The train ride back from Kyoto was quiet, almost unnaturally serene. Kenji leaned his head against the windowpane, watching as the landscape blurred past—tiny villages nestled in valleys, thick forests swaying under the wind, and stretches of open countryside giving way to familiar terrain. The rhythmic hum of the train, paired with the occasional creak of the tracks, made for a meditative atmosphere. His body was sore from the earlier battle with the yokai, a dull ache pulsing in his limbs like echoes of conflict, but his mind was calm—focused.
Beside him, a cloth bag sat nestled against his side, filled with carefully wrapped souvenirs and thoughtful gifts for his family.
As the train slowed and the Shizuoka station came into view, his heart began to soothe in his chest. The station, while small and unassuming, felt overwhelmingly significant. Kyoto had been a bit of an eye-opener, powerful and filled with magic—but Shizuoka was home. A quiet, lived-in space filled with ordinary moments and his family.
Kenji stepped off the train, inhaling the scent of his hometown—cool, clean air mixed with the distant aroma of steamed buns and fresh pavement. The streets were quieter than Kyoto's bustling districts, he had only been away for a little while but somehow it felt like a lifetime, everything just seemed brighter and the peaceful area filled him with an odd comfort.
Walking back to the house felt like marching toward a checkpoint in a mission. He knew this wasn't just a physical return. It was a statement. A message. A step forward in the fragile journey of rebuilding something once lost.
He paused in front of the door, heart pounding.
The home was quiet, save for the distant muffled voices of his children inside. A wind chime tinkled gently near the entryway. He raised his hand to the doorknob and hesitated for just a second, he didn't understand why he was hesitating at all, he took a breath before pushing the door open.
"I'm home," he called out softly.
There was a beat of silence.
Then the sound of footsteps.
His wife, Anastasia, stepped into view, arms folded over her chest. Her expression was neutral, too practiced to be casual. Her eyes scanned him quickly, no doubt searching for something before she sighed a little finding something or lack of, whatever that may be. There was relief there, buried deep, but her posture was stiff.
"You're back," she said, and though her voice was calm, it was cold, as though every word had been iced before release.
Kenji offered a small nod. "Yeah. Just got off the train."
Her arms remained folded. " No message. No calls."
"I know," he admitted. "That was wrong. I should've called. I just… got caught up in things. I didn't mean to."
Her lips pressed into a thin, unimpressed line. "It felt like old times. And not the good kind."
Kenji winced at that, then reached into the bag. "I brought something for everyone." changing the subject.
One by one, he laid out the gifts. A box of handmade sweets for his son, Ren—candied fruit and sugar sculptures in the shapes of dragons and a bracelet, it had a small protective charm like the other gifts he bought. A silver necklace for his eldest daughter, Aoi—elegant and modest, with a soft charm that hummed faint magic. For his younger daughter, Ayaka, a hand-carved brush embedded with the same enchantments as the others but also meant to keep hair untangled and glossy.
And those weren't the only gifts he brought with him. he wanted to spoil his family.
Finally, he pulled out a slender box. Inside was a bracelet of polished silver, Currently invisibly etched with protective runes and set with a single, clear stone. It shimmered subtly under the house lights, it was beautiful.
"For you," he said, extending it to her.
She didn't take it. She stared at the box, then looked back at him. "Is this supposed to make up for disappearing?"
"No," Kenji said immediately. "I'm not trying to buy your forgiveness. I just… wanted to show you that I was thinking about you. About all of you. Even when I was far away."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "I took pictures. Not many, but… I wanted to have something to share with you all. A piece of where I was."
She took the phone hesitantly, swiping through the photos. Images of serene temples, busy marketplaces, glowing lanterns, and shops flashed across the screen. Kenji had taken a selfie in front of a towering Torii gate, a rare candid smile on his face. Each photo seemed to ease her...
"You really went," she murmured, her tone less sharp now, less guarded.
"I did," he said with a small smile. "And I came back."
A long pause stretched between them before she finally exhaled and turned toward the kitchen. "I'll make some tea."
She didn't accept the bracelet, but she didn't reject it either. It remained on the table, resting beside the gifts for their children. It wasn't forgiveness. But it was something. A step.
[System Alert!]
New Quest Progress: Mending a Broken Family
New Bond Progress: Ren (100%)
New Bond Progress: Aoi (90%)
New Bond Progress: Ayaka (84%)
New Bond Progress: Anastasia (71%)
—Anastasia—
She sat across the living room, sipping slowly from her cup of green tea. The warmth of the liquid was grounding. Her gaze was fixed on Kenji, who knelt on the floor with their three children clustered around him. The living room was filled with laughter—genuine and bright—as Ren waved his toy katana around with dramatic flair.
Kenji smiled—no, beamed—as he helped Aoi try on the necklace when she had asked him and gently helped Ayaka with her hair. The way he looked at them, spoke to them, touched their shoulders with casual affection… it didn't feel like the Kenji she used to know.
And that was the problem.
Because when he didn't return that night when his phone remained silent, she had felt a sharp sting in her chest—a familiar wound opening again. She had gone to bed angry, not just because he was gone, but because she had started to hope. Hope that things were truly changing. Hope that maybe, just maybe, he was becoming the husband and father she had wished for.
She had believed he'd changed.
And that belief hurt more than his absence.
Because if he hadn't changed, if he'd fooled them again if all of this was just another mask—then it would break something inside her for good.
She thought she had stopped caring. That she had reached the point where he could vanish and it would mean nothing. But it wasn't true. His absence had left her staring at the door longer than she wanted to admit.
But then he came back.
He brought pictures, not excuses.
He brought gifts, not guilt.
And more than that, something in his eyes was different. It wasn't the same hollow and shifty look. There was purpose now. A sense of presence. A sense of being here not out of obligation, but choice. A feeling of dare she say, love....Actual love when he looked at her and the children.
She had looked at him and, somehow, she had known he wasn't lying.
It wasn't something she could explain. Just something she felt.
He was different. He was... trying.
And he was succeeding too.
She took another sip of tea, the strange tightness loosening in her chest. The children laughed louder, their joy echoing through the home. Her gaze lingered on Kenji again. Watching him talk, laugh, lean into the moment—it wasn't an act. It wasn't temporary.
Maybe the accident really had changed something.
Maybe it hadn't been a curse at all.
Maybe it had been the spark needed to finally bring back the man she once believed in.
And maybe, just maybe... he was becoming someone even better.
She found herself smiling—quietly, softly, but truly—for the first time in what felt like years. And for the first time, she dared to believe that this time, the change might just be real.
[System Alert!]
New Quest Progress: Mending a Broken Family
New Bond Progress: Anastasia (76%)
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