The morning air in Kuri was crisp and full of life. The castle courtyard bustled as retainers and family gathered to see Mamoru off. Onimaru padded loyally at his side, ears perked, tail wagging as though he too knew the importance of the moment.
Oden stood proudly with his massive arms folded, while Toki gently held little Hiyori by the hand. Momonosuke clung to his mother's robes, his eyes full of excitement. Beside them stood Kin'emon, Kawamatsu, Cat Viper, and Dogstorm, each curious to see Mamoru off .
"Come back soon, Mamoru!" Toki said warmly. Her voice carried the gentle command of a mother, though it wasn't directed at her own child.
"Yes," Kawamatsu added. "May your journey be safe."
"You'd better return for more of Oden's stew,and more stories we haven't even told about our travels with Roger" Cat Viper grinned, swishing his tail. "Next time, I'll beat you in finishing it fastest!"
Mamoru laughed and bowed deeply. "Thank you, everyone for the warm receptionand hospitality. I'll definitely come back."
Onimaru barked in agreement, his voice sharp and proud.
The boy and his fox began to descend the mountain, but as the group watched, confusion spread among them. Instead of taking the narrow path that wound back toward the snows of Ringo, Mamoru was heading in the complete opposite direction—straight toward the path that led to Bakura Town.
"Uh… isn't that the wrong way?" Kin'emon muttered, scratching his head.
"Definitely the wrong way," Dogstorm confirmed with a confused look, his ears twitching.
Oden, however, only laughed. "Ah, that's Mamoru for you! He's got a terrible sense of direction ,unbelievable really. While we traveled here, he got lost no fewer than five times. Once, he even walked straight into a river, convinced it would lead us to Kuri faster."
Cat Viper cackled so hard he almost fell over. "Pfft—! What kind of swordsman gets lost on a straight path?!"
But Toki's brows furrowed. "Should we… tell him? He'll reach Ringo much faster if he takes the other path."
Oden shook his head. His laughter faded into something more serious. "No. His father wished for him to see Wano with his own eyes. Let him wander. Let him explore. Ushimaru trained him well Mamoru is no helpless child. Since the age of five, he has wielded the sword. He even accompanies his father into battle, defending the eternal graves against raiders."
At this, all the retainers stiffened slightly. Even Momonosuke's eyes widened in awe.
"He fights in real battles?" Kawamatsu asked, astonishment clear in his tone.
Oden grinned proudly. "He does and he defeats men 3x his size . That is why I am not worried."
Momonosuke clenched his fists. His voice rang out suddenly: "Then I want to fight too, Father! Train me like Mamoru's father trained him! If Mamoru can protect his home, then I can too!"
Oden's eyes widened for a moment. Then his booming laughter shook the morning air. He scooped his son up in one strong arm and lifted him high. "That's my boy! . The true spirit of a samurai already burns in you!"
Momonosuke grinned from ear to ear, shouting proudly as he sat atop his father's shoulders.
Meanwhile, Hiyori lingered quietly at her mother's side. Her small hands clutched Toki's kimono, but her gaze was fixed on the shrinking figure of Mamoru as he walked down the wrong path. A small smile tugged at her lips innocent, yet filled with something unspoken.
Toki followed her daughter's gaze, then looked down knowingly.
'Ah so that's how it is 'she thought, a faint smile curving her lips. Already, she could see where this might lead, though she said nothing aloud. She only resolved quietly to watch how this bond unfolded in the years to come and to invite Mamoru more.
At last, the family and retainers turned back toward the castle, their voices light with laughter and chatter.
Only Mamoru and Onimaru continued their descent into the unknown.
The air grew warmer as they left the mountain path and entered the outskirts of Kuri. Mamoru paused, tilting his head toward the sky. The clouds above shifted slowly, heavy and gray.
"Ringo should be this way," Mamoru muttered, pointing with his sword. His reasoning sounded confident, though Onimaru tilted his head skeptically.
Mamoru explained, "Think about it! Ringo is always covered in snow. Snow comes from clouds. Clouds cover that direction. Therefore…" He jabbed his finger firmly. "That's where Ringo must be."
Onimaru sighed loudly, his ears drooping in resignation.
They pressed on, wandering into Okobore Town. The settlement was poor, its streets filled with small market stalls and weary villagers. Children darted between alleys, their laughter thin but defiant.
Mamoru, however, quickly grew frustrated. Every path he took looped back to the same square. Every alley seemed to lead nowhere. After circling the same food stall for the third time, Mamoru groaned aloud, dragging a hand down his face.
"Why is this damn town so confusing?" he muttered, stamping his foot. "I've been looking for the exit for ages! Maybe… maybe it's time I ask for help."
Onimaru barked once, as if to say, Finally!
Mamoru scanned the street. That's when he noticed it , a small crowd gathered near the edge of the town square. Villagers huddled close, whispering to one another. Several officials stood nearby, their hands on their swords, keeping order.
Curious, Mamoru pushed his way through. Onimaru followed close behind, growling softly when elbows jostled too roughly against the boy.
At last, Mamoru reached the front and froze.
Behind the iron bars of a crude holding cell sat a boy, perhaps only a few years older than Mamoru himself. The cell was simple ,a cage of wooden beams reinforced with iron, used by towns to imprison bandits or criminals until judgment could be passed.
But this boy did not look like any criminal Mamoru had seen.
Mamoru could tell he was large for his age, his frame already built with raw strength despite the youth in his features. His eyes though open were clouded with blindness, staring into a void no one else could see. A scar stretched horizontally across his forehead, raw and jagged.
Blood stained his clothes. It clung to his skin, streaked down his arms, and still dripped faintly from fresh wounds. His hands trembled, yet clenched tightly as though holding onto something invisible.
And tears streamed freely from his sightless eyes.
Mamoru's breath caught in his throat. He did not know who this boy was, nor what had happened to him but already, something in his chest told him that this meeting would change everything.
Onimaru whined softly, pressing against Mamoru's leg.
The crowd whispered, the officials watched, and the boy behind the bars wept silently, his tears mingling with blood.
Mamoru's eyes widened. His small hand tightened around the hilt of Yoriichi.
The journey had only just begun.