Yamato stepped into his mother's room, his shoes making a soft thud on the wooden floor. He looked around the familiar space, dropped his bag gently in the corner, and sat on the edge of her bed. His shoulders slouched and his eyes stared blankly ahead. After a moment, he lay down on the bed with a sigh.
He stared at the ceiling, frowning, lost in thought. That god Lumei mentioned… who is it? What kind of power was he talking about? Why don't I know anything about it? His mind raced, but there were no answers. He groaned and rolled onto his stomach, pressing his cheek into the mattress.
As he turned his head, something caught his eye. One of the wooden floorboards near the bed looked... wrong. It wasn't lined up like the others. Yamato blinked, then sat up quickly. Curious, he climbed off the bed and knelt down. His fingers ran across the edge of the uneven plank.
He pulled the bed to the side with a bit of effort, revealing a hidden patch of floor. He tugged at the misaligned board—and it lifted. Underneath, covered in dust, were several old books.
"Huh?" Yamato whispered.
He reached in and picked one up. Dust danced in the air as he blew on the cover. Most of the books were worn and untouched, but one stood out. The title on the front read: Yamato's Penalty.
His brows pulled together. "My name?" he muttered, brushing more dust off.
Yamato sat on the floor, cross-legged. He opened the book slowly. To his surprise, the words inside weren't in any language he had ever seen—yet somehow, he could read it.
"Yamato, a god of unknown," the first line read.
His heart skipped. Was it talking about him? His eyes widened, and without thinking, he flipped through more pages, reading quickly. The book spoke of a god whose origin was hidden, whose path was not written. A god with a fate tied to something greater.
Yamato became so focused that he forgot everything else—including that he had promised to help fix the roof of his room.
---
Night fell. The house grew quiet except for the gentle creak of wood settling and the distant chirp of crickets outside.
A soft voice called out from the hallway, "Baby, dinner is ready."
Yamato blinked, coming back to reality. "Oh... dinner," he whispered.
He closed the book gently, slid it into his bag, and carefully placed the other books back into the hidden floor space. He fixed the floorboard and pushed the bed back into place. Taking a deep breath, he walked out toward the dining room.
His mother, Esther, was already seated at the table, her soft brown hair tied loosely behind her. She smiled as he walked in.
"There you are," she said.
Yamato sat down and started eating quickly. "Mmm," he mumbled, his mouth full. "I really missed your food."
Esther laughed lightly, her eyes full of warmth. "I know. And look at you… you're growing into a fine young man." She paused, took a bite, and then added softly, "Quite like your dad."
Yamato froze. His spoon hovered halfway to his mouth. His eyes narrowed slightly.
He lowered the spoon and looked at her. "Mom… what about Dad?"
Esther's face changed. Her smile faded, and her eyes dropped to her plate. "I'm sorry for bringing it up," she said quietly.
"No." Yamato placed his spoon down firmly on the table. "For seventeen years, you've always avoided talking about him. But I need to know. One of the reasons I came home wasn't just to rest… I want to know about Dad. And I think I found something under your bed."
Esther's expression turned sharp. "You went under my bed?" she said, her voice rising. "And you read what you found?"
"I had to," Yamato said, standing up, his voice firm. "I found something important. Something about him. I don't even know his name! You made me answer to 'Kage' because you liked the name. But it's not mine. I have to find answers."
He pointed toward the table as demanding the truth. "You owe me that much."
Esther stood up as well, her hands trembling. "Go to your room," she said harshly. "And don't come out."
Yamato clenched his fists, but then turned away without a word. He walked out of the room, his shoulders tense.
---
In the silence that followed, Esther's strength crumbled. She lowered herself slowly into the chair, her head bowing down. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled freely down her cheeks.
"Rory," she whispered, barely audible. "He wants to know about you… but I promised not to say anything."
She stood, wiping her tears, and walked to the sink. As the water ran, she began washing the dishes slowly, her hands shaking.
A few minutes later, Yamato came back, standing in the doorway. He saw her crying and felt guilt in his chest.
"Mom," he said gently. "I'm sorry for making you cry."
She turned slightly, surprised by his return.
"I'll do the dishes," he said.
They stood side by side at the sink, washing in silence. Esther's face was tired, but she didn't stop him.
Later, in the dim glow of the sitting room, Yamato sat on the couch with a thin blanket wrapped around him. Esther stood nearby, still drying her hands with a cloth.
"Mom," he said quietly, "go sleep in your room. I'll stay here tonight."
Esther looked at him for a long moment, her eyes soft and full of hidden pain. Then she nodded slowly.
"Goodnight, Yamato."
"Goodnight, Mom."
As she walked away, Yamato looked up at the ceiling once more. His thoughts were heavy, but one thing was clear.
He would find the truth about his father… no matter what it took.