Ayato smiled, but as the laughter died down, his gaze lingered on his son. He stared at Kento for a long while, his expression turning uncharacteristically quiet.
Kento was entirely busy in his own little world now; the infant reached out with his two tiny, chubby hands, firmly grabbing two of Ayato's fingers and mumbling random, silent words to himself.
The grandmother noticed the sudden change in the room. She watched her son's heavy gaze lock onto the grandchild, her wrinkled face turning grave. "Ayato? Is something the matter?"
Ayato didn't move. He remained lost in his thoughts, his eyes tracing the baby's small body.
"Ayato?" the old woman called out again, louder this time. "Is there something bothering you?"
Ayato blinked, finally snapping back into the present world. He looked up toward his mother, clearing his throat lightly as he shifted on the tatami mat. "Hmm? Did... did you ask me something, Mother?"
The old woman sighed softly, her rough hands folding in her lap. "I asked if something was on your mind. You look distant."
Ayato looked down at the floor mat, his fingers still trapped in Kento's tight, warm grip. He watched the thick baby kick his legs, and then, in a very quiet, serious voice, he asked, "Mother... will he have to undergo the same ritual as me when the time comes?"
The old woman closed her eyes slowly, letting out a heavy, weathered sigh. "Why are you worrying about that now? There are still five years left before that day comes."
"I was just asking generally," Ayato muttered, his voice dropping a level.
Yuna, who had been completely left out of the quiet conversation, looked back and forth between her husband and her mother-in-law. Her eyebrows frowned together in confusion. "What ritual? What five years? What are you two talking about?"
Ayato's shoulders tensed. He looked over at his wife, his sentence coming out quick and incomplete. "Darling... it's just... I told you about it before, remember?"
Yuna stared at him for a second, and then a sudden look of realization washed over her face. "Oh..." she whispered.
The next second, all the carefree, happy energy completely vanished from Yuna's face, her expression turning incredibly serious.
The old woman looked equally grave, nodding her head slowly as she confirmed the truth. "Yes. Kento will also have to undergo the exact same ritual. It is the family custom."
Yuna's regular frown deepened into an irritated, angry look. She turned her head sharply, glaring directly at her husband from across the room. Her eyes were piercing, clearly saying, 'I thought we had promised each other never to mention those dangerous things in this house.'
Ayato caught her angry gaze. Instead of arguing, he simply let out a small sigh and offered her a soft, reassuring nod, trying to calm her racing heart.
The mother silently watched the sign language passing between the young couple.
She glanced across at her daughter-in-law, expecting to see the young woman still boiling with anger. But as she looked closer, she noticed Yuna's expression had already become completely calm and still under Ayato's gaze.
'Strange...' the old woman thought to herself, a deep knot of confusion twisting in her mind. 'I was certain she was furious. How did he calm her down so quickly?'
"Mother," Ayato murmured, his voice cutting through the sudden stiffness in the room as he pulled his hands back, gently resting them on his knees.
He shifted slightly on the woven mat, clearing his throat to pull his family's floating attention back to himself. "I was only wondering... when the day finally comes... where exactly will Kento bear his mark? At which location of the body is it typically borne?"
The grandmother did not answer right away. She slowly lifted her chin, her heavy gaze drifting up toward the dark wooden boards of the ceiling. Her eyelids closed shut, letting out a long, weathered sigh that seemed to carry the weight of generations before her.
When she opened them again, the warmth was completely gone, replaced by a sharp, piercing stillness as she looked directly into her son's eyes.
"Every single member of the Kamitani bloodline bears the mark on the left side, right below the rib." The old woman stated, her voice firm and absolute. "There are no exceptions."
Yuna's eyes snapped toward her mother-in-law, her fingers tightening against the fabric of her cotton dress. "Why that specific location?" she asked, her voice dropping into a quiet, strained tone. "Why must it always be beneath the rib?"
Before the grandmother could even draw a breath to respond, Ayato leaned forward, a new wave of curiosity overtaking his features.
"Actually, that reminds me of something," he gave a brief, thoughtful nod. "My friend, Yahiko... he belongs to the Kirishima family, and his mark is borne right on his right forearm. And Kaneki, from the Nagachika family, bears his between the shoulder blades on his upper back."
Ayato looked at his mother, his brow furrowing. "If the ritual originates from the same source, how is such a structural difference even possible?"
The grandmother did not immediately look at him. Instead, her wrinkled face softened just a fraction as her eyes dropped down to her grandson.
Little Kento had rolled over completely onto his stomach now. His thick baby legs were kicking lazily into the air, and his chubby arms were stretching out as far as they could go, his tiny fingers scratching quickly against a single fold of the stitched mat as if trying to grasp something invisible.
He let out a soft, babbling murmurs, completely lost in his own world.
After a long, heavy second of silence, the old woman finally looked back up at her son.
"Apply your brains, Ayato, and understand the basic logic." she said, her voice dripping with a strict, lecturing tone.
"Those who share the same blood will always bear the mark at the exact same location on their bodies. Different families bear their marks at different locations entirely. It is a fundamental rule of the heritage. There is absolutely nothing to be surprised about."
Ayato blinked, the explanation clicking into place behind his eyes. He let out a small, defeated breath and nodded. "I see... I suppose that makes logical sense."
Across the mat, Yuna's shoulders tensed. She turned her head away, her lips tightening into a grumpy, sour line. "Why does such ridiculous nonsense have to exist in the first place..." she mumbled under her breath, her voice so low and muffled it was barely a vibration in her throat.
The grandmother's sharp ears caught the faint murmur. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she leaned forward. "Did you say something, Yuna?"
Instantly, Yuna's expression shifted. She turned back with a perfectly smooth, bright smile, her eyes closing into two polite lines as she tilted her head. "Oh, it was nothing at all, Mother." she said, her tone light and happy.
Without waiting for a counter-response, Yuna gracefully slid her legs out from under her and stood up from the tatami mat. She walked over to the floor fan, leaning down to hold the heavy, thick baby right into her arms.
The sudden movement disrupted Kento's little game. The infant immediately let out a loud, pained whine, his face frowning as he began to cry, his chubby arms moving wildly in the air as he tried to reach back down toward the stitched blanket. "Buh! Aa-uuu!"
"Shh... look at you, my baby." Yuna cooed softly, her voice turning completely sweet as she held the heavy baby against her shoulder, ignoring his tiny protests. "You are such a big boy now, aren't you? Yes, you are. You can play with your blanket later."
Ayato watched his wife struggle with the crying baby, a helpless, amused smile breaking across his face. "Honey, he was perfectly fine laying right there—"
Yuna snapped her gaze toward him. The polite smile was completely gone; her green eyes flashed with a cold, sharp glare that instantly locked Ayato's jaw shut.
"It is precisely time for his feeding, Ayato." she said, her tone making each word short as she adjusted Kento's heavy weight against her hip.
She turned away from her husband, her face instantly softening back into a gentle warmth as she looked down at the weeping baby.
"Come now, Kento... let's go get your milk. Don't cry, sweetie, Mommy's got you..."
With a smooth steps she carried the irritated infant straight out of the living room, her footsteps echoing softly before the door slid shut behind her.
The moment the room fell quiet, Ayato's eyes darted toward the hallway, waiting a few tense seconds. Once he confirmed the faint sound of his wife's footsteps had completely faded down the corridor, he leaned across the table, dropping his voice into a low, secretive whisper meant only for his mother's ears.
"Mother... I'm only asking for an opinion."
Ayato began cautiously, his hands rubbing nervously against his knees.
"I am certainly not trying to force any changes... but the truth is, Yuna is deeply uncomfortable with all of this ritual business. She constantly argues with me whenever it comes up, begging me to just let it go and keep it out of our household. She truly views it as dangerous nonsense—"
SLAM!
-----
🌸 AUTHOR'S THOUGHTS 🔍 🌸
It seems our peaceful little family gathering couldn't remain peaceful forever, could it? (• ▽ •;)
Honestly, while writing this chapter, I found myself smiling at Yuna and laughing at poor Ayato more times than I expected. The poor man really thought he could casually discuss strange rituals and family customs while his wife was sitting right there. Truly a brave soul. (＾∇＾)ﾉ♪
But jokes aside, this chapter was important to me.
Sometimes, traditions survive not because people fully understand them, but simply because they were inherited from those who came before. And when love, fear, and family become intertwined with those traditions, deciding whether to preserve them or reject them becomes far more difficult than it first appears.
And perhaps...
Not every inheritance is made of wealth or names.
Some are carried by blood itself.
(｡ŏ﹏ŏ)
Also...
I would like to formally apologize to Baby Kento.
He was peacefully minding his own business, only to be interrupted, carried away against his will, and used as the center of several unsettling conversations.
Truly a victim of circumstances. (≧▽≦)
As always, thank you for reading.
And please take care of yourselves. 🌸
(＾∇＾)ﾉ♪
----
✦ 🔮 A GLIMPSE INTO THE NEXT CHAPTER 🔮 ✦
"What awaits beyond this page...?" 🌙
(灬･◡･灬)♡
"I am sorry! I am so sorry!"
'Perfect. Time to exploit a little loop-hole.'
---
❓ QUESTION OF THE CHAPTER ❓
After witnessing the conversation between Ayato, Yuna, and Grandma Kamitani, what are your thoughts on the mysterious ritual? 👀🌙
✨ Should traditions passed down for generations always be respected?
✨ Or do you agree with Yuna that some things are better left buried?
And one more question...
Why do you think the mark appears at different locations for different bloodlines? 🤔🌀
🩸 Coincidence?
🩸 A blessing?
🩸 A curse?
🩸 Or something far older than anyone realizes?
And finally...
SLAM!
Who—or what—do you think interrupted Ayato's secret conversation with his mother at that exact moment? 👀🚪
(〃ﾟ3ﾟ〃)
As always, I'd love to hear your theories!
Though, naturally...
I won't be confirming anything. 😈🌌
---
🗝️ HIDDEN BETWEEN THE PAGES 🌙
Fun fact:
The location of the marks carried by each bloodline was decided long before this chapter was ever written.
So no, I didn't choose "below the left rib" simply because it sounded cool. (•▽•;)
Every bloodline bears its mark in a fixed location.
And yes...
There is a reason behind it.
(〃ﾟ3ﾟ〃)
But perhaps that is a story for another day. 😈✨
---
🌙 The stars may fade, and memories may sleep...
But the Spiral continues to turn.
Until we meet again beneath the same forgotten sky.
( •̀︿•́ )
— SakuraShinomiya