Stumbling Arata Haru seeks shelter. The night sky covers the mountains in the darkness, it is a moonless night and clouds hide the stars.

'It looks like it's going to rain. I'd better find shelter by then.'

Coming in the opposite direction, an old man with short, clumsy, gray hair walks along the same road. He carries with him a katana and a wakizashi, uses a walking stick, a tattered greenish hakama, and a straw hat. A full gourd, heavy with sake, hangs in his other hand by a red braided rope. He staggers and sobs, visibly drunk.

He and Haru quickly exchange glances. The drunkard is not startled by the amount of blood on the in Haru's kimono, who in turn feels no hostility coming from this old man.

They continue walking, each going his own way.

Chapter 3 - Fated.

The old man walks a little further, passing through some potholes in the road slowly using his support staff. His straw hat flies in the wind, doing great, seemingly unpredictable pirouettes, but the old man pulls it back, using the tip of his support stick.

He puts it back on his head and sobs. He takes the cork out and takes another sip of sake from the gourd.

"Looks like it's going to rain a lot..."

As he finishes his sentence a loud noise coming from the bush contrasts with this swordsman's calm. Two bruised men jump out of a bush onto the road. They are the ones who were knocked unconscious from the branch Haru knocked over, late in their quest but still determined.

"Have you seen a boy from the Arata clan?!"

The other interrupts him in a whisper.

"Quiet! Idiot! If he hears about the reward he'll want a share!"

The other realizing his mistake rephrases the question, trying to disguise it.

"Have you seen a scarred boy passing by here?"

The drunk goes toward them, stumbling, looks right into their eyes, and then gives one last hiccup. He points in the opposite direction from where he saw Haru.

"He's got a missing eye, huh? Hmm... that way. He went that way."

The warriors rush off, happy, certain that they will soon be rich.

.....

Haru walks for another hour but finds nothing that would serve as shelter for the coming storm. With time, his body grows heavier. Dragging himself, bending down until finally, he crawls and simply lies on the ground.

'How did... this dirt road get so... cozy?'

Losing his consciousness, dropped on the earth, Haru doesn't even realize that the rain had already started. He passes out.

His head rests on its side in a subtle depression, and as the rain becomes heavier, it slowly fills up. The brown water turns reddish as it submerges part of the boy's body. It runs up the side of his head, into his right ear, past the scar in his eye, sneaking into his mouth and up to his nose.

By a rare demonstration of solidarity, perhaps by sheer luck or a dash of fate, a hand pulls at the boy's kimono collar, pulling him out of the puddle. A foot sinks sharply into his belly, causing Haru to spit the water out. Trying to understand what has happened he rubs his eye, but unable to see, and spits several times on the ground.

A hairy man in a tattered cloak, improvised from the skin of some careless animal, begins to speak:

"Ah! Look at that... He's really alive!"

A skinny, blond boy wearing a short, battered cloak that contrasts with a strange coppery helmet and small gauntlets, replies:

"I told you Hideo, I saw him staggering a little while ago."

"What a stupid way to die. That kind of people dies just like that, for nothing."

"Why did you save him then?"

"It was such a stupid way to die that I just couldn't watch. "

Haru, after spitting out a little more dirt, still unseeing, asks:

"Who are --"

A punch knocks him unconscious again. The blond boy falls into laughter and between occasional lapses of silliness, says:

"What -- if you -- decide whether to save him or not already, Hideo!"

"Stop laughing, Gori, I just don't feel like explaining myself right now."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He grabs Haru by the foot and drags him along as he walks. The blond tries to carry the boy's head so that it doesn't keep hitting the ground, but soon tires.

A large, nearly two-meter tall, mute, burly boy holds Haru by the kimono and lifts him with one arm, putting him on his shoulder. His silhouette would be mistaken for that of a bear if seen in a forest at night. He has a happy, vaulted, empty countenance. Messy black hair leaks all over the sides of a crumpled iron helmet.

"Ah, thank you, Bou!"

He replies with a gesture and a low dry noise from his throat.

.....

When Haru wakes up, he is completely disoriented. He feels the heat that could only come from the fire and a mysterious figure preparing some food in a small cauldron on the coals. He sits up and his vision is blurred, but he can see that he is covered with bandages. His clothes have been changed and his dirty kimono is still on his side. This one, which would be like any other if it didn't have the kamon of his clan embroidered on the back, is bent over, with his old katana resting on top. This calms him down.

He is in a large, dark room with light-colored walls dominated by slime and exposed stone. Rotten wood of various ages holds the place up like a rotting skeleton. A large statue of a buddha fills and dominates an entire wall of the room, like an altar slightly raised by a step of the same putrid wood. Large pillars connect the dark stone floor to the wooden beams of the ceiling, which display a rich red, yet chipped and forgotten in time. Large candles atop even larger mounds of wax illuminate the hall from the foot of these pillars. This place was once a temple, and now it is just a forgotten place, for whoever remembered here is surely dead.

For two seconds Haru forgets his situation, like someone waking up from a long sleep and rushing in.

"Mom?"

But he soon comes back to reality. When his vision returns to normal, still feeling the pain of his injuries, he sees that this woman has nothing to do with his mother. Her long black hair runs down her kimono. Her face has soft expressions, a healthy look, and is flushed from the heat of the fire. Her eyes are a rare dark green, but sad.

Haru admires her for a moment, like someone looking at a beautiful and thought-provoking painting, his eyes are lost in this girl. Unfortunately, he is pulled back from this when she realizes that he has woken up.

Their eyes meet in a moment of fright and Haru instinctively tries to pick up his sword, however, a kunai flies out and sticks into the ground next to the katana handle, preventing the movement of his hand.

"How ungrateful!"

"Huh?"

"You were going to kill me, weren't you?!"

Haru had no intention of doing that and upon seeing the misunderstanding, is surprised.

"No...it's...I'm sorry. I just thought that...that..."

"What? That I would take care of you and then hurt you?! Nonsense!"

"No... Actually... I guess I didn't think... Forgive me, please."

He bows, asking forgiveness. When he bows, he sees his arms full of bandages.

'She did all this and I tried to raise my sword to her?'

His guilt increases and his head gets even lower.

“And you just called me your mom! I’m not that old you know, I’m only nineteen!”

Haru stays quiet.

"Humph!"

She sits back near the fire, cooking something that, by the smell, must be delicious. Slowly she starts to feel bad for him.

“Okay, jeez, I forgive you, now stop that already!”

He sits normally again.

“So...Did you save me?”

“My friends found you, I only patched you up.”

“Thank you very much… I don’t really remember anything… I was running from samurai and… blank.”

“I’ve been told you were drowning actually, and Gori saved you.”

“What?!”

She pours some soup for him in a wooden bowl and gets really close to his face, with a macabre yet playful expression on her face.

“Drowning in a pool of your own blood, they said.”

The smell of soup mixes with hers, making him feel a strange array of emotions. He is starving yet resisting getting the bowl from her, or even stealing her food. He is not scared of her, but grateful and oddly attracted.

She gives the bowl to him.

‘No…hum... That can’t be true. I’m sure they must be exaggerating.”

He starts to eat, and the soup makes him feel like he is welcome here. He tries not to cry.

She sees he needs some time alone. The girl turns around, making her long black hair fly, and walks out of the large room. She wears a long iro muji kimono with no kamon, darkened by dirt. Small wooden geta sandals on her feet make her steps audible until she is far away.

Haru is embarrassed. He spends some time here, eating and looking at the Buda statue, feeling powerless about the captain; his weakness bothers him.

‘He is always protected by a group of samurai, how should I get to someone like that?!

Well… If I think of it, the Daimyo is even heavily guarded...’

His sadness adds to his resolution, he tries to motivate himself as he eats another bowl of soup.

‘I’ve got to get stronger!’

He gets up, and changes clothes, putting on his old, dirty, and torn ki-nagashi kimono again.

Bou enters the room and moves toward Haru, whose first impulse is to draw his sword to defend himself against this giant man, but he resists the urge this time.

‘No… Maybe he is a nice guy. Don’t judge him by his appearance.’

A low rumble from Bou makes Haru question whether he has made the right choice.

The giant man's hand reaches for the collar of Haru's kimono, lifting him. Haru holds the hilt of his sword, expecting a blow from Bou, but Bou just starts walking, leading the boy outside.

‘See...? He is a nice guy after all. Just taking me for a ride…you know, like normal people do...’

His reasoning doesn’t convince himself, but he does not attack the big guy.

The sky is slightly overcast with a white blanket of clouds, making the environment terribly bright for Haru's taste, which is dimmed as soon as they leave the temple.

In front of the temple, a circle of some screaming boys surrounds a dueling duo of boys. One of them is Hideo, the other is bald, bigger, and more muscular. Without armor or weapons, they face each other.

They exchange punches until one finally hits Hideo right in the face. The small audience, including the girl from earlier, chant a sound.

"HUULL!"

But Hideo holds the boy by the shoulders and responds with a headbutt that hits his opponent right in the nose. Blood sprays from his nostrils like a small red waterfall and he falls unconscious face down in the mud.

"wHOOOOAHH!"

He raises his arms and is carried by his companions as if he has won something important.

"Hi-de-o! Hi-de-o! Hi-de-o!"

The group finally puts him down and he sees Bou carrying Haru by the collar as the latter struggles.

"Put me down, big guy!!! Let me go!!!"

"Bou, bring him over here."

Haru starts down and gets excited when his feet touch the ground, but Bou's giant right hand doesn't release his collar and as he looks at the big boy, feeling that something is wrong.

Bou slowly lifts his left leg in the air and puts his weight on the right side of his body. Haru understands, but it is too late because Bou throws him with a force he didn't know a man could have.

The boy flies for several kens, making a long arc through the air, landing disastrously in the mud in the middle of the wheel.

He pulls his face out of the mud to breathe as everyone on the wheel laughs at him.

Hideo, kicking the bloodied bald man off the wheel, says in a menacing voice.

"Now it's your turn."

Haru spits out mud, stands, and looks at Hideo. He doesn't understand what is happening and it makes him angry. How could this duel help him get revenge after all? It is another waste of time caused by people who have nothing to do with his goal. He can't stand this interference any longer. His countenance shows hatred. He draws his sword, pointing it at Hideo. The place suddenly goes silent while Haru's voice is the only thing to be heard.

"Bring it on!"