As was customary, Misuki and the other children left the village early each morning to venture deep into the forest and gather wood for their mothers. La Villa, their small village, was predominantly inhabited by the Asian tribe to which Misuki belonged. Known for their unity and strong work ethic, the villagers were mostly comprised of close-knit families. Among them, Misuki's father, Kioto, stood out as an exceptional hunter. Renowned for his skills, Kioto not only provided meat for his own family and the village but also supplied meat to other communities and even merchants from the country. Often, he returned on Friday evenings with a bountiful haul after a successful hunting trip.
The livelihood of La Villa revolved around hunting, with strict gender roles dictating the division of labor. Women were prohibited from working, while boys were tasked with gathering wood, leaving hunting solely to the grown men of the tribe. This simple yet effective organizational structure formed the backbone of the community's way of life.
Misuki held immense respect for his father, who commanded authority over the entire village and conducted business with merchants from the Kingdom. Kioto's leadership was unquestioned, and he was highly esteemed by all. However, despite his father's esteemed status, life was not without its challenges. Some individuals harbored animosity toward the Asian community, particularly the merchants who often expressed envy over their exceptional hunting skills. These merchants frequently haggled over meat prices, causing tension within the village.
At that time, the Kingdom was governed by the Adeko party, which periodically elected a new President, earning the country the moniker of the Black Gold Republic. The recent discovery of oil wells near the country's shores had bolstered the ruling party's hold on power. However, the Asians had no involvement in the oil industry due to political barriers and their proletarian status. Misuki's father, Kioto, provided insights gleaned from merchants' tales to his son, shedding light on the broader economic landscape. He explained how Black Gold's wealth stemmed from oil sales to other nations.
From a young age, Misuki pondered the concept of wealth generated by the earth's resources, realizing the privileged position of those who profited without labor, merely by selling natural resources.
"One day, as they sat together over coffee, Kioto imparted wisdom to Misuki. With his imposing stature, long hair, and black beard, Kioto bore the scars of countless hunting exploits etched across his arms, chest, and face.
"What's a monopoly?" Misuki queried, observing his mother tidying the table nearby.
"They control the entire trade," Kioto explained. "No one else can enter the market. It's like if I hunted the animals and sold the meat directly to the people. No merchants, no middlemen. Do you understand?"
Misuki nodded, grasping the concept of a monopoly at last.
"So, I can't join the oil business, for instance?" Misuki asked.
Kioto chuckled, his voice rich with paternal warmth. "Not in this lifetime, son. You'll follow in my footsteps as a hunter, earning your livelihood with your hands, showcasing your prowess in the perilous depths of the forest. You'll face beasts so formidable that few men would dare to even glance at them. And you'll surpass even me. I hope you'll become the finest hunter of all."
As Misuki made his way home, that conversation with his father echoed in his mind. "Not in this lifetime, huh? Well, maybe I'll live more than a century!" he mused. Walking alongside him were the other village boys, burdened with nearly five hundred pounds of wood, enough to sustain the village for days. Misuki was naturally industrious and remarkably mature for his age. Unlike the other boys, he eschewed idle days, preferring to immerse himself in work. His close friend Ikaru, son of Isuku—one of La Villa's most respected men and Kioto's hunting companion—shared Misuki's boundless energy and competitive spirit.
That evening, Misuki and Ikaru found themselves leading the procession, spurred by a bet over who could reach the village first. As they raced ahead, laughter echoed through the forest, mingling with the sound of footsteps and the creaking of heavy logs on their backs. However, amidst the joviality, Misuki's keen eyes caught sight of something amiss—an ominous gray cloud billowing in the distance, growing larger with each passing moment. It was a rare sight, one that stirred a sense of unease within him.
"Is today a special day?" he asked Ikaru as they crossed a small stream along the path to the village.
"I don't think so. Why do you ask?"
"What's that smoke in the sky for?" he pointed upwards.
In La Villa, whenever they struck a good deal, Kioto and Isuku would organize large meals for everyone. The elderly men of the village, who were no longer able to hunt, were special guests on these occasions. The villagers honored their elders with love and respect, acknowledging that it was thanks to them that they were alive. It was a tradition to repay their elders' care when they reached an age where they could no longer fend for themselves.
"What's that?" Ikaru exclaimed. "I haven't heard anything about a feast. And that's too much smoke. My father would have told me to bring more wood if there was a celebration in the village."
"Mine too," Misuki replied. "Regardless, let's hurry. Perhaps someone accidentally started a fire. Maybe a merchant."
They quickened their pace. Misuki desperately wanted to believe that everything was fine. Perhaps it was just a small kitchen fire caused by a distracted villager. However, as they drew nearer, it became clear that the fire was in La Villa itself.
"Misuki, Ikaru, what's happening?" the other children kept asking, looking to them for answers as they led the group. Just like their fathers, Misuki and Ikaru were the leaders of these wood-gathering expeditions.
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"I don't know. But don't worry, we're almost there. Just keep moving. No breaks, no stops. Let's all get home and find out what's happening."
The competition between Misuki and Ikaru was forgotten. Fear drove them now, running side by side with logs on their backs, their minds consumed by the dread of something terrible happening to their people.
"Misuki, something's terribly wrong," Ikaru gasped, his eyes wide with dread, after they all heard the chilling scream. It was the agonizing cry of a woman—a cry filled with suffering, pain, and unadulterated fear. Misuki's grip on the log faltered, and it crashed to the ground as he broke into a sprint. The others followed suit, their hearts pounding in their chests as they raced towards the village.
As they approached, the sky darkened with billowing clouds of smoke, choking the air and making it difficult to breathe. Flames danced in a macabre symphony, devouring everything in their path. The once peaceful village was now a hellish inferno, echoing with the anguished screams of its inhabitants.
Some of the boys who had been accompanying Misuki collapsed to the ground, their cries of despair mixing with the crackling of flames as they beheld the lifeless bodies of their loved ones strewn across the sand, bathed in crimson pools of blood.
Misuki's mind reeled with disbelief and horror as he made his way towards his hut. Today was supposed to be a routine business day—his father and Isuku were to sell meat to the merchants. But what awaited him shattered his world. His home, engulfed in flames, bore the telltale signs of chaos—hoofprints scattered in the dirt, ominous harbingers of devastation.
"No," he whispered hoarsely, his heart constricting with dread. "My father, my mother." With a desperate resolve, he lunged towards the burning threshold, the searing heat scorching his skin, but he was halted by the firm grip of Ikaru and his friends, who stood as a barrier against the inferno within.
He thrashed against them with a wild desperation. Ikaru and five other boys clung to Misuki, their hands grappling his arms, legs, and torso in a desperate attempt to restrain him. The cacophony of his screams reverberated through the village, drowning out all other sounds. His eyes remained fixed on his blazing house, searching desperately for any sign of his father amidst the inferno. But amidst the flames, there was no trace of his father—no sight, no sound, only the engulfing blaze that seemed to devour everything in its path.
Misuki's heart shattered with each passing moment, his screams echoing his overwhelming anguish. He could feel the searing heat of the fire against his skin, a cruel reminder of his helplessness. With every ounce of strength he possessed, he fought against his friends, driven by a desperate need to break free and save his family. But his efforts were futile, and as the hours dragged on, exhaustion consumed him, draining his strength until he lay motionless, his cries silenced by the oppressive weight of grief.
In the wake of the tragedy, Misuki, Ikaru, and the other orphaned children were left to grapple with the devastating loss of their families. Amidst their grief, a haunting question lingered unanswered— who could have perpetrated such a heinous act, and why? They were just children, thrust into a world of darkness and uncertainty.
As night fell and they huddled together around a flickering fire, Misuki knew that they could no longer afford to remain passive victims of fate. It was time to seek answers, to unravel the tangled web of secrets and lies that had shattered their lives. With grim determination, Misuki vowed to uncover the truth and make those responsible for their suffering pay dearly.
"We don't know who did this," Misuki murmured, his voice trembling as he lifted the teacup that Ikaru had offered him to his lips. "But mark my words, we will uncover the truth, and when we do, they will pay dearly for their sins."
"But how?" Yojiro, Misuki's younger brother, interjected, his voice quivering with fear and uncertainty.
Misuki's gaze hardened, his eyes gleaming with a steely resolve. "There are always ways," he replied cryptically. "We just need to listen, to watch, to learn. People talk, secrets slip through the cracks like whispers in the dark."
"What do you propose, Misuki?" Ikaru inquired, his voice laced with a mixture of apprehension and hope.
Misuki's shoulders sagged under the weight of his newfound responsibility. He was just a boy, thrust into a nightmare from which there seemed to be no waking. Yet, despite his youth, he knew that he could not afford to falter, not when the survival of their shattered village hung in the balance.
"We stay," Misuki declared, his voice ringing out with a newfound determination that belied his years.
"Stay?" Imeyu, a fat redhead boy scoffed, his voice dripping with incredulity. "Are you out of your mind? We'll be sitting ducks, waiting for the monsters who slaughtered our parents to come for us next!"
But Misuki remained unfazed, his mind racing with thoughts and plans. "Think about it," he countered, his voice tinged with an eerie calmness. "Whoever orchestrated this massacre knew our village intimately. They struck with precision, catching our parents off guard and leaving no survivors. But they made one fatal mistake—they underestimated us."
A chill settled over the group as Misuki's words sank in. "Have any of you seen the bodies of your sisters?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, yet laden with unspeakable dread.
They all looked at each other, thoughtfully.
“No, right? It’s because they were taken as slaves. They’ll rape them or force them to marry them. I think this was all planned. Our parents were outnumbered. But whoever did this, probably thought that we were going to be trouble, for we all know how to hunt and use weapons. Maybe if we would have been here, our parents wouldn’t have been outnumbered…”
"What are you implying?" Ikaru's voice quivered with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
Misuki's eyes gleamed with a fierce determination as he continued, his words cutting through the heavy silence like a knife through butter. "I'm saying," he began, his voice steady and resolute, "that this was the work of a small, organized group. Black Gold may be vast in resources, but its population is sparse, and its army, limited. If we had been here, they would have met fierce resistance."
A flicker of realization crossed Ikaru's face as he absorbed Misuki's words. "I'm with you, Misuki," he declared, his voice echoing with newfound resolve. "We will not cower in fear. Instead, we will stand in defiance. We will take up the mantle left by our parents, continuing their legacy as hunters and providers. But we will also prepare for the inevitable conflict to come. They may have taken our sisters, but we will take everything from them in return."
The gravity of Ikaru's words hung heavy in the air, each syllable imbued with a sense of purpose and determination. As the others nodded in silent agreement, Misuki remained silent, his mind already racing with plans and strategies for the battles that lay ahead.
"We're going to approach this strategically," Misuki declared, his voice firm and resolute. "First, our priority is to rebuild our village from the ashes. Then, we'll resume our hunting expeditions to ensure we have enough meat to sustain ourselves. But we can't stop there. If we're going to stand a chance against those who attacked us, we need to expand our ranks. We'll recruit young boys from neighboring villages and seek alliances. We must also take wives, acquire horses, and intensify our training regimen. Hunting alone won't suffice. Look at what they did to our parents. We need to be prepared for war."