Seiji peeled off from Masashi at the usual intersection, but then took the detour he had memorized. He couldn't wait to reach the first stop on his list.
Sakamoto Antiquaries waited across the small canal, hidden among narrow streets that smelled of dust, decay, and long-forgotten secrets.
The sliding door let out a tired chime when he entered.
"I'll be right there," came a voice from deeper inside.
The shop was small and overflowing with all sorts of old trinkets.
An old man with glasses thicker than bottle bottoms appeared before Seiji.
"Let me guess," he murmured, wrinkling his forehead. "You're here to buy a perfect mark charm."
"No." Seiji handed him the note. "I need your help identifying this."
The antiquary blinked, but didn't reply. He retreated to his counter and examined the paper with a loupe for a while—in every possible way but smelling it.
"Very nice," the old man finally croaked. "Must be from a private mill. Good work. Very expensive."
Seiji leaned forward. "The crest. The bird. What about that?"
The man squinted. "Ah. Just the owner's insignia, son. Extremely rich people do this. Stylized cranes, herons... makes them feel like royalty."
"Can you tell who the owner was?"
"Oh no, I'm afraid not." The old man clicked his tongue. "You'd need a genealogy or clan expert for that."
Seiji sighed.
"But," the old man added, noticing the disappointment on his face, "if you're serious about this, there is one man. A true expert. Professor Tanaka. He does private consultations. But he charges up to—" he tapped his wrinkled hand against his forehead "—here. You understand, young man?"
"That's fine," Seiji replied without thinking, surprising himself.
It was clear that his quick reply surprised the antiquary, too.
"Well…" he said, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "In that case…"
The antiquary scribbled down a name and number.
Where would I get the money?
Still, Seiji took the paper. "Thanks."
He walked back slower.
It was a long shot, but does it mean it's going to be much harder than I thought to crack Grandpa's mystery?
If solving this puzzle was going to take effort and money, he had to be prepared. He had to be serious about it.
Mature. Strong. Like a knight on a quest.
Not like Masashi. Not like a boy.
Seiji walked into the kitchen to find Haruko on a stepladder, wrestling with a shelf. She stretched and fumed, clearly not the first attempt.
"Ah!" The shelf wobbled again.
Haruko lost her balance.
In one motion, Seiji was behind her. "Got it."
He planted one hand firmly on his stepmother's lower back and grabbed the shelf with the other. Haruko gasped, his body pressing against hers.
Her body went stiff under Seiji's touch.
Yes, I'm in control now.
The amulet flared against Seiji's chest, drinking in the sudden shock—a spike shooting through her and into him.
"The shelf… it's loose," Haruko stammered, but didn't move away.
"Yes," Seiji said.
"I've been asking Jun…"
Seiji pressed his hand harder into the soft curve of her back. "I'll fix it."
He held her a few seconds longer.
I'm strong. Stronger than my father.
He needed to feel it. And she was one of the ways to achieve that.
Then he let go.
Haruko stepped down, her face flushed. Her polite curtain was gone, replaced by total confusion and a flicker of fear.
Seiji grabbed a screwdriver from a drawer.
Confidently.
He didn't look at Haruko.
He wasn't just fixing a wobbly shelf.
Haruko needed a man to rely on. And he was showing her who that should be.