.

Mayu looked stunned. It wasn't the exile that shook her.

It was how calm Ryunosuke was.

He turned and walked past her, not looking back.

For the second time in her life, she watched a Hayashi walk away.

And this time, she didn't know if it was the right choice—or the only one left.

The air in the chamber remained still long after Ryunosuke was gone—like the room itself was unsure how to breathe again.

The elders sat in silence, their expressions a mixture of disappointment and smug finality. Mayu remained standing off to the side, frozen between emotion and protocol, her eyes locked on the floor where Ryunosuke had just stood.

Kenji hadn't moved.

His arms were still behind his back, posture rigid. But his eyes…

They burned.

The eldest elder broke the silence.

"Like father, like son," he muttered, shaking his head. "Riku Hayashi fled his duty. And now his son does the same. The boy is weak. Just like his father."

The words hadn't even finished echoing when it happened.

Kenji stepped forward—slammed his fist on the table so hard the lacquer cracked beneath his knuckles.

Everyone jolted.

The elders froze mid-breath.

"You dare speak his name with such filth in your mouth?" Kenji's voice was low, but every syllable struck like thunder. "You call Riku weak? You cowards who never lifted a blade unless it was against your own kin in the dark?"

The elder nearest him tried to speak, but Kenji cut him off, voice rising—raw, primal.

"He carried this Family longer than any of you could have. He bled for it. He suffered for it. And when he realized the rot in these walls could never be cleansed, he chose to walk away—because that was the only honorable thing left!"

No one moved.

No one breathed.

Even Mayu had taken a step back, eyes wide. She had never seen Kenji like this.

Kenji's hand trembled on the shattered tabletop.

"The Blood is Law," he growled. "That is the code we swore to uphold. But you twist it to mean obedience, not lineage. Loyalty to yourselves, not to the soul of this clan."

Another elder found his voice, nervously: "Kenji, this outburst—"

"I stood by and watched you strip everything noble from our name," Kenji said, voice quieter now but still dangerous. "But not this. Not him."

He turned toward the door.

"You think you've exiled him? You've only proven you no longer understand what the Family means. And if you have to erase the only one who could've restored it, then maybe the Family isn't worth saving."

The elders sat frozen.

Kenji didn't bow. Didn't look back.

He stormed from the room, leaving the door swinging open behind him.

Mayu followed, her steps slower—but with fire growing behind her eyes.

The chamber, once so heavy with ritual, now felt small and hollow.

And for the first time in decades…

The Elders were afraid.