Chapter 3: Echoes of the Past

The silence of Yamigawa's streets at night always felt like a weight pressing down on Aiko. Her room was dim, the soft glow of the moon spilling through the window. She tossed and turned, unable to sleep, her mind racing with everything she had discovered so far. The image of her father as a boy with a sword haunted her thoughts. Why had he never told her the truth?

She got out of bed, the cool air of the room hitting her skin. The urge for water was just an excuse to leave the restless thoughts behind. She quietly padded down the hall toward the kitchen. But as she passed her father's room, she froze.

The door was slightly ajar, and faint light filtered through the crack. Aiko’s curiosity got the best of her, and she slowly pushed the door open.

Inside, Takashi was at his desk, his back to the door. He was hunched over, his hands moving with focused precision, running a cloth over the edge of a sword. The room smelled faintly of steel and oil.

Aiko stood frozen, watching him. She could see the practiced, fluid motions of his hands, the way he carefully sharpened the blade, as though each stroke held meaning. He’s still a fighter, she thought. He’s not just some old man who used to fight. He’s still in it.

Takashi didn’t seem to notice her at first, his focus entirely on the sword in his hands. He wasn’t the father she knew at that moment. This was the Takashi Kuroyami she had never seen, a warrior still connected to his past.

For a moment, Aiko simply watched, her heart heavy with a mix of awe and confusion. She had always known her father was different, but this? This was something else entirely.

Finally, Takashi’s voice cut through the silence. “You’ve been standing there long enough, Aiko.”

Aiko jumped slightly, her heart pounding in her chest. “Dad… I—”

He turned, his expression unreadable. “Couldn’t sleep?”

She nodded, her voice uncertain. “What are you doing with that sword?”

Takashi’s gaze hardened slightly. “Something you wouldn’t understand.”

Aiko crossed the threshold into his room, closing the door behind her. “I don’t understand a lot of things, Dad. Why didn’t you tell me about your past? About who you really are?”

Takashi’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Aiko felt the weight of the moment hanging in the air between them.

“Why did you hide all of this from me?” she demanded, her voice rising. “The sword, the picture, everything! Why don’t you ever talk about it?”

Takashi’s grip on the sword tightened, but he didn’t strike. Instead, his voice was calm, almost too calm. “That life was never meant for you, Aiko.”

Aiko’s jaw clenched. “I don’t care if it’s meant for me! I deserve to know the truth. I deserve to know who you really are!”

He hesitated for a long moment, as if considering how much to say. “I was once a swordsman,” he admitted finally. “But that life... it cost me everything. And I won’t let you make the same mistake.”

“Who did you fight for? Why did you stop?” Aiko pressed, her hands shaking from the mix of frustration and fear.

Takashi’s eyes darkened, and for a brief second, Aiko saw something cold—something distant—in his gaze. “Some things are better left forgotten,” he replied cryptically. “And some truths can’t be erased. You’ll never understand why I left it all behind.”

The argument left Aiko’s chest tight with frustration, but she couldn’t back down. She had to know more. As soon as her father left the room to cool down, she took the opportunity to snoop.

She searched the house quietly, moving from room to room, her pulse quickening with every turn. The walls of the Kuroyami house had always felt like they were hiding something, a feeling Aiko couldn’t shake since childhood. But tonight, something was different.

Aiko’s eyes landed on a door at the back of the house—a small, unremarkable door she had never noticed before. It was locked, but the key was nowhere in sight. Undeterred, she tried to force it open. To her surprise, it gave way with a creak.

Inside, the room was dimly lit by a single bulb, but Aiko could make out enough to see the remnants of her father’s past. Battle-worn weapons lined the walls, their edges sharp despite years of disuse. Old robes, stained with time, hung on a rack. And in the corner, a wooden box with strange symbols carved into it caught her attention.

She approached it slowly, her heart thundering in her chest as she opened the lid. Inside was a symbol—one she recognized faintly from the picture she’d found earlier. It was the same emblem on her father’s old robes. The same emblem that seemed to connect him to the past she didn’t understand.

Before Aiko could examine it further, a voice boomed behind her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Takashi stood in the doorway, his fists clenched. His face was filled with fury. “You shouldn’t have opened that door.”

Aiko stood frozen, a mix of guilt and defiance rising in her chest. “I have a right to know, Dad. Why do you keep hiding everything from me?”

Takashi stepped into the room, his presence like a storm that threatened to break everything in its path. “You don’t get to decide what you’re ready for,” he said in a low, dangerous tone.

Aiko, too proud to back down, squared her shoulders. “Then prove it. Let me show you I’m ready.”

Takashi gave her a hard look, but for a moment, he seemed to hesitate. Then, without warning, he moved.

The speed of his movements shocked her. Aiko barely had time to react before he had her on the ground, disarmed and pinned. Her body thudded against the floor, the air knocked out of her lungs.

Takashi stood over her, his expression unreadable. “You think you’re ready for the truth? Then stand up and prove it.”

Aiko pushed herself to her feet, her breath coming in quick bursts. “I’m not afraid,” she snapped, glaring at him.

He studied her for a long moment before turning away. “You think you’re ready? You’re not. Not yet. Not by a long shot.”

Before Aiko could ask any more questions, Takashi stopped at the door, his voice low and heavy with finality. “I told you, Aiko. Let this go. You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

But Aiko’s resolve only hardened. “I won’t let it go, Dad. Not until I know the truth.”

Takashi’s gaze was piercing as he looked at her. “Then remember this: once you lift that sword, you don’t get to put it down. You fight, you kill, or you die.”

Aiko’s breath caught in her throat. The words hung in the air, their weight sinking in. She didn’t understand their full meaning yet, but something about them felt ominous, as if they were a warning she couldn’t ignore.