[Day of the Exhibition – Ginza, Tokyo | Private Gallery]
[Haruka POV]
The morning air was crisp, the kind that carried the faint scent of rain from the night before.
By the time we reached the gallery, the front steps were already lined with arrangements of white orchids, peonies, camellias, and… my favourite flower, lilies. They were sent by artists, collectors, and family friends. Each one carried a small wooden tag with ink-brushed messages of congratulations.
Inside, the transformation was complete.
The once-empty walls now carried entire worlds. Brushstrokes of memory, grief, joy, and confession. The lighting was warm and deliberate, as if each piece had been given its own breath to live.
Levi was in the far back, just as he wanted. Not hidden, but waiting. The torn textures, layered blacks and greys, streaks of copper, and that single red scar running through the centre which drew you in the moment you saw it.
I stood there beside him before the guest arrived.
"You're early." I said.
"I wanted to see it without anyone else here."
His hands were in his pockets, but I could tell from the faint tension of his shoulders that he was reading every inch of the canvas again, searching for something only he knew.
"You're going to have many people asking you about this," I told him.
"They can ask." His voice was calm, almost too calm. "I'm not explaining it."
Before I could respond, the sound of the gallery doors opening echoed through the hall. The first guest, quiet, respectful but curious, began to filter in. Among them, my grandfather, dressed in deep navy, his hair tied neatly back, walking with the same quiet authority as ever.
When he reached us, his eyes went to the painting first. Then to Levi.
"It belongs here," my grandfather said simply.
Levi inclined his head. "Thank you."
And then the room began to swell. Soft footsteps on polished floors, murmured greetings, and the quiet hum of conversations as people gravitated towards the art that pulled them.
A French curator in a slate-grey suit stood before Levi's work for a long time, hands clasped behind his back. A Japanese art critic took notes in a leather-bound book. A pair of young students whispered about the courage it took to put something so raw on the wall.
Levi didn't hover. He moved slowly through the gallery, stopping when someone spoke to him, answering politely but briefly. He didn't need to perform, the work was already speaking. And… everyone in the world now knows he's L. Schatz.
At one point, I caught him looking at the maple tree through the rear gallery window, the same one from my grandparent's garden. His expression was unreadable, but I didn't need to know the exact thought. I knew it was full.
And through it all, Levi remained Levi. Sharp, composed, grounded.
But every so often, when his eyes found mine across the room, there was a flicker of something else. Not pride. Not relief.
Peace.
For the first time in years, maybe.
[Two Hours Later]
[Haruka POV]
The gallery was alive now. The quiet hum of voices blending with the soft shuffle of footsteps across the polished wood.
Levi's piece sat at the far back wall, pulling people in like a slow tide.
I was speaking with one of my grandfather's assistants when the low chime of the glass doors caught my attention.
I turned… and stopped.
My grandmother entered first, moving gracefully despite her age, a pale lavender shawl over her shoulders. Besides her was my mother, wearing a deep blue silk dress that brought out her eyes. Hanabi was there too, peeking around them with curious eyes, and right behind her… Harumi, my older sister, poised as ever, scanning the room like she'd stepped into one of her own soirées.
They were not on the guest list. And my grandfather didn't even say anything about this.
Hanabi spotted me first and waved, breaking into a grin. I made my way over quickly.
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming all the way from Paris?" I asked, though I couldn't keep the smile from my face.
Grandmother answered for them. "Because I wanted to see it as everyone else would… without preparation. Your mother insisted we come."
Hanabi looked around, eyes sparkling. "So… that's the famous L. Schatz. Does he know I'm here? Should I surprise him?"
Before I could answer, I saw movement at the entrance again. And this time… even I froze.
Levi's grandfather.
Walking in with his cane, his presence commanding without effort. Besides him, Lauren looked striking in a tailored cream suit. Behind them, Louis in a charcoal blazer, and Amelie at his side, her arm looped through his.
Levi hadn't seen them yet.
I moved towards him quickly, catching him just as he was answering a question from a young art student.
"You might want to look toward the entrance." I murmured.
He did, and I saw the exact moment recognition hit him. His posture shifted, not in discomfort, but in a way that said that he was both surprised and trying to process it.
Lauren reached him first, looking at him from head to toe with a smirk. "You didn't think we'd miss this, did you?"
Levi's voice was low but warm. "You didn't tell me you were coming."
"Would you have told us not to?" Amelie teased, earning a soft laugh from Louis.
Levi's grandfather stepped forward next. "I wanted to see my grandson stand before his work. Not as the Ackerman heir. Not the businessman. But the artist.
The words hung between them, and for a brief moment, the rest of the gallery seemed to fade.
I glanced toward my own family. My grandmother had joined them now, speaking quietly with Levi's grandfather like two old friends who had shared tea many times before. Harumi nee-san, Hanabi and Lauren stood near Levi's painting, whispering their thoughts to each other, while my mother simply studied the piece in silence.
Levi met my eyes across the room. No words. Just a small nod, the kind that said… 'you were right to bring me here.'
And then Hanabi suddenly stood in front of Levi's painting, her head tilted like she was trying to read a secret written in the strokes.
"It's not pretty," she said when I joined her and Lauren.
"It's not supposed to be," I replied.
Her eyes softened. "Then it's… kind of beautiful."
Across the room, I spotted Harumi nee-san cornering Levi. Not in a bad way, but with that sharp, measured tone she used when she wanted real answers.
"So, this is you," she said, gesturing toward the canvas. "Not the man from the papers. Not the Ackerman heir. Just you."
Levi didn't flinch. "Yes."
She studied him for a moment before giving a small, satisfied nod. "Then I'm glad my brother chose you."
I didn't catch his exact reply, but the faint curve of his mouth said it wasn't something sarcastic for once.
Meanwhile, my grandmother and my mother had somehow ended up in quiet conversation with Levi's grandfather near the tea counter. They weren't talking about business, their voices were too warm for that. Probably art, maybe the war years, or the garden at my grandparents' house.
When I passed by, I heard my grandmother say, "You've raised a man who paints like someone who's lived twice."
And Levi's grandfather replied, "He's still learning. And… I'm not the one who raised him into who he is now. I, too, am proud of him."
Lauren drifted in at one point, looping her arm through Levi without warning, which I didn't expect coming from her. "The critics love it," she whispered. "But don't let that go to your head. It's better that way."
Louis and Amelie stayed close to the far wall, occasionally pulling Levi into short exchanges. Nothing deep, just small acknowledgements that they were here and that it mattered.
It was strange.
For years, I'd seen Levi caught between the weight of two worlds. The business empire he'd walked away from and the private self he'd guarded fiercely.
And here, in this gallery, those worlds weren't fighting each other. They were just… standing side by side, looking at the same canvas.
[After Hours – Ginza, Tokyo | Private Gallery]
[Haruka POV]
The gallery was quiet again.
The echoes of footsteps and murmured conversations had faded, replaced by the low hum of the air system and the faint scent of brewed tea left over from the refreshments table.
The staff had already begun packing up for the night, leaving the artwork untouched but dimming the lights in the outer halls. Only the centre gallery, the one with Levi's piece, stayed softly lit.
I stood a few steps away from the painting, hands in my pockets, letting my eyes trace the scar of red again. It was strange how it seemed different now that the room was empty. More personal. More deliberate.
Levi was speaking quietly with my grandfather, the two of them stood shoulder-to-shoulder like equals rather than teacher and admirer. And my mother joined them a moment later.
"You've bled into this work," my grandfather said, his voice calm. "That's why it breathes."
Levi gave a small nod. "I didn't want to hide this time."
"You didn't," my grandfather replied. "And people will remember it."
On the other side of the room, my grandmother and Levi's grandfather had taken seats along the bench, watching silently. They didn't need to speak, the comfort in their shared presence said enough.
I walked over to join them. Levi's grandfather turned his eyes toward me. "Charles," he said, his tone carrying a rare softness, "thank you for bringing him here. I've known my grandson all his life, but I think today, I saw him for the first time."
Before I could answer, Levi came over. He wasn't smiling, but there was a lightness in his expression I hadn't seen in a long time.
Hanabi, Lauren, Louis, and Amelie stood by the door, speaking quietly but waiting for him. No rush. Just patience.
Levi's gaze drifted to me. "I think that's enough for one day."
"More than enough." I agreed.
He glanced once more at the painting before the lights dimmed over it. For a moment, it felt like watching a curtain close after the final scene of a play. A quiet ending, but one that leaves the audience still thinking about it long after they've left.
Levi held my hand for a moment before making his way towards his family to talk to them.
//SKIP//
The gallery was nearly silent now.
The families had already left. Levi had spoken to each of them in turn, short words, but meaningful ones. Even his grandfather seemed more than satisfied, giving him a rare nod before Lauren finally coaxed him toward the waiting car.
Now it was just us.
The lights above Levi's painting were dimmed, leaving the canvas in a soft glow, as if it still breathed even without an audience. Levi stood before it with his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed for the first time all day.
I stayed a step behind, letting him have the quiet.
"You did it," I said softly.
He exhaled, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. "Yeah."
For a moment, it felt like this was the right ending. The silence was enough, the gallery itself holding its breath around us.
Then I heard footsteps.
The sound of the front door unlocking broke the stillness. Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed against the wooden floor, drawing closer.
Levi frowned, straightening. "The staff shouldn't be back."
I turned just as the figure appeared in the doorway. Broad shoulders, sharp eyes, moving with the casual confidence of someone who had no intention of asking permission to be here.
"Uncle Kenny," Levi muttered under his breath.
His uncle smirked, hands in his pockets. "Hell of a show, kid. So, this is the result of you begging me to learn art when you were a kid."
But Levi wasn't looking at him anymore. His eyes had shifted, narrowed to the man walking in behind Kenny.
The air seemed to collapse around us.
Because this man carried the same sharpness in his jawline. The same presence in his stride. Older, colder, his gaze unreadable as it swept the gallery walls before settling squarely on Levi.
My chest tightened.
Levi's father.
For the first time that night, Levi's composure cracked. Only for a flicker, but enough for me to see it.
"You…" His voice was cold. "What are you doing here?"
Kenny leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking far too entertained. "Figured it's about time you two had a proper talk. Thought I'd bring him myself."
I glanced at Levi. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched at his sides, the storm behind his eyes barely contained.
His father took a step forward, his voice steady, heavy with something I couldn't yet name.
"Levi."
The sound of it froze the air between us.
I swallowed, my heart racing, knowing this moment wasn't just unexpected.
It was inevitable.
TO BE CONTINUED!!!