The silence stretched.
Thirty pairs of eyes weighed me like a chunk of ore, deciding whether I was iron… or slag. All the attention made me extra nervous for no damn reason.
I swallowed.
"Uh," I started. Brilliant. "Merun."
"That's it?" someone said.
The speaker was the same slit-eyed man from earlier. His posture was relaxed, legs crossed, arms loose, but his aura was dense and steady. Like a coiled rope.
"Last name?" a woman asked, tilting her head. Her hair was tied back tight, a short katana resting across her knees. Kinzoku crest, of course.
I smiled. "Merun Furutsu."
A few brows lifted. A few others lowered. I glanced around, but Hideyoshi still wasn't back.
Great.
"So, Merun," slit-eyes continued, "where was Lord Hideyoshi all this time? And why were you carried here unconscious?"
"Nice tail, monkey!" someone else chimed in, making a few of the Squires laugh.
I knew that was supposed to be an insult, but I am a monkey.
"Lord Hideyoshi was just walking around the countryside, breathing fresh air," I lied, not knowing who here was actually on his side.
I scratched my cheek. "And I'm not sure if you know her… but I unknowingly attacked Lord Hideyoshi's Master."
A few snorts circled the fire.
"You attacked Master Iaiashin?" said the bandaged man, his jaw dropping. "Are you… mentally challenged?"
Fuck this guy in particular.
I hesitated, then shrugged. "I thought my family was in danger. That's all. Wouldn't you do the same?"
That earned a couple of nods. Some quiet words of agreement.
"What martial art do you practice, kid? Where's your weapon?" asked a tall man with a glaive resting behind him. His tone was neutral. Professional.
I hesitated.
…I didn't have either of those things.
After a few seconds of silence, the tall man scoffed, visibly annoyed. "Hello? Did the Mizunori Squires hit you in the head too hard after Master Iaiashin did?"
The professionalism vanished.
A lot of Squires laughed.
"I… lost my weapon," I said. "And as for the other question, I'd rather not say."
That got reactions.
"You'd rather not… what?"
He burst out laughing. "What kind of Martial Artist are you? Are you not proud of your Path?"
"Your parents should beat you for losing your weapon so carelessly!" someone pointed out.
Ignoring them, I finally said, "I like close combat. Pushing the limits of my body."
"So do I," slit-eyes said, pressing. "But which Path specifically?"
I stared at my calloused hands.
What did I enjoy most when fighting? What did I want to achieve?
Control? I liked controlling the pace of battle. Close, but not quite.
Reaching the limits of my Saiyan body?
That felt closer. Still not it.
Maybe something Ki related? I don't know, I don't even know how to train it.
Silence.
Then someone laughed.
"Knock it off, Sora," the bald greatsword user said bluntly. "You're giving the kid an identity crisis."
A few chuckles followed. Not cruel. Just dismissive.
Still, questions kept coming.
"What defensive art do you practice? You took a beating back there and kept standing."
"Your stamina recovery isn't bad. What school taught you that? I trained in Frog Breathing Arts myself. Feels great even outside combat."
"You took a hell of a beating from the turtle guy, huh?"
I answered honestly.
I didn't know.
So I made up random bullshit techniques, and they nodded like they understood.
"Can you believe this guy fell for the oldest trick in the book?" someone said, shaking his head. He suddenly went limp and stuck his tongue out, "I'm unconscious. Blee."
The other Squires burst out laughing.
"This is my first war, you bastard!" I protested.
A man across the fire snorted. "Ah… my first war as a Squire. I forgot I was a Squire and almost killed my old rival. I forgot that he was still stuck as a Martial Apprentice, see? I almost died!"
A couple of Squires laughed and shared their stories as well.
That felt… nice.
For a moment, the warmth stayed. Interest hummed low but real. They talked over one another, dissecting my mistakes, pointing out moments I should've died.
Then Sora asked casually, almost as an afterthought.
"So. Which family are you under? Lord Toyotomi's?"
"I'm not part of any family in the Clan," I said.
The shift was instant.
"Actually," I added, "I'm not part of Kinzoku either."
The vibe got worse.
A few people nodded and turned away. Someone lost interest mid-lean. Another reached for a waterskin. Conversations fractured.
"Oh."
"Unfortunate."
"That explains it."
As attention drifted away, someone suddenly asked, "Where did you come from?"
I turned toward the voice. "A small village called Owar—"
I froze.
It's her.
Cool girl!!!
Black hair, wolf cut with bangs. Catlike eyes, a deep blue. Battered black gauntlets with clawed fingers.
Exactly my type.
"Owari!" I said brightly. "An up-and-coming town famed for agriculture!"
That did it.
The fire felt colder.
"Oh. Okay." She smiled, then turned and walked away.
I reached out instinctively.
NOOO. Don't go!!!
A man who'd been watching closely stood and stretched. "Ahem. Well. That answers most questions."
Finally, people stopped paying attention to me.
I stared into the flames, jaw tight.
Is it because I'm a peasant?
What is this discrimination??
It fucking stung.
Then—
"Hey, Merun."
I looked up.
Two men stood in front of me.
"…Yeah?"
"Do you know who we are?" one asked. An oversized hammer was tied to his back.
Wasn't this the guy who saved me? The one who gave me that terrifying glare?
Oh.
I knew who they were.
"…Lord Niwa. Lord Takigawa?"
The fire cracked, sparks rising into the night.
"I'm sorry about yesterday," I said. "I thought you were attacking my family—"
"We don't give a shit about that," Lord Takigawa cut in. "What we want is a rematch."
Both of them grinned. Wide and ugly.
"Tomorrow," Lord Niwa said, "we spar until we're satisfied."
"No holding back," Takigawa added.
A tear fell from one of Lord Niwa's eyes, "Master told me she was disappointed..." He grabbed on to my shoulders and shook me, "I died right there. Nagahide Niwa died in Owari."
Behind him, Lord Takigawa was doing the same, his hands covering his eyes as he shed tears.
I gulped.
And for the first time since waking up on this battlefield, I felt it clearly.
Tomorrow wouldn't be a war.
It'd be worse.