Chapter 24 - Aperture

That evening, Renji was in his room at Sorien’s house, sorting his gear in preparation for their departure in two days.
It’s like a pre-deployment routine all over again.

A knock sounded. Sorien leaned in with a knowing smile. “You’ve got a visitor.”

“Huh? Who is it?” Renji looked up.

“See for yourself.” Sorien withdrew from the door as Renji stood.

He stepped into the living room and found Alina waiting at the doorway.

“Hey, Renji.” She clasped her hands behind her back, hesitated, then said, “I was thinking… maybe we could take a walk? Grab a bite, since we’re leaving soon.”

Renji gave a small nod. “Sure. Let’s go.” He gestured for her to lead the way.

“Drop by Tully’s!” Sorien called after them. “She’s got fresh venison in today.”

The evening air was crisp, the streets scattered with fallen russet leaves that crunched underfoot.

“Are you nervous about Floor Sixty?” Alina asked, breaking the silence.

Renji shrugged. “Not really.”

“I’ve never been there. People say it’s like a warzone. Honestly, it makes me nervous.”

Warzone. Renji’s jaw tightened. He pictured the smell of smoke, the distant thud of mortars, the weight of armour biting into his shoulders.

“I see,” he said simply.

Alina groaned and puffed her cheeks. “I swear, you’re like a thought vault!”

“All right, all right,” he said, raising a hand. “I need to get stronger to defeat this Vaerina witch, to take the Orb.” He sighed. “If going to Sixty is the best way to get stronger, then it has to be done.”

“I guess warzones aren’t a new experience for you, huh?”

Renji’s answer was a quiet nod.

As they walked, the crunch of red-brown leaves beneath his boots stirred another memory—
a street in Shibuya, lined with autumn colours, nine years ago.

***

Nine years ago, Shibuya, Tokyo

The cold air and the red-brown leaves carpeting the ground were a reminder that winter wasn’t far off. Renji pulled his jacket tighter around himself as he walked down the quiet street.

The earlier conversation with Kyoko replayed in his head.

“Did I do something wrong, Kyoko?”

“No, Renji-kun. You didn’t,” she said softly.

“It’s just… these past two years we were together… it always felt like I was on the outside looking in,” she added with more conviction in her voice.

“I’m sorry, Kyoko. I never meant to make you feel that way. What can I do?”

“I don’t know, Renji-kun. You never really let anyone in. Not me, not anyone…” She brought a finger to her eye, brushing away a tear.

“I still care for you a great deal. Probably always will. But being in a relationship like this… it’s hard, and it hurts.”

His thoughts returned to the present as he sighed and continued his stroll, eyes downcast as autumn leaves crunched beneath his feet.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe I shut people out without realising it. After my parents died in that car accident, Kyoko was one of the few who stayed by my side. A friendship that turned into something more… maybe I wasn’t being fair to her.

What does it even mean to ‘let someone in’?

She probably felt bad that I turned down Todai partly because of her. Not that I really wanted to attend Todai anyway.

He shook off the lingering thoughts.

He’d gone for a walk to clear his mind, but replaying the breakup wasn’t helping.

Maybe I’ll swing by Akiba. It’s been a while.

About half an hour later, Renji stepped out of Iwamotocho Station and made his way toward Akihabara. Something caught his eye—a poster of three anime girls in JSDF uniforms, cheerfully saluting.

It reminded him of a JSDF propaganda anime he’d watched some years ago.

JSDF still using anime as a recruitment tool?

His gaze lingered on the poster a few seconds longer than he intended.

Renji shook his head, smirking as he continued walking.

***

Alina’s voice pulled him back to the present.

“Renji?”

“Oh… we’re here.” He looked up and saw the entrance to Tully’s, a popular local tavern.

“Lost in thought again?” Alina narrowed her eyes and puffed out her cheeks. “You have a bad habit of doing that.”

“What were you thinking about?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Nothing important. Don’t worry about it.”

They stepped inside together. The air was warm, filled with the clatter of plates and the hum of conversation. Lanternlight glowed across polished wood, giving the place a homely sheen.

“That’s what you always say!” Alina jabbed his arm with a finger as they followed the waitress in. “Come on, out with it. I’m not letting you off easy this time.”

“Welcome! Table for two?” the waitress chimed, her voice lively.

“Yes.” Renji gave a small nod.

They were shown to a table by the wall. Once seated, Alina leaned forward, eyes still on him.

“So, what were you thinking about?” Alina pressed. “You ignored me for minutes!”

“Really, Alina?”

“And don’t even think of saying you ‘forgot.’” She pointed at him with her fork, puffed cheeks returning.

What’s up with her? Awfully pushy today.

Renji exhaled slowly, resting his elbows on the table. For a moment he hesitated—the words felt heavy. But then he spoke them anyway.

“…I was reminded of when my girlfriend dumped me.”

Alina froze. Her playful look melted away, replaced first with surprise, then guilt. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Damn it! I grew comfortable around him and I pushed too far. I shouldn’t have pried.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago.” He shrugged. “It’s just… you reminded me of something she said.”

This is the first time I ever talked to anyone about Kyoko, Renji realised.

“What did she say?” she asked gently.

Renji paused, then spoke quietly. “That I never let anyone in.”

Alina blinked, then brought a hand to her mouth as an awkward laugh slipped out. She shook her head quickly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh—it just came out.”

Renji’s lips curved into a faint smile. “It’s all right.”

And to her surprise, he chuckled too. Their laughter spilled across the table, light and genuine.

For the first time in a long while, Renji realised he’d just let someone in.

***

Back at Elith’s mansion, the two elves sat across from one another, steam curling from their cups of tea.

Elith had Alina’s old staff in her hand. “You noticed it too?”

“Of course I did.” Celia smiled wryly.

Elith raised the staff slightly, letting it float in mid-air. Cracks split the gems before the wood burst into blue flame, collapsing into ash. Elith let it fall, and with a flick of Celia’s fingers the residue scattered into nothing.

“It was made to suppress her power,” Elith muttered.

“Whoever gave it to her feared her awakening,” Celia replied, unbothered. “Pointless fear. Power like that isn’t dangerous—if she learns to wield it.”

Elith set the shattered gems aside. “If she gradually learns to control that power, an awakening should not be a danger.”

Celia nodded.

“On to other matters. Vaerina is on the move,” Celia said, her tone missing the usual playfulness. “The reports I’ve read are concerning.”

“How much time do you reckon we have?” Elith’s voice was calm, though her eyes narrowed slightly.

“A couple of months at the most,” Celia said, sipping her tea and setting her cup down. “Stopping her now will require a substantial force to be sent to Floor Twenty.”

“That will make us appear as aggressors,” Elith said, putting a hand to her chin. “What does the Duchess of Twenty-Five think?”

“She doesn’t care, as long as it doesn’t spill over into Twenty-Five,” Celia answered, sighing. “She’ll remain neutral if it doesn’t affect her directly.”

“As expected of her,” Elith said.

Celia let out a breath. “The only floors with any semblance of military strength capable of standing up to Thorval are Twenty-Five, Forty, the dwarves on Fifty, and Floor Sixty,” she noted.

“Those on Sixty need to stay on Sixty, though,” she added.

Elith nodded. “Vaerina’s target lies here on Forty, and the other floors don’t have any reason to mobilise. Unless Thorval proves he’s a threat beyond Twenty.”

“Then we brace,” Celia said quietly.

Elith lifted her cup, gaze hard. “Yes. Until Vaerina comes.”