The Silent Sketch and the Otherworldly Girl

The early morning light crept across the Los Angeles skyline as Ryunosuke zipped the last pouch of his carry-on. His sketchbook, journal, and a neatly tucked tarot card sat safely inside, along with William's book and the strange gift bag Emily had insisted he bring.

His room looked emptier than usual. The clutter was gone, the shelves dusted. Only a single photo frame remained on his desk—an old picture of his parents, faded at the edges.

Downstairs, the scent of coffee lingered.

Amelia waited by the front door, car keys in hand. She looked up as he entered the kitchen, already dressed in his usual black hoodie and jeans. Her eyes flickered briefly over his face, as if memorizing it.

"You sure you packed enough socks?" she asked, her voice casual but tight.

Ryunosuke smiled faintly. "I'll survive."

They didn't speak much on the drive. The city blurred past in streaks of gray and gold, the streets still quiet, as though the world hadn't fully woken yet.

At the airport, they parked in silence. Ryunosuke got out first, his breath fogging slightly in the morning chill. Amelia followed, reaching the trunk just as he did.

She watched him hoist the bag onto his shoulder, and for a second, her mask slipped.

"Your father loved Kyoto," she said quietly.

Ryunosuke nodded. "I want to see what he saw."

Amelia reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small box. She opened it, revealing a well-worn silver watch with a brown leather strap. The face was slightly scratched, the kind of imperfection that came from years of daily wear.

"He wore it every day," she said softly. "Until the restaurant became his life. He'd wind it every morning, like it gave him purpose."

Ryunosuke stared at the watch as she placed it in his hand.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you everything sooner," Amelia said, almost a whisper.

"We really wanted to keep you away from everything… to give you a normal life."

He looked up. "I get it now."

A pause.

"I love you, mijo. You're the most important person in this world to me."

His breath caught. She didn't say it often. Not like that.

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, tight and sudden. "I love you too, mama."

They stayed like that for a moment longer than either expected.

Then, without another word, he slowly turned and walked toward the terminal.

He didn't look back.

But as he crossed through security and into the gate concourse, he felt something in his pocket warm—the tarot card.

He touched it lightly, then kept walking.

Ryunosuke found a seat near the window at the far end of Terminal 3, away from the noise of the food court and the chatter of other passengers. He tucked his carry-on under the chair, pulled out his sketchbook, and let out a slow breath.

His fingers worked automatically, tracing the sharp edge of the pencil. He didn't draw anything specific at first—just lines, shapes, the curve of a passing suitcase wheel, the outline of an empty seat across from him. It was routine, grounding. A way to breathe when everything felt like it was spinning.

He sketched a mother holding her toddler near the vending machine. A flight attendant pulling her hair into a bun. A man in a business suit with his phone pressed too hard to his ear.

And then, something shifted.

In the periphery of his vision, near Gate 29, stood a woman dressed in black.

Perfectly still.

Not waiting in line, not looking at her phone. Just… watching.

Her long dark hair hung like silk down her back. She stood out, not because of what she wore, but because no one else seemed to see her. Even as passengers passed by, no one looked twice.

Ryunosuke's eyes met hers.

Violet.

The same impossible violet as before.

He blinked—and in that instant, a crowd passed between them. A sudden movement, a blur of coats and backpacks.

When the crowd cleared, she was gone.

He looked around, heart hammering, scanning the area. Empty chairs. A janitor wiping a window. No sign of her.

Until—

A shift beside him. The faint creak of the plastic airport seat.

He turned.

She was sitting there. Right next to him. Hands folded neatly in her lap. Staring forward as if she'd been there for hours.

No sound. No movement. Just presence.

Lilith.

Ryunosuke didn't speak. Neither did she.

But something about her nearness calmed him. The thundering in his chest slowed. His breathing evened. He felt, strangely calm; at peace.

He returned to his sketchbook and began to draw again—this time not from observation, but memory. The lines came fluidly. Her profile. The curve of her jaw. The glint of her eye. He didn't even look at her. He didn't need to.

When he finally glanced up again, the seat beside him was empty.

But the drawing remained.

Soft pencil. Delicate shading. Her outline captured in full.

It was like she was reminding him that she's with him; his guardian angel.

The boarding call echoed through the terminal like a soft chime, jolting Ryunosuke back to the present.

He closed his sketchbook slowly, careful not to smudge the page. Lilith's image was still fresh on the paper—delicate, incomplete, and somehow alive.

He stood, glanced once more at the empty seat beside him, and then made his way to the gate.

As he stepped onto the plane, the steady rhythm of engines and boarding announcements faded into a muffled hum. He found his seat near the window and buckled in, eyes heavy with everything left unsaid.

Outside, the sun had begun to rise higher, brushing the tarmac in soft gold. Passengers filed in around him, laughter and movement filling the aisles. But Ryunosuke stared out the window, unable to shake the feeling that someone was still watching him.

Then he saw her.

Lilith stood near the glass wall of the terminal, far beyond the rows of chairs. This time, there was no crowd to blur her outline, no shadow to obscure her presence. Her figure was still. Serene. Her gaze found his with precision.

Violet eyes.

She raised a hand—not to wave, but in gentle acknowledgment. A moment of connection.

And Ryunosuke, without thinking, lifted his own hand and pressed it against the window.

The glass felt cold beneath his palm, but something else—something warm—stirred in his chest.

The airplane lights flickered once. No one else seemed to notice.

He lowered his hand slowly, unsure if she'd been there at all.

But as the plane began to taxi away from the gate, he reached into his pocket. The tarot card Lilith had left behind—an iris flower entwined with a silver serpent—was there. And it was warm.

He closed his hand around it, heart steadying.

Whatever was waiting in Japan…

He wasn't going to face it alone.