Oaths and Ashes, Part V

The Kamo River shimmered in the late morning sun, its surface broken only by the occasional ripple of ducks gliding past or the flick of a lazy breeze. Ryunosuke sat on the stone embankment, one leg stretched out, the other bent as he leaned back on his palms. Aiko was beside him, chewing slowly through a pork cutlet sandwich from a FamilyMart bag resting between them.

Their conversation was light—meandering through odd conspiracy theories, their favorite failed anime pilots, and the philosophical implications of vending machines that always ran out of your favorite drink when you were broke.

Ryunosuke laughed, quietly but genuinely, as Aiko made a dramatic impersonation of a mecha pilot yelling at his emotionally unavailable robot.

"And then he goes," she deepened her voice, "'Why won't you FIGHT for me, TENGU-ZERO?!'" She threw up her arms. "Like bro, it's a machine. Chill."

Ryunosuke shook his head, grinning. "You're ruining it for me."

"You're welcome," she said smugly, sipping from a warm lemon tea bottle.

Then her expression shifted.

She sat up straighter.

Ryunosuke followed her gaze.

Mayu stood at the top of the slope, near the edge of the grass. She wasn't wearing her usual coat. No clan crest. No tactical gear. Just dark jeans, a plain jacket, and her hair pulled back loosely. She looked… smaller. Like she'd stepped out of a shadow she hadn't realized she was inside.

The moment stretched.

Aiko tensed beside him, not reaching for a weapon, but not relaxing either.

Ryunosuke didn't stand. He just turned, met Mayu's gaze, and said quietly:

"You came."

Mayu's eyes didn't move from his.

She stepped forward, carefully, like she wasn't sure if she was welcome but was determined to find out. The steps down to the river were worn, the stone uneven, but she didn't stumble.

When she reached them, she stopped a few feet away.

"I didn't know where else to go," she said.

Ryunosuke nodded once. "You don't need a reason."

She looked at Aiko. Then at him. "I'm not here for forgiveness."

"I know," he said. "And I'm not asking for an apology."

Aiko slowly unwrapped another sandwich and offered it to Mayu.

After a pause, Mayu took it.

The three of them sat in silence.

Just above them, a heron drifted across the river, wings catching the wind like a paper fan.

They said nothing for a while.

But the silence wasn't cold anymore.

It felt like the beginning of something else.

Something none of them had words for yet.

The sandwich wrappers rustled softly in the grass. The river murmured on.

Mayu sat with her knees drawn up, arms resting loosely around them, staring at the slow-moving current as if it might carry her answers downstream. Beside her, Ryunosuke leaned back again, eyes closed. Aiko had migrated to a flatter patch of grass nearby, her hands behind her head, sunglasses shielding her eyes from the noon glare.

The silence had shifted from awkward to companionable.

After a while, Ryunosuke stood and stretched. "I'm gonna grab something cold before the machines give up on me again," he said with a faint grin.

"Try sweet corn soup," Aiko mumbled. "It's probably the only one left."

He wandered off up the bank.

Aiko waited until he was out of earshot before speaking again.

"Alright," she said without looking over, "you defected, burned your colors, showed up by the river, and didn't punch anyone. So I have to ask…"

Mayu didn't move.

"…whose side are you on?"

The breeze ruffled the grass. A pigeon called from a tree upstream.

Mayu's answer came softly. "Whichever side takes down Kanda."

Aiko turned her head slightly, watching her from behind dark lenses. "That a revenge thing? Or a justice thing?"

Mayu exhaled, eyes still on the water. "Does it matter?"

"Not to me," Aiko admitted. "But it'll matter to Ryunosuke."

Mayu's jaw tightened, then relaxed.

"He believes in something bigger," she said. "I don't. Not yet. But I know Kanda needs to fall. He's turned everything sacred into leverage. He's poisoned the Family, the government, the streets. He killed people I swore to protect."

Aiko sat up now, brushing grass off her sleeves.

"And what happens after Kanda?"

Mayu finally looked over at her.

Her voice was steady, but distant.

"…I don't know."

Aiko studied her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "You're not pretending. That's good."

She stood, dusted herself off, and offered a hand to Mayu.

"I know someone who might want to hear what you have to say."

Mayu didn't take the hand.

She stood on her own.

"I'm not looking for a second family."

"You won't find one," Aiko said, already walking ahead. "Just people with better questions."

Mayu looked back at the river once more—where Ryunosuke had just returned, holding three drinks and cursing under his breath about vending machine betrayal.

Then she turned and followed Aiko into the shadow of the footbridge.

The tunnel beneath Kyoto Central Station had no signage.

No lights.

No presence.

Only the hum of buried infrastructure and a steel door at the end of a long, narrow corridor that wasn't supposed to exist.

Aiko swiped a chipped card through a hidden panel. The lock hissed open.

"This used to be a maintenance tunnel," she said casually. "Then it became a weapons cache. Then a surveillance drop point. Now? Blacksite gym-slash-evaluation zone. PSIA always recycles."

Mayu followed her inside.

The hallway beyond was dark, industrial, and cold. The walls were covered in dull gray paneling, matte black cameras tucked into corners every few meters. Motion-activated lights buzzed to life above them as they walked.

"This isn't official?" Mayu asked.

"Nope," Aiko said. "Too many files missing. Too many ghosts involved."

They reached a reinforced door with no handle. Aiko tapped a small panel next to it.

After a moment, it slid open with a hiss.

Inside was a sterile, dimly lit room. Empty, except for a table in the center. A woman stood behind it, dressed in a charcoal suit with no visible badge or insignia. Her hair was tied back in a severe bun, her face expressionless, but her eyes missed nothing.

"Tanaka," the woman said. "This is the candidate?"

"Candidate," Aiko echoed dryly. "We're calling her that now?"

The woman didn't respond. She turned to Mayu.

"Name?"

"Mayu."

"No surname?"

Mayu said nothing.

The woman gestured to a steel case on the table and opened it. Inside: a biometric tablet, a small blood test kit, and a black blindfold.

"There's no loyalty test," the woman said. "Only capability. You'll be monitored in silence. You won't be briefed. You'll act on instinct and judgment. If you fail, you won't be contacted again."

Mayu looked at the blindfold, then the agent.

"I don't care if you contact me again," she said. "I'm not here to be recruited."

The agent tilted her head. "Then why are you here?"

Mayu stepped forward. Her voice was low. Clear.

"To be useful."

She pricked her thumb without being told, dropped a bead of blood into the kit, and put the blindfold on herself.

The agent nodded. "Begin."

The door on the far end of the room slid open. Cold air drifted through.

Mayu walked toward it, shoulders squared, breathing even.

Aiko watched from behind a pane of reinforced glass, arms folded, her face unreadable.

Beside her, a monitor flickered to life, showing Mayu's biometric readouts—heart rate, oxygen, EEG patterns. All steady. Controlled.

"She's calm," the agent observed.

"No," Aiko replied. "She's focused."

The door slid shut behind Mayu.

And the test began.