We covered a lot of ground during the day, stopping every three hours so the donkeys could rest and recover before we pressed on.
As evening approached, we decided to find a place to camp for the night. We searched for a spot with good cover and enough grazing for the donkeys, eventually settling on a quiet clearing deep in the woods.
While the guards set up camp, I circled the area to check for threats. I traveled about three kilometers in every direction and found nothing hostile.
By the time I returned, night had fallen. The camp was ready, four tents pitched in total, two for the guards, one for me, and one for Pacho. In the center burned a campfire, a pot of porridge suspended above it. Steam rose from the pot, sending tiny sparks dancing into the air whenever it met the flames.
I found a spot beside Pacho and settled onto a bed of gathered leaves. The fire pushed back the growing night chill. We sat in silence, staring into the flames. I could see their reflections flickering in everyone's eyes. Looking at Pacho, I finally decided to ask the question that had been weighing on me—the one whose answer could decide the entire journey.
"Pacho. Can you tell me what this family heirloom is?"
"I haven't told you?" he asked, genuinely confused.
"No, you didn't."
"Hmm. It's a necklace—well, more like a charm. The materials can only be found there, and the craftsmen are locals so the skill of making these charms is passed down through generations."
"Wow. Just… wow."
"What is it, big brother?"
"Nothing. Really, nothing."
Damn. I had gotten so worked up for nothing. All it took was a simple question, one straightforward question and half my suspicions could have dissolved days ago.
"How long until we reach the village?" I asked.
"We're about a day from Kageguiri now," one of the guards answered. He was the one tending the pot.
"Kageguiri?" The name sounded unfamiliar.
"Kageguiri. That's the name of the village," Pacho clarified.
"Oh. Okay." Another piece of information I hadn't bothered to ask for, all because I'd been so fixated on something that didn't even exist.
The porridge finished cooking a few minutes later and was served. After we ate, the guards shared stories—funny ones, sad ones, myths, life experiences. It came out that most of them were migrants who had come looking for better opportunities and ended up staying within Shogi's walls.
After a long night of storytelling, everyone retired to their tents. But I lay wide awake, restless as always. Sleeping in the open woods while traveling had never sat right with me since arriving in this world. Maybe it was the constant awareness of what happens when you let your guard down at night—demons treat you like a midnight snack.
Unable to sleep, I stepped out of my tent for some air. The night was cool and soft. The moon shone bright, illuminating the path so clearly it almost felt like day.
I sat cross-legged at the base of a pine tree, staring into the far darkness. Then I sensed someone approaching. It was Pacho. He walked over and sat opposite me, staying quiet.
"You couldn't sleep, huh?"
"Yeah, big brother. You?"
"Same."
We sat there in long silence, letting the cool breeze wash over us. Eventually my eyelids grew heavy. Just as sleep started to pull me under, I realized there was something I still needed to say. I stood, circled the tree, and looked down at him. He lifted his half-closed eyes to meet mine.
"Everything I've done has been to protect you—and everyone else. I didn't want to come with you right away because I thought I was protecting you in my own way. I thought Mr. Shuichi was the enemy—"
"He's not the enemy," Pacho interrupted, voice slow and heavy with sleep.
"I know that now. That's why I'm staying with you, to protect you for real, this time."
When I finished, I returned to my tent. That was enough for the night.
At dawn we were up, packing to continue. Tents came down, tools and supplies were loaded back onto the carts. We set off again. Pacho insisted on walking instead of riding, so I joined him naturally. A few of the guards did the same.
The morning was quiet. The guards talked among themselves up ahead while Pacho and I trailed behind. Every so often we'd catch up and join the conversation.
But as the journey wore on, something hit me—a presence. Not one, but two, maybe more. They were hiding well, proving incredibly skilled at staying concealed.
I felt a strange bloodlust coming from the trees. It carried no personal malice, just pure intent to kill, which was really strange. It couldn't be demons, the sun was already rising in the east, light filtering through the branches and casting long shadows on the ground. Demons were out of the question.
I didn't want to alarm anyone yet, not until I was sure who or what they were. But I had relaxed too much, underestimated them. In the blink of an eye, I caught a glint at the corner of my vision, a small knife flying straight toward Pacho's head.
I drew my tanto in one swift motion and knocked the blade aside.
Pacho and the guards were too slow to react. Even after I deflected the knife, it took Pacho several seconds to register that I had just saved his life.
"Take cover!"
I shouted, but it was already too late. The two guards at the rear took blades to the skull before they could even turn. The others dove under the carts for protection, Pacho did the same. The donkeys neighed in panic and tried to bolt, but the heavy carts limited them to a few frantic steps.
I peered into the trees. I could feel them moving—leaping from branch to branch, impossibly fast and silent. They weren't demons, the sunlight ruled that out. So who the hell were they?