The number stopped.
[ERROR INTEGER PAST ALLOCATED LIMIT]
Merun stared at it, breath caught in his throat.
"What…?"
It can't track my power level?
His hands trembled slightly.
Doesn't these things usually explode when they reach the limit?
Or is this thing just defective?
But even without the scouter, he could clearly feel the changes in his body. It was clearly a result of a Zenkai Boost.
"But how?", he muttered.
He'd been half-dead. Worse than half-dead. His arm had been gone. His tail severed. There was no senzu bean here. No healing pod... No, there was that one thing, the Fruit from the Tree of Healings!
Sekigahara's national treasure resource!
But... who would give me such a precious fruit?
Hideyoshi? No... he was just a Martial Squire. I doubt they would hand it out to anyone lesser than a Martial Sage.
And more importantly—
Why did the villagers save me?
He pulled the device off his eye and turned it over in his hands. It was light, warm from use. Smooth black casing, a single lens with faint green tint, small tactile buttons along the side. Too familiar. Way too familiar.
"…Who the hell made this?"
The door slid open.
Merun jolted and instinctively shoved the scouter under his pillow just as a girl stepped inside.
"Oh," she said softly. "You're awake."
She carried a simple wooden bowl. A small portion of rice, steamed fish laid carefully on top. The smell made his stomach twist painfully, reminding him how long it had been since he'd eaten.
"Ah… yeah," Merun said, dumbly.
She crossed the room and set the bowl on the nightstand. As she leaned closer, light from the window fell across her face.
Merun's eyes widened.
"…You're the girl," he said slowly. "The one I saved that night."
She tilted her head. "That night?" A faint smile touched her lips. "It was only three days ago."
Three days.
He swallowed.
The girl suddenly bowed, deep and earnest, both hands gripping his sleeve as if afraid he might disappear.
"Thank you," she said. "Truly. From my heart."
Merun stiffened.
"No," he said immediately. "Don't."
She looked up, confused.
"It was because of me," he said, voice rough. "Because I fought, the village—" His words faltered as images forced their way back in. White cloths. Crying children. "Parents are dead. Kids are left alone. I don't deserve thanks."
She didn't pull away.
Instead, she reached up and gently cupped his cheek.
Her eyes were steady. Clear. Not angry. Not accusing.
"I'm grateful you saved me," she said quietly. "Thank you."
She turned and walked toward the window.
Outside, the village moved in slow, aching rhythm.
She looked out at the village longer this time.
Outside, a man hobbled past with a makeshift crutch, his leg wrapped in dirty bandages. A child followed behind him, no older than six, carrying a bucket far too heavy for her thin arms. Near the well, two women argued in hushed voices over whose turn it was to draw water—both too exhausted to raise their voices.
"Do you know what martial artists call villages like this?" she asked quietly.
Merun didn't answer.
"Rest stops. Storage sheds. Places to take what they want before moving on."
Her fingers curled against the window frame.
"When armies fight wars for this region, they don't see people. They see food, shelter, bodies." She swallowed. "If a martial artist wants a daughter, a wife, a night of entertainment—there's no law that stops them. No one strong enough to say no."
Merun's nails dug into his palms.
"They kill men who resist," she went on. "Cripple the ones who survive. Sometimes they don't even bother killing. A broken man still spreads fear."
She turned slightly, eyes sharp now.
"And after they leave, the village is expected to keep paying taxes. Tribute. Grain quotas." A bitter smile crossed her face. "As if we weren't already stripped bare."
Her voice rose before she noticed.
"Do you know how many villages go through this every year?"
She laughed, short and humorless.
"They want us to celebrate when we change clan 'protectors' to the new victors." Her gaze flicked to him. "Kinzoku, Oni, Shinken, Shimazu, Tsukamu. It's all the same."
She clenched her fists.
"And people like you... Martial Artists who want to fight back, are rare"
Merun flinched.
"For once," she said, emotion bleeding through her composure, "someone stopped them. Someone made them leave early. Do you know what that means to us?"
Her chest rose and fell faster now.
"It means fewer graves. Fewer orphaned children. It means we might survive the season."
She turned fully toward him.
"That's why we gave you shelter, Merun. We want you to become our hero."
His heart skipped.
"…Wait," he said slowly. "How do you know my name?"
She froze.
For just a moment, the calm cracked.
"I didn't," she said quickly. "I mean—I think I heard your name last night... or maybe not?"
Merun sat up straighter.
"No," he said. "You said it. You called me Merun. How did you know that?"
Silence stretched.
Her shoulders sagged.
"…Damn it," she muttered under her breath. "My evaluation rating is going to plummet."
Merun felt cold.
"Evaluation rating?" he repeated. "What are you talking about?"
Her posture changed.
Not dramatically. Not theatrically. Just… aligned. Like someone slipping into a role they were trained for.
"Please come with me," she said evenly. "And bring the device under your pillow."
Merun's breath caught.
"…What?"
She turned and walked out.
Against every instinct screaming at him to bolt, Merun followed.
They moved through the village. Merun kept firing questions, but she didn't answer a single one. People passed them, some nodding to her, others avoiding her gaze entirely.
They stopped at an unassuming hut.
She stepped aside and gestured inside.
Merun entered.
The door slid shut behind him.
He snorted despite himself. "You know I could easily break through this door, right?"
His tail shivered from the tip all the way to his chest.
"Hello there, Merun."
Merun spun.
A young man sat inside, cross-legged on the floor. Plain clothes. Unremarkable face. The kind of person you'd forget the moment you looked away. A Joe-Schmoe.
Yet every fiber in Merun's body screamed.
He dropped into a combat stance. Feet planted wide. Aura flaring. Killing intent leaking out like pressure from a cracked dam.
This man was dangerous.
The young man smiled.
"Now, now," he said pleasantly. "Is that how you greet someone who gave you a gift?"
Merun blinked.
"…What?"
"The device you're hiding," the man continued. "It's called a scouter, isn't it?"
Merun's blood ran cold.
"…What?"
The man tilted his head. "You're wearing that look. Ah." He chuckled. "I suppose introductions are in order. I am th—"
"Wait."
Merun exhaled slowly.
"…I think I know who you are."
The man's eyebrows rose.
"To whom do I owe the pleasure, Beggar Sage?"
The smile vanished instantly.
"Well now," the man said softly. "That is a shock. How did you know about me?"
Merun straightened and held out the scouter.
"First," he said, "where did you get this? And how do you know what it is?"
The Beggar Sage smiled again, this time with quiet pride.
"Why, we made it," he said. "It's based on the technology we found in your ship."
Merun froze.
Everything clicked into place at once.
"You—"
"Yes," the Sage said easily. "We borrowed your ship. Learned your language. Your planet's technology. Then we refined it."
He gestured lightly.
"The scientists have worked day and night to make that thing... Not to worry though, they weren't forced to do so or anything like that. The thought of researching unknown alien technology made them drool!"
"I take it you've checker your own power level?"
"…I did," Merun said. Technically, no, but he did try.
"From the moment you arrived in Panama, we knew you were here," the Sage continued. "When reports came in that the Furutsu family had gained another child with a tail, near the crash site, there was no doubt."
His eyes sharpened. "Or you know, something more obvious... like a random peasant village suddenly producing almost 200% more crops in the past few years?"
"We know everything there is to know about you, Merun Furutsu."
"More than you'd expect."
Merun's fists clenched.
"The only thing we don't know," the Sage said calmly, "is why you're here."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Otherworlder."
The room felt smaller.
"Are you a threat?"