Kazuki stood, not thirteen feet away, framed by the cherry blossoms on either side of the path, their pink petals strewn along the winding trail.
"Eiko, it's been a while."
Kazuki looked different, older, although that was natural, it had been nine years since you'd seen him. Kazuki had short hair, which had turned completely gray. His shoulders were hunched, most likely as a result of his office job, but he wore neat, ironed slacks and a sweater unfitting of the weather— he always did. His hands were casually tucked into his pockets, as if this interaction was normal, as if you hadn't gone no contact for nearly a decade.
You glanced away, before looking at him, finding it hard to face the man who you had divorced, even if it was so long ago. "Yeah, it's been a while."
Kazuki walked towards you, sitting down on the bench beside you. "Eiko, I need to talk to Ryuzen."
His straightforward nature shocked you and you would blink, pausing, before responding, "About what?"
This is when you realized that he could not have kidnapped your son, clearly he had no clue what was happening. Or maybe, you thought, this was all an act to just get you off his back. He had already kidnapped him, and now he was crafting a careful alibi.
"I needed to apologize. I have lived not a thirty minute drive away, and for nine years, I have not said a whisper of a word to him, not sent a single letter, not even asked you how he's been. I paid the child support, and didn't question. I turned my back on him and his sister, and never even seemed to care. I put the past far behind, to the point where it could no longer be found. And, I'm sorry for that." His vomit of words rushed out quickly, and as they did, you could tell a weight was being lifted from his shoulders.
You grew frustrated, you were burdened to care for Ryuzen and his sister, and now, after all the difficult times have passed, he comes. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. The nine years you missed will never be replaced, and why now?"
"I met a woman at work. She— she reminded me a lot of you. And, to be honest, I think she's the one. I just was reminded of the life I abandoned, and I realized that, I too, can make amends. And you know– about the thing," he was uncomfortable, his eyes darting behind him, "well, yeah." He ended awkwardly, glancing down at his well polished work shoes.
His excuse was ridiculous. You grated your teeth together, trying to keep calm, but a storm of anger boiled within you. Your fists clenched, and your nails bit into your calloused palms, but the pain grounded you. Your tether frayed a little bit more.
Through that anger, did you stop, did you realize that maybe it wasn't an excuse, but an apology, a risk? But I know you well, too well, and I know once you near the edge of anger, you almost always certainly fall off it.
You glared at him.
"No."
The word was harsh, cutting through the air with a force that sent Kazuki backing up.
His face contorted into indignation, "I'm sorry?"
After all he had done to you, all you had to go through because of him, he thought that he deserved to see his son? It was ridiculous. By now, the anger wasn't hot, it had turned into something much more dangerous: a cool anger that consumed you, rushing over in a blanket of calm. Your fists unclenched, and you stood erect, your shoulders back.
"You heard me, and I said no, you're not seeing Ryuzen."
Then, you turned your back on him, taking large, long steps towards your bike.
"Wait, Eiko!" He called out to you, hoping you would turn back.
But, you now could sense too the cliff that you were rapidly approaching. So, you did not glance back at him, instead, you flinged a rather rude gesture over your shoulder, not deigning to look at the man.
You mounted your bike with quick, efficient movements, and began to head home. The cool breeze ruffling your hair did nothing to calm the anger, instead, it just grew colder, a freezing pit inside your chest.
By the time you reached the door to your apartment complex, night had fallen, the sky stained an inky black, and the moon covered by abnormally voluminous clouds, only a dim light seeping through the covering. You chained up your bike, still seething, but your rage had now diminished into a steady simmering heat.
The door thrust open, and you saw someone run out.
Was that Irina you saw? Or was it just someone in a hurry? But, I guess I shouldn't implant ideas in your head. Remember, you were the one who solved it.
You slid through the door, and began climbing the stairs, taking them two at a time. The stranger had been off-putting, you lived in a relatively quiet part of town, and such things were uncommon. You didn't know why, but you felt eyes on your back, and your skin pricked. You began climbing the stairs faster.
Faster
Faster
Faster
Your legs burned, and you didn't entirely know why you were running, but it had begun at some point which you could no longer recall, the fear was irrational, unknown, as if summoned by some external force.
Finally, you reached your door and shoved it open, collapsing onto the floor in relief, a loud click echoing behind you as the door slammed shut.
Strange, what fear can do to a person.
However, as you sprawled across the floor, you felt a paper underneath you. You slowly rose to find an envelope, neatly folded with the flap perfectly stuck down.
Another one?
You sighed — that had become a habit of yours recently.
Next, you snatched the envelope off the floor and carried it over to the dining table, pulling out a chair and relaxing yourself into it. You carefully opened the envelope to find another letter.
Eiko, frankly, I'm a little disappointed. You still haven't found all the clues I left out for you, even though you came infuriatingly close. So, in my kindness, I will tell you what you need to know. Only that, not what you want to know— you should figure that out from your own wit.
A laptop should have a scratch mark on it– you know where. Think about the blood splatters— is there anything off about them?Your ex-husband knows more than you think, ask him for help.
Now, my hints are just a suggestion, maybe even an insult for a proud woman such as yourself. Take them or not, I have no preference, it just depends how quickly you want your son back— although even if you get him, he won't be the son you know. I'm not sure if he exists anymore, in person, yes, but in soul? That's a whole other question, but he hasn't been your son in soul for a while. Believe me, I would know, but do you?
Now, I will say, that's a well written letter. I can appreciate the craft. Though— I guess it's rude to compliment myself.
You just stared at the inked paper, the whirlwind of emotions you had experienced today left you without words, or thought for that matter. You curled up in the chair, tucking your knees to your chest and resting your head. For the first time in a while, you began to cry.
The tears cascaded down your cheeks, all of this was just too much. Your quiet sobs began to fill your small apartment, coming out in short breaths and hiccups. The stress of the situation had all come crashing down upon you at once, leaving you an emotional wreck.
You would remain like this for another thirty or so minutes, before your sobs grew less frequent and your breath steadied. You wiped your cheeks and took a deep, grounding breath.
After you calmed down, you stared at the blank wall– you had never made an effort to fill the empty space with something, you now regretted this. Slowly, you began to think, shaking off the strange events from earlier.
You needed to do three things: meet your ex-husband (unfortunately), revisit the blood splatters, whatever that meant, and check the library, again. However, you didn't know if you could do all of that alone– after all, you had seen what that would lead to.
This moment was pivotal in your finding of your son. I knew as soon as I observed it. You had swallowed your pride and decided to ask for help, something which in my decade and a half of knowing you I have rarely seen you do.
You glanced over at your phone which you had left on the table before going to the library. You tapped the screen, the bright light stinging your eyes, and dialed a number which you hadn't in a long, long time.
She answered the phone after one ring– of course she did.