Mamoru stood still for a long while . His hand hung close to his blade, but he did not draw it. His breath was steady, though inside him a storm of questions raged.
The crowd that had gathered earlier had long since dispersed, leaving behind only silence, dust kicked up from restless sandals, and a faint smell of sweat and fear. The sun had begun its descent behind the ridge of Wano's mountains, staining the sky in shades of orange and violet. The small holding cell, a crude structure of thick wooden bars reinforced with iron nails, cast long shadows across the dirt ground.
Holding cells in Wano were temporary cages, built hastily near towns and villages to restrain those accused of crimes until they could be transported to the daimyo's judgment hall most if the time for execution. They were not prisons meant for long confinement just simple boxes to display the accused like beasts before the people, so their shame and guilt could be spat upon, mocked, or pitied.
Now only two remained: Mamoru, standing outside with Onimaru faithfully by his side, and the prisoner within the blind boy.
The boy sat slumped against the wooden beams. His hair and hands were damp with blood, matted against his forehead. The scar that ran horizontally across his brow gleamed under the last sliver of daylight. The dried up blood that ran down his face confirmed that scar was recent .Tears had long since dried on his cheeks, leaving pale tracks over skin smeared with grime. His chest rose and fell heavily, though his expression was strangely calm, as if he had already accepted something Mamoru could not.
Mamoru's eyes never left him.
For a while, neither spoke. The world around them grew quieter the town settling for the night, vendors closing their stands, voices growing distant. Somewhere far off, a shamisen played, its notes drifting over the evening air like smoke.
But here, in this corner of the town, the silence was thick, pressing on both boys.
Finally, Mamoru broke it. His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried a weight that demanded an answer.
"Did you really do it?" His tone hardened. "Did you really kill all those kids?"
The boy had remained motionless until then, head bowed, shoulders heavy. But at Mamoru's words, his head tilted slightly upward, as though those words pierced through the wall of numbness around him. Slowly, he lifted his face to meet Mamoru's gaze, The are eyes are the window to the soul , his eyes exposed the emptiness in his soul.
"What does it matter?" His voice was hoarse, each syllable trembling with exhaustion. "What I say will not change the outcome."
Mamoru's expression darkened, shadows covered his eyes . The shadows of twilight stretched across his face, hiding his eyes but sharpening the tension in his jaw. His hand pressed against the scabbard of his blade, Yorichii, veins rising across his knuckles and neck. Anger simmered inside him , anger not just at the accused boy, but at the very thought of the murder of defenseless children . Orphans, already abandoned by the world, robbed of their fragile hope. It was vile. Unforgivable and yet you dare say it does not matter . The more Mamoru thought about it the angrier he got . Unbeknownst to him a heavy aura covered his body. Onimaru noticed and wisely took a step away from Mamoru.
"Just answer the question," Mamoru said, his voice sharp, but trembling beneath the restraint.
The blind boy's lips parted, his empty eyes glistening faintly under the fading light. His voice came softly, barely audible.
"No."
The single word struck Mamoru like a gust of cold wind. His grip on Yorichii loosened, the pressure in his hand easing just slightly and so did the deadly pressure around . His breath came slower.
But suspicion remained. Words were easy. The truth was harder.
"Then tell me what happened." Mamoru's voice steadied, though the anger lingered at the edges.
The blind teen shifted slightly, tilting his face toward Mamoru. For the first time since he had been thrown into this cage, his eyes reflected something other than hollow despair. There was surprise there, faint but undeniable, hidden beneath layers of hopelessness.
From the moment he was dragged here, the boy had known nothing but condemnation. Every villager, every guard, every voice had hurled insults at him. Murderer , Beast , Predator ,Demon and many more. Words that burned deeper than any wound. Not once had anyone asked for his side. Not once had anyone spoken to him as if he still held humanity.
Yet here was this boy ,this child no older than himself ,asking. Not accusing, Asking.
The surprise did not last. It quickly drowned in his weariness and distrust. After what had happened the previous night, he had come to fear children themselves. Their laughter, their games, even their smiles now brought him unease. He had lost faith in their innocence.
And yet ,something in Mamoru's voice tugged at the part of him that still clung to hope.
The blind teen drew a deep, steady breath. He hesitated, his hands clenching faintly on his knees, his body trembling as though dredging up memories too painful to touch.
"My name…" His voice cracked, but he forced himself to continue. "My name is Gyomei Himejima. And this is what happened."