The Echo of What Remains..
---Ayumi..---
The door closed behind her.
The click of the lock was barely a whisper, but Ayumi felt it like a gunshot to the heart.
Her face was pale. Her hands still cold.
And the gun… hidden beneath her jacket. Carefully concealed.
Her mother mustn't see it.
She pretended everything was normal.
A faint smile.
An "I'm fine" that didn't even convince the air around her.
She walked to her room, slowly, closing the door without a sound.
Once alone, she collapsed onto the chair.
Her hands trembled. But not from fear.
It was something else.
Confusion.
She had thought that by facing him, screaming at him, pointing a weapon at him…
she would feel relief.
Revenge.
Strength.
But instead?
Nothing.
Just him.
Standing still, with those lifeless eyes.
He hadn't reacted.
He hadn't defended himself.
He had asked her to pull the trigger.
And he would've accepted it.
Like one accepts the rain.
Ayumi wrapped her arms around herself.
She couldn't be kind anymore.
Not with him.
He had hurt her too much.
Too deeply.
But that face…
That face kept flashing in her mind like a wound that refused to close.
It wasn't the face of an evil man.
Not even that of a killer.
It was something worse.
Something broken.
Empty.
And Ayumi, despite everything, couldn't shake him from her mind.
"What happened to you, Feitan?"
"Who took your heart away?"
"How much did you have to suffer to become like that?"
She hated him.
Yes.
But a part of her… wanted to understand.
Wanted to know how much pain it took to empty a soul so young.
And it wasn't forgiveness.
It wasn't empathy.
It was instinct.
A need for meaning.
A desire not to let darkness win without an explanation.
She took off her jacket. Hid the gun under the bed.
Then she sat down.
In silence.
Staring into the void.
The same void she had seen in his eyes.
And she wondered…
if understanding was still possible.
---Feitan..---
A month had passed.
Feitan knew it exactly.
Thirty-one days.
Forty-four thousand six hundred and twenty minutes.
And not a single mission violent enough to truly distract him.
He had tried.
He had cut.
He had tortured.
He had even smiled.
But when everything went silent—when the blood dried and the mask returned to the drawer…
she was still there.
Ayumi.
Not her face.
Not her voice.
Her eyes.
Those eyes that hadn't been afraid.
That hadn't hated him.
That had seen him.
Truly seen him.
Feitan hadn't been ready for that.
He had no tools for it.
No defenses.
And something, slowly, began to shift.
Not pain.
Not affection.
A need.
He needed those eyes on him.
Again.
Not to be loved.
But to exist.
Because when Ayumi had looked at him, he hadn't been a shadow.
He had been a man.
And that's how it happened.
The first act.
The one that made no sense.
That served no purpose.
That no one had asked of him.
One night, returning from a mission, he found a kitten in front of his door.
Small. Dirty. Shivering.
Someone else would've ignored it.
Others would've driven it away.
A Feitan from a week earlier… would've let it die.
But not that night.
He picked it up.
Brought it inside.
Gave it milk.
And sat, staring at it for hours.
He didn't pet it.
He didn't give it a name.
He didn't look at it with affection.
He just… didn't send it away.
It was incomprehensible.
Unacceptable.
But real.
The kitten curled up in a corner.
Feitan sat still, watching it.
Breathing.
And in his mind—Ayumi's eyes.
Those eyes that had looked at him without running.
Without screaming.
Without hating.
They had seen him.
And then had chosen not to kill him.
Feitan didn't know what that act was called.
It wasn't pity.
It wasn't empathy.
It wasn't love.
It was the first sign that something inside him was starting to crack.
And that crack…
had the silent name of a girl
who once left him cookies.
He couldn't stay away.
Feitan wasn't seeking contact.
Not words.
He didn't want to touch her, or speak to her.
He just wanted to see her.
See her in her world — the one he didn't belong to.
Where everything was light, routine, small things.
He, in the dark.
She, in the sun.
He had taken binoculars — a tool once used for missions, now reduced to an instrument of obsession.
He set up watch.
From rooftops. From balconies.
Behind tree branches.
Every time she touched herself, every time she undressed.
He was there.
She didn't know.
She couldn't know.
But he was there.
Always.
He watched her move.
In her everyday life.
How she bent down to water the flowers.
How she sat, hands in her lap, in silence.
How she stared into the void, deep in thought.
And that lens between them… was no longer enough.
The kitten jumped onto the chair beside him.
Feitan looked at it, expressionless.
"Go away."
The kitten meowed softly. Pawed at his arm.
It wanted to play. Sought contact.
Like Ayumi.
Feitan picked it up with two fingers and set it back on the ground.
"I'm not made for things that stay."
He murmured.
The kitten returned.
Stubborn.
Like the thought of her.
Then, one evening…
She came outside.
She was hanging wet laundry.
The sunset light sliced across her face.
Feitan stood still on the balcony.
In the shadows.
Her hands moved with grace.
There was an unintentional sweetness in every gesture.
A kind of harmony that didn't belong to his world.
She looked up, just briefly.
Not toward him.
Toward the sky.
Feitan didn't step back.
Didn't hide.
He knew she wouldn't see him.
But he wanted to be there.
He wanted that image.
Ayumi didn't smile.
Her expression was neutral, maybe a little tired.
But to him, it was as if he were witnessing something unrepeatable.
Something he didn't deserve.
Then she went back inside.
The curtain closed.
The day ended.
Feitan remained on the balcony.
The kitten returned.
Curled up against his leg.
This time, he didn't move it.
Not this time.
And in the silence of the evening, as night spread over the rooftops like a cold sheet,
Feitan felt something he hated more than anything else:
waiting.
---Ayumi..---
For a few days now, Ayumi had felt she wasn't alone.
It wasn't a sound.
It wasn't a shadow.
It was just a feeling.
Subtle. Invisible. Constant.
Eyes.
Always.
On her.
Sometimes she turned around suddenly in the street.
But no one was there.
No suspicious figure.
No footsteps behind her.
Only emptiness.
And yet…
that emptiness felt full.
She started changing her habits.
She no longer walked to school.
She took the bus, even if it was inconvenient, even if the stop was farther.
When she got home, she'd glance out the window.
For no clear reason.
As if she were searching for something…
she didn't want to find.
Her heart raced every evening.
And in her dreams, that masked face returned to haunt her.
But it never touched her.
Just stared.
Only stared.
And she… woke up in a sweat.
One afternoon, like any other, she was coming back from school.
Backpack slung over one shoulder, walking slowly.
The sun was warm, but it couldn't reach her heart.
She looked up without thinking.
Toward the villa.
Something moved.
On the railing of the balcony…
a tiny kitten.
Gray.
Chubby.
Walking clumsily, like it was still learning how to exist in the world.
It slipped, paused, meowed softly.
Ayumi froze.
She stared at it for several seconds.
That balcony.
His balcony.
Her heart dropped.
He was alive.
He was there.
He was still there.
But the kitten…
It was so innocent, so clean, so different from everything she remembered about that house.
A thought struck her—cold and confused:
"He saved it?"
Feitan.
The boy who had kidnapped her.
Threatened her. Humiliated her.
Broken her.
He…
had saved a cat?
"How?"
Feitan had no heart.
No mercy.
Felt nothing.
How could he have let something so fragile live?
Ayumi wrapped her arms around herself.
That act — the mere thought that it might have come from him —
confused her more than the violence ever had.
A kind gesture.
From someone who wasn't supposed to know kindness.
She stayed there. Watching the kitten.
Until it vanished into the dark of the house.
And then, Ayumi did something she hadn't done in a long time:
She sat down on the ground in front of her house.
And stayed there.
Not thinking.
Just watching.
Because something was moving.
Inside her.
And she was afraid…
that it wasn't just memory.
---The next day..---
She found it on her doorstep.
Sitting.
Still.
As if it were waiting.
The kitten.
The same one.
Gray, a bit chubby, with a crooked tail and eyes yellow like unripe lemons.
Ayumi froze.
Her heart skipped a beat.
It was him.
The one she had seen the night before.
On the balcony.
At Feitan's house.
The kitten looked at her.
Let out a soft meow.
As if it knew.
As if it had been looking for her.
As if… it was asking for something.
Ayumi knelt down slowly.
Reached out a hand.
The little thing didn't run.
In fact, it came closer, rubbing its head against her wrist, letting out a broken, persistent meow.
It wanted affection.
It craved contact like it was starving for it.
She picked it up.
The kitten let her.
It squirmed, curled up, rested a paw against her chest.
Ayumi smiled, softly.
The first real smile in a long time.
"Are you lost?"
No.
It wasn't lost.
It had come to her.
Or… had it been sent?
That thought chilled her blood for a second.
She looked toward the villa.
Closed her eyes.
She already knew what she was going to do.
A few minutes later, she was climbing the steps of the house she never wanted to see again.
The kitten in her arms.
Her heart in her throat.
Her mind at war.
Every cell inside her screamed at her to turn back.
To leave it.
To run.
But she didn't.
She knocked.
Once.
Twice.
No answer.
The house was silent.
The kitten curled up in her arms.
Calm.
As if it knew it was in the right place.
Ayumi was about to turn and leave when she heard a sound.
A step.
Behind the door.
Her breath caught.
Then…
the door opened.
Him.
Feitan.
The same eyes.
The same face.
The same silence.
He stared at her.
She dropped her gaze just for a moment.
"I think he's yours."
She held out the kitten.
Her hands trembled slightly.
But not from fear.
From memory.
Feitan said nothing.
He looked at the animal.
Then at her.
No emotion.
But no refusal, either.
Ayumi held on for another second.
Then let go.
The kitten jumped from her arms, walked into the house on its own.
As if it knew the way.
She stood there, on the doorstep.
Feitan still stared at her.
But something in his eyes seemed… different.
Not warmth.
Not gratitude.
But hesitation.
As if he didn't know how to accept a gesture that shouldn't exist.
Ayumi said nothing else.
She turned.
And walked away.
But inside… something had shifted.
And neither of them could pretend it was all the same anymore.