Chapter 2 – Sword
The next morning arrived with quiet inevitability.
Aven trudged back from school, a manila envelope in hand—the official withdrawal letter, signed and stamped. The thought of leaving his classmates, the endless homework, and the cafeteria's overpriced curry should have been liberating. Instead, he felt oddly hollow.
Mayane was still at school. That meant the apartment was his, silent and lonely. He sat for a while, staring at the floor. His father's dying words scratched at the edges of his mind, refusing to fade.
Grandfather. Basement. Green wardrobe.
"…Damn it."
Kyoto was hours away. He had just enough cash to survive a month, maybe. But curiosity gnawed at him harder than hunger ever could. So he scribbled a 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 bills for a long moment, then sighed. "Goodbye, sweet, 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 to the station.
---
The train ride to Kyoto was almost empty. Aven ended up next to a girl his age—long black hair falling over part of her face, thin oval glasses catching the light. She leaned against her hand, gaze thoughtful, calm in a way that felt almost heavy.
On her right hand, just above the wrist, a faint red symbol caught Aven's eye. A small circle, like a sun with rays splitting outward.
He squinted at it, not even bothering to be subtle.
The girl's lips curved into the faintest smile. "…You've been staring at my hand for five minutes. Something you want to say?"
Aven straightened immediately, waving his hands. "W-what? Me? No, no, of course not. I was just… appreciating the… um… artistry? Yes. Very symmetrical rays. Nice circle. Really, top-tier geometry."
Her brow lifted. "It's a tattoo. Most people just ask."
"Well, forgive me for not wanting to sound like some creep." He gave her a lopsided grin. "Also, I wasn't staring. I was… strategically observing. There's a difference."
"Right." She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "Priscilla Lucantes."
"…Aven. Kaoru Aven." He scratched his neck. "So, Priscilla, you also headed to Kyoto?"
"Yes."
"Good. Maybe you can pay for my return ticket when I inevitably go broke. You look rich enough."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, though amusement flickered at the corner of her lips. "Bold of you to assume."
"Listen, when life hands you lemons, you sell them. When life hands you strangers on a train, you… uh… negotiate financial partnerships."
She chuckled softly. "You're strange."
"I prefer financially challenged but resourceful."
The train screeched as it slowed, the station announcement echoing overhead. The two stepped off together, but at the bustling Kyoto platform, their paths split naturally. Priscilla disappeared into the crowd with nothing more than a small nod.
"…There goes my potential investor," Aven muttered.
---
The grandfather's house stood in an old neighborhood, tucked into a narrow lane paved with uneven stones. The building was aged but dignified—wooden walls worn smooth with time, moss creeping along the roof tiles. The sliding shōji doors glowed faintly yellow in the afternoon sun. A faint scent of green tea and cedar drifted from the garden, where a crooked maple leaned gently in the breeze.
Aven slid open the door and stepped into silence. Memories ambushed him—running across tatami mats, his grandfather's laughter, the warmth of family dinners. All of it… gone.
He shook it off with a snort. "Nostalgia's free, but rent isn't. Let's get to business."
The basement door creaked when he pulled it open. The air inside smelled of dust and rust. Cobwebs stretched across wooden beams, the floor littered with forgotten tools, broken furniture, and the skeletal frames of two old bicycles.
And there it was.
The green wardrobe.
"Well, Father, you weren't exactly subtle. At least it's not pink."
He braced his shoulder against the side and shoved.
"Ughhh—why… did you… keep… so much junk in here!"
The wardrobe groaned but moved, inch by painful inch. Behind it, a hidden door revealed itself—painted white, nearly blending with the wall.
Aven wiped his forehead, then grinned. "Bingo. Jackpot time."
The door opened with surprising ease, revealing a small chamber. Inside, a single table stood bathed in a shaft of dim light. Atop it lay a black box.
Glup.
Aven's throat tightened. His heart hammered.
"…This is it. This is the inheritance. Gold bars. Diamond stash. Emergency billionaire fund."
He stepped forward, almost reverent, almost drooling. "Father, why didn't you tell me sooner? I could've been a millionaire before midterms. Hahaha… yes… yes, this is destiny!"
The box clicked open.
Inside was… a broken greatsword. Its blade snapped halfway down the length, the hilt still adorned with intricate carvings, faintly glowing with some ancient dignity. The metal was wrapped in filthy bandages, rust bleeding into brown stains that might have once been blood.
And a folded piece of paper.
"…You've got to be kidding me." Aven's 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 train money?! This isn't funny!"
Still grumbling, he snatched 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 eyes darted to the broken sword.
"…Survive? What does that even mean?"
He rubbed his temple, groaning. "Why couldn't it just be stocks or bonds like a normal inheritance? Nooo, it had to be creepy shrines and cryptic letters. Great. Just great."
He flopped onto the dusty floor, staring at the ceiling.
"…Maybe if I pawn the sword, I'll at least get train money back."
The house groaned quietly around him. Outside, the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows into the garden. Aven sat in silence, frustration fading into unease.
Tomorrow, he would decide.