Chapter 2 — Pudding, the Past, and Omens
Ren was still standing in the alley when he realized that silence had returned to normal.
The wind moved between the buildings again. The distant hum of cars had come back. The city kept living on, indifferent to the fact that, just seconds earlier, a pink-haired girl had appeared out of nowhere, cut a spirit in half, and said something that made no sense at all.
He stared at the stranger for a few seconds.
She stared back.
Her blue eyes were far too calm for someone who had just appeared in the middle of an alley as if that were the most natural thing in the world.
Ren finally found his voice.
"Who are you?"
The girl tilted her head slightly, as if the question itself were strange.
"Ayame."
The name hit something inside him.
Like a stone thrown into a dark lake, sending ripples through a place he could not see.
Ren pressed a hand to his forehead.
"That doesn't explain anything."
Ayame fell silent for a moment. Then she glanced toward the spot where the spirit had vanished, as though she were certain it would not come back.
"This isn't a good place to talk," she said. "Let's leave."
Ren still wanted to ask how, why, and what the hell had just happened, but his body finally decided to remember that he had almost died. The shock came late and heavy. His legs felt weaker now. His throat was dry.
In the end, all he could do was nod.
The walk back to his apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
Ren walked a few steps ahead, then kept glancing back to make sure she was still there. Ayame followed without difficulty, her white dress swaying softly with each step, her long pink hair flowing freely down her back. She stood out too much. Twice, people on the street looked at her, but not with the shock he expected. It was as if, for some reason, her presence seemed less strange to others than it should have.
Or maybe his mind simply had not caught up with his body yet.
When he finally unlocked the apartment door, Ren stepped inside first and turned on the light.
The place somehow felt even smaller with another person in it.
Ayame entered right after him, her eyes slowly moving over the room. There was no confusion on her face. Only curiosity. Quiet, restrained curiosity.
Ren shut the door, dropped the key onto the table, and turned to face her.
"Alright," he said, rubbing his face. "Now talk."
Ayame stood near the window for a few seconds, studying the apartment as if she were trying to understand an entire world from a single room.
Then she looked at him.
"We've known each other for a very long time, Ren."
He crossed his arms.
"Yeah, I figured that out from the way you talked to me."
"Our souls were bound together through a ritual."
Ren did not answer right away.
The words stayed in the air.
Ritual.
Soul.
Bound.
Anyone else would have laughed. Or thrown her out. Or called someone and said there was a lunatic in the apartment.
But Ren had just seen time freeze.
He had heard a bell.
He had watched that same girl from his dreams appear in a burst of blue light and destroy something that should not have existed.
So laughing did not feel like much of an option anymore.
"A ritual?" he repeated, more slowly. "You're telling me I knew you... in another life?"
Ayame held his gaze.
"Yes."
Ren let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Great. So I really have lost my mind."
"You haven't."
"I saw a spirit try to kill me, time stopped, and a girl from my dreams appeared in front of me holding a katana. If that isn't insanity, it's pretty close."
Ayame did not react.
"You always had trouble accepting things when they happened too quickly."
Ren frowned.
"Don't talk like you know me."
She went silent.
It was only a brief silence, but it carried weight.
"I know the soul inside you," she said at last. "Even if you still don't remember."
Ren looked away for a moment.
That irritated him more than it should have.
Maybe because, deep down, part of him felt she was telling the truth.
Ayame took a small step forward.
"A long time ago, my power was too unstable to exist on its own. That's why a temple performed a soul pact between us. You were the only one capable of controlling me without being destroyed."
Ren lifted his eyes again.
"Controlling?"
She nodded.
"I am a weapon."
The words sounded absurd, and yet strangely right.
"A weapon..."
"A sacred katana."
Ren let out a slow breath.
"So that thing back in the alley..."
"That was my awakened form."
"And after my death?" he asked, without realizing how naturally the question had come out. "What happened?"
Ayame lowered her gaze slightly.
For the first time since appearing, her expression wavered.
"After you died... I remained dormant."
The room felt quieter.
Ren did not answer.
He did not know what to say.
The way she said it did not sound like information. It sounded like time. Like loneliness. Like centuries trapped inside a single sentence.
Ayame looked at him again.
"I stayed that way for a very long time."
Ren rubbed the back of his neck, uneasy.
"When you say 'a very long time'..."
"Centuries."
That landed with a strange weight inside him.
Ren looked at her face again. The pink hair. The blue eyes. The almost painful calm in the way she spoke.
She looked far too young to use the word centuries so naturally.
Before he could ask anything else, Ayame lightly touched her stomach.
"I'm hungry."
Ren blinked.
The shift was so sudden that it took him a few seconds to catch up.
"...What?"
"Hungry," she repeated with the same seriousness as before. "Is there anything to eat?"
Ren just stared at her for a moment.
Then he pointed toward the kitchen.
"There's food in the fridge."
Ayame turned her head in the direction he indicated.
"Fridge?"
He frowned.
"You don't know what a fridge is?"
She looked back at him.
"Did that exist in my time?"
Ren opened his mouth, then closed it again.
For a second, everything else disappeared.
Spirits. Souls. Pact. Death. Katana.
All of it was pushed aside by that one answer.
"What year were you born in?" he asked.
Ayame thought for a moment, as if the answer were obvious.
"Eight hundred ninety."
Ren went still.
"Eight hundred ninety?" he repeated.
"Yes."
He looked toward the kitchen. Then back at her. Then toward the kitchen again.
And then he understood.
She had no idea.
Nothing about electricity. Nothing about modern cities. Nothing about the internet. Nothing about convenience stores. Nothing about microwaves, cars, elevators, or televisions.
Nothing.
Ren exhaled slowly.
"Okay... let me put it this way. The fridge is that white thing over there that keeps food cold."
Ayame looked in that direction with genuine concentration, as if she were studying an artifact from another dimension.
"It preserves food?"
"Yes."
"Without salt?"
"Yes."
"Strange."
Ren shook his head and walked into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and looked at what little was inside: water, leftovers, almost no bread left, cheap sauce, and a pudding.
He stared at the pudding for a second.
Then he picked it up.
He came back and held it out to her.
"Here."
She accepted the small container carefully.
"What is this?"
"Pudding."
Ayame repeated the word quietly, testing the sound of it.
"Pudding."
Ren took a spoon from the drawer, handed it to her, and leaned against the wall as he watched.
Ayame looked at the dessert as if it were some kind of sacred relic.
Then she took the first spoonful.
She froze.
Ren raised an eyebrow.
"Well?"
Ayame blinked once.
Then again.
She looked at the pudding. Then at him.
"This is extraordinary."
Ren almost laughed.
"It's just pudding."
She completely ignored the sentence and took another spoonful. Then another. Then another. Her expression, always so calm, now held a new and almost childlike light.
"Is there more of this?" she asked without taking her eyes off the container.
"No."
Ayame finally raised her head.
The disappointment on her face was real.
Ren let out a short laugh through his nose.
It was small, almost involuntary, but it happened.
And it might have been the first normal thing to happen that night.
Ayame ate the last spoonful with the care of someone finishing an important ceremony.
"Ren."
"Hm?"
"I liked the pudding very much."
"I noticed."
She held the empty container for another second.
"I think I could get used to this era."
Ren looked at her.
The absurdity of that sentence almost made him laugh again.
Almost.
But before either of them could say more, the scene broke apart.
---
Far away, in another place, a dark room was lit only by blue screens and ancient symbols drawn across the floor.
Three men watched a set of scorched marks on metal and paper, the remains of a recent ritual. The air smelled of old incense and electricity.
One of them, the tallest, stood with his arms crossed.
"So it worked."
Another man, seated at a table covered in notes, let out a faint smile.
"Yes. The test worked."
The third figure, half-hidden in the shadows, gave a low laugh.
"Finally."
The seated man leaned back in his chair.
"At last, the tenth most powerful weapon is among us."
The silence that followed was not relief.
It was ambition.
Hunger.
"And the wielder?" asked the shadowed figure.
"Still irrelevant," the first man replied. "For now."
A photograph lay partly hidden beneath the papers on the table. In it was a young man with black hair.
Beside the photo, only one word had been written by hand:
Ren.
---
The night had grown colder when a woman ran down a dirt road lined with black trees.
She tripped over a root, almost fell, but managed to keep moving.
Her breathing came out ragged and broken. Her dress was stained with mud. Her knee was bleeding. Tears mixed with the sweat on her face.
Behind her, something roared.
The sound seemed to cut through the whole forest.
The woman looked over her shoulder and nearly lost her footing.
The creature chasing her looked like a tiger.
Only looked.
It was far too large. Its muscles moved beneath its dark hide with unnatural life. Its eyes glowed with a sickly light. Its fangs seemed too long for its mouth. And the presence around it made the air itself feel polluted.
It was not an animal.
It was something worse.
The creature leaped.
The woman screamed.
An arrow tore through the darkness.
The shot struck the monster in the eye with brutal force, knocking it off course and breaking its attack. The beast hit the ground rolling, roaring in pain.
From atop a large rock, a young man lowered his bow.
White hair.
Red eyes.
His expression was far too relaxed for the scene.
"You're making a lot of noise," he said, as if he were only complaining about a small inconvenience.
The woman, collapsed on the ground, stared at him without understanding.
The cursed tiger rose again, more furious now, the arrow still lodged in its face.
The young man sighed.
"And I was having such a peaceful night."
He drew another arrow.
The monster charged.
The next shot sliced through the air and pierced its throat. The giant body convulsed, staggered for two steps, and crashed to the ground, kicking up dust.
Silence.
The young man jumped down from the rock with ease and slung the bow over his back.
The woman was still trembling.
"Y-you..."
"You can thank Atlantis later," he said with an easy smile. "Or don't. I don't really care that much."
He reached for his pocket, but before he could finish, his phone vibrated.
The young man glanced at the screen.
The smile did not disappear, but something in it changed.
He answered.
"Dad?"
The voice on the other end came sharp and firm.
"Henry. Go pick someone up."
The smile on his face faded just a little, replaced by focus.
"That was quick. Who is it?"
The answer came without hesitation.
"The tenth weapon has been summoned."
Henry raised his brows slightly.
The dead roar of the tiger still seemed to linger in the dirt between them.
"I see," he said, and now there was no trace of playfulness in his voice. "So it finally happened."
"We need to protect her," the voice continued. "And her wielder as well."
Henry looked up at the dark sky for a moment.
Then he smiled again.
But this time, his smile looked like it was hiding more than it revealed.
"Alright," he said. "I'll go get them."
The call ended.
In the distance, the wind moved through the trees.
Henry put his phone away, gave the fallen creature one last glance, and started walking.
"The tenth weapon, huh..." he murmured.
The night itself seemed to listen.
End of Chapter 2