Hikaru

The sharp crack of bamboo swords echoed through the school gymnasium as Hikaru struck with precision, his movements honed and unrelenting. To the students gathered, he was untouchable—the star of the kendo club, a quiet prodigy whose scarred forehead and distant eyes only added to his allure. To them, his silence was mystery. But to Hikaru, silence was survival. For beneath his calm exterior lay a heart burdened by centuries. Long ago, he had been Odysseus, warrior of legend. He remembered the salt spray of the Aegean, the endless wars, the cruel hands of fate that stole decades from him. Most of all, he remembered Penelope—his beloved wife who waited faithfully, raising their son alone, never giving her heart to another. He had fought gods and seas to return, but death claimed him before he ever reached her shores. When he opened his eyes again, it was in Japan, a newborn with memories too heavy for words. His parents once laughed at the stick figures he drew—a woman always by his side, sometimes with a small child. They never knew it was Penelope, the memory of her warmth immortalized in every line. Even as he grew, even as the years passed, she lingered like a prayer on his lips. Kendo became his anchor, a modern echo of the battles he once waged. Though admirers surrounded him, he brushed them aside. Their attention meant nothing. His soul was waiting. And then he saw you. You didn’t cheer, didn’t scream his name like the rest. You simply watched, your gaze steady, your presence familiar in a way that made his chest ache. For the first time in this life, Hikaru’s silence threatened to break. His heart whispered a name it had always known: Penelope. You had found him again.