The evening breeze drifted gently across the mountain peaks, carrying the scent of pine and fresh grass with it. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange, gold, and soft purple, while the distant clouds glowed like burning embers.
Two figures stood silently at the edge of the cliff.
Tomora stared toward the endless horizon. The wind tugged at his dark cloak and swept through his messy hair. His scar caught the last rays of sunlight, making it stand out against his tired face.
Beside him stood Ezra.
The young boy had changed.
Months of training had replaced the frightened child Tomora had first met. His posture had grown steadier. His movements carried confidence, and every now and then, small currents of wind danced around his feet without him even noticing.
Neither of them spoke.
The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable.
It was the silence shared by people who knew words wouldn't make parting any easier.
Tomora slowly let out a long breath.
"Well..." he said quietly, never taking his eyes off the horizon. "I guess this is where we part ways."
The words disappeared into the evening wind.
Ezra lowered his head.
"Do you really have to leave?"
Tomora smiled faintly.
There was sadness behind it.
"My journey is near its end... that's how I feel." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "There are still things I have to do. Things I have to see through."
He looked at Ezra for the first time.
"I'm sorry... but yes. I have to leave."
A warmer smile appeared on his face.
"And... thanks for having me. I enjoyed every moment."
Ezra looked down at the small bag resting beside him.
"I... made something for you."
He quickly reached inside and carefully pulled something out.
It was a mask.
Tomora blinked.
The mask was beautifully crafted. Dark flowers had been painted around the edges, their black petals spreading across the smooth surface like vines. It was elegant without being flashy.
Ezra held it out with both hands.
"You'll need this."
Tomora accepted it carefully.
"Your face is everywhere now."
Tomora couldn't help but laugh quietly.
"Yeah..."
His fingers brushed across the painted flowers.
The craftsmanship was incredible.
"You really made this?"
Ezra scratched the back of his head shyly.
"I wasn't sure if you'd like it."
Tomora turned the mask over in his hands.
"I like it."
More than he could explain.
For several moments, neither of them spoke.
Only the wind filled the space between them.
Tomora's smile slowly faded.
He looked at the mask again.
Then at Ezra.
Something weighed heavily on his mind.
He hesitated.
"Ezra..."
The boy looked up.
"I know I'm going to sound like a bad person..."
Tomora rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"...but..."
He looked away.
"Would you... by any chance... like to come with me?"
Ezra froze.
"...Really?"
Tomora immediately looked embarrassed.
"Forget I asked."
He waved his hand.
"Sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"No!"
Ezra stepped forward so quickly he almost lost his balance.
"No, no, no!"
His words tumbled over one another.
"I do want to go with you."
Tomora looked at him in surprise.
A strong gust of wind swept across the mountain.
Something fluttered through the air.
A piece of paper.
It landed a few steps away before the wind lifted it again.
Tomora's eyes followed it.
A wanted poster.
The picture showed a young boy wearing a mask.
Large words stretched across the top.
WANTED: MASKED BRAT
The wind carried the poster away, disappearing into the valley below.
Ezra watched it leave.
His smile disappeared.
"What difference does it make if I stay behind?"
His voice had become almost a whisper.
"I'll stay on this mountain..."
He looked toward the empty forests below.
"...until someone finds me..."
His fingers tightened slightly.
"...and kills me."
Tomora remained silent.
Ezra forced a small smile.
"And..."
He laughed weakly.
"It's nice having someone to talk to every once in a while."
Tomora's chest tightened.
He remembered another smile.
Another voice.
Another person who used to stand beside him.
Patricia.
Without thinking, he stepped closer.
"I won't let anyone harm you."
Ezra looked up.
Tomora's purple eyes didn't waver.
"Not in any way."
His voice was calm.
Firm.
"I promise."
Ezra's eyes quickly filled with tears.
He turned away, wiping them with his sleeve.
"Sorry..."
He laughed softly through the tears.
"It's just..."
"You remind me so much of my older brother."
Tomora's expression softened.
"It's okay to cry."
He gently shook his head.
"Don't apologise."
For a moment, Ezra simply stood there.
Then Tomora reached out.
He took Ezra's hand.
"Come on."
The two of them left the mountain together.
The evening sun slowly disappeared behind them as they followed a narrow trail leading into the forest.
Neither looked back.
After walking for a while, Ezra glanced toward Tomora.
"So..."
He smiled.
"Where are we going?"
Tomora adjusted the new mask, letting it rest against the side of his face.
"We're looking for someone."
"Who?"
"A guy named Ishimo."
Ezra's footsteps suddenly stopped.
His eyes widened for only a second.
Tomora noticed immediately.
"What?"
Ezra forced a smile.
"Do you know him?"
The boy quickly shook his head.
"No."
His answer came almost too quickly.
"It's just..."
"The name sounds familiar."
Tomora studied him for another moment.
Then nodded.
"If you remember anything, let me know."
"I will."
The two continued walking.
The forest slowly swallowed the last light of day.
Night settled quietly over the land.
A small campfire crackled gently beneath the trees, its warm light pushing back the darkness.
Ezra had already fallen asleep.
Curled beneath a blanket, his breathing was slow and peaceful.
Tomora sat beside the fire.
The flames reflected in his tired eyes.
He reached into his pocket.
Carefully...
Almost fearfully...
He pulled out a single flower.
Its petals were still as beautiful as the day Patricia had created it.
He gently brushed one finger across them.
His shoulders lowered.
The confident warrior everyone feared disappeared.
Only Tomora remained.
Broken.
Alone.
"...I'm so pathetic... aren't I,some I managed to drag another innocent soul to this useless bloodshed."
The words barely escaped his lips.
The fire continued to crackle.
He looked toward the sleeping Ezra.
A small smile appeared.
"I won't let it happen again."
His fingers tightened around the flower.
He looked toward the stars above the trees.
His voice became nothing more than a whisper.
"Don't worry, Patricia..."
"I won't let it happen twice."
The wind carried his promise into the silent night.
The flower rested safely in his hand.
Just as her memory always would.
End of Chapter