Kaizen rested against a thick tree trunk, his breath finally steady. The ache in his ribs and the burn on his shoulder had faded after he used [Prayer] once more, the divine warmth of the skill washing over him and knitting his skin and muscle back together. His clothes remained torn, blood-streaked, and soiled with dirt, but he could move again.
He took one last look at the forest path behind him, where Liro's corpse likely lay untouched. Then, without a sound, he started walking deeper into the other side of the forest, this time avoiding known paths.
Every step he took was cautious. His eyes moved constantly, scanning the underbrush and treetops, his senses sharpened after days of running, hiding, and fighting. He didn't know what lay ahead, but he knew that the cult would not stop hunting him.
As Kaizen stepped into a slightly clearer patch of trees, he noticed something up ahead. Wheels turning slowly on dirt. Horses. Voices. A caravan.
He dropped to the ground and crept closer, eyes narrowing.
The caravan was modest: two wagons, each pulled by a horse, surrounded by seven men and two women. The men wore simple armor—not ninja gear, but enough to suggest they had some training. One carried a spear, another had a curved sword, and the others held staves or short blades. They stood protectively close to the wagons.
The two women sat inside the first wagon. One appeared older, possibly in her thirties, with dark brown hair tied in a bun and a long blue cloak. The other was younger, around Kaizen's age, with short black hair and a soft expression. Both wore robes that seemed of decent quality—not nobility, but certainly not poor.
Kaizen made a decision. He needed to blend in, disappear for a while.
He sprinted toward the caravan, kicking up dirt as he emerged from the treeline. Immediately, the guards raised their weapons.
"Stop! Who are you?!" one man barked, his spear aimed directly at Kaizen's chest.
Kaizen halted, lifting his hands, panting as though from exhaustion. His face twisted into a desperate expression, eyes widened with fear and hope.
"Please! I just want to go with you! I'm Kaizen... My village was attacked by bandits a few days ago. I escaped... I've been hiding in the forest ever since. I was hoping you'd help me," he said, his voice cracking as he glanced toward the women for sympathy.
The younger woman in the wagon leaned forward slightly, her brows furrowed in concern. "He's just a kid. Why are you all so on guard with him?"
"He might be a ninja," one of the older guards muttered, narrowing his eyes. "You know ninja start young."
"Well, if he were a ninja, he'd be wearing one of those forehead protectors, wouldn't he?" another man pointed out.
The group hesitated.
The man with the spear lowered his weapon slightly but didn't take his eyes off Kaizen. "You got a forehead protector, boy?"
Kaizen shook his head frantically. "No, no! I'm not a ninja. I was just foraging herbs when the bandits came. I didn't even see the attack until it was over. That's why they didn't find me."
The man studied him for a few seconds longer, then finally relaxed his grip.
Another man stepped forward. He had short, rust-colored hair, a scar along his jawline, and sharp gray eyes. His armor was a mix of worn leather and chainmail, and he carried himself like someone used to authority.
"I am Hikagari," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "We're heading to the Land of Fire. That's where the roads are safest and the markets open. Are you sure you want to come with us, Kaizen? It won't be easy."
Kaizen nodded quickly. "Yes! I want to. Please."
Hikagari eyed him for a moment longer, then gave a small nod. "Fine. But you stay close, and you listen. You pull anything strange, and we leave you behind. Understand?"
"I understand! Thank you... Thank you so much!" Kaizen bowed.
The younger woman gave a gentle smile. "You can sit in the second wagon with the supplies. I'll find you something warm to eat."
Kaizen gave a grateful nod and followed them, slipping into the rhythm of the caravan.
Three days passed.
The group traveled steadily through the thickening forest trails and sunlit valleys. Kaizen remained quiet and observant. He listened to the guards' banter, the girl's quiet humming, and the older woman's soft lectures on herbs and medicinal roots. When given a task—like gathering dry wood or helping with meals—he completed it without complaint.
The guards began to relax around him, if only a little. One even tossed him a half-rotten apple. "You eat like a rat. Take this."
Kaizen smiled and bowed. "Thank you."
By the end of the third day, they emerged from the forest trail.
Before them stretched the Land of Fire.
The sky had turned orange with the setting sun, casting golden light over endless green hills and winding rivers. Smoke rose in the far distance—not from fire, but from chimneys, countless little villages nestled among the trees. Roads forked through the land like veins, traveled by carts, animals, and travelers. Farther still, beyond a distant ridge, rose the faint silhouettes of massive walls and towers.
"There it is," Hikagari said. "The Land of Fire."
Kaizen stood quietly beside the wagon, his eyes wide. After a year of killing and loneliness, this place felt... safe.
The young girl from the wagon stepped beside him. "You've never been here before, have you?"
He shook his head slowly. "No. It's... beautiful."
She smiled. "We'll be staying in a village near the border for a while. My mother needs to sell her medicines. Maybe you can help."
Kaizen turned to her, surprised. "Really?"
"You don't seem like a bad person," she said, eyes gentle. "Just sad. Like you're carrying too much."
He looked away, forcing a weak smile. "Yeah... maybe."