The late afternoon sun dipped behind the buildings as Ryunosuke and Emily walked side by side down a quiet stretch of sidewalk, their footsteps echoing off the nearby shopfronts. The city's usual rhythm felt distant here—muted, like it knew something was shifting between them.
Emily sipped her iced matcha and glanced over at him. "You've been quiet all day."
Ryunosuke forced a small smile. "Sorry. Just… thinking."
She waited for him to say more, but when he didn't, she nudged his arm gently. "Thinking about what?"
He hesitated. His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag. "I, uh… I'm going to Japan."
Emily stopped walking.
"What?"
Ryunosuke faced her, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'm leaving in a few days. Just for a while. I need to—there are things about my dad. Things I didn't know."
She stared at him, processing the words. "You're serious."
He nodded. "Yeah."
Emily looked down, her shoulders drawing inward. "So… this is why you've been distant lately."
"I didn't want to drop it on you," he said quickly. "I didn't even know how to explain it. There's a part of him I never got to see, and now that I know it's there, I have to find it. I can't ignore it."
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. "Are you going alone?"
"Yeah. I think I need to."
Emily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're not running away, right?"
He looked her in the eyes. "No. I'm running toward something."
They stood in silence for a long moment, cars passing in the distance.
"I don't want you to go," she finally said, her voice soft.
"I know."
"But I get it," she added, her voice breaking just slightly. "And I'll be here when you come back. Promise me you'll text."
Ryunosuke smiled, a little sad, a little grateful. "I will. Every day if you want."
Emily stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. He returned the hug, holding her tighter than he expected to.
"It's not goodbye," he whispered near her ear. "Just… for now."
She nodded against his chest. "For now."
The golden hour bathed the restaurant in a soft amber glow. The clink of utensils and quiet hum of conversation filled the air, familiar and comforting. Ryunosuke moved from table to table with practiced ease, wiping down surfaces, delivering drinks, offering shy smiles to regulars who greeted him with warmth.
It was his last night before the trip.
Lucas was in the back corner of the kitchen, complaining about a delivery truck being late—again. William sat at the counter, nose buried in a thick, yellowed book that looked like it belonged in a museum. From time to time, he scribbled strange notes in the margins.
Emily had offered to help, but Ryunosuke insisted she take the night off. Still, she showed up anyway, nursing a soda and keeping him company between shifts.
The restaurant wasn't full, but it was alive. Familiar faces, the scent of grilled onions and spices, laughter from one of the booths—all of it wrapped around him like a blanket he wasn't ready to let go of.
Amelia stepped out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes found Ryunosuke. She didn't say anything. Just offered him a look—a quiet mix of pride, sadness, and something else. Acceptance, maybe.
They passed each other behind the counter. She brushed his shoulder lightly as she walked by.
"Make sure you eat tonight," she said softly, without turning around.
"I will," he replied, just as softly.
Later, after closing, Ryunosuke stood in the empty dining area, wiping down the last table. The chairs were up, the lights dimmed. He paused and looked around. Every corner of the place held a memory. The sketch of a ramen bowl on the wall—his, drawn when he was nine. The little shelf of spices his dad insisted they keep even if no one used them. The cracked tile near the front that Amelia refused to fix because "it's part of the charm."
He exhaled, slow and steady.
William cleared his throat behind him. "You're sure this isn't a one-way trip?"
Ryunosuke turned, a smirk tugging at his mouth. "I'm sure."
"Then bring me back something haunted," William said, half-joking. "Preferably pre-Meiji."
"I'll keep an eye out."
Lucas shouted from the back, "If you die, I'm keeping your PS5!"
Ryunosuke laughed. "Fair enough."
Emily stood by the door, waiting.
He looked at the place one last time—his second home—and flicked off the lights.
Later in the night,
Ryunosuke stepped out, expecting quiet—but was met with the sight of Emily, William, and Lucas waiting near the curb. Emily held a small paper bag. Lucas leaned against a bike rack with a shrug. William looked like he'd been dragged here under protest but stayed anyway.
"What is this?" Ryunosuke asked, caught off guard.
"A mini sendoff," Emily said, stepping forward. "Because we know you, and you'd vanish without saying anything."
Lucas scoffed. "Yeah, classic loner energy."
Ryunosuke smiled faintly. "You didn't have to do this."
"That's why we did," William said dryly.
Emily handed him the paper bag. "We all added something, it's last secong but I hope you enjoy it."
Inside was a small travel journal, handmade and decorated with doodles: a rough sketch of a fox, some stars, a wonky sword, and at the center, a blooming iris.
"I figured you'd want to write or draw while you're away," Emily said. "And maybe… just have a piece of us with you."
Ryunosuke swallowed the lump in his throat.
William handed him a beat-up old book, its title worn off the spine. "It's about ritualistic memory loss and occult symbols. Extremely fringe stuff. Be careful what you read out loud."
Lucas shoved his hands deeper into his hoodie. "I didn't bring anything. But if you die, I'm taking over your playlist. And your spot in the sketch circle."
Ryunosuke chuckled. "Good to know I'm replaceable."
"Only legally," Lucas added with a grin.
Emily pulled out her phone. "Group photo."
They all leaned in. Emily hit the shutter with one hand extended, catching their awkward, lopsided smiles. Afterward, she looked down at the screen, then back at Ryunosuke.
"So we remember who we're fighting for," she said softly.
The words landed heavier than expected. No one spoke for a moment.
After their goodbyes, Ryunosuke lingered by the door, alone for the first time in hours. He pulled the travel journal back out of the paper bag, opening it carefully—and paused.
Tucked inside the front cover was a tarot-like card.
He hadn't put it there.
It wasn't from Emily. Or Lucas. Or William.
The image was hand-painted: an iris flower wrapped in a silver serpent, its petals nearly glowing beneath the streetlight. On the back, a faint sigil shimmered—one that seemed to shift when he tilted it.
He touched the edge with two fingers.
A whisper of warmth. Like a presence brushing just beneath the surface.
Ryunosuke stared at it, pulse quickening.
She had left it for him.
And she wanted him to remember.