Living Room — 9 PM, Two Days After Glasses Cracked
The laptop sat on the coffee table like a bomb waiting to go off.
Skype open. Waiting.
Mom's hands were shaking slightly as she typed in the contact information. I'd never seen her nervous before. Not like this.
Dad sat beside me on the couch, hand on my shoulder. Grounding. Supportive.
"Are you ready?" Mom asked, looking at me.
No.
"Yeah."
She clicked call.
The screen loaded, pixels resolving into an image that made my spine straighten involuntarily.
Kanzaki Genshirou.
Elderly—probably seventies—but he didn't look old in the way most elderly people did. Sharp eyes that missed nothing. Rigid posture like a steel rod ran through his spine. Gray hair pulled back in a short, severe ponytail. He wore a simple dark kimono, sitting in what looked like a traditional Japanese room.
His presence filled the screen. Intimidating and absolute even through a webcam.
Oh. This is the guy Mom's scared of.
"Ayumi." His voice was deep, heavily accented. He spoke Japanese, each syllable precise.
Mom bowed slightly, even through the screen. A gesture of deep respect. "Otou-sama." (Father.)
His eyes shifted. To me.
I froze like a rabbit caught in headlights.
It felt like being dissected. Like he could see straight through to my soul, counting every flaw, every weakness, every secret I'd ever tried to hide.
"This is him?"
"Yes."
Silence stretched out, long and uncomfortable.
Then he spoke again. "Remove your glasses."
It wasn't a request. It was a command that expected absolute obedience.
I glanced at Mom. She nodded once, giving permission.
Slowly, carefully, I took off my cracked glasses.
Grandfather stared. His expression didn't change but something flickered deep in his eyes. Surprise? Recognition? Concern?
Maybe all three.
"Ayumi," he said quietly, still staring at me. "His eyes."
"I know."
"The red is surfacing."
"I know."
"Both bloodlines are active."
It wasn't a question.
Mom's hands clenched in her lap. "I know."
Both bloodlines? He can see that? Just by looking at me?
Grandfather finally looked back at her. "How long has the suppression been failing?"
"Two weeks since the first major incident. But it's accelerating. Two days ago he saw auras—life energy—without any training or control. And he's been meditating on his own, achieving partial self-regulation."
Oh good. We're discussing my magical puberty. Love that. Super comfortable.
Grandfather's eyebrow rose slightly. "Self-regulation? Without instruction?"
"Yes. He calmed his awakening during a school incident using meditation techniques he developed himself."
Now both eyebrows were up. That was apparently very surprising.
"Show me," Grandfather said, looking at me. "The meditation. How do you do it?"
I blinked. "Uh. I just... focus on the warmth inside. The energy. Try to calm it down, balance it with the cooler energy underneath."
"And it works?"
"Sometimes. Not always. But yeah, it helps."
He leaned back slightly, studying me with that penetrating gaze. "Ayumi. How long did it take you to achieve basic meditation control when you began training?"
Mom's voice was quiet. "Three months. With daily instruction."
"And the boy did it alone. In two weeks. By instinct."
Silence.
"The glasses?" Grandfather's gaze flicked to the cracked frames in my hand.
"Cracked during the aura vision incident. They won't last another month. Maybe less."
"Then the awakening will complete within weeks. Maybe days." He paused meaningfully. "He needs training. Proper training."
"I know."
"You cannot train him. You abandoned the path years ago." His tone wasn't accusatory, just stating facts. "And the boy cannot control this alone. When Murasame fully awakens—" He paused again, letting the weight sink in. "—he will either master it, or it will consume him completely."
The room went cold.
Consume me? The sword can consume me?! That's a thing that can happen?!
"How long?" Mom asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Three weeks. Bring him to Kyoto before the new moon."
"That's—" Mom started to protest.
"Not negotiable." His tone was final, brooking no argument. "Unless you want him to become a threat to himself and everyone around him. Unless you want another incident like your mother."
Mom flinched like she'd been struck.
What incident? What happened to my grandmother?
I filed that information away for later. Important. Definitely important.
Mom looked at me, her expression torn between fear and resignation. I looked at Dad.
Dad put a hand on Mom's shoulder, supportive and grounding. "We'll bring him," he said firmly.
Grandfather nodded once, satisfied.
Then his eyes locked on me. "Arthas."
I jumped slightly at being addressed directly. "Y-yes?"
"Do you understand what's happening to you?"
Not really. "Sort of?"
"Do you want power?"
I blinked, confused by the sudden question. "What?"
"Power. Strength. The ability to fight things normal humans cannot. Is that what you seek?"
I thought about it. Honestly, genuinely thought about it.
In my first life, I'd coasted. Avoided challenges. Done nothing of value. Died with nothing but regrets.
This time? I don't want to waste this chance.
But I don't want power just for power's sake either. I don't want to hurt people.
"No," I said finally, meeting his gaze as steadily as I could. "I just want to understand what's happening to me. And I don't want to hurt anyone." I paused. "Especially not the people I care about."
A beat of silence.
"Maybe a little bit for power," I admitted. "But that's... future stuff. Not the priority right now."
Grandfather studied me for a long moment, like he was weighing my soul on some internal scale.
Then, the faintest hint of a smile touched his lips.
"Good answer. Honest." He leaned back slightly. "That's rare."
He looked back at Mom. "Three weeks, Ayumi. Do not be late."
The call ended abruptly, the screen going dark.
Silence filled the living room like water filling a sinking ship.
I put my broken glasses back on carefully. "So," I said, trying to inject some normalcy into the surreal situation. "I'm moving to Japan."
Mom looked like she might cry, her eyes glistening.
Dad just pulled me into a tight hug. "It'll be okay," he murmured into my hair. "You'll be okay."
I wished I believed him.
I really, really wished I believed him.
My Room — Late Night
I couldn't sleep.
Big surprise there.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the conversation with Grandfather over and over.
Three weeks. Kyoto. Training.
"Master it or it will consume you."
"Another incident like your mother."
What happened to my grandmother? Mom never talked about her. Never mentioned her. I didn't even know if she was alive or dead.
And now Grandfather drops that line like it's supposed to mean something.
Consumed by power. Just like I might be.
Great. Just great. Family history of magical self-destruction. That's comforting.
I rolled over, looking at my desk where the friendship bracelet from Dina sat next to my phone. Black and red threads woven together. A sword charm.
I have to tell them. Tomorrow. At school.
That I'm leaving. Moving to Japan. Indefinitely.
My chest felt tight.
In my first life, I'd died alone. No friends to miss me. No one who cared if I disappeared.
This time? I had five people who would actually notice I was gone.
And I was about to leave them all behind.
Is this better? Having people to miss? Or would it be easier if I was still alone?
My phone buzzed. Group chat.
GENG JAKARTA (5 members)
Raka: arthas lu masih idup kan
Raka: lu udah 2 hari gak bales chat
Lia: Arthas-kun!!! (╥﹏╥)
Lia: apa lu sakit???
Dina: If you need space, that's okay.
Dina: But let us know you're alright.
Farhan: he's probably having another existential crisis
Farhan: give him time
Andi: We're here when you're ready to talk.
I stared at the messages, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
Tell them. Just tell them now. Get it over with.
But I couldn't type the words. Couldn't make it real yet.
Me: I'm fine. Sorry for being MIA. Let's meet tomorrow at lunch. I need to talk to you guys about something.
Raka: OMINOUS
Raka: tapi oke
Lia: (.•́︿•̀.) sounds serious
Dina: Okay. We'll be there.
I set my phone down, exhaling slowly.
Tomorrow. I'll tell them tomorrow.
School — Lunch Break, Next Day
We were at our usual spot. The bench under the big tree. The five of us crammed together like always.
But nothing felt normal.
Raka was stress-eating chips. Lia kept fidgeting with her star hair clip. Dina watched me with that quiet, knowing gaze. Farhan had his earbuds out—which meant this was serious. Andi sat perfectly still, waiting.
They knew. They didn't know what, but they knew something was wrong.
"So," I said, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly. "I have news."
Raka looked up from his chips. "Apa? Lu akhirnya ngaku lu sebenernya anime protagonist?" (What? You finally admitting you're actually an anime protagonist?)
If only you knew.
"Gue mau pindah." (I'm moving.)
Silence.
Complete. Absolute.
The kind of silence that feels like the world just stopped spinning.
"What?" Dina said, her voice small.
"Moving. To Kyoto. Japan. In three weeks."
More silence.
Then Raka exploded.
"WHAT?! LU MAU PINDAH?! KE JEPANG?!" (WHAT?! YOU'RE MOVING?! TO JAPAN?!)
Everyone in the courtyard turned to look at us. I winced at the attention.
"Raka—"
"LU SERIUS?! GUE PIKIR LU TEMEN GUE!" (YOU'RE SERIOUS?! I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND!)
"I am your friend—"
"TERUS KENAPA LU TIBA-TIBA MAU PERGI?!" (THEN WHY ARE YOU SUDDENLY LEAVING?!)
"It's complicated. Family stuff. I don't really have a choice in this."
Raka stared at me, betrayal written all over his face. Then he stood up abruptly and walked away.
"Raka—"
But he was already gone, disappearing into the crowd of students.
Shit.
Lia's eyes were already watering, her lower lip trembling. "Arthas-kun, beneran?" (Arthas-kun, really?)
"Yeah. I'm sorry."
She burst into tears immediately. "INI KAYAK ANIME TRANSFER STUDENT ARC! TAPI LU YANG PERGI BUKAN YANG DATENG!" (THIS IS LIKE AN ANIME TRANSFER STUDENT ARC! BUT YOU'RE THE ONE LEAVING, NOT ARRIVING!)
She wailed dramatically, and I felt like the worst person in the world.
Farhan pulled out his earbuds completely—which was significant because he almost never removed them. He just stared at me for a long moment.
"Kyoto, huh."
"Yeah."
"Nice city." His tone was completely flat.
"That's it?"
He shrugged with practiced indifference. "What do you want me to say? 'Don't go'? That's selfish. If you have to go, you have to go." He paused, and when he spoke again his voice was softer. "Just send pics. And don't become a completely different person, okay?"
"I'll try."
Andi was quiet. He usually was, but this was different. This was the kind of quiet that came with processing information you didn't want to accept.
Finally, he spoke. "Lu kayak migratory bird." (You're like a migratory bird.)
"What?"
"Always moving. Never staying. Tapi tetep balik eventually." (But always returns eventually.) He looked at me directly. "Lu bakal balik kan?" (You'll come back, right?)
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to promise I'd come back.
But I didn't know if that was true, and I'd already decided I wasn't going to lie to them.
"I don't know. I honestly don't know."
He nodded slowly, accepting the honesty. "Okay. I respect that."
Dina hadn't said anything yet. She just sat there, staring at her hands like they held answers to questions she couldn't voice.
Then, quietly, almost too quiet to hear:
"Is this because of your eyes?"
Everyone went still.
I froze, my heart skipping a beat. "What?"
"Your eyes. They've been getting worse. I've seen it." She looked up at me, and her gaze was too knowing, too perceptive. "The red ring. The way you've been avoiding looking at people directly. How you ran out of class two days ago."
She adjusted her glasses. "Is that why you're leaving? Because something's happening to you? Something you can't control?"
How does she know? How does she always know?
"Dina—"
"I'm not asking for details. I just want to know if you're okay. If you're going somewhere that can help you."
My throat felt tight, emotion threatening to choke me. "I will be. Hopefully. That's why I'm going."
She smiled, but it was sad and small. "Okay. Then go. Get better. And come back when you're ready." She paused. "If you're ready."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Raka came back five minutes later. His eyes were red—obviously from crying though he was trying to hide it. He sat down heavily, not looking at me.
Then, quietly, his voice rough:
"Jangan lupa gue, kontol." (Don't forget me, asshole.)
I punched his shoulder lightly, affectionately. "How could I?"
Group Chat — That Evening
GENG JAKARTA (5 members)
Lia: GUYS
Lia: kita harus bikin proper goodbye buat arthas
Lia: bukan cuma bye bye terus ilang
Raka: gue setuju
Raka: something memorable
Farhan: rooftop?
Farhan: the old mall, like last time
Dina: Friday night. Three days before he leaves.
Dina: That gives us time to prepare.
Andi: What should we bring?
Lia: GIFTS! memories! photos!
Lia: terus kita bikin dia nangis (〃▽〃)
Me: I'm right here. I can see this chat.
Raka: GOOD
Raka: lu HARUS dateng
Raka: atau gue kidnap lu
Me: ...okay then.
Dina: Friday, 8 PM. Mall rooftop.
Dina: Don't be late, Arthas.
Me: I won't.
Days Passing — Montage Style
Tuesday:
School felt different. Like everyone was looking at me differently, even though only my five friends knew I was leaving.
Or maybe I was just hyperaware of everything. Memorizing it. The way sunlight filtered through the trees. The sound of the bell. The smell of the cafeteria's questionable fried rice.
Details I'd taken for granted in my first life.
"Lu mau foto?" (You want a photo?) Dina appeared beside me during lunch, holding up her phone.
"Of what?"
"Us. The school. Everything." She smiled slightly. "Biar lu gak lupa." (So you don't forget.)
We took photos. Stupid ones. Serious ones. Candid shots of Raka attempting to eat an entire martabak in one bite (he failed). Lia posing with her peace signs. Farhan pretending he wasn't in the photo but secretly looking at the camera. Andi's calm smile in the background.
Normal moments. About to become memories.
Wednesday:
Mom took me shopping. "Kamu butuh baju baru buat Kyoto," she said. (You need new clothes for Kyoto.)
"I have clothes."
"Winter clothes. Kyoto gets cold."
We spent hours in the mall. She kept picking up sweaters, jackets, scarves—things I'd never needed in tropical Jakarta.
"Mom."
"Hm?"
"What happened to Grandmother?"
Her hand froze on a jacket. For a long moment, she didn't move.
"I'll tell you," she said quietly. "When you're older. When you understand the weight of power better." She looked at me, eyes sad. "Some stories are too heavy to carry before you're ready."
"But—"
"Arthas. Trust me. Please."
I nodded. Let it go. For now.
Thursday:
Dad pulled me aside after dinner. "Walk with me."
We walked around the neighborhood. Quiet streets, evening air warm and humid.
"You scared?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Good. Fear keeps you careful." He was quiet for a moment. "Your grandfather is... strict. Demanding. He'll push you harder than anyone ever has."
"I know."
"But he cares. In his own way." Dad stopped, turning to face me. "And if it ever gets too much, if you ever need to leave, you call me immediately. I don't care about clan politics or supernatural obligations. You're my son first."
He pulled something from his pocket. A pendant. Silver, slightly tarnished, with an intricate engraving I couldn't quite make out.
"Pendrath family symbol," he explained quietly. "I've kept it hidden for years. Now it's yours."
I took it carefully. The metal was warm, like it had been held for a long time.
"Keep it hidden," Dad said firmly. "Don't show it to anyone unless absolutely necessary. The Pendrath name... it carries weight. And not all of it good."
"I understand."
"You're my son first. Kanzaki heir second. Pendrath descendant third. In that order. Always." He pulled me into a hug. "Don't forget that."
"I won't."
Rooftop of Old Mall — Friday Night, 8 PM
We weren't supposed to be up here.
The mall was technically closed, the rooftop off-limits, but Raka had somehow sweet-talked the security guard into letting us through. Probably bribed him with food. That usually worked.
The five of us sat on the concrete ledge, legs dangling over the edge, Jakarta sprawled out below us like a circuit board of lights and chaos.
Nobody spoke for a while. Just... sat there. Together.
"So," Farhan finally said, not looking away from the skyline. "Japan, huh."
"Yeah."
"You gonna become one of those anime protagonist types? Save the world? Get a harem?"
I snorted. "What do you think I am? Some anime fantasy protagonist? I'm just going to train with family. Normal stuff."
"Normal people don't move to Japan for mysterious 'training,'" Farhan pointed out.
"Normal people also don't have friends who overthink everything."
"Touché."
Raka leaned back, staring at the sky. "Tapi seriously. Lu bakal jadi ninja atau apa?" (But seriously. You gonna become a ninja or what?)
"I don't know. Maybe I'll just learn Japanese properly and come back even more boring than before."
"Impossible," Dina said. "You're already maximum boring."
"Wow. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Lia pulled out a Polaroid camera—where she got it, I had no idea—and held it up. "Group photo! Biar lu gak lupa muka kita!" (So you don't forget our faces!)
"I'm not going to forget—"
"PHOTO! NOW!"
We crammed together. Raka threw an arm around my shoulder, nearly choking me. Dina adjusted her glasses, smiling softly. Farhan made a peace sign without looking. Andi's calm expression in the background. Lia held the camera at arm's length, tongue sticking out in concentration.
Click.
The photo emerged, colors slowly developing in the night air.
"One for each of us," Lia declared, pulling out four more blank photos from seemingly nowhere. She took four more shots, different poses each time. "Biar kita semua punya kenangan!" (So we all have a memory!)
Dina reached into her bag and pulled out something small, wrapped in tissue paper. "Ini. Buat lu." (This. For you.)
I unwrapped it carefully.
A bracelet. Simple, woven black and red thread with a small metal charm—a stylized sword.
"I made it," she said quietly. "Black and red. Your colors, somehow. I don't know why, but they suit you."
She doesn't know how right she is. Red for Kanzaki awakening. Black for... everything else.
"And the sword?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Felt appropriate. You always seemed like the type to fight battles nobody else sees."
My throat felt tight again. "Thank you. Really."
I put it on immediately. It fit perfectly on my left wrist.
Raka thrust a plastic bag at me. "Gue beli lu indomie. Sepuluh bungkus. Biar lu gak lupa makanan Indonesia." (I bought you indomie. Ten packs. So you don't forget Indonesian food.)
"Raka, I'm going to Japan, not Mars."
"SAME THING! Mereka makan mentah di sana! Sushi! Sashimi! Lu butuh carbs proper!" (SAME THING! They eat raw stuff there! Sushi! Sashimi! You need proper carbs!)
Despite everything, I laughed. "Okay. Thank you."
Farhan handed me a folded piece of paper. "Playlist. For the plane. For when you're homesick. For whenever."
I unfolded it. A carefully handwritten list of songs—mix of Indonesian, English, Japanese. Each one annotated with small notes: "for when you're sad," "for when you miss us," "for when you need to feel badass," "for when Raka's indomie makes you cry."
"This is detailed."
"I had time." He looked away. "Don't become a completely different person, okay? Like, grow and change and all that. But don't forget who you are."
"I won't."
Andi was last. He handed me a small notebook. Brown leather cover, blank pages inside.
"Write in it," he said simply. "Whenever something important happens. So when you come back—" He paused. "If you come back. You can show us. Tell us everything."
I looked at the notebook. At the gifts. At the Polaroid photos showing five kids who somehow became friends despite one of them being emotionally constipated.
"I'm going to miss you guys," I said, and my voice cracked embarrassingly. "Like, a lot."
"DON'T CRY!" Lia wailed, already crying. "IF YOU CRY I'LL CRY MORE!"
"Too late," Dina said quietly, wiping her eyes behind her glasses.
Farhan looked away, but I saw him wipe his face too.
Andi just put a hand on my shoulder. Grounding. Present.
Raka pulled all of us into a group hug—messy, awkward, arms everywhere, but genuine.
"Lu better come back," he said fiercely, voice muffled against someone's shoulder. "Lu better come back or gue bakal dateng ke Jepang terus tabok lu." (You better come back or I'll go to Japan and punch you.)
"Deal."
We stayed there until security finally kicked us out, laughing and talking and pretending tomorrow wasn't coming.
Pretending goodbyes weren't real if we didn't acknowledge them.
Home — Sunday Morning, Day Before Departure
Suitcases lay open on my bed. Half-packed. Clothes, books, the indomie Raka gave me (which Mom found hilarious), the notebook from Andi, Farhan's playlist.
Mom was packing her own bag in her room. She'd be coming with me—at least for the first few weeks, to make sure I settled in. Dad would stay here, holding down the fort.
"Arthas, udah masukin jaket tebelmu?" (Arthas, did you pack your thick jacket?) Mom appeared at my door.
"Yeah. And the sweaters you bought."
"Good. Kyoto gets cold. Especially in winter." She walked in, helping me fold clothes more efficiently. "Kamu nervous?"
"Yeah."
"That's normal." She smiled slightly. "I was terrified when I first went to the compound. I was six. You at least have me with you for a while."
"How long are you staying?"
"A month. Maybe two. Until I'm sure you're settled." She paused. "Your grandfather will want me to stay longer, but I need to come back to your father. And my work."
"Hampir lupa... Arthas, jangan lupa bawa ini." (Almost forgot.... Arthas, don't forget to bring this.) She pulled something from her bag. A small photo album.
Mom handed me a small photo album. "Family photos. Biar kamu gak homesick." (So you don't get homesick.)
I flipped through it. Baby photos. Birthdays. Random moments. Mom and Dad smiling. Me at various ages, looking awkward and uncomfortable in most of them.
One photo caught my eye. Mom, younger, maybe early twenties. Standing in front of a traditional Japanese building—probably the Kyoto compound. She looked... different. Confident. Strong. Before she ran away.
"You looked happy," I said.
"I was." She sat beside me on the bed. "And then I realized I wanted something different. A normal life. A family without the weight of duty crushing it."
"Do you regret it?"
"Never." She pulled me into a side hug. "I got you. That's worth everything."
We continue packed in comfortable silence for a while.
"Mom?"
"Hm?"
"Will I... change? Like, personality-wise? After training?"
She paused, considering. "Change is inevitable. You'll grow. Learn. Become stronger." She looked at me. "But your core? Who you are inside? That's yours to keep or lose. Your choice."
"What if I lose it?"
"Then you call me. And I'll remind you." She smiled. "That's what mothers do."
Soekarno-Hatta International Airport — Monday Morning, 5:30 AM
The airport was crowded even at this ungodly hour. Early morning flights, business travelers, families saying goodbye.
Dad stood with us at the departure gate, trying to keep it together.
Mom had already checked in for both of us. Our bags were tagged. Gate number displayed: JAKARTA (CGK) → OSAKA (KIX).
One hour until boarding.
This was it. The real goodbye. Not to Mom—she was coming with me. But to Dad.
Dad knelt down so we were eye level. His gray-green eyes—same as mine—were trying to stay steady but I could see the emotion behind them.
"You have the pendant?" he asked quietly.
I lifted my shirt slightly, showing the Pendrath pendant already hanging around my neck, tucked safely out of sight.
"Good." He placed both hands on my shoulders. "Remember what I said. You're my son first. Everything else is secondary."
"I know, Dad."
"And if anyone—anyone—recognizes that pendant and causes trouble, you run. You call me. You don't try to be a hero." His grip tightened slightly. "Promise me."
"I promise."
He pulled me into a tight hug. "You're gonna do great, kid. Just... be yourself. The real you. Not the version you think people want to see."
When he pulled back, his eyes were wet.
He stood, turning to Mom. "Take care of him."
"Always," Mom replied.
"And Ayame... be careful. Your father—"
"I know." She squeezed his hand. "We'll be fine."
They kissed briefly. A moment of goodbye between them too. Married people separated by duty and circumstance.
"I'll call every day," Mom promised.
"You better." Dad tried to smile. Failed. "Both of you."
We stood there for a moment. Family. About to be split by an ocean and a supernatural legacy we couldn't escape.
Then the boarding announcement came.
"That's us," Mom said softly.
I looked at Dad. He was trying so hard to be strong. Trying not to cry.
"Bye, Dad."
"Bye, kiddo." His voice cracked. "Make me proud. But more importantly, stay safe."
"I will."
Mom took my hand. We walked toward the security checkpoint.
I looked back.
Dad was still standing there, hands in his pockets, watching us go.
I waved.
He waved back.
And then—
"ARTHAS!"
I froze.
That voice.
I turned around.
All five of them. Standing there in the terminal. Raka, Dina, Lia, Farhan, Andi. At the airport. At 5:30 in the morning.
"What—how—"
"Lu pikir gue bakal ninggalin lu pergi tanpa proper goodbye?!" (You think I'd let you leave without a proper goodbye?!) Raka was breathing hard, like he'd run here.
"We woke up at 3 AM," Dina said, adjusting her glasses. Small smile. "Farhan's dad drove us."
Farhan's dad waved from a distance, looking tired but amused.
"You guys are insane."
"Yeah, well." Farhan shrugged. "You're our insane friend. Fair trade."
Lia was already crying. Again. She ran up and hugged me, nearly knocking me over. "JANGAN LUPA KITA! JANGAN LUPA JAKARTA! JANGAN—" (DON'T FORGET US! DON'T FORGET JAKARTA! DON'T—)
"I won't. I promise. I promise."
Raka pulled me into a crushing hug next. "Lu better come back, kontol. Lu better. Gue serius." (You better come back, asshole. You better. I'm serious.)
"I will. Someday."
Andi stepped forward, handing me something small. Another Polaroid photo—this one from Friday night, all of us on the rooftop, mid-laugh. "Extra copy. Just in case the first one gets damaged."
"Thanks, Andi."
Dina was last. She stepped forward, adjusted my collar, my jacket, like Mom always did. Like she was making sure I looked presentable for whatever came next.
"Be safe," she said quietly. "Be smart. And remember—you're not alone. Even when you feel like you are. We're here. Always."
My throat was too tight to speak. I just nodded.
The final boarding call echoed through the terminal. Last chance.
Mom put a hand on my shoulder gently. "Arthas. Kita harus pergi sekarang." (Arthas. We have to go now.)
I looked at them. All five. My friends. The people who woke up at 3 AM just to say goodbye. The people who cared.
"Thank you," I said, voice cracking. "For everything. For being my friends. For... for making this life worth living."
"Drama queen," Farhan said, but his voice was thick.
"GO!" Raka shouted, waving frantically. "SEBELUM GUE NANGIS BENERAN!" (GO! BEFORE I ACTUALLY CRY!)
"TOO LATE! GUE UDAH NANGIS!" (TOO LATE! I'M ALREADY CRYING!) Lia wailed.
I laughed despite the tears. Waved one more time.
Then Mom and I turned. Walked through security. Toward the gate. Toward the plane.
But I looked back one more time.
They were all still standing there. All six—my five friends and Dad. Together. Waving.
And I realized: This is what I'm protecting. This is why I need to get stronger. Not just for myself—but to come back to them. Alive. Safe. Still me.
Don't waste this chance. Don't waste them.
"Ready?" Mom asked softly as we reached the gate.
I looked at the friendship bracelet on my wrist. The Pendrath pendant under my shirt. The photo in my wallet. The notebook in my bag.
"Yeah. Let's go."
Garuda Indonesia Flight 880 — Somewhere Over the Ocean
I sat by the window, forehead pressed against the glass, watching Indonesia disappear below us. The islands faded into clouds, then into nothing but endless ocean.
Mom sat beside me, reading a book. Or pretending to. She hadn't turned a page in fifteen minutes.
I pulled out my phone—airplane mode, but the photos were still there. The group photo from Friday. The extra one Andi gave me this morning. My friends' faces, smiling, laughing.
Real. They were real.
I pulled out the notebook Andi gave me. Opened to the first page. Wrote:
Day 1: Leaving Jakarta
I'm on a plane to Kyoto. Mom's beside me, pretending to read. I'm pretending I'm not scared.
My friends showed up at the airport. At 5:30 AM. All five of them. Just to say goodbye.
I don't think I really understood what friendship meant until this moment. In my first life, I died alone. No one cared. No one noticed.
This time? Five people woke up at 3 AM just to see me off.
That's what I'm protecting. That's why I need to get stronger.
Not for power. Not for glory. But to come back to them. To keep them safe. To be worthy of people who care about me that much.
Kyoto's waiting. Grandfather's waiting. Training's waiting.
But I know why I'm doing this now.
For them. For Dad. For Mom. For everyone who believed I was worth saving.
Don't waste this chance, Arthas. You already wasted one life.
This time, you fight. You survive. You come back.
No matter what it takes.
I closed the notebook, tucking it back into my bag.
Mom glanced over. "Writing already?"
"Yeah. Andi told me to document everything. Thought I'd start now."
She smiled. "He's a smart kid. They all are."
"Yeah." I looked out the window again. "I really lucked out, didn't I? With friends."
"You did. This time." She paused. "Don't take it for granted."
"I won't."
The plane hummed around us. Hours ahead. Unknown waiting. But for now, in this moment between two worlds, I had clarity.
Purpose.
I know what I'm fighting for now.
I closed my eyes, letting exhaustion finally catch up.
Kyoto. Here I come.
Let's do this.
Kansai International Airport (Osaka) → Kyoto — Evening
The landing was smooth. Too smooth. Like the universe was lulling me into a false sense of security before everything went to shit.
We collected our bags, went through customs (Mom's Japanese and my passable English saved us from confusion), and emerged into the arrivals hall.
Japan. I was actually in Japan.
The air felt different. Cooler. Cleaner. Less humid than Jakarta's perpetual sauna. Everything was... organized. Efficient. Quiet in a way Jakarta never was.
"Your grandfather is sending someone to pick us up," Mom said in Japanese. "Should be waiting outside."
I nodded, adjusting my backpack. The Pendrath pendant felt heavy against my chest. The friendship bracelet tight on my wrist. Physical reminders of two different worlds I was now straddling.
Outside, the air was crisp. Early autumn. The temperature had dropped significantly from Jakarta's eternal summer.
A black car waited at the curb. Sleek. Expensive-looking. A driver in a formal suit stood beside it, holding a sign that read "Kanzaki" in both Japanese and English.
"Kanzaki-sama," he said, bowing deeply to Mom. Then to me, slightly less deep but still formal. "Arthas-sama."
Sama? That's... really formal. Really, really formal.
"Thank you for coming," Mom said in Japanese.
"It is my honor." The driver loaded our bags efficiently. "Tanaka-san and Genshirou-sama are expecting you at the compound. The drive will take approximately one hour."
We got in. The car was immaculate. Leather seats. Quiet engine. Everything pristine.
The drive to Kyoto was quiet. Mom stared out the window, lost in memories of a life she'd left behind. I watched the landscape change—urban sprawl of Osaka giving way to more traditional architecture, modern buildings mixed with temples and shrines, nature interwoven with civilization in a way Jakarta never managed.
It was beautiful. Alien. Nothing like home.
This is really happening. I'm really here.
The car turned down a narrow road, then through a gate. Stone walls appeared, traditional tile roofs, gardens barely visible in the evening light.
The Kanzaki compound.
We stopped in front of a main building. Traditional Japanese architecture. Old. Ancient, even. Maintained beautifully but clearly centuries old.
The weight of history pressed down on me just looking at it.
The driver opened our door. "Welcome to the Kanzaki compound, Ayame-sama, Arthas-sama."
Mom took a deep breath. Straightened her shoulders. Preparing herself to face her past.
An elderly man appeared at the entrance. Seventies, kind eyes, warm smile. He wore simple work clothes—a gardener, maybe. But his presence was gentle, welcoming.
"Ayame-sama," he said, bowing. His voice was warm, grandfatherly. "Welcome home. It's been too long."
"Tanaka-san." Mom's expression softened, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "It's good to see you. You look well."
"As do you. Marriage suits you." His eyes shifted to me, and his smile widened. "And this must be Arthas-sama. My, you have your mother's eyes."
"Nice to meet you," I said in Japanese. Rough, accented, but understandable.
His eyebrows rose slightly, pleased. "Your Japanese is very good for someone who just arrived."
"Mom taught me. Still learning, though."
"You'll pick it up quickly here. Immersion is the best teacher." He gestured toward the building. "Genshirou-sama is waiting in the main hall. Shall I show you in?"
Mom took another deep breath. Longer this time. "Yes. Thank you, Tanaka-san."
We followed him inside. Traditional corridors. Tatami floors beneath our feet. The smell of old wood and incense. Everything was meticulously maintained but ancient.
I felt like I'd stepped into a museum. Or a history book. This place had existed for generations. Centuries. And now I was part of it.
My heart was pounding so hard I was sure everyone could hear it.
This is it. No going back now.
We stopped at a set of large sliding doors. Ornate. Important-looking.
"Genshirou-sama," Tanaka-san called respectfully. "Ayumi-sama and Arthas-sama have arrived."
"Enter." That voice. Even through the door, it carried absolute authority.
Tanaka-san slid the doors open.
And there he was.
Kanzaki Genshirou. In person this time. Not through a webcam screen.
Sitting in formal seiza position on tatami mats, wearing traditional dark blue hakama, hands resting on his knees with perfect posture. Behind him, mounted on the wall, was a katana. Not Murasame—that was still wrapped in our luggage—but another blade. Old. Well-maintained. Radiating a presence that made the hairs on my neck stand up.
The room itself was traditional. Minimal. A small alcove with a scroll and flower arrangement. Nothing unnecessary. Everything intentional.
And Grandfather's eyes locked onto mine.
Sharp. Assessing. Missing nothing.
For the first time since dying and being reincarnated, I felt truly, genuinely terrified in a different way. Not fear of death. Fear of failure.
This man is going to break me.
And then rebuild me into something stronger.
If I survive.
Mom bowed deeply. Formal. Respectful. "Otou-sama. We've arrived as requested."
Grandfather nodded once. Then his gaze shifted fully to me.
"Arthas," he said in English. Accented but clear. "Welcome to Kyoto. To the Kanzaki compound."
He paused. Let the weight of that statement settle.
"Your training begins tomorrow at dawn. Five AM. Do not be late."
He smiled. It wasn't comforting. It was the smile of someone who knew exactly how hard the next few months were going to be.
"I hope you're ready."
I'm not. I'm really, really not.
But I bowed anyway. As formal and respectful as I could manage. "Yes, Grandfather. I'm ready."
Narrator: He was absolutely not ready.
Grandfather's smile widened slightly. Like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
"We shall see. Tanaka-san will show you to your quarters. Rest tonight. You'll need it."
He waved his hand in dismissal.
Tanaka-san bowed, gesturing for us to follow him back out.
As the doors slid closed behind us, I heard Grandfather say one more thing in Japanese, too quiet for me to fully catch but the tone was unmistakable:
Amusement. And anticipation.
Mom heard it too. She smiled slightly. "He likes you."
"That was him liking me?!"
"Yes. If he didn't, he would've been completely cold. That was... warm. For him."
"I'm terrified."
"Good. Fear will keep you sharp." She ruffled my hair. "Come on. Let's get settled. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
Understatement of the century.
We followed Tanaka-san through the compound, and with each step, I felt the weight of what was coming settle more firmly on my shoulders.
No more running. No more coasting. No more wasting chances.
Tomorrow, the real work began.
Don't waste this, Arthas. You already died once. This time, you fight.
This time, you survive.
This time, you become strong enough to protect what matters.
For them. For Dad. For everyone waiting back home.
Let's do this.
END OF CHAPTER 3