Chapter 5: A Place of Solitude
The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale, silver glow over the small town of Soryu. The streets were quiet, the only sound the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. It was deep in the night when Josuke Akari slipped quietly out of his room in the orphanage. His heart beat steadily as he moved through the dark hallways, careful not to make a sound. He had done this many times before—slipping away under the cover of night.
Tonight, however, was different. Tonight, he had a purpose.
He moved to the office where Headmaster Shiro kept various items, including Josuke's pendant—the silver one that his mother had placed around his neck before her death. The pendant, though it seemed ordinary, held a power that Josuke didn't understand. It had been around his neck for as long as he could remember, and it was the only connection to his mother, the woman he had never known.
The orphanage was quiet, the workers long since asleep, as Josuke carefully entered the office. He hesitated for a moment, looking at the desk where Shiro often worked late into the night. The pendant gleamed softly, resting in a drawer. Josuke knew he shouldn't take it although it was his,but something about it called to him, a feeling that he couldn't explain. Without thinking further, he slid the pendant into his pocket and moved quietly back toward the exit.
The Clinic of His Mother
Once outside, Josuke exhaled a quiet breath of relief. The air was cool, the streets empty as he moved toward the outskirts of town, where an old clinic stood abandoned. This place, once a beacon of hope for the town's sick and injured, now lay in decay, its windows boarded up, and its doors locked. But to Josuke, this place was more than just an old building. It was a connection to someone he had never known—a woman whose face he had seen only in faded photographs.
Aiko Akari, his mother, had run this clinic before her untimely death . The people of the town rarely spoke of her but when they did, it was always with respect. Still, Josuke had never been told the full story. All he knew was that she had loved this town, and that her life had been cut short by something he could never quite grasp all That was all Josuke knew about her .
Josuke reached the clinic's entrance, where the wooden sign that once proudly read "Akari Clinic" now hung crooked and broken. He pushed through the rusted gate and entered, moving swiftly as he made his way to the familiar office. No one came to visit this place anymore, and Josuke liked it that way. In the solitude, he could be alone with his thoughts—away from the orphanage, away from the people who looked at him with suspicion.
Inside, the office was just as he remembered it. Dusty, dark, and filled with the remnants of his mother's life. Josuke walked over to the desk, where an old photo frame sat beside a stack of papers. He gently lifted the frame and stared at the photograph—Aiko, smiling brightly, her long black hair framing her face. It was a picture from her youth, but Josuke could feel a connection to it, even though he had no memories of her.
The walls were adorned with awards, certificates, and photos of patients she had helped over the years. The clinic, despite its dilapidation, felt like a place where Aiko's spirit still lingered—where Josuke could almost hear her voice in the silence Josuke never knew her but he felt drawn to her . As he sat in the chair, Josuke allowed himself a moment of weakness. The tough exterior he wore for everyone else his bravado, his rebellion dropped for a brief instant.
Josuke's Heartbreak
Josuke had never truly grieved for his mother. He had never cried for her, because he didn't know how. He had lived his life with the understanding that she had simply disappeared, leaving him behind. But as he sat in her office, surrounded by the remnants of a life that should have been his, a sadness that he had buried for years began to rise within him.
He had always felt different, but it wasn't just because of the people in the town who kept their distance. It was because of the emptiness inside him. The void that had never been filled. The yearning for something he couldn't put into words.
The Orphanage's Search
Back at the orphanage, the stillness was broken by the sound of hurried footsteps. One of the workers, a young woman, entered Headmaster Shiro's room. She looked anxious, her eyes darting around the dimly lit room.
"Headmaster," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Josuke is gone. We've searched his room. He's not there."
Shiro looked up from the book he had been reading, his expression unreadable. "I know where he's gone."
The worker's eyes widened in shock. "You do? But… how?"
Shiro stood slowly, his gaze distant for a moment before it settled on the young woman. "He's gone to the clinic. He does this every now and then." He didn't say much more, but there was a sadness in his eyes that hinted at a deeper knowledge.
"Should we go after him?" the worker asked, concerned.
"No," Shiro replied firmly, though his tone was calm. "Let him be. He needs this time alone."
The worker hesitated, but Shiro's calm demeanor reassured her. She nodded and left the room to inform the others, leaving Shiro alone in the quiet office.
A Silent Connection
At the clinic, Josuke remained in his mother's office, the pendant still heavy in his pocket. As he stood to leave, his fingers brushed against the cold metal, and for a moment, he thought he could hear a whisper on the wind—a faint, soothing voice calling out to him. He shook his head, thinking it was just his imagination, but the feeling of connection lingered.
Josuke stepped out of the clinic and into the cool night air. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had discovered a place where he could truly belong—a place where the weight of his unanswered questions could momentarily be forgotten. He had never known his mother, but this place—the clinic—was the only memory he had of her. It was a place where, for just a few moments, he could allow himself to feel vulnerable.
Headmaster Shiro's Vigil
As Josuke left the clinic and disappeared into the night, Shiro made his way toward the same destination, though he knew Josuke needed this time alone. There was an understanding between them—a bond that had been forged over the years. Shiro didn't try to stop Josuke from going to the clinic. He knew that the boy was seeking something—some part of his mother that had been lost to time.
But as the old man walked through the empty streets, his thoughts turned dark. He knew that Josuke's future would not be easy. The bloodline he carried, the legacy of Ragnar, could not remain hidden forever. And when the time came, Josuke would have to face the truth about his origins.
For now, though, Shiro was content to let the boy find solace in the silence of the clinic. He had his own demons to face.