The forest was steeped in a heavy silence, broken only by the soft hush of fine snow that continued its relentless descent. Every corner, every branch, was blanketed in a cold, white layer reflecting the pale blue of a desolate winter sky.
Yujiro, a boy no older than fourteen, took a deep breath that blossomed into a thick, white plume of vapor, instantly dissipating in the freezing air. His fingers, wrapped around the rough axe handle, were numb despite the thin woolen gloves. He raised the axe and struck the dead log forcefully, splitting it neatly in two.
"It's too cold today..." he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible above the chill. He was gathering firewood as usual; their only fuel for warmth and survival through what seemed like an endless night.
Suddenly, a sharp, dry crack pierced the silence; a thick branch had snapped under a heavy weight. Yujiro jumped and froze instantly, staring toward the old spruce tree. All his forest-honed instincts flared, but he only caught sight of a red fox tail disappearing among the bushes. He breathed a sigh of relief, but his hand remained tightly gripped around the axe.
As he returned to his work, he felt something that made him still. It wasn't the usual sound of the woods, but steady, quiet human footsteps approaching from behind him.
He turned slowly, to find a man standing a few feet away. The man was tall, with a strangely gentle smile, yet his eyes watched with a sharpness that didn't match his features. His dark coat seemed completely free of snow, as if he had never walked the path at all.
"Boy, what are you doing out here alone in this weather?" he asked in a warm tone that barely concealed an interrogation.
Yujiro took half a step back and tightened his grip on the axe. "I'm collecting firewood for the stove."
The man took another step forward and extended his hand gently. "My name is Hakage. A pleasure to meet you. What is your name?"
Yujiro hesitated, remembering his mother's warnings about strangers, but something in the man's reassuring voice lowered his guard. He shook his hand slowly and said: "I'm Yujiro."
In that moment, Hakage suddenly tightened his grip. He wasn't shaking hands; he was examining something. He looked at the boy's palm, smudged with charcoal and mud, and saw what he was looking for: a faint, star-shaped sun mark.
He released the hand, and his smile widened, cold, like a silent victory.
I finally found you.
"Wait a moment, Yujiro, let me give you something as a token of friendship," he said, reaching into his inner pocket.
"But my mother said not to take anything from strangers!" Yujiro protested, a rising sense of fear in his voice.
"Don't worry, we're friends now, aren't we?" Hakage reassured him, pulling out a small flower with white petals that shimmered like snow, and a dark blue heart. "This is a rare flower; it helps wounds heal quickly. Take it, it won't hurt you."
Yujiro hesitated, then reached out and took the flower. Its scent was strange, uncomfortably sweet and fresh.
The moment he grasped the flower, Hakage gently blew a light puff onto the petals.
A fine dust, like silver mist, spread 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 or cling to the axe... but his body failed him.
He collapsed, unconscious, onto the cold ground, unaware of Hakage's strong hand calmly lifting him, as if he were carrying a light sack.
"Unfortunately... your mother was right, Yujiro," Hakage whispered, then walked into the depths of the forest, leaving behind a double set of footprints and a sun mark gleaming on the palm of the boy who was now his prisoner.