The Weight of the Anchor
Life in the Aurekawa Citadel became a tense balance of appearances and hidden pain. Hayate had to act like a confident, mature King, but he was secretly terrified. The curse was a physical reminder that Neshuda wasn't just his friend; he was his fate.
The worst part wasn't the pain itself, but the constant emotional reflection. Hayate didn't just feel Neshuda's suppressed anger; he felt Neshuda's deep, bone-weary exhaustion from training, his frustration with palace formalities, and most painfully, his heavy guilt over the curse.
One morning, Hayate woke up feeling crushing sadness. It was so intense it made his throat tight.
He rushed to the hidden door leading to Neshuda's quarters. He found Neshuda sitting by the window, staring out at the citadel walls.
"What is it?" Hayate asked, his voice strained. "What are you feeling right now? It's hitting me hard."
Neshuda didn't look at him. "It's nothing, Hayate. Just the memories... I still can't remember who tortured me and why."
"But the feeling is so dark," Hayate insisted.
"It is my fault you are cursed," Neshuda finally admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "If I had died by the river, you would be safe. I am your weakness."
Hayate felt the reflected pain of Neshuda's guilt pierce his heart. He walked over, knelt down, and firmly took Neshuda's hands.
"Stop that, Neshuda," Hayate commanded. "The scrolls said the curse is a necessary power. It didn't happen because of you. It happened for the kingdom, and you are the anchor. We are bound, and we will deal with it together."
Neshuda looked into Hayate's sincere, kind eyes and finally nodded, the intense wave of sadness receding just enough to let Hayate breathe easily again.
The Test of Endurance
To combat the constant psychological attacks, Hayate decided Neshuda needed extreme physical discipline. If Neshuda focused on training, he wouldn't have time to brood over guilt.
Neshuda was already a master of the sword and stealth, but he pushed himself harder than ever. He trained in the Citadel's deep, secluded armory late into the night.
The training was brutal. Neshuda pushed his body until he was shaking and bruised.
Hayate, who tried to focus on his paperwork upstairs, couldn't concentrate. Every strained muscle, every gasp for air, every hit Neshuda took was perfectly reflected in Hayate's body.
One night, Hayate was signing a decree when he suddenly felt a sharp, agonizing snap in his arm. He dropped his royal pen, his hand shaking violently.
He rushed down to the armory. He found Neshuda leaning against a stone column, his face pale, quietly wrapping his left forearm.
"You snapped something," Hayate whispered, his own arm throbbing fiercely. "Why didn't you stop?"
"I didn't stop because I don't break," Neshuda stated, his eyes hard with stubborn determination. "And I did not scream, so you should not have felt it!"
"That's not how the curse works, you idiot!" Hayate exclaimed, rushing forward. He pulled the bandage away, revealing a small, but deep cut. "It's not just pain! It's the physical trauma of the impact!"
Hayate used his healing aura on the wound. As the faint golden light flowed from Hayate's hand, Neshuda felt the pain subside rapidly. At the same time, the sharp pain in Hayate's own arm vanished.
The experience cemented their bond and their fear: they were strong together, but they were also a singular point of failure.
Henudra's First Move
Lord Henudra was not idle. He continued to observe the young King, noting the brief but severe moments of collapse and exhaustion. He decided to act.
Henudra knew he couldn't attack the King directly, but he could attack the King's stability—the food supply.
Henudra started spreading rumors that the surrounding grain towns were holding back supplies, creating artificial famine to weaken the crown.
Hayate, filled with kindness for his people, decided to take a small detachment of guards to the Hoshimura (Grain Town) to investigate the supposed hoarding.
Henudra looked pleased. Getting Hayate out of the Citadel and moving toward a known conflict zone was exactly what he wanted.
"Your Majesty, please take a large escort," Henudra advised, feigning concern. "The roads are dangerous."
"No," Hayate refused, suspicious of Henudra's sudden helpfulness. "Just Neshuda and a few trusted men. We travel light."
The Ambush Near Hoshimura
The journey to Hoshimura was tense. The surrounding land was beautiful, but Hayate felt his magical perception of danger buzzing constantly.
They arrived near the town and found that the rumors were false. The farmers were not hoarding; their grain warehouses had been deliberately set on fire. The town was starving, and panic was setting in.
"This wasn't a shortage," Hayate realized, his face pale with horror. "This was sabotage. Someone is trying to starve the kingdom."
Just then, a contingent of heavily armed mercenaries—not pirates, but organized soldiers—emerged from the smoke.
"The King is alone! Seize him!" their leader shouted.
Hayate and his few loyal men were instantly ambushed. Neshuda, trained for this moment, moved like a blur.
"Stay behind me, Hayate!" Neshuda commanded, drawing his blade. He moved with cold, efficient focus, a deadly blur of defense and counterattack.
The fight was fast and brutal. Neshuda was magnificent, protecting Hayate with a flawless, single-minded focus. He used stealth and precision to take down the mercenaries one by one.
However, the leader of the mercenaries was prepared. He carried a heavy, spiked mace.
Neshuda disarmed two men, but the mace-wielder swung hard, catching Neshuda across the ribs.
CRACK!!
The sound of the impact was sickening. Neshuda bit back a scream, staggering back but instantly recovering his stance. He showed no sign of the pain.
The Curse Strikes
High above the fighting, Hayate was struck down by an invisible force.
A blinding, agonizing pain—the exact feeling of heavy, blunt impact across the ribs—shattered his control. Hayate screamed, collapsing to his knees in the dirt. He felt a sharp snap inside his chest, and blood rushed to his mouth.
He coughed, spitting a mixture of blood and bile onto the dusty road.
His loyal men, distracted by the King's sudden collapse, faltered.
Neshuda, seeing the Prince fall, lost his focus. His purely protective instinct took over. He moved with a devastating speed to end the fight, dispatching the last two mercenaries with ruthless efficiency.
He rushed back to Hayate, dropping his sword to kneel in the dirt.
"Hayate! No! I told you I was fine!" Neshuda cried out, his voice laced with the terrifying guilt he felt.
Hayate, barely able to breathe through the intense, crippling pain in his own ribs, weakly reached up and touched Neshuda's ribs. He could feel the deep bruising, the broken cartilage under the fabric of the tunic.
"You... you lied," Hayate gasped, his own pain reflecting the severity of Neshuda's internal injury. "You are not fine."
The successful defense came at a catastrophic cost. They had survived the ambush, but the curse had struck, and it struck hard. Henudra's first move had revealed their most terrifying vulnerability.