Chapter 2 – Sword
The next morning came without mercy.
Aven trudged back from school, a manila envelope tucked under his arm. The official withdrawal letter was inside, signed and stamped. No more classmates. No more endless homework. No more overpriced curry from the cafeteria.
It should have felt like freedom. Instead, his chest felt hollow.
Mayane was still at school, so the apartment was silent. Lonely. Aven sat for a while in the empty living room, staring at the floor. His father's dying words echoed at the edge of his thoughts, refusing to leave.
Grandfather. Basement. Green wardrobe.
"…Damn it."
Kyoto was hours away. He barely had enough money to last a month, maybe less. But curiosity gnawed at him harder than hunger ever could. He scribbled a quick note, dropped it on the table, and slid half his savings beneath it.
"I'm going to Grandfather's house to settle something. There's money here for you, enough for a month if I don't return soon. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."
He stared at the stack of bills for a long moment, then sighed.
"Goodbye, sweet money. Mayane better appreciate this. Half of my fortune, gone. It hurts."
With a dramatic groan, he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the station.
The train to Kyoto was almost empty. Aven ended up sitting next to a girl about his age. Long black hair framed her face, and thin oval glasses caught the light whenever she shifted. She leaned against her hand, looking calm, but there was a heaviness in her gaze that made him glance twice.
Something else caught his attention. On her right wrist, a faint red mark stood out. A small circle, like a sun with sharp rays.
Aven squinted at it, not even bothering to be subtle.
The girl noticed. Her lips curved into the faintest smile. "You've been staring at my hand for five minutes. Do you have something you want to say?"
Aven jerked back, waving his hands frantically. "W-what? Me? No, no, of course not. I was just… admiring the, uh… artistry. Yes. Very symmetrical rays. Nice circle. Top-tier geometry."
Her eyebrow rose. "It's a tattoo. Most people just ask."
"Well, forgive me for not wanting to sound like a creep." He forced a lopsided grin. "And I wasn't staring. I was… strategically observing. That's different."
"Right." She tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "Priscilla Lucantes."
"…Aven. Kaoru Aven." He scratched his neck awkwardly. "So, Priscilla, are you also headed to Kyoto?"
"Yes."
"Perfect. Maybe you can pay for my return ticket when I inevitably go broke. You look rich enough."
Her eyes narrowed, though a hint of amusement flickered at her lips. "Bold assumption."
"Listen, when life hands you lemons, you sell them. When life hands you strangers on a train, you… negotiate financial partnerships."
A soft chuckle escaped her. "You're strange."
"I prefer financially challenged but resourceful."
The train screeched as it slowed, the station announcement echoing overhead. They stepped off together, but in the bustling Kyoto platform, their paths split without a word. Priscilla gave him a small nod before disappearing into the crowd.
Aven sighed dramatically. "There goes my potential investor."
His grandfather's house stood in an old neighborhood, tucked away in a narrow lane paved with uneven stones. The building was aged but dignified, its wooden walls smoothed by time. Moss crept along the roof tiles, and the sliding shōji doors glowed faintly in the afternoon light. A faint scent of cedar and green tea drifted from the garden, where a crooked maple leaned in the breeze.
Aven slid open the door and stepped into silence. Memories hit him hard—running barefoot across tatami mats, his grandfather's laughter, family dinners warm with light. All of it was gone now.
He shook his head. "Nostalgia's free, but rent isn't. Let's get to business."
The basement door groaned when he pulled it open. The air smelled of dust and rust. Cobwebs stretched across the beams, and the floor was cluttered with forgotten tools, broken furniture, and two skeletal bicycles.
And then he saw it.
The green wardrobe.
"Well, Dad, you weren't exactly subtle. At least it's not pink."
He braced his shoulder against it and shoved.
"Ughhh… why did you keep so much junk down here!"
The wardrobe scraped and shifted, inch by inch, until finally a hidden door appeared behind it. Painted white, it nearly blended with the wall.
Aven wiped sweat from his forehead and grinned. "Bingo. Jackpot time."
The door opened with surprising ease, revealing a small chamber. At the center stood a single table, bathed in a narrow shaft of light. On top of it lay a black box.
His throat tightened. His heart hammered painfully.
"…This is it. The inheritance. Gold bars. Diamonds. Secret billionaire fund."
Aven stepped forward, eyes gleaming like a treasure hunter on the verge of glory. He clasped his hands together, half reverent, half drooling.
"Dad, why didn't you tell me sooner? I could've been a millionaire before midterms! Hahaha… yes… yes, this is destiny!"
The black box clicked open.
Inside lay a broken greatsword. The blade was snapped halfway down its length, the hilt carved with intricate patterns that glowed faintly, as if clinging to some ancient dignity. Dirty bandages wrapped around the metal, stained brown with rust… or maybe with something darker.
Beside it rested a folded piece of paper.
Aven's face fell. His voice cracked into a strangled laugh. "This… this is it? A rusted butter knife and homework instructions?!"
He kicked the floor in frustration. "Damn it! I thought I was rich! Do you know how many bowls of ramen I could've bought with the train money? This isn't funny!"
Still muttering, he snatched up the letter and unfolded it.
If you are reading this, Aven… go to the Ohara Shrine in Kyoto. Seek a man named Hitoshi Ranmaru. He is an old friend of mine. But be warned: once you take this step, there is no going back. Do not tell Mayane what you are doing. Do not let anyone know you have a sister. In Kyoto, you will find a life different from the one you know. There, you will have money. Enough to support her, if you can survive.
~ Kaoru Allain
Aven's hand trembled as he lowered the note. His gaze shifted back to the broken sword, its dull edge glinting faintly in the dim light.
"…Survive? What does that even mean?"
He rubbed his temples, groaning. "Why couldn't it just be stocks or bonds like a normal inheritance? Nooo, it had to be creepy shrines and cryptic letters. Perfect. Just perfect."
Letting out a long sigh, he flopped onto the dusty floorboards, arms spread wide as he glared up at the ceiling.
"…Maybe if I pawn the sword, I'll at least get my train money back."
The house answered with a low creak, as if mocking him. Outside, the sun was already sinking, casting long shadows across the maple in the garden. The chamber felt heavier with every passing second, as though the walls were listening.
Aven sat there in silence, frustration slowly giving way to unease.
Tomorrow, he would decide.