The road went on ahead, a dry ribbon winding deep into the woods. Overhead, heavy limbs tangled together, making a canopy that dappled the trail with bits of light. Now and then a bird cried out - yet each sound felt tight, uneasy, like the world sensed something dark following a pair who never should've been traveling together.
Okuta moved ahead, quiet like always,
Tari trailed after, attempting to keep up with his speed.
Each move Okuta made felt steady, slow, deliberate - like someone used to war zones, no need to hurry anymore. Tari's strides? Uneasy, wobbly, torn between courage and fear - the sort of walk a kid shouldn't know.
They both stayed quiet for some time.
Okuta liked quiet moments. Because of this, Tari hesitated - afraid a single word might push the man to turn him out.
Almost sixty minutes passed, then the space grew bigger between the two.
Okuta shifted his gaze a bit.
"What are you doing back there? Sleepwalking?"
Tari shot ahead, gaining momentum. "Apologies," she said quickly
"Don't call me sir."
"Sorry… elder."
"No."
"Uncle?"
Okuta gave him a look - Tari nearly stumbled right then.
"Call me Okuta," the fighter muttered.
Tari bobbed her head fast. "Yeah, O---Okuta," she said."
They continued walking.
Later on, Tari spoke up softly - "What's the reason you move so quickly?"
"I'm not walking fast," Okuta replied. "You're walking slow."
It was real - Tari was wiped out. His tiny feet ached, marked with cuts and bruises. Since the day before last evening, his belly had nothing but air. Still, he stayed quiet. Showing pain around someone who dropped fighters like twigs? Not happening.
Yet the quiet around them weighed more than his empty stomach.
Later on, while struggling inside, Tari finally spoke up.
"Um… Okuta."
"What."
"Yesterday… you said you don't escort people."
"Correct."
"But you followed me today."
"I didn't follow you," Okuta corrected. "You were just in my way."
Tari frowned. "But you saved me."
"That was accidental."
"Accidental how?"
Okuta moved on. "My foot caught."
Tari blinked. "You… tripped? Into three men?"
"Are you calling me a liar?"
"No! No, never! My mouth didn't say that. It was breeze talking!"
Okuta cracked a small, reluctant grin - about as close to funny as the fighter got since they'd met.
"You talk too much, boy."
"And you talk too little," Tari muttered.
Okuta stopped walking.
Tari's heart leapt. "I - uh - I wasn't trying - "
Then Okuta just squatted low, gesturing toward the dirt.
"Footprints."
Tari shifted closer. Not one but three tracks - clear, deep, made recently.
"They passed not long ago," Okuta said. "Riders. Not villagers. They're moving in formation. Searching."
Tari's throat felt tight. "They're... searching for me?"
"Obviously." Okuta rose. "You're carrying something worth killing for."
Tari stiffened.
He didn't think Okuta would crack it that fast - yet here we are.
The kid's hand moved on its own to the necklace at his throat - left by Baba Jaja right before he passed. While slipping away, the old man had pressed it into his palm.
Okuta's gaze shifted toward the motion.
"You keep touching that thing," he said. "Why?"
"It's… nothing."
Okuta raised a brow. "You expect me to believe that?"
Tari hesitated.
Okuta stood there, face blank - yet somehow making the air feel tight, like even rocks might crack under it.
At last, Tari let out a breath, soft and quiet.
"Fine… I'll tell you a little."
A bit," Okuta said again. Got it
The path widened into a little open spot. There, they paused. Arms folded, Okuta stood quiet. Meanwhile, Tari shifted from foot to foot.
"Baba Jaja… the man who raised me… he always said there are some things you only tell when the world leaves you no choice."
"And has the world left you no choice?" Okuta asked.
Tari glanced at the ground. "Yeah."
The forest felt still at last. Not even chirps broke through - like every creature was holding its breath.
"This pendant," Tari said, holding it gently, "is the reason the Red Scorpion Clan wants me. But it's not just the pendant. It's what's inside me."
Okuta didn't show any expression. "In your core."
Tari nodded. "Baba Jaja said… that my mind carries something important. Like… a map. Or knowledge. Or inheritance. I don't fully understand it."
Okuta's gaze tightened a bit. "To where does it lead?"
"I don't know," Tari said helplessly. "I've never been told. Baba Jaja said I'll understand when I'm older. That some secrets aren't for children. But now everyone is trying to catch me… so maybe the secret won't wait for me to grow up."
Okuta scratched his jaw, thinking. Then he paused, fingers still touching skin.
Tari rushed to clarify. "I'm not lying. I swear. I don't know what the secret really is. But the Scorpions think I do."
"And you want me to protect you because of this?"
Tari's voice cracked. "I want to live. That's all."
Okuta stared at him now, really saw him - no longer some hassle, never again just loud or in the way - instead, like someone real.
A scared one.
A hunted one.
A kid who'd lost all his stuff in just one night.
There was a break. Not short - this one dragged on. The kind that rushes in, loud and thick, pressing against your eardrums.
Then Okuta asked, "Why didn't your guardian tell you the truth earlier?"
Tari swallowed hard. "Because he didn't want me to panic."
"And how is that working out for you now?"
Tari's eyes filled with new tears. "That's not it."
They stayed silent once more.
Okuta let out a breath - slow, heavy, full of annoyance.
"I hate secrets."
"Same here," Tari murmured.
"I also hate being dragged into other people's problems."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"But I hate liars more," Okuta said. "And you're not lying."
Tari looked up at him, eyes flickering open.
"So… you'll still help me?"
Okuta stared up, like he was begging his forebears for calm.
"Only until we find somewhere safe for you to stay. A monastery. A quiet shrine. Somewhere people won't look twice at a child."
Tari shook his head violently. "They'll find me anywhere! They always find me!"
Okuta stared at him.
"And what exactly do you expect me to do? Carry you across Kyoden until they forget you exist?"
Tari paused, his mouth quivering.
"I… I just don't want to die."
One line - tiny, quiet, shattered - split open a deep, hidden part in the fighter. Yet it wasn't loud; instead, it slipped through like dust. Though weak, it hit harder than any blow. While memories slept, this whisper woke them. Since then, things shifted, slowly. As if silence had more power than shouts. Even his breath changed after that.
Okuta spun around fast.
"We're wasting time," he said, his voice low. "More riders will come. Let's move."
Tari rushed behind him.
Yet Okuta kept going.
He didn't turn around when he said, "Does the necklace mean anything worth money?"
Tari shook his head. "No. It's just a wooden casing. The real thing… Baba Jaja said it's inside me. Like a memory that was put there when I was very small."
"Your memory can be stolen," Okuta said. "Or forced out."
Tari shook. "I get it."
"That's why they want you alive."
"I know."
"Why didn't you run far away when Baba Jaja died?"
"I didn't know where to run!"
Okuta paused.
That reply stung - dead accurate. Kids don't stand a chance in a place ruled by violence and control.
"Alright," Okuta said quietly. "From now on, you follow me. No arguments."
Tari's heartbeat jumped. "You mean… you'll protect me?"
"I said follow me. Protection is not guaranteed."
"But---"
"No buts."
Then it ended just like that.
They kept on moving till they got to a small stream. After that, Okuta bent down, poured water into a gourd, then passed it to Tari.
The kid blinked, surprised by the move. "Me?"
"No," Okuta deadpanned. "For the tree behind you."
Tari grabbed the water - drank it fast.
While drinking, Okuta kept an eye on the kid - how he faked courage, fought off crying, gripped the charm like it's all that kept him steady.
Okuta exhaled slowly.
This boy…
He'd cause problems, no doubt about it.
Plenty.
Still, problem or no problem, he'd already chosen what to do.
A silent one.
A reluctant one.
A choice, yet still a move forward.
This kid's way ran into his.
One way or another…
They'd tied themselves together - no turning back.
By danger.
By fate.
By secrets.
Yet it was something Okuta believed he'd left behind years back.
Something called… responsibility.
They moved on toward the next village when the wind changed - thick now, carrying a sharp smell like blood about to spill.
Things were about to go wrong for them.
Okuta figured this next part wouldn't go easy - sixth chapter, rough ride ahead. Then again, no surprise really; things rarely stayed calm for long.