TARO KOI
The man's words echoed in my head like a drumbeat of betrayal.
"You need to have an answer now."
My hands trembled. Not with fear. With rage. Three days until an invasion, and they thought they could corner us like frightened animals? That they could use Sai as a bargaining chip, as if he were nothing but flesh to be traded?
The laugh burst out of me before I could stop it—low, bitter, sharp.
"You want an answer now?"
Before he could blink, I lunged. My training stick was in my hand, but in that moment it may as well have been a blade. I slammed him to the ground, the end of the stick pressed hard against his throat. His eyes bulged wide, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he clawed at my wrist.
"You really thought," I hissed, leaning close, "that you could walk in here, speak their words, and take Sai Shinu from us like it was nothing? That we'd roll over and bow?"
He tried to speak, but the stick ground deeper into his windpipe, choking the sound. I could see the terror in his eyes, and for a heartbeat I relished it.
"They thought they'd get what they want so easily." My voice rose, harsher, breaking into laughter that tasted like blood. "But let me tell you what's going to happen, messenger."
I pressed harder, the wood biting into flesh.
"You're not carrying their message back. You are the message."
His mouth opened in a silent scream. His body convulsed under my weight. With a violent shove, I drove the stick down, and the crack of his neck was like glass shattering.
He went limp. His eyes stared, unblinking, into nothing.
I rose slowly, chest heaving, my grip on the stick white-knuckled. The anger still surged through me, but beneath it there was a cold satisfaction.
"They'll know," I muttered to the empty air. "They'll know Yasu doesn't bend. My answer is carved in blood."
The wind carried away the silence, but I knew the storm was only beginning.
The messenger was dead.
NARRATOR
The body of the messenger lay buried outside the village walls, hidden beneath the roots of an ancient tree. His silence was already the first answer Yasu would give to the threat of Sora and Yoshi. But the real answer would come not from one man's death—it would come from what the group chose next.
That same evening, Taro called for a meeting. One by one, Sai, Yosuke, Yuri, Jiro, Namae, and Naemi gathered in the dimly lit hall. The air was thick with unease, each of them sensing that something irreversible had happened.
SAI SHINU
When Taro called us into the hall, I already knew something had happened. His steps were too heavy, his face too sharp. By the time all of us gathered, my chest had tightened with an unease I couldn't shake.
He didn't waste any time.
"They sent a messenger," Taro said, his voice carrying like a blade striking stone. "Three days from now, Sora and Yoshi will march on this village unless we hand over Sai."
My name hit the room like thunder. Yuri's hand reached for me almost on instinct, her touch light but urgent. Jiro swore under his breath. Naemi's face went pale, and I could feel all their eyes flick toward me, as though I was already half a prisoner.
I kept my voice calm, though my heart was far from steady.
"And the messenger?" I asked.
Taro looked at me with that same iron stare. No hesitation. No regret.
"He won't be returning."
The words settled in my stomach like a stone. I should've expected it—Taro was never the type to bend, not even an inch. But killing the messenger… that meant he'd made the decision for all of us.
"So you killed him," I said, not as an accusation but as a confirmation.
"Yes," Taro replied, sharp as the snap of a branch. "Because his life wasn't just his own—it was a message. And I've sent ours. Yasu doesn't bend, and Sai Shinu will never be their bargaining chip."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Jiro was the one to break it.
"Bold. But reckless. You realize what this means, don't you? They won't treat this like a negotiation anymore. You've chosen war for all of us."
Taro's jaw clenched. He didn't flinch.
"War was already chosen the moment they demanded Sai. Don't fool yourself. If they took him, they wouldn't have stopped there. They'd take everything."
Yosuke leaned forward, his fists clenched, eyes dark.
"He's right. But killing the messenger also means we've lost their timing, their formation… we'll be fighting blind."
Naemi's voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but it cut through the noise.
"Maybe not blind. If I can feel the pull of godglyphs… maybe I can sense their movement too. Not perfectly, but enough."
My eyes lingered on her for a moment. Brave girl. Always walking into storms she had no business standing in.
I took a deep breath, feeling their fear, their anger, their loyalty all tangled together. I couldn't stay silent anymore.
"They're coming for me. Then let them come. But they'll learn what it means to fight all of us."
Namae gave a faint smirk, tilting her head like she was already imagining the battlefield.
"Three days. That's enough to prepare. Enough to show them illusions aren't the only nightmares we can conjure."
Finally, Taro straightened, scanning each of us like a commander weighing his army.
"Then it's decided. We fight. No hesitation, no retreat. Three days from now, we show Sora and Yoshi what Yasu stands for."
The room went quiet again. But this silence wasn't fear anymore. It was iron. It was resolve.
I could feel it in my chest—whatever came in three days, there would be no turning back.