The conversation turned serious in an instant. What I thought would be a moment to catch up and rebuild old bonds flipped the other way with just one sentence.
I looked into Pachi's eyes and saw only deep concern, sharp as a nichirin blade. He couldn't make this up—not when it was about his brother.
But I still didn't fully understand.
"What are you saying, Pachi?"
"Will you promise to hear me out?"
"Yes, I promise. Now say something," I demanded.
"It started the moment we decided to run from the village—months after you were exiled. Pacho and I rounded up everyone willing to risk it. Honestly, we thought nothing waited beyond the forest but death. But back then, death felt like the better deal." His voice dropped, then steadied. "You know the fog around the village keeps outsiders away. What they never tell us is how it works. When you step inside, it's like the fog just…" He rubbed his temple, searching for the words.
"Wipes your brain."
"Yes. But not everything. It takes what's most important and leaves the shell behind. That's what they hide, Boss. They use the fog to keep people out, and to train ninjas into weapons. It puts your mind into deep sleep, but your body keeps moving. If your body turns back toward the village, training begins. They take more and more after the first thing. If it carries you out to the world beyond, you regain most of yourself… but something is still gone."
It clicked. I realized how lucky I was, the companion system had shielded me from all of it.
"I thought you were broken like us," he went on. "But when you reversed the effect on me, I knew you weren't touched at all. How did you do it?"
"I… don't know, honestly. It just happened."
Even if I wanted to explain, I couldn't. An invisible window popping in my head, tracking my strength, that wasn't something I could put into words.
"So what do we do about Pacho? Is there a way to reverse the… curse?"
"None that I know," Pachi said. "But answers have to be in the village. Right now, though, I can't go near it."
"Tell me—what's it like there?"
He let out a long sigh. "Like everywhere else these days. The strong enjoy, gloat, and feed off the weak. The weak suffer until they die."
"Nothing's changed, huh? And Nana, what about her?"
"She…" He stopped. "I left her in the slums."
"Why?!"
"I—I don't know, Boss. I couldn't think. I couldn't think of anyone else, not even myself."
I had nothing left to say to him, and let the woods fall silent around us.
As the talk died, I realized we'd fallen far behind Pacho. I picked up my pace without thinking and Pachi matched it.
"Hey, Boss. I know I've done terrible things—worse than you can imagine. I know I'm not worth forgiving. But I can't do this knowing you don't fully trust me."
"I don't—"
"It may be unconsciously, but you still see me as a threat. Your hand's been on your blade the whole time we talked."
Shit. When did that happen?
"I won't blame you. You're being cautious. But if I'm going to protect Chogi, I need your full trust. If there's anything—anything at all—I can do to earn it back, please—"
"I trust you, Pachi," I said. The words carried weight, but a part of me held firm to the belief that he merited them.
The journey continued, but our group had shrunk. As our old companions predicted, Kageguiri was no more than a day away.
It was already late when the village lights came into view—half a mile off, glowing from every building, giving the place a warm, vibrant feel.
Now that I'd seen Pacho safely close enough to his destination, the plan moved forward. We would part ways again. None of us liked it, but it had to be done. This was our lives now.
"You'll be on your way now?" Pacho asked, Pachi's tall figure looming behind him.
"Yeah. It's late, but I need to keep moving."
"It is late, like you said. Can't you wait? Sleep at the family house with us, then leave at first light."
"That's a good idea, but I'll have to turn it down. I'm supposed to reach my destination by morning. Staying would only delay me."
Pacho's shoulders slumped, like a kid denied candy.
I patted his shoulder. "You're a man now. If everything goes well—which it will—you'll be a husband and a father soon. You have a bright future. All you have to do is put in the work."
It sounded like a farewell. Too surreal, considering it had only been days since our reunion after years apart.
I stepped up to Pachi. We held a long stare, then clasped hands in a firm grip.
"Till next time," I said.
"I'll send letters if I find anything," he whispered, keeping Pacho out of it.
"Same."
After that, the three of us pulled into a long hug. Memories flickered like night fireflies overhead. It had been years—almost a decade—since we'd been separated. The journey had been long. But it had only just begun.