Kenji and the girl walked in silence for a while, the sound of their footsteps crunching against the forest floor filling the space between them. The woods were dense, shadows weaving through the trees like quiet whispers, while faint beams of sunlight broke through the canopy above. The stillness of the place felt different than the village—a kind of eerie peace that made Kenji glance over his shoulder every so often, half-expecting something to jump out of the shadows.

“I guess I should tell you my name,” the girl finally said, her voice breaking the quiet. “I’m Akiko.”

Kenji gave her a small nod. “Kenji,” he said, realizing he had not mentioned his either.

“Kenji....” she replied with a faint smile. “They… they used to talk about you in the village, you know. After the raid.”

Kenji felt a twinge in his chest. “Yeah?” he asked, unsure of what else to say.

Akiko nodded. “Some of them thought you were taken by the raiders. Others thought… well…there was these strange stories of a strange light and you were gone. Some say it was the gods favoring your sacrifice by saving you.” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced at him, her expression softening. “But I don’t think anyone expected to see you again.”

“Neither did I,” Kenji admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He changed the subject quickly, trying to avoid the weight of her words. “What was it like? You know, before the last attack?”

Akiko sighed, her gaze distant but her voice sounding relieved to change the subject. “It was simple. We worked hard, but it was… good. My brothers and I would help in the fields. My dad would always tell us we’d done a good day’s work, even if we didn’t do much at all.” She smiled faintly, though there was sadness in it. “Mom would cook these big meals, enough for everyone to sit down and eat together. Even if we were tired, we were together. That’s what mattered.”

Kenji nodded slowly, her words stirring memories of his own. “I grew up on a farm too,” he said. “Back in Kentucky. It wasn’t big or fancy, but it was home. My dad taught me how to work the land, take care of the animals, and how to be a good person. My mom… well, she made sure we didn’t burn the whole place down.” He chuckled softly at the memory, though his chest ached at the thought of how far away that life felt now.

Akiko looked at him curiously. “So what are you doing out here, then? With a broken sword, no less, about to march into the raiders’ forest?”

Kenji hesitated. He didn’t have a clear answer, not one that made sense even to him. “I don’t really know,” he said honestly, his voice low. “These things just… kind of happened.”

“Things just happened?” Akiko echoed, raising an eyebrow obviously not believing him.

Kenji gave her a sheepish shrug. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not some secret warrior or anything. I’ve been in a few scraps with bullies, but that’s it. Nothing like this. Back home, it was never about winning fights for your life—it was about standing up for people who couldn’t do it themselves. I didn’t think about it too much; I just did what felt right.”

“And this?” she asked, gesturing around them. “Fighting raiders?”

Kenji swallowed, his gaze fixed ahead on the winding path through the trees. “It.... just feels right too I guess,” he said simply. “Honestly,.... when the raiders came, I… I almost left. Almost ran away. I was so afraid and had never death before that day earlier. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just leave people behind like that. It would’ve eaten at me worse than anything else. I might not have been able to save them, but I had to try.”

Akiko studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “So you'd have rather died because of some moral guilt?,” she asked quietly.

Kenji smiled faintly. “Yeah, I know it probably doesn't make sense... all I know is had I left at that moment... well I live knowing and feeling the guilt of doing nothing. Sometimes it's better to fail than to never try.”

He stopped suddenly and looked at his hands in a sad stare. "At least I hope it to be true...", Kenji trailed off remembering the blood, smoke, and fear again.

Why? Why was he walking right back to face these men again? When it was possible this time they'd finish what they started in the village. What if he was walking right back to that gory and terrifying scene yet again?

Akiko looked at his sad face, seeing for the first time the scared kid only a few years older than her. She moved and lightly touched his hand, her fingers glancing at his own. “I don't know about anything you're saying, but I do know this, ” she said. “My brothers were saved by you that day, I was struggling to find them in the smoke when all the sudden they found me. Spouting nonsense of a kid who killed the raider chasing them. A boy running around helping and protecting.”

"Whether you failed or not isn't what matters to me or them. All that matters should be that there are people who still breathe today because of what you did." Akiko gently saying to Kenji.

Kenji huffed a quiet laugh, the corners of his lips twitching up. “Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe I’m just crazy.”

Akiko gave him a small smirk. “Yes, you are! But then again, that crazy saved my brothers. So maybe being crazy isn't so bad.”

The two looked at one another for a second and then kept walking. The forest getting more dense as they discussed life and memories to pass the time.

----------------------------------------

Kenji and Akiko reached the edge of the forest clearing, the trees thinning out to reveal a darker, denser woodland ahead. The atmosphere shifted here; the air was heavier, cooler, and the shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally long. Akiko stopped, clutching the burlap sack against her chest. She gestured ahead with a nod.

“That’s it,” she said quietly. “Everyone says they’re holed up somewhere in there. It’s where they always come from.”

Kenji glanced at the trees, his gaze hardening. The forest felt like it was swallowing the light, a foreboding aura emanating from within. But he forced a small smile, turning back to her.

“Alright,” he said, adjusting the broken katana in his belt. “I’ll be back soon. With food. Enough for everyone. Then we can figure out what to do from there.”

Akiko’s lips parted, as if to respond, but no words came. Instead, her expression twisted with a mix of sadness and frustration. Suddenly, she dropped the sack to the ground and reached out, grabbing Kenji’s hands in hers.

“Don’t go,” she said, her voice trembling. Her grip was firm, almost desperate. “Just… don’t. Go find the nearest city. Forget all of this. Forget us.”

Kenji blinked, startled by the sudden change in her tone. “Akiko—”

“You’ll die, Kenji,” she said, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head vehemently. “You will die. They’ll kill you just like they’ve killed everyone else who tried to stop them. You’re… you’re too good of a person. I don’t want you to die for us, you already almost did once and now you’re trying to do it again.”

Kenji stared at her, the weight of her words pressing against his chest. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. Her hands trembled against his, and her pleading gaze was almost enough to make him falter. Almost.

But then, he smiled—warmly, gently, like he was trying to reassure her even though he couldn’t make the same promise to himself. “Maybe you’re right,” he said softly. “Maybe I should turn back. Maybe I should head to the city and leave all of this behind. But… I can’t.”

“Why?” Akiko voice cracking as she crying looking at the strange boy only a few years older than her.

Kenji looked at her in the way he tended to when he heard his siblings ask strange questions.

”My parents say that being kind has a way of coming back around to you. My little brother is somewhere alone and once I found him I need to get him back to our family. In a way this is so I can get all the karma I can get to do that.”

Her brow furrowed, and she opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off.

“Look even disregarding that, you heard what I said before. If I turn back now, I’ll always wonder. I’ll always have that shadow hanging over me, knowing that maybe—just maybe—if I’d tried, I could’ve made a difference. And that’s not a way I can live, Akiko. I’m scared of the raiders, sure. But I’d be more scared of living with that regret.”

Akiko’s tears spilled over, and she bit her lip, shaking her head in quiet defiance. Kenji stepped closer, leaning down to meet her gaze.

“Hey,” he whispered, pulling her into a hug. Her small frame shook against his as she clung to him, her fingers gripping the back of his torn jacket. “I’ll come back,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the uncertainty weighing on his mind. “I promise.”

Akiko pulled back slightly, her red-rimmed eyes searching his face as if trying to memorize it. Kenji offered her one last reassuring smile before stepping away.

He turned toward the forest, hiding the fear as he braved forward alone, the darkened path ahead stretching into the unknown. As he began walking, he called back over his shoulder, “And when I get back, you’d better return the stolen food, alright? It’s only fair.”

Akiko’s lips quivered, and despite the tears streaming down her face, she managed a faint, watery smile. “Just don’t die…” she muttered under her breath, watching as Kenji disappeared into the shadows of the forest.

----------------------------------------

Aiko Nakamura walked across the empty parade ground, the crunch of gravel under his boots the only sound in the still air. He tugged at the collar of his uniform, the fabric stiff and familiar against his neck. It was surreal—he hadn’t worn this in years, not since his time in the military. Yet here he was, back on his old base in Kyoto, wearing it like he’d never left.

The buildings stood exactly as he remembered them. The sun gleamed off the metal of the old barracks, casting long shadows across the training grounds. A light breeze stirred the air, carrying faint hints of oil and earth, so vivid it was almost disorienting. But something was off. It wasn’t just the emptiness; there was a strange weight to the silence, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Aiko sighed, his hand brushing against a hilt of a ceremonial sword strapped to his side. “What is this supposed to be?” he muttered, his voice swallowed by the stillness. While this was his ceremony outfit instead of his actual everyday outfit, usually a rifle was carried if anything was.

He stopped walking and glanced around, his eyes narrowing as he tried to piece things together. The past day and a half had been a whirlwind of confusion, leaving him with more questions than answers.

It had started with the flash of light. One moment, he’d been standing with Emily and their children, and the next, they were somewhere completely different. A beach, its waves crashing against the shore, the salty spray of the ocean clinging to their skin. The sky had been unnaturally vibrant, the horizon stretching endlessly in hues of blue and gold.

The four of them had stood there, bewildered, before Aiko spotted something in the distance: buildings. They’d begun walking toward them, Emily holding the hands of their daughters while Aiko kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. The walk had been filled with nervous chatter, each of them trying to make sense of what had happened.

When they reached the village, it was like stepping back in time. The wooden structures and narrow streets looked as if they’d been plucked straight from the feudal era. But it wasn’t empty. Dozens of Nakamuras were there, milling about in confusion. Family members and distant relatives, all gathered in the same strange place.

It hadn’t taken long for the questions to start. Where were they? What was going on? And where were the others—Kenji, Ren, and the rest of their family?

The arrival of the strangers had answered some questions but raised even more. A man in flowing robes had appeared out of nowhere, flanked by a few attendants, and addressed the crowd. His words were calm but unyielding: “You are now in the tutorial.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The tutorial. Aiko frowned at the memory, his hands clenching into fists. The man had gone on to explain the situation. This was a trial, a test designed by something called the system. Everyone in their zone had been gathered here, and any missing relatives were in other zones. Only by completing this zone could they move on to the wider tutorial grounds, where they could reunite with their loved ones.

The essence testing, he’d said, would begin the next day.

That night, Aiko and Emily had found rooms in an inn and sat up late, talking in hushed voices while their daughters slept. Emily had tried to stay optimistic, but Aiko could see the worry in her eyes. He felt it too, the gnawing anxiety about Kenji and Ren. Were they safe? Were they alone? He couldn’t shake the image of his sons finding themselves in danger. His family wasn’t ready for something like this. None of them were.

And now, here he was. This trial.

Aiko looked down at his uniform again, his brow furrowing. He hadn’t chosen this. He’d simply stepped through the door marked for his trial, and suddenly, he was here. His base, his uniform, his memories—all of it felt like a twisted echo of the past.

But what was the test? What was he supposed to do?

He glanced toward the empty barracks, then at the obstacle course in the distance. Was he meant to relive his days as a soldier? Or was there something else, something deeper he needed to understand?

He shook his head, the familiar weight of uncertainty settling over him. Whatever this trial was, it wouldn’t answer itself. With a sigh, he started walking again, his boots crunching against the gravel as he headed toward the main building of the base.

As he walked, his thoughts returned to Kenji and Ren. His sons didn’t deserve this madness. Simple farm boys with no real exposure of the world beyond the small town in Kentucky and their internal family compound… how was they supposed to endure something like this strange tutorial? Aiko felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest. He’d raised his children to be kind, to value honor and decency. But was that enough when being told you would have to fight some boss with strange “powers”?

He clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he reached the main building. Whatever this test was, he’d face it head-on. For Kenji, for Ren, for Emily and the girls. He’d face it because that’s what he’d always done with any challenge.

No matter what this trial brought, dangerous or not, he would endure. He would prevail.

Because that’s what a Nakamura does.

----------------------------------------

The forest grew darker the deeper Kenji went, the thick canopy overhead blotting out the sun. Only faint shafts of light filtered through, painting the forest floor in dim, fractured patterns. The once-familiar chirps of birds and rustle of small animals had faded, replaced by an eerie silence that made every creak of the trees feel deafening. The air smelled damp, a mix of moss and decaying leaves, and the temperature had dropped noticeably.

Kenji moved cautiously, stepping lightly to avoid snapping any more branches underfoot. His nerves were on edge, his breath shallow. Every sound, no matter how faint, made him pause and scan the shadows around him. He adjusted the broken katana at his side, the blade awkwardly strapped to his belt like a crude weapon of desperation.

The battle from before replayed in his mind despite his best efforts to push it away. The blood, the screams, the fear—each memory felt like a ghost at his shoulder, haunting his every step. He gritted his teeth and focused on the path ahead. The villagers were counting on him. Akiko and her brothers were counting on him.

He trudged forward, his body tense as he scanned the trees for any sign of the raiders. His grip tightened on the hilt of the katana, his resolve firm even as uncertainty gnawed at him. There was no telling when he might stumble into trouble, but he couldn’t afford to falter now.

Ahead, something flickered—a warm, soft light. Kenji froze, his breath catching in his throat. Squinting, he could make out the faint glow of a fire through the dense trees. He crouched low, carefully making his way closer. He moved from tree to tree, trying to stay hidden, his boots crunching lightly against the undergrowth despite his best efforts.

As he crept nearer, the firelight grew clearer. A man sat on a fallen log near the campfire, casually humming to himself. His sword lay across his lap as he carefully oiled the blade, the motion slow and deliberate. He looked nothing like the raiders Kenji had seen before, but his calm demeanor set Kenji on edge. This could still be dangerous.

Kenji crouched behind a tree, debating his next move. His grip tightened on the hilt of the broken katana. He considered his options carefully. A quick attempt to knock him out was best—strike first and figure things out later. If that failed, he’d be ready to unleash a void bolt as a last resort. Even thinking about the possibility of killing again made his stomach churn, but he shoved the feeling aside. He had to act.

The man tilted his head slightly, still humming, and Kenji tensed. His heart pounded as he prepared to move. The katana felt heavier in his hands as he readied himself, but just as he was about to step out, the man spoke.

“You’re not very good at sneaking, boy,” the man said, his voice calm and steady. “If you’re planning to attack me, I’d rethink it.”

Kenji froze. How had the man noticed him? He hadn’t made a sound—had he?

“I’ll save you the trouble,” the man continued, still not looking in Kenji’s direction. “If I were one of those raiders, you’d already be dead. What with all the racket you’ve been making, it’s a wonder the entire forest isn’t on your trail.”

Kenji’s grip on the katana faltered slightly. There was no malice in the man’s tone, only amusement. Slowly, he adjusted his stance, weighing his options.

“I mean it,” the man added, his voice tinged with humor. “Come out, boy. No point skulking about if you’re going to sneak about with skills like some farmers boy.”

Kenji’s breath hitched. The man wasn’t wrong— he was a farmer. The observation stung, but it was true. He hesitated, unsure whether to trust the man’s words or call his bluff.

The man finally turned his head, his gaze casually scanning the trees. “You’re not a raider either,” he said, almost as an afterthought. “That much is clear. Raiders don’t hesitate.”

Kenji hesitated. The man’s calm demeanor didn’t fit with the raiders he’d faced before. Slowly, he stepped out from behind the tree, keeping the katana raised and his stance defensive. The man turned his full attention to him, one eyebrow raised as he studied Kenji’s torn clothes and wary expression.

“You’ve seen better days,” the man remarked, setting the oiled sword aside. “Not often I see a kid wandering this deep in the forest. What’s your name?”

Kenji didn’t answer right away. “Who are you?” he asked instead, his voice firm despite the tremor in it.

The man leaned back against the log, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Strange way to answer a question but okay. Name’s Taro,” he said simply. “And you?”

“Kenji,” Kenji’s grip tightened on the katana again and spoke hesitantly. “How do I know I can trust you?”

Taro chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t,” he admitted. “Trust is earned, isn’t it? But if I meant you harm, boy, you wouldn’t have made it this far.” He gestured to the campfire. “Sit if you like. You look like you’ve been through hell.”

Kenji didn’t move, his body tense and ready to bolt. “If you’re not a raider, then what are you doing here?”

“Passing through,” Taro replied. “Same as you, I’d wager. Though, judging by that broken blade you’re holding, I’d guess you’ve had a bit more excitement than I have lately.”

Kenji hesitated, his mind still racing. The man’s calm demeanor didn’t fit the profile of the raiders. Still, his instincts screamed at him to be cautious. He finally stepped a little closer, keeping his distance as he studied Taro’s face.

“What are you after?” Kenji asked, his voice quieter now.

Taro shrugged. “A bit of peace and quiet, to be honest,” he said. “But you’ve gone and disturbed that, haven’t you?”

Kenji didn’t answer, his gaze darting between the man’s sword and his relaxed posture. Finally, he lowered the katana slightly, though his stance remained guarded. “Fine,” he muttered. “But if you try anything—”

“Noted,” Taro interrupted, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

Kenji sat down slowly, his body tense and ready to spring at any sudden movement from the stranger. Taro leaned casually against the log, his sword resting beside him, gleaming faintly in the firelight. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a waterskin, taking a slow sip before gesturing toward Kenji.

“So, what brings a kid like you out to the middle of nowhere?” Taro asked, his voice calm, conversational. “You don’t look like you’re out here for fun.”

Kenji hesitated, unsure of how much he should share. “Trust is earned right? What are you doing out here?”

Taro smirked. “Fair enough,” he said, leaning back against the log. “I’m a soldier, boy. On a bit of a break after… let’s call it a nasty exchange. My company and I were stationed near the border of a neighboring kingdom. Things got messy, a lot of blood was spilled, and after months of fighting, someone finally decided to sit down and sign a peace treaty. Funny how that works, huh?”

Kenji frowned. “And you just… left? To come here?”

Taro shrugged and frowned looking towards the distance. “I went to visit my old village. Thought maybe it’d help me remember what all the fighting was for. It’s far from the capital, out here in the sticks.” His gaze shifted toward Kenji, his expression curious. “But enough about me. You don’t exactly look like you’re from around here. And you sure as hell don’t look like a fighter. What’s your story?”

Kenji hesitated, unsure how much to say. “I don’t know where to start,” he admitted. “It’s… complicated.”

Taro raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got time.”

Kenji took a deep breath. “Alright,” he began. “I woke up in this… trial. A doorway led me here.

Kenji frowned, but he continued. “It’s… hard to explain. It’s like something out of a game or a story, but it’s real. It’s why I’m here. I went through this doorway, and then…” He trailed off, the memory of the raid flashing in his mind.

“And then what?” Taro prompted.

Kenji swallowed hard. “I ended up in the middle of a raid. The village was on fire. People were dying everywhere. I tried to help.”

”I… I had to kill some of them to stop them..” His voice faltered, and he glanced away, his hands clenching. “I fought as long as I could, but I wasn’t enough. I should’ve died.”

Taro’s expression softened. “But you didn’t.”

Kenji shook his head. “No. There was this… light. Everything just stopped, and when I woke up, I was here. In the forest. The village was in ruins, and somehow… three months had passed.”

“And now?” Taro asked

“I’m gonna go get their food back.” Kenji answered his voice adamant

Taro exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing. “And now you’re planning to go after the raiders? By yourself?”

Kenji nodded. “They took everything. The villagers are starving. If I can get the food back, maybe I can save them.”

Taro barked a laugh. “Kid, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You think you’re just gonna waltz over to them and take back what they stole? You’re not exactly a warrior. I’m not even sure how you managed to kill any of them besides pure luck.”

Kenji flushed with frustration. “Well I did manage to take some of them down during the raid,” he said defensively. Then he stopped and admitted, “ It was mostly luck and the chaos to hide me so I could surprise them. That and I had something else…”

Taro leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Kenji hesitated, then raised his hand, focusing on the familiar sensation deep within him. A faint, crackling energy began to form, dark and pulsing with an otherworldly hue. He held it up, letting the energy flicker before dissipating.

Taro’s reaction was immediate. He straightened, his eyes widening as he stared at Kenji’s hand. “By the gods…” he muttered. “You’ve got the talent.”

Kenji frowned. “What talent?”

Taro shook his head, still staring at Kenji as if seeing him for the first time. “The bloody talent, boy. Magic. Real magic. I’ve only ever seen it twice in my life. It’s so rare, most folks don’t believe it exists. How in the hells did you come to have the talent?

Kenji blinked, trying to process this. “Magic? No, it’s… it’s the void. The system calls it Void Bolt. I got it when I got the void essence.”

Taro stopped staring and waved the explanation away. “I don’t know what you mean or what you call it, but that’s magic. You’ve got something special, kid. But rare or not, that talent won’t mean a thing if you don’t know how to use it. It ain’t gonna help you with the raiders. You should just walk away.”

Kenji’s grip on the katana tightened. “I’m just trying to help,” he said firmly.

Taro gave him a long, appraising look, respect and a hint of fear flickering in his eyes. “Well,” he said finally, “you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But guts and the talent won’t be enough. Those raiders will cut you down before you can even raise that magic of yours. There won’t be any chaos and fires to hide you this time.”

Taro shook his head in disapproval, “You will die boy, no doubt about it.”

Kenji’s grip on the broken katana tightened, his knuckles turning white. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes burned with something between rage and helplessness.

He wasn’t angry at Taro. Everything the man said was true. Kenji had gotten lucky in the raid. The fires, the smoke, and the chaos had masked his presence. The raiders were focused on plundering and fighting the villagers, not on him.

But here? In the raiders’ territory? Where they had the upper hand, where every shadow could hide one of them waiting to strike? He knew how that would most likely end. He knew it as clearly as if he’d already seen it. But he just couldn’t walk away.

The knowledge of it being futile didn’t make it easier to stop his path. It didn’t make the anger and rage bubbling up inside him any less potent. It wasn’t anger at Taro’s words but at the sheer helplessness of it all. That after everything he’d been through, after almost dying, after watching those villagers suffer, there was still no way to truly help. His teeth ground together as the frustration and anger clawed at his chest.

Taro sighed, watching Kenji with a mixture of understanding and pity. “I get it, kid,” he said quietly. “You’re angry. You should be. It’s not fair. But that’s the way of the world. There’s always bad people doing bad things somewhere, and the good people? Well, they’re usually outnumbered or without help.”

Kenji bristled at the words, his head snapping up to glare at Taro. “Why is that okay?” he demanded, his voice quiet and sharp with frustration. “Why is it okay to just accept that? To know they’re out there, doing those things, and do nothing about it?”

Taro smiled, but it was the kind of smile that held no joy, only pity. “Because, kid,” he said softly, “there’s not enough good people to stop it all. That’s the truth of it. You can’t save everyone. Nobody can.”

Kenji stared at him, his hands trembling, not with fear but with a desperate kind of determination. “Maybe,” he said slowly, his voice low but firm, “there doesn’t need to be enough good people. Maybe all it takes is someone strong enough or willing enough to stop them all.”

Taro let out a short laugh, shaking his head as if the idea was absurd. “Son, ain’t nobody that strong.” he said, leaning back against the log.

“Then what will it take to stop the raiders?” Kenji huffed demanding

“The raiders are a pain, and it depends on how many there is. Raiders ain’t trained, more scarp fighters than real warriors. Opportunists who gang up in numbers to overpower. A real squadron of soldiers like my own squad could’ve taken them. Hell in a straight fight three of us may even be enough.”

Kenji raised his hand, staring at it, and then back at Taro. “What about someone strong in the talent?” he asked

Taro laughed, “Only seen a trained mage with the talent once and he could’ve decimated three if not four squads of soldiers with a handfuls of strong spells. He’d have been a god smiting down these raiders if they fought him.”

Kenji didn’t stop with there. He met Taro’s eyes, his expression hard, unyielding. “Then help me,” he said, his voice steady, resolute. “Help me and show me what to do here. You’re a soldier, aren’t you? Isn’t it your duty to stop people like the raiders? To protect people like this village?”, he said drawing in his knowledge from video games and fantasy.

Taro’s expression darkened, his shoulders stiffening. “I was a soldier,” he said firmly. “Not anymore. And even if I were, no. I’m not risking my life for a single village. I might be able to stop them but it’s their turf and there is an unknown number of them. It’s a death sentence.”

Kenji felt a flicker of something he couldn’t quite name. Disappointment? Frustration? He didn’t know. “Why not?” he pressed. “You’re a soldier. Soldiers are supposed to fight for peace, to stop people like the raiders. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

Taro sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve done my duty,” he said, his tone weary. “I’ve fought my fights, paid my dues. And you know what? It’s never enough. There’s always another battle, another village, another enemy. I’m done fighting for a kingdom that doesn’t care and for people who will forget my name the moment I fall. That’s just how it is, kid.”

Kenji stared at him, his chest tight with frustration and anger. But there was something else, too. Something he couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was pity for the man who seemed so tired, so resigned to the way things were. Or maybe it was just the growing fire inside him, the resolve to not let himself become the same.

Taro glanced at him, his expression softening slightly. “Go back, kid,” he said. “Forget about this village, about the raiders. Save yourself. That’s all you can really do.”

Kenji stood abruptly, the sudden movement catching Taro off guard. He leveled his gaze at the man, his hands trembling slightly but not with fear—something deeper, something raw and burning.

“If you only helped people so they’d remember your name,” Kenji said, his voice low but sharp, “or so the kingdom would care about you, then you never were actually trying to help anyone.”

Taro blinked, startled by the conviction in Kenji’s tone, but he said nothing. He simply watched the boy, his expression unreadable.

“You don’t fight because you want recognition,” Kenji continued, his voice rising slightly, his hands clenching at his sides. “You fight because you’d rather die than live in a world where bad things just happen and nobody does anything about it. Where people like those raiders can just take what they want and leave families like that girl’s starving and broken.”

Taro shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the fire as if he couldn’t meet Kenji’s eyes. But Kenji wasn’t finished.

“Maybe I’ll die,” Kenji said, his voice softer now but no less intense. “Maybe I’ll go into that forest and never come back. And maybe even if I do win, it won’t change anything. The world will keep turning, and bad things will keep happening. But at least I’ll have changed one person’s world for the better. One girl. One family. One village. Can’t that just be enough?”

Kenji’s fists relaxed, and he took a deep breath. “And if enough people did that—if enough people stopped waiting for the world to change and just did something and just tried to even change one persons life—then maybe, just maybe, it would actually change.”

Taro looked up then, his eyes meeting Kenji’s. There was something there, something almost like shame, flickering behind his hardened exterior. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he just stared at the boy, the firelight casting long shadows across his weathered face.

For a moment, there was silence between them, the only sound the faint crackling of the fire and the distant rustle of the forest. Then Taro sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair and leaning back on the log.

“You’re stubborn, kid,” he said finally, his voice quiet and took in a sorrow as he looked as if he was remembering something, “Stubborn and naive, just like my boy was.”

Kenji laughed and looked at the man again, “My mother used to say there’s a difference between being naive and choosing to try and find the good in life. I might be naive, or crazy, or even plain suicidal. But Taro I just can’t turn my back on these people in need.”

Taro didn’t respond at first, just stared at the fire. But then, after a long moment, he nodded to himself. “Alright,” he said gruffly. “I’ll help you.”

Kenji blinked, his eyes wide with surprise. “Wait, what? You’ll help me?”

Taro chuckled, shaking his head. “Wasn’t that the whole point of the speech you just gave?”

Kenji smiled, a bit sheepishly now. “Well… yeah, but I didn’t think you’d care.”

Taro sighed deeply, running a hand down his face. “Normally, I wouldn’t,” he admitted. “But damn it, kid, you’re so sincere it hurts. Makes me miss when I used to be that optimistic about life. When I thought one person could make a difference.” He gave Kenji a wry smile. “Maybe it’s time I try again. See if maybe making that change starts with me. Then maybe I can find some purpose again, it’s what I came home for.”

Kenji’s grin grew, a flicker of hope lighting up his tired features. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, I mean it,” Taro said, standing and brushing off his pants. “Let’s see if we can make a dent in this rotten world of ours, huh? Or at least make sure you don’t get yourself killed doing something stupid.”

Kenji laughed softly, the first real laugh he’d had in days. “Fair enough. Then show me how a real solider fights.”