Kibo stirred awake, limbs aching. As he stood up, his legs trembled and he limped from exhaustion. He rubbed his temples and whispered to himself.
"I need to find Yuki..."
He turned back.
Hiroshi and Sachiko lay on the forest floor, pale and hollow-eyed. Their bodies weren't wounded—but their spirits were.
They had remembered.
Their deaths.
Their sins.
Everything.
Kibo understood. He couldn't push them right now.
"Rest for a while," he said gently. "I'll go and find something—anything."
He turned to leave, but neither of them responded. They didn't even look at each other.
Then Sachiko spoke, barely above a whisper.
"Did you see what happened to me?"
Hiroshi nodded. "Yeah. And I know you saw mine. And Kibo's too."
A heavy silence passed.
Sachiko hesitated. Then asked softly, "Your parents… why did they do that?"
Hiroshi's jaw clenched. He looked at the ground.
"Mercy," he said. "I can't even hate them for it. They had no choice… Starve us slowly or give us one last meal."
His voice cracked as he continued.
"I… I wanted to believe we could've survived. If we just stole more. Pushed harder. I lied to my sister. I told her I'd eaten when I hadn't. I wanted to protect her. But in the end… they protected me."
He broke down.
Sachiko looked away. Her voice trembled too.
"You tried to care for them. You cared about someone."
"I—" she hesitated. "All I did was use him. The monk. I depended on him… I hated being weak. Every time they beat me, I ran to him for help. But when I finally had power, it all slipped away. I lost control. I killed them all. Not because I wanted to… but because I was angry."
She wiped her eyes, ashamed.
"He gave his life for mine… and I wasted it."
The two sat in silence.
And somewhere nearby, Kibo listened from behind a bush—shame tightening in his chest.
He had used them too. Lied. Pushed them forward while hiding behind his own pain.
He opened his mouth to speak—when suddenly, a twig snapped nearby.
The three froze. Instincts kicking in.
They stood.
A child—no older than nine—stepped from the trees.
Hiroshi blinked. "Are… are you ok?"
The boy tilted his head. "I'm from the village in the east."
Kibo stepped forward, cautious. "There's a village nearby?"
The boy nodded.
Kibo turned to the others. "Can you walk? Or should I go alone?"
Hiroshi straightened slowly. "Let you go off and fight yokai alone?."
He walked over and placed a hand on Kibo's shoulder.
Kibo looked at him, surprised—but grateful.
Hiroshi gently lifted the child in his arms.
Sachiko approached too, avoiding eye contact at first. Then she spoke quietly.
"We'll find Yuki. I… I failed to protect someone before. I won't do it again."
As they walked behind the boy, Kibo watched them—guilt twisting in his stomach. He realized how selfish he had been. How much pain they carried.
And still… they chose to move forward.
The boy led them through the woods until the trees parted—revealing a hidden village deep in the forest.
It was silent.
Every house boarded shut from the inside. Wood nailed over windows and doors. No lights. No fire. Only silence.
Sachiko narrowed her eyes. "What is a village doing in the middle of a yokai-infested forest?"
Kibo felt something… off.
"We're being watched," he muttered.
Suddenly, a woman burst out of one house and snatched the boy from Hiroshi's arms.
She didn't speak—just ran back inside and slammed the door shut.
"Wait!" Hiroshi called—but it was too late.
"She was real," Kibo said, stunned. "There's people here. Hiding."
That's when they heard it.
A voice from above.
Hiroshi pointed. "Look—there!"
A man stood atop a crumbling watchtower, his eyes wild.
"They're coming!" he screamed. "Hide! Don't come out!"