Chapter 92: The Sea of Silent Thoughts.
When I returned home, it was Ryuga-san who greeted me at the door. The warmth in his eyes, so much like the passing sun, caught my attention. I looked around the room, scanning for Ryo-san, but she was nowhere to be seen. I figured she was probably at Kiritsuga Shimo's place again.
Ryuga-san's gaze lingered on me longer than usual. Maybe he sensed the shift in my demeanor, or maybe I was being too obvious. Either way, he decided to break the silence with an offer.
"Ren," he began, his voice as steady as ever, "how about a game? Have you heard of [16 pieces]?"
I blinked, unfamiliar with the name. "No, can't say I have."
His lips curled into a faint smile as he pulled up a chair and started gathering pieces. Rocks and paper—eight of each. The rocks, he fetched from outside, their rough surface speckled with dirt. He handed me the torn pieces of paper, probably thinking I'd prefer those. How wrong he was. I've touched dirt so many times, it's practically a part of me now.
"The game's history goes back a bit," he explained. "It was played by soldiers, traders, even monks. The essence of it? Intuition." He placed the pieces before us, the paper on my side and the rocks on his. "It's similar to chess, but with one key difference."
I raised a brow. "And that is?"
"In this version, we add a rule—no more than 20 seconds per turn. Forces us to move without overthinking."
My curiosity piqued. "Interesting. A bit like blitz chess, I suppose?"
"Exactly," he nodded, eyes gleaming. "Quick decisions, rapid movements. No room for hesitation."
I mulled it over and nodded. "Let's start now."
Ryuga-san took out his old, cracked phone and set the timer. Without wasting any time, he placed his rock piece on the board from 13 to 17. I mirrored him, placing my paper piece from 25 to 21. The seconds ticked by quickly—before I knew it, half of our pieces were gone. His moves were swift and calculated, like someone who had played this game countless times. I could feel the pressure, but with my quicker reflexes, I still had more pieces on the board. Five on his side, seven on mine.
"So," Ryuga-san broke the silence, his voice calm, but probing. "What's weighing you down, Ren?"
I smirked, eyes on the makeshift board. Out of place. The words echoed in my head, but they didn't quite fit. Or maybe they did. Maybe that's exactly what I was—out of place.
"What do you mean?" I replied, feigning ignorance, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of my mouth.
He didn't look up, his focus still on the game. "You look like you've learned something... something you didn't want to know."
His words hit closer to home than I'd like to admit. I didn't want to learn the truth—that I was from another world, that I didn't belong here. But denial wasn't an option, not anymore.
I shrugged, nonchalant. "Nothing much." I took his piece, moving mine from 13 to 18, but he countered almost instantly, sweeping my piece from the board with a swift move from 9 to 19.
The thoughts gnawed at the back of my mind. Yamamichi Harate—the traitor. I would deal with him, sever the connection between us. He isn't my grandfather, I reminded myself. I shouldn't see him that way.
"Are you having thoughts you don't like?"
Ryuga-san's question pierced through my mental fog. He still hadn't looked at me once during this entire exchange, his eyes glued to the game.
I moved a piece absentmindedly, but he outmaneuvered me again, taking yet another piece. His strategy was sharp, and I had to admit, his experience showed.
"Hm. Got you." His voice was light, but there was an underlying weight to his words. He placed his piece strategically, and for the first time, I felt the game slipping away from me.
I hadn't even realized I'd looked up at him until his voice softened. "So you were having thoughts you didn't like?"
He paused, and when he spoke again, his tone was more serious. "I won't ask what those thoughts are, or how long they've been eating at you. But I will say this."
The game seemed to fall away as he continued, his words pulling me deeper.
"Let those thoughts come, Ren. Let them swirl around, crash into you. Question them. Are they worth losing yourself over? Will you remain who you are, or will these thoughts reshape you into something unrecognizable? Whatever happens, don't resist. If they drive you mad, then let them. If they darken your soul, so be it. But you, and only you, decide whether they define you."
His words hung in the air, like the dust particles caught in the sunlight streaming through the window. He moved his final piece, claiming victory. I stared at the board—he had won with just two pieces left.
Ryuga-san wiped the board clean, brushing the remnants of paper and rock into a neat pile. "Next time," he said, glancing at me, "let's play with a clear mind."
He stood up, grabbed the broom, and started sweeping the floor, leaving me to my thoughts. "Your mother will be back soon," he added over his shoulder. "Help her with the dishes, alright?"
I nodded, though I wasn't really listening. My mind was far away, lost in the sea of thoughts he had stirred.
The sound of footsteps broke the silence. Ryo-san entered the room, her voice light and cheerful as ever.
"What are you two doing?" she asked, her eyes flicking between me and Ryuga-san.
"Nothing much," I replied, but she wasn't satisfied with the answer. Before I knew it, she was kneeling in front of me, her hand resting gently on my face.
Ryo's hand stayed on my cheek, her eyes searching mine with an intensity I hadn't expected. She didn't believe me, not for a second.
"Ren," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, yet it carried all the weight in the world. "You're not just tired."
I glanced away, but she gently turned my face back toward her, her thumb brushing the edge of my jaw. "I know you," she continued, her tone soft but unyielding. "And I know when something's wrong."
Her words hit me harder than I wanted to admit. I hadn't allowed myself to feel anything beyond the numbness, but the way she looked at me—like she could see straight through the walls I'd built—made my chest tighten.
"I'm fine," I muttered, but even I could hear the strain in my voice. "Really, it's nothing."
She stayed quiet for a moment, her thumb still tracing slow, deliberate circles on my cheek. The silence was suffocating. Then, softly, she asked, "Is it something I did?"
I froze, my heart skipping a beat.
"I—what?" I blinked, caught off guard by the question. "No, it's not—"
Her eyes glistened, the vulnerability in them twisting something deep inside me. "Then talk to me, Ren. Please."
I swallowed, hard. The lump in my throat felt too thick to push down, but I forced out a breath. "It's not you."
"Then what is it?" she pressed, her voice cracking, but steadying as she held my gaze. "What's hurting you this much?"
For a moment, I almost said it. I almost spilled everything—the confusion, the anger, the overwhelming sense of not belonging anywhere. But I couldn't. The words caught in my throat, the weight too heavy to speak aloud.
I lowered my head, letting out a small, bitter laugh. "I don't know how to say it," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
She sighed, the sound soft and aching. "You don't have to say it perfectly. Just say something. I'm here."
The vulnerability in her voice broke through something in me. I looked back up at her, the walls crumbling brick by brick.
"I'm... lost," I finally said, my voice rough, raw. "I don't know where I belong anymore."
Her expression didn't change, but her grip on my face tightened, ever so slightly. "You belong here," she whispered, her eyes fierce. "With us."
I shook my head, pulling back just enough for her hand to fall from my cheek. "It's not that simple."
"Then make me understand," she pleaded, her voice stronger now. "I'm not asking you to figure it out alone. Let me in, Ren. Let me carry some of it with you."
I met her gaze again, and for the first time, I didn't try to hide. "I don't even know who I am anymore," I confessed, my voice cracking in places I didn't expect. "I don't feel... real."
Her face softened, the fierce determination fading into something more fragile. "You're more real than you think," she said, her voice trembling, but sure. "And no matter how far you feel, no matter how lost you get... you're still my Ren."
The words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I wanted to believe her, wanted to cling to that certainty. But something inside me resisted, pulling me deeper into the doubt, the fear.
"I don't know how to fix it," I admitted, the weight of my confession making it hard to breathe.
She reached out again, this time pulling me into a hug. It wasn't tight or suffocating—it was just enough. Just enough to remind me that I wasn't alone, even when it felt like I was drowning.
"You don't have to fix it right now," she murmured into my hair. "Just keep breathing, keep moving. We'll figure it out together."
I closed my eyes, letting myself lean into her warmth, if only for a moment. But even as she held me, the storm inside me raged on, the doubts, the fears swirling around like debris in a whirlwind.
"I'm trying," I whispered, though I wasn't sure if I was saying it to her or to myself.
"I know," she replied, her voice steady and sure. "I know you are."
After what felt like an eternity, she pulled back, her hands resting on my shoulders, her eyes still searching mine. "You don't have to do this alone, Ren. You have us—me, Ryuga. Don't shut us out."
I nodded, even though the weight in my chest hadn't lifted. "I'll try."
She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "That's all I ask."
With one last, lingering look, she stood up, brushing a hand through her hair. "I'll leave you to rest, but don't forget what I said."
"I won't," I promised, though I wasn't sure if I believed it.
Once she was gone, the silence settled in again, heavier this time. I stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where she had been, before finally dragging myself to my room.
The dim light barely illuminated the walls, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and twist around me. Everything felt distant, unclear. I was sinking, deeper and deeper into a sea of doubt and confusion, the surface slipping further and further away. The deeper I sank, the harder it became to breathe.
But Ryuga's words echoed in my mind, offering a strange kind of solace. Let the thoughts come. Let them tear you apart if they must. Just don't lose yourself in the process.
I closed my eyes, the faint sounds of Ryuga sweeping and Ryo bustling around the house fading into the background.
Tomorrow, I would have to face it all again. But for now, I would let the storm rage on inside me.