A lone boy, around sixteen years old, walked through the quiet forest in a loose kimono. His black, messy hair swayed gently in the warm daytime breeze.
He bent down and gathered fallen branches one by one, stacking them under his arm for the evening fire. The forest was calm, only the soft rustle of leaves accompanying him.
After collecting enough wood, he picked out a sturdy branch and placed it against a flat stone. With slow, steady movements, he scraped and shaped it until the end formed a sharp point.
With the newly made spear in hand, he made his way toward the low-stream river nearby. Sunlight shimmered on the water's surface as he knelt down, focusing his breath.
Then, with silent determination, he began his simple hunt for fish—another small step in his daily struggle for survival.
With the gentle sound of flowing water, his reflection rippled across the river's surface. The distorted image of his black, messy hair and calm eyes wavered with every shift in the current.
He tightened his grip on the wooden spear, shutting out every distraction. His breathing slowed, his gaze fixed on the faint silhouettes of fish moving beneath the shimmering surface.
In that moment, everything else faded—the forest, the breeze, even the warmth of the sun. Only his goal remained.
With a swift motion, he struck the spear into the water. A sharp splash echoed, and in one smooth pull, he lifted the spear back up—three small fish wriggling against the wooden tip.
He let out a quiet breath of relief. It wasn't much, but enough for the day.
After gathering the fish, he headed back through the forest. There was no village, no houses—just a single cave tucked behind a cluster of rocks.
He slipped inside.
The interior looked surprisingly well-kept. A simple bed stood against the wall, carefully crafted from wood he had gathered himself. In the corner, a stone chimney rose upward, its structure rough but functional, also built by his hands.
The floor was neat, covered with flat stones he had arranged to keep the sand and dirt away. Everything inside the cave showed signs of effort, patience, and survival.
He prepared the fish without hesitation, cleaning them with practiced hands before placing them over the small fire. The flames crackled softly, and thin trails of smoke rose upward, slipping neatly out through the stone chimney he had built.
Soon, the scent of cooked fish filled the cave. He ate quietly, finishing most of it in a few steady bites. The leftover scraps he tossed into the bushes outside, letting the forest creatures take care of the rest.
With his stomach warm, he settled down, resting his back against the wooden frame of his bed. There was nothing left to do except wait for dawn.
As the hours passed, the cold crept in. A thick fog rolled through the forest, slowly surrounding the cave entrance. Feeling the chill, he stood up and pulled a wooden wall across the opening—a barrier made from sharpened wooden spears, pointed outward to deter any approaching threat.
With the entrance secured, the cave grew quiet and dim. Wrapped in the stillness of the night, he closed his eyes, ready to endure until morning.
The next day, as the first hints of dawn touched the sky, a faint glow drifted through the quiet forest. The boy stepped out of the cave, his loose kimono shifting gently in the cool morning breeze.
He walked the familiar path between the tall trees, bending down to gather fallen branches. One by one, he stacked them under his arm, his movements slow and steady.
The forest remained calm, wrapped in the soft rustle of leaves and the distant call of waking birds. Nothing broke his focus. It was simply another start to another day—quiet, patient, and shaped by survival.
As he gathered the last few branches, a faint sound broke the stillness—a soft rustle, sharper than the usual shift of leaves. He froze. His body tensed, his eyes narrowing toward the bushes ahead.
For a moment, the forest held its breath.
Then, pushing through the greenery, a girl stepped out.
She looked to be around his age, her appearance striking against the quiet forest. She wore a traditional Japanese wedding kimono, its white fabric brushing lightly against the ground as she hurried forward. Her long blonde hair, slightly disheveled, caught the morning light, and her green eyes flickered with urgency.
"Hide me… please. They'll take me with them by force."
Her voice trembled, barely more than a breath.
Without hesitation, the boy guided her deeper into the cave. Behind his wooden bed frame, he lifted a flat panel of carved planks, revealing a narrow opening that led into a small hidden chamber—the secret basement he had made for emergencies.
"Stay silent," he whispered. She nodded and slipped inside. He lowered the panel carefully, erasing any sign it was there.
A few moments later, the forest outside shifted.
Two soldiers emerged from between the trees, their heavy armor clattering softly in the morning stillness. They stopped before the cave entrance, eyes scanning the area.
The shorter soldier stepped closer. "You. Have you seen a girl around your age?"
The boy shook his head calmly.
The taller one tilted his head slightly. "Living out here alone… that's impressive," he said, his tone curious but unreadable.
The shorter soldier's expression hardened. "We're searching the cave. Grab him. If he lied—and if I find her in there—we'll kill him."
Before the boy could move, the taller soldier stepped behind him. In one swift motion, he swept the boy's legs slightly off balance and locked his arms tightly around him.
Only the shorter soldier entered the cave, leaving the taller one holding the boy firmly in place as the quiet tension deepened around them.
A short while later, the shorter soldier stepped out of the cave. His boots scraped against the stone as he emerged, irritation sharpening his voice.
"Tsk… nothing. I didn't find anything in there. I've been searching for her since earlier today, and still no sign," he muttered, brushing dust off his armor. "Looks to me like this boy really is just living like a caveman. Let's go."
"Alright," the taller soldier replied.
The two turned away, their armored footsteps growing faint as they disappeared into the forest.
Once the silence settled, the boy slipped back into the cave. He knelt beside the bed frame and tapped gently—three soft knocks.
The wooden panel shifted, and the girl climbed out of the hidden space. Her kimono was slightly wrinkled from the cramped hiding spot, but relief brightened her expression.
"Thank you," she said with a small smile. She stepped closer and tapped his shoulder lightly—thump, thump—as if expecting a reaction. "Hey, you're not saying anything? I just told you thank you, you know."
She looked at him with a playful frown, waiting for his response in the quiet cave.
Her stomach suddenly growled—grrrr—cutting through the quiet.
She froze, her face turning as red as a ripe tomato as she looked away in embarrassment.
The boy didn't say anything. He simply picked up two of the cooked fish and handed them to her.
She accepted them with both hands, whispering a shy, "Thank you…" before eating in small, hurried bites.
After she finished and rested a while, the light outside began to fade. Night slowly crept over the forest.
She sat up and glanced toward him. "Hey… what's your name? Mine is Maki."
"You can call me Arthur," he replied softly.
Maki leaned closer, studying his calm, expressionless face. "You look so depressing," she said, half teasing, half honest. Then her tone brightened. "Anyway… let's go see the night view. There's no fog right now, and it's not that cold."
Arthur looked toward the cave entrance.
Together, they stepped outside into the quiet night.
They sat on the cool ground, side by side, watching the stars shimmer above them. The night sky stretched endlessly, clear and calm.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Maki whispered, her eyes fixed on the heavens. "Arthur… look how free that sky is. So open. So bright."
Her voice softened. "Unlike me."
Arthur didn't speak. He simply listened, his gaze steady on the stars.
Maki's expression shifted, her thoughts drifting somewhere far away.
She began to sing.
Her voice, soft at first, carried gently into the night air.
"Mother… I want to be a singer."
Her mother's warm smile echoed in her memory. "Yes, dear Maki. You can. You're free to do whatever you wish in this life."
The younger Maki smiled brightly at those words—words that filled her heart with hope.
Back then, her life was simple. Her father, her mother, and herself… a small, happy family.
She would sing every evening, her voice filling their home like a gentle breeze.
But everything changed on the day the king and prince visited her village.
She had been singing as usual, unaware of the figures who approached.
The prince stopped the moment he heard her voice. Her beauty and her singing—together they struck him instantly. He couldn't look away.
The king stepped forward with a polite smile, carrying a heavy intention beneath it.
"We wish to propose a marriage," he said.
Her father bowed. "We will ask our daughter for her opinion, Your Majesty."
The atmosphere grew warm and cheerful. Neighbors gathered, whispering in excitement. The king himself was pleased.
Her father knelt beside her. "Maki… do you wish to marry Prince Chris?"
Maki froze, surprised by the question. She looked at her father, then at the prince, then back at the ground. After thinking carefully, she answered in a calm voice:
"No. I want to pursue my dreams right now, Father."
Her father didn't hesitate. He smiled gently and placed a hand on her head.
"I am proud of you."
His words were warm. Pure. Supporting.
And in that moment, her dream still felt possible.