Kenji stumbled forward, his boots crunching against the dirt as he left the clearing behind. The cherry blossoms and the surreal tranquility of the previous trial were gone.
In their place was a dense, foreboding forest that felt unnervingly familiar. The tall, twisting trees and the earthy scent of damp soil reminded him of the woods back home in Kentucky.
The trees were larger than any he’d seen, their gnarled roots twisting in and out of the ground like claws.Shafts of sunlight pierced through the canopy in narrow, uneven beams, casting strange, shifting patterns across the forest floor.
But there was something different—something off. The shadows beneath the trees stretched too long, too dark, and the forest was unnaturally silent, the kind of silence that pressed against his ears and made his skin crawl.
“Hello?” Kenji called out, his voice shaky but loud enough to carry. It echoed faintly through the trees, swallowed by the vastness of the forest. “Is anyone there?”
There was no response, just the rustling of leaves in the wind. He waited a moment longer, his hands flexing nervously at his sides.
“Can anyone hear me?” he tried again, his voice cracking as he called. “Anyone?”
Still nothing. The forest seemed to mock his desperation with its oppressive stillness. Kenji swallowed hard, his throat dry, and clenched his fists to steady himself. He couldn’t stand here forever. His brother could be out there, somewhere. He had to keep moving.
At the edge of the clearing, a narrow dirt path led deeper into the forest. It wound between the trees like a vein, disappearing into the shadows. Kenji hesitated, glancing around the clearing one last time, but there was no other way forward. His jaw tightened, and he started down the path, one cautious step at a time.
The further he walked, the more the forest seemed to close in around him. The trees loomed taller, their twisted branches reaching overhead to block out more and more of the sunlight. The shadows lengthened, pooling at his feet like ink. The path was uneven, littered with stones and roots that seemed eager to trip him up.
Kenji focused on his breathing, forcing himself to take deep, steady breaths. Each step felt like dragging himself through quicksand, his body heavy with exhaustion and his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t shake.
“What is all of this?” he muttered to himself, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “The system. What the hell was all that about?”
The events of the past day—or however long it had been—played on an endless loop in his mind. That strange darkness where he found the katana. The announcement about Earth joining the system, about essences and powers. And then… the battle. His hands covered in someone else’s blood.
His hand brushed against the jagged hilt of the broken katana tucked awkwardly into his belt. Starting to become a comforting presence somehow. It was strange—he’d never been a sword guy. He couldn’t even remember holding a real one before now. But when he’d held this blade in his hands, it had felt… right. Like it was supposed to be his, even in its shattered state.
Kenji let out a shaky breath, trying to push away the memory of what the void bolt had done. The way it had torn through the goblin’s shoulder, leaving nothing but a charred, smoking hole. The way he attacked those raiders as the strange purple slowly ate at their wounds. The screams. The blood.
He shook his head, his hands clenching and unclenching as he walked. “Focus, Kenji,” he muttered. “You can figure this out later. Right now, you’ve got to finish these trials and get to Ren. Find Ren, find the others, and then figure out what the hell’s going on.”
The path ahead twisted sharply, and as Kenji rounded the bend, he caught sight of something glinting in the shadows. He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. It took him a moment to realize it was just sunlight reflecting off a stream cutting across the path. The water was clear and slow-moving, a small bridge of smooth stones crossing it.
He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and crossed the stream, his boots splashing lightly against the shallow water. The sound broke the oppressive silence of the forest, but it only lasted a moment before fading back into quiet.
Kenji’s thoughts kept circling back to the system, the katana, the void. Why him? Why any of this? He’d always thought life was supposed to make sense, at least in its own way. You worked hard, did your best, and things either worked out or they didn’t. But this? Powers, trials, essence… it all felt like some joke, one he wasn’t in on.
The shadows deepened as the path led him further into the forest, and Kenji glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to see something lurking behind him. Nothing. Just the darkened trees and the winding trail he’d left behind.
“Keep it together,” he whispered, his voice trembling. But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t as alone as he seemed.
He stopped in the middle of the path, glancing around as his hand instinctively brushed the jagged hilt of the broken katana tucked into his belt. For a moment, he considered calling out, but he clenched his jaw and pushed the thought away. He knew this wasn’t real. It wasn’t the forest back home. This was another trial—another test. And he had to figure out what it wanted from him if he was ever going to find Ren and keep moving toward the rest of his family.
Kenji let out a slow breath, forcing his racing heart to steady. “Alright, focus,” he muttered under his breath. “This is a trial. They want me to do something, figure something out. I just need to keep moving.”
The dirt path stretched ahead of him, winding deeper into the forest. With a resigned sigh, he started walking, his boots kicking up small puffs of dust with each step. His mind churned, trying to piece together what he knew so far.
The system. The speaker. The essences. It all felt like pieces of a puzzle, but none of them fit together in a way that made sense. Why Earth? Why now? What made it possible now when it wasn’t before?
He shook his head, he wouldn’t be able to figure it out. At least without more information. He’d never been anyone special. Just a farm kid with a stubborn streak and a knack for getting into trouble.
But if so why did he have powers? Why did he have… this? His hand brushed the jagged katana again, its broken edge sharp against his fingers.
A thought struck him, and he stopped walking. Pulling the broken blade from his belt, he stared at it, his thumb running over the rough, shattered edge. It was no ordinary weapon—that much was obvious. The faint, dark purple haze that clung to it was proof enough of that.
“Alright,” he murmured, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Let’s see if there’s anything useful here.”
He focused on the sword, willing the strange system screen he’d seen before to appear. A faint shimmer in the air brought up the display, and Kenji’s eyes darted over the stats listed.
----------------------------------------
[Broken Annihilation Blade]
Type: Weapon
State: Shattered (Dagger Equivalent)
Abilities:
•Annihilation Channel (Inactive) – This weapon channels Void energy to amplify attacks, though its shattered state greatly limits this ability.
Status: Bound to Void Walker
Properties:
•Emits a faint aura of Void energy.
•Fractured structure prevents full potential from being unlocked.
----------------------------------------
Void Bolt]
Type: Essence Ability
Rank: Iron (Progress: 12%)
Effect:
•Fires a bolt of concentrated Void energy, inflicting moderate damage upon impact.
•Applies Void Corruption, a slow-acting effect that disintegrates and dissolves material at the point of contact over time.
Cost: Medium Void Energy Drain
Cooldown: None (Limited by Void Energy Reserve)
Special Properties:
•Void Corruption lingers and spreads slowly in the affected area.
•Effect bypasses all physical and magical defenses(with a few exceptions)
----------------------------------------
Kenji’s fingers tapped against the hilt of the broken katana tucked into his belt as he trudged down the dirt path. The weight of it felt heavier than it should, as if the blade itself was soaking in the turmoil swirling through his mind. He glanced down at it, its jagged, shattered edge catching the light. “Void Walker,” he muttered under his breath, testing the words like they might offer some clarity.
“What does that even mean?” he asked aloud, his voice swallowed by the surrounding forest. “Walking the void? What is the void supposed to be? A place? A force? Or just… nothingness?” His voice trailed off as the absurdity of it all hit him again. A farmer’s kid with a broken sword and a power he barely understood, stumbling through some trial cooked up by the cosmos itself.
The idea gnawed at him. If the void was just nothingness, why give it form? Why give it to someone like him? A nobody from the middle of nowhere. His brow furrowed as he walked, his boots crunching over the dirt and occasional fallen leaf.
He thought of his father, of the stories he’d told about a spirit in a sword who called out for the legendary samurai and their unshakable sense of purpose.
Did the void a spirit like that in him? Did he have that kind of sword sitting in his hand? Did he even want it? And if he didn’t, then why was he still walking forward, trying to figure this mess out?
Kenji sighed, letting his thoughts spin in circles as he pushed through the overgrown path. The air felt damp and heavy, like rain might come later, and the forest around him shifted as the wind swept through again.
Ahead, something caught his eye—carved wood gleaming faintly against the backdrop of green. He quickened his pace, half-expecting it to disappear before he got there, but the closer he came, the clearer it became. A single wooden sign stood rooted in the ground, carved with intricate patterns that ran along its edges like ivy curling around a trellis.
Kenji stopped in front of it, brushing dirt from its base as he leaned in closer. The lettering carved into its surface was smooth and precise, but it may as well have been chicken scratch for all he could make of it. The language was utterly alien to him—curving, flowing symbols that looked more like art than letters.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared at it. “Of course,” he said dryly. “Because everything else about this place isn’t confusing enough.” He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head as he looked up the path ahead. Whatever the sign said, it pointed forward.
“Well,” he muttered, adjusting the katana at his belt, “forward it is, then.” He took a deep breath and started walking again, the dirt crunching beneath his boots. Wherever this road led, he figured it had to be better than sitting around wondering what the hell to do next.
Even if it wasn’t, at least he was moving. At least he was doing something.
And the he noticed something in the distance, something other than just trees.
Kenji’s heart raced as he neared the village. For the first time since waking in this strange trial, he felt a flicker of hope. People. Maybe they could help him find answers. Maybe they had seen Ren or knew how to navigate these strange trials.
As he crossed into the boundary of the village, the damage became glaringly apparent. Burned-out buildings stood like skeletons against the clearing, charred beams and ash littering the ground. His excitement faltered, replaced by unease. This place looked eerily familiar.
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Ahead, a frail man crouched near a dilapidated structure, sorting through a pile of broken debris. Relief surged through Kenji at the sight of another person, and he called out, “Hey! Hey, are you okay?”
The man startled at the sound of Kenji’s voice, spinning to face him. His sunken eyes widened in panic, and he scrambled backward, tripping over himself and falling hard to the ground.
“Whoa! Wait!” Kenji shouted, rushing forward to help. “I’m not—”
“Stay back!” the man croaked, his voice raw with fear. “Mercy! Please, I have nothing left—just let me be!”
Kenji froze, holding his hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you!” he said quickly, taking a step back. He glanced down at himself and realized how he must look—his torn and bloodstained clothes, the broken katana tucked into his belt. He probably looked like some wandering bandit or worse.
The man’s breathing was shallow, but he squinted at Kenji, his expression shifting from terror to confusion. “Wait… I know you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.
Kenji blinked. “What?”
The man sat up slightly, studying him, and then his eyes widened in recognition. “You… you were there. During the raid. I saw you—fighting. You were the boy with the sword, standing against the raiders.”
Kenji’s stomach sank. He glanced at the burned buildings again, the destruction now clicking into place. This was the village from the trial. He looked back at the man, his voice hesitant. “That was… that was earlier today. I was fighting, and then—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “And then I blacked out.”
The man frowned, his thin eyebrows furrowing deeply. “Earlier today?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Boy, that was months ago. Three months. You vanished after the fight—we thought you were killed or… or worse, taken by them.”
Kenji staggered, his mind reeling. “Three months? That’s not possible. I—” He stopped, looking down at himself. His body, once battered and bleeding, was now completely healed. He didn’t even feel sore. His heart thudded as he tried to piece it together, the man’s words and the state of the village crashing down on him all at once.
The man’s gaze traveled over Kenji, taking in his unblemished skin and steady stance. “You don’t even have a scratch,” he muttered. “And you look… healthy. Almost like…” He shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Tell me—did you come back to help us again?”
Kenji’s throat tightened. “I…” He hesitated, the weight of the man’s question settling heavily on his chest. “I don’t have any food,” he said slowly, guilt clawing at his insides. “I don’t have supplies. I just… woke up in the forest with nothing.”
The man’s face screwed up in confusion and then fell, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I see,” he said softly. He didn’t seem angry, just… tired. Tired in a way that made Kenji’s heart ache. “Well,” the man said after a moment, his voice heavy with resignation, “you should go see the elder. He’ll want to know you’re here.”
Kenji nodded mutely, unable to find the words to respond. The man pointed toward the center of the village at the largest building still standing, and Kenji turned to follow his direction. As he walked away, the man’s quiet, hollow voice drifted after him. “Maybe he’ll know what to do… but I doubt it.”
Kenji walked through the village, his boots kicking up small puffs of dirt with every step. The air was thick with decay and quiet despair, the silence of a place where hope had shriveled away long before he arrived. He kept his eyes forward, refusing to let himself look too closely at the broken homes and the faces of the people who lingered in their shadows, hollow and gaunt.
His mind churned with a rage he couldn’t quite articulate, a wildfire of frustration and guilt roaring inside him. It didn’t make sense. He knew, logically, that he couldn’t have done more. He wasn’t a warrior or a hero—he was just a farmer’s kid from Kentucky who barely knew which end of a sword to hold. And yet, the outcome of that battle gnawed at him, a sharp and relentless ache. He could still see the faces of the villagers in his memory, hear their screams as the raiders tore through them. His stomach twisted at the thought.
I couldn’t have done more, he told himself, but the words felt hollow, meaningless. If he hadn’t been strong enough to save them, then why was he sent into that fight at all? What was the point of throwing him, an untrained kid, into a losing battle against killers? He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. His thoughts turned to the Speaker and the system—the ones who had brought him here. They’d talked about integration and trials, about unlocking his potential. But what potential had they really unlocked? They’d dropped him into hell, let him stumble his way through it, and watched as everything fell apart anyway.
His jaw tightened as a hot surge of anger rolled through him. He didn’t know where this anger came from or why it burned so hot. Maybe it was the guilt—guilt that he hadn’t done more, hadn’t been better. Maybe it was frustration at the sheer helplessness he felt, like a pawn on some cosmic chessboard with no say in the game. Or maybe it was just the raw unfairness of it all, that he was still here, standing and breathing, while so many others weren’t.
Kenji exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “What’s the point of this?” he muttered under his breath. The words hung in the air for a moment before dissolving into the stillness.
He forced himself to keep walking, though every step felt heavier than the last. The weight of his thoughts pressed down on him, but he shoved them aside. He had no time for this—no time to stew in emotions he couldn’t make sense of. The elder was waiting, and maybe, just maybe, there was something he could do this time. Something to make all of this mean something.
Sighing deeply, Kenji rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers brushing against the sweat and grime that clung to his skin. He didn’t want to feel this way. This anger, this helplessness—it wasn’t him. It wasn’t who he was raised to be. But it was there, pulsing just beneath the surface, and for now, he couldn’t do anything but push it down and keep moving forward.
Kenji approached the largest structure in the village—or what was left of it. It was more intact than the others, though its roof sagged and several of the walls bore scorch marks. A few villagers huddled near the entrance, their eyes hollow and dull. They barely glanced at him as he walked past.
Inside, the elder sat hunched at a low wooden table, his frail frame draped in layers of threadbare robes. He looked ancient, his skin like parchment stretched over brittle bones. When Kenji stepped in, the old man’s head rose, his sunken eyes locking onto him with a mix of confusion and weariness.
“You…” the elder rasped, his voice cracking from disuse. He squinted, then his eyes widened slightly. “You’re the boy from the raid.”
Kenji stopped mid-step. “You… recognize me?”
The elder gave a slow, deliberate nod. “I do. I remember you. The one who stood against the raiders. I watched you fight while the others ran. A fool’s bravery… but bravery nonetheless.”
Kenji felt his face flush. He didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. “I tried,” he said quietly. “But it wasn’t enough.”
“No, it wasn’t,” the elder said bluntly, his tone like the crack of dry wood. “Half the village was slaughtered or fled that night. The rest of us… well, you can see what’s left.”
Kenji swallowed hard, guilt curling in his stomach. He looked around the dim room, taking in the sparse furnishings and the air of decay that clung to everything. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t know.”
The elder waved a bony hand. “Sorry doesn’t bring food to the starving or life to the dead. And it’s not your fault anyways boy, you offered what futile resistance could be had. But… you’re here now for some reason. So, tell me—why have you come back here?”
Kenji hesitated. “I… I didn’t know I was coming back here. I just… woke up nearby. But when I saw the village, I thought maybe I could help.”
The elder let out a dry, humorless laugh that turned into a cough. “Help,” he echoed bitterly. “Boy, unless you’ve brought wagons full of food, there’s nothing you can do for us.”
Kenji frowned. “There has to be something. What about hunting? You could—”
“Hunt what?” the elder snapped, his voice rising. “The animals haven’t returned. The forest is empty. I’m sure you’ve heard for your self. The silence….”
“Then what about the next town? Maybe they could spare—”
“The nearest town is a week’s journey by foot, and that’s if you were fit and healthy anyways. Only you’d be able to make it there in a week.” the elder cut in, his eyes narrowing. “And do you think they have food to spare? Even if they did, well I’m afraid to say that nobody here would still be breathing in two weeks.”
Kenji’s jaw tightened. “There has to be something. Maybe I could—”
“Enough!” the elder barked, slamming his fist onto the table with more force than Kenji thought him capable of. The sound echoed in the empty room. “You think we haven’t thought of these things? That we haven’t tried? We’re dying, boy. This village is finished. And your good intentions won’t change that.”
Kenji took a step back, the old man’s anger hitting him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to argue, but the elder’s eyes stopped him. They weren’t just angry—they were tired, filled with a kind of hopelessness that made Kenji’s chest ache.
The elder slumped back in his chair, the fire in his gaze dimming as quickly as it had flared. He looked at Kenji with a mixture of pity and resignation. “If you have any sense, you’ll leave,” he said softly. “There’s nothing for you here. Nothing for any of us. I’m sorry but I think it’s best if you leave and don’t look back.”
Kenji clenched his fists at his sides, his mind racing. He wanted to argue, to insist that there had to be a way. But the weight of the elder’s words, the sheer hopelessness in his voice, left him speechless.
After a long, heavy silence, the elder waved a hand dismissively. “Go,” he muttered, his gaze falling to the table. “Just… go.”
----------------------------------------
Kenji stepped out of the elder’s house, his heart heavy with the weight of failure. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the burned and broken remnants of the village. He wandered aimlessly, his mind spinning in circles.
There had to be something he could do. There had to be.
As he passed the storage building, he caught a faint sound—shuffling and rustling, like someone moving quickly and clumsily. Kenji stopped, narrowing his eyes at the door that hung slightly ajar. Curious and uneasy, he approached, stepping lightly despite the pounding of his heart. Peeking inside, he saw a small figure hunched over a pile of what little food the village had left. A burlap bag lay open on the ground, and the girl was stuffing it hastily with dried roots and a few withered vegetables.
“Hey!” Kenji’s voice rang out before he could think better of it.
The girl froze, her head snapping up to look at him. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen, her face gaunt and her dark hair sticking to her sweat-slicked forehead. Her eyes were wide with fear.
“What are you doing?” Kenji demanded, stepping inside the building.
The girl fumbled with the bag, clutching it to her chest. “I-I was told to move the food,” she stammered, her voice shaky.
Kenji’s brows furrowed. It was such an obvious lie it almost made him laugh. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard,” he said. “You’re stealing it.”
“No!” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I mean—I—”
“Stop lying,” Kenji interrupted, his voice sharp. He folded his arms, towering over her. “I’m going to the elder.”
The girl’s eyes widened in terror. She dropped the bag and fell to her knees, bowing her head so low it almost touched the ground. “Please don’t,” she begged. “Please. They’ll kill me. Even starving, they’ll still kill me. It’s the law.”
Kenji froze, her desperate plea ringing in his ears. He glanced at the meager food in the bag, barely enough to keep one person alive for a few days. He knew she was right. Even in this broken state, the village would uphold its traditions, and theft was punishable by death.
He sighed heavily. “Why are you stealing?” he asked, his voice softer now.
The girl hesitated, her thin fingers trembling. “I… I have siblings,” she admitted finally. “Two little brothers. They’re so weak they can’t even get out of bed anymore. If I don’t bring them food, they’ll die.”
Kenji swallowed hard, his chest tightening. “But if you take this food, what happens to the others?” he asked. “There’s barely enough here as it is.”
She flinched at his words, her eyes filling with tears. “What am I supposed to do?” she whispered. “Let them die? They’re my brothers.”
Kenji’s throat tightened. He crouched down, meeting her gaze. “I get it,” he said quietly. “You’re trying to save them. But what about the other families? What about their kids? If you take this, they’ll starve.”
The girl shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t know!” she cried. “I don’t know what to do. I just… I have to try.”
Kenji sat back, running a hand through his hair. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and doubt. Was she right? Was it better to try, even if it meant sacrificing others? Or was it better to let everyone suffer equally, even if it meant no one got what they needed?
The silence between them stretched, heavy and suffocating. Then the girl spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s the raiders,” she said. “They’re the reason we’re like this. They took everything.”
Kenji’s head snapped up. “Raiders?” he asked.
She nodded. “They hide in the forest. They’ve been there for years. Always taking what they want, burning what they leave behind. Everyone knows about them, but no one does anything because we’re too weak. We’re just… victims.”
Kenji clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He thought back to the battle, to the chaos and bloodshed. He’d nearly died trying to stop those men, and for what? So they could do this again and again?
“No one stops them because no one can,” the girl continued, her voice bitter. “We’re not warriors. We’re just villagers.”
Kenji stared at the ground, her words echoing in his mind. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to think. But then, almost without realizing it, he said, “What if someone did stop them?”
The girl blinked at him, confusion flashing across her face. “What do you mean?”
“What if I went after them?” Kenji said, his voice firmer now. “What if I stole back the food they took?”
The girl’s jaw dropped. “You’re a lunatic,” she said bluntly. “You’ll get yourself killed.”
Kenji shrugged, forcing a tired smile. “Probably,” he admitted. “I’m not a warrior. I don’t even know if I can take on the raiders, but… if I can sneak in, if I can get some of their food and bring it back, maybe it’ll give the village a chance.”
She stared at him, her mouth half-open as if she wanted to argue, but no words came out. He spoke so plainly, without the bravado or false confidence she’d expect from someone suggesting such a reckless plan. It wasn’t bravery, not really—just the kind of determination that didn’t care how impossible something seemed.
“You’re insane,” she said finally, her voice softer now. “You know that, right?”
Kenji nodded. “Yeah, I know. But if I don’t try, who will?”
The girl’s lips pressed into a thin line, her brow furrowing as she stared at him. She shook her head in disbelief, muttering under her breath, “This village doesn’t deserve you.”
She sighed deeply, then adjusted her grip on the burlap bag. “Fine. You saved one of my brothers when they were attacking. I’ll do the only thing I can for you since you’re dead set on getting yourself killed again. I’ll show you the edge of the forest, where people say the raiders hide out. But that’s it. Don’t expect me to go any further.”
Kenji hesitated, then gave her a grateful nod. “Fair enough. Thank you.”
The girl huffed, her expression a mix of frustration and something like reluctant respect. “Let’s just get this over with,” she said, turning toward the village’s outskirts. “Come on, lunatic. Try not to die before we even get there.”
Kenji followed, the weight of her words settling over him like a challenge he wasn’t sure he could meet.
----------------------------------------
Kenji followed the girl through the village, his boots crunching softly against the dirt path. The air smelled of ash and decay, the aftermath of fire and ruin clinging to the air like a ghost. His gaze swept over the broken-down houses and the gaunt faces of the villagers who barely had the energy to glance his way. Every step seemed to weigh heavier than the last.
Ahead of him, the girl walked with quick, purposeful strides, clutching the burlap sack of stolen food like it was the last treasure in the world. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, her expression half-curious, half-wary.
“So,” she said finally, her voice cutting through the oppressive silence, “why are you doing this?”
Kenji didn’t answer immediately, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. “To help the village,” he said, his voice low and clipped.
The girl frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. “That’s it?” she pressed.
“That’s it,” Kenji replied, his tone flat.
For a few moments, they walked in silence, the only sound the wind rustling through the skeletal remains of the forest around them. But she wasn’t done.
“You don’t even know us,” she said, her voice growing sharper. “You almost died trying to save this place. And now you’re going to do it again. Why?”
Kenji hesitated, his mind flashing back to his father’s words, memories of their talks on the farm late at night or sitting on the porch overlooking the fields. His father had always said that the measure of a person wasn’t in their successes but in how they acted when the chips were down. “When you see someone in need, son,” his dad would say, leaning back in his old wooden chair, “you help ’em. Not because you owe it to them or because it’ll make you feel better. You do it because it’s the right thing to do. That’s it. Simple as that.”
But this wasn’t simple. This wasn’t some neighbor needing help fixing a fence or a stray dog looking for a home. This was danger, blood, and starvation. This was a choice he didn’t know how to reconcile.
“Someone has to,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm.
The girl stopped walking and turned to face him, her brow furrowed. “But why you?” she demanded. “Why not someone else? Why not just… leave?”
He met her gaze, his expression hardening. “Because I can’t just walk away,” he said, his voice tinged with the same stubbornness his father used to get when something needed doing. “If I can do something, anything, to help—even if it’s just a chance—it’s better than doing nothing.”
The girl stared at him, her expression unreadable. “You’re not like the others, are you?” she asked after a moment.
Kenji huffed a humorless laugh. “No,” he said simply.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her voice tinged with frustration. “You know you’ll probably get yourself killed, right?”
Kenji stopped walking, looking at the sack of food she carried and the ruins of the village fading behind them. “Maybe I will,” he admitted. “But my dad used to say something when I was a kid. He said the world’s like a big ol’ field after a storm. Sometimes it feels like there’s no fixing it, like it’s too broken to be worth the effort. But you don’t just leave it. You pick up your tools, and you get to work. You fix what you can because that’s how you make things better.”
Her expression softened, though disbelief still lingered in her eyes. “And you think you can fix this?”
“I don’t know,” Kenji said honestly. “But I’m gonna try. I can’t live with myself if I don’t.”
The girl shook her head, a faint, almost bitter smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You’re insane,” she said. “But… maybe insane is what we need.”
Kenji nodded, his resolve hardening. “If I don’t come back,” he said, his voice steady, “tell the elder I tried.”
She smirked faintly, the first glimmer of life he’d seen in her. “I’ll take you to the edge of the forest,” she said. “That’s all. I’m not going in there. But if you’re dumb enough to try, I’ll at least show you where they’re said to hide.”
Kenji gave her a small, grateful nod, his hand brushing against the broken katana at his side. He wasn’t a fighter, wasn’t a warrior. But if he could make even a small difference, he had to try. His father’s voice echoed in his mind, steady and sure: Do what’s right, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.
With that thought, he followed her into the trees.