The forest was submerged in a heavy silence, broken only by the rustle of fine snow as it fell relentlessly. Every corner, every branch, was coated in a cold white layer reflecting the pale blue of a desolate winter sky.
Yujiro, who had recently turned sixteen, took a deep breath, exhaling a thick white mist that vanished instantly into the freezing air. His fingers, wrapped around the rough handle of the axe, were numb despite the thin woolen gloves, but he did not stop. He thought of his father's pallid face, and of Shin and Take waiting for warmth. He raised the axe and struck a dead log with force; it split in two.
"It's far too cold today... I must hurry before the paths close," he muttered to himself. He was gathering wood as usual—their only fuel for survival on a night that seemed to have no end.
Suddenly, a sharp, dry crack pierced the silence; a thick branch had snapped under the weight of something heavy. Yujiro bolted upright and stopped instantly, staring toward an old fir tree. All his senses, sharpened by years of forest work, ignited, but he saw nothing but the tail of a red fox disappearing among the bushes. He breathed a sigh of relief, yet his grip on the axe tightened.
As he returned to his work, he felt something that made him freeze. It wasn't the usual sound of the forest, but steady, quiet human footsteps approaching from behind.
He turned slowly to find a man standing a few meters away. He was tall, with a strange, gentle smile, but his eyes watched with a sharpness that didn't match his features. His dark coat seemed devoid of any trace of snow, as if he had never walked the path at all—as if he had sprouted from the earth suddenly.
"Young man, what are you doing here alone in this weather?" he asked in a warm tone that masked an interrogation.
Yujiro took half a step back, holding the axe before him in a defensive stance. "I'm gathering wood for my family. Who are you? And what brings a stranger to these depths?"
The man took another step forward and reached out kindly. "My name is Hakaji. It is a pleasure to meet you. You are brave to work in this frost. What is your name?"
Yujiro hesitated, remembering his mother Amisa's warnings, but something in the man's reassuring voice and strange stillness eased his guard. He loosened his grip slightly and said, "I am called Yujiro."
At that moment, Hakaji stepped forward and shook his hand. But he suddenly tightened his grip. He wasn't just shaking hands; he was examining something. He looked at the boy's coal-stained palm and saw what he was searching for: the faint sun mark.
He released his hand, and his smile widened—cold, like a silent victory.
"What a coincidence... stars shine even in broad daylight."
"Wait, Yujiro, let me give you something as a token of friendship, and for your hard work," Hakaji said, reaching into his inner pocket.
"I don't need anything, I must get home!" Yujiro protested, caution creeping back into his voice.
Hakaji smiled mysteriously and said calmly, "Don't be stubborn... take it, perhaps it will help ease the pain of your bedridden father."
Yujiro froze in place, his eyes widening in shock. He stepped back, tightening his grip on the axe, and asked in a trembling voice, "How... how did you know my father is sick? I didn't tell you anything!"
Hakaji did not answer; instead, he gave a cold look that pierced through Yujiro and pulled out a small flower with white petals as shimmering as snow and a deep blue heart. "This is a very rare flower... its scent alone is enough to make one forget their pain. Take it; isn't your father's safety more important than your caution?"
Yujiro was conflicted; the shock of the stranger knowing his family secret mingled with his desperate hope for his father's recovery.
"If you take one more step, I will use this axe!" Yujiro warned.
Hakaji pulled his hand back and said, "Fine, fine... I won't force you to take it."
Yujiro thought for a moment, then said, "Alright, give me the flower."
Hakaji held it out again. Yujiro reached out hesitantly and took it. The scent was strange—sweet and refreshingly unsettling.
The moment his fingers touched the petals, Hakaji blew a light breath onto them.
A fine powder, like silver mist, drifted toward Yujiro's face. He inhaled it unconsciously and felt a sudden dizziness, as if his head had filled with liquid lead. The forest danced before him; the sound of the snow faded. He tried to scream, to raise his axe, to call for his mother... but his body betrayed him.
He fell unconscious onto the cold ground, never feeling Hakaji's strong arms lifting him quietly.
"Regrettably... your mother was right, Yujiro. You shouldn't trust strangers, especially those bearing flowers," Hakaji whispered. He then vanished into the heart of the forest, leaving behind Yujiro's axe alone on the snow, and a sun mark glowing on the hand of the boy who had slipped into darkness.