The rain didn't stop.
Neither did her heart.
It still raced with something buried or maybe something that refused to be.
By the time Ryu reached her apartment, her clothes were soaked through. Her boots squelched against the tiles, each step leaving behind tiny, muddy ghosts of where she'd been.
She caught her reflection in the hallway mirror.
Wet. Pale. Distant.
The rim of her eyes swollen from crying.
Then ...
she smiled.
A crooked, wicked thing. No warmth. No joy. Just teeth and tension.
"You made it," she whispered to the mirror. "Again."
The smile twitched.
She laughed short, sharp, the kind that shouldn't exist in silence. Her fingers reached up, brushing her cheek like she was checking if she was still real.
"You're still here? After all that?"
Her voice cracked.
Then the tears came slow, silent, slipping over the smile like betrayal. Her breath hitched.
And her hand moved.
A slap. Not hard enough to bruise, but loud enough to echo.
Then another.
Again.
Her cheek stung. It felt deserved.
"Stop smiling," she muttered. "You don't get to laugh. You don't get to pretend."
The mirror didn't flinch.
Ryu dropped her hand.
Pressed her forehead to the cold glass.
Her laughter had vanished.
All that remained was a girl trembling trying not to drown in herself.
"One more push," she whispered, "and I would've shattered."
She stripped off the wet clothes. Let them fall to the floor like shed skin.
The hot water stung her back, but she didn't move. Didn't breathe.
Still, the tears fell slow and endless.
She didn't know if the tears were because she was broken or because she was still alive.
Pain was easier than memory.
After, wrapped in an old towel, she sat on the edge of the bed, water still dripping from her hair.
She reached for the drawer.
Pulled out the black, weathered diary.
It fell open like it remembered where she left off.
"Today, father and I decided some holidays plan for work....
The words blurred. My fingers tightened around the pages.It wasn't always this way—this blood, this silence.Before the ash, before the blade, there was a home.And I remember the last morning it still felt safe…"