The King in the Dirt
Hayate's journey began with pain.
He was a King, but he was alone, weak, and terrified. He was no master of stealth, and his simple travel clothes offered little warmth against the chill of the wild. He rode a good horse, but he struggled to stay in the saddle.
The political trauma of Lord Qalvetta's takeover, combined with the crushing emotional pain of Neshuda's farewell, had left Hayate physically fragile. His Angelic senses were barely working, dulled by the constant, deep-seated ache in his chest—the raw, reflected feeling of Neshuda's isolation and self-hatred.
"I should have trusted you, Neshuda," Hayate whispered into the cold air as he rode through the early morning mist. "I should have fought for you, not just for the crown."
The curse didn't allow him to escape the guilt. Every time Hayate paused, the reflected pain intensified, a sudden spike of profound sadness that brought him to his knees, struggling for breath. He was feeling Neshuda's loneliness, amplified by the vast, empty distance between them.
Hayate, the pure-hearted King who had known only comfort, was now sleeping in damp groves, eating dry bread, and washing in freezing streams. He was learning humility and endurance the hard way.
The Guide of Agony
Hayate realized his only hope was the curse itself. The crushing pain was not just agony; it was Neshuda's soul, constantly calling to him.
Hayate focused on the feeling.
When he rode too far east, toward the coastline near Hanegawa Village, the reflection grew colder, heavier—a dull, weary sadness. Wrong direction, Neshuda is not here.
When he turned south, toward the deep woods of Mori no Kage, the pain shifted. It became sharper, more intense—a focused, driving resolve mixed with moments of intense, physical pain. He is active here. He is moving and fighting.
Hayate began to use the pain as a compass. He was following the map of Neshuda's suffering.
One afternoon, he felt a sudden, brutal spike of pain—a short, sharp burst of muscle agony, immediately followed by fierce, protective rage. Hayate cried out, clutching his shoulder, feeling a phantom tear where no wound existed.
"Bandits," Hayate gasped, forcing himself to keep riding. "He just fought someone. He's close."
He knew Neshuda was fighting the good fight, dismantling Qalvetta's network, but the cost was reflected directly onto the King. Hayate pressed on, using the fading echo of Neshuda's rage to power his own desperate charge.
Neshuda's Shadow War
Meanwhile, deep in the Mori no Kage forest, Neshuda was waging his promised shadow war.
He was surviving on instinct, driven by an almost terrifying devotion. He knew Hayate was suffering in his absence, and that guilt was a fuel that burned hotter than any anger.
Neshuda had tracked down a small, secret camp where Qalvetta's appointed tax collectors and forged document writers were operating. They were collecting the new, tyrannical tax levy and spreading rumors of the King's weakness.
Neshuda moved through the dark forest with silent, deadly efficiency—a true master of stealth.
He ambushed the camp, disabling every guard with precise, non-lethal strikes. The fight was quick and brutal. During a struggle with one collector, Neshuda's shoulder was slammed hard against a tree trunk.
CRACK!
The pain was searing, but Neshuda ignored it, relying on his training. He collected the tax money, the forged decrees (signed with Hayate's corrupted royal seal), and copies of the fabricated bandit mark (the one used in the Hoshimura fire).
Proof, Neshuda thought, his jaw clenched against the pain. I have the proof to clear Hayate's name.
But as he looked at the recovered documents, a sudden, sharp, aching sadness pierced his soul—the reflection of Hayate's despair. He knew Hayate was nearby, feeling the reflection of Neshuda's injured shoulder and the sheer isolation of the fight.
Neshuda immediately suppressed the guilt, focusing on his mission. He left the tax money and the documents hidden in a secure spot, making sure they would be found by loyal, trustworthy people, not Qalvetta's men. He couldn't risk carrying the proof himself; if he was captured, the evidence would be lost forever, and Hayate would break.
Neshuda knew he had to keep moving, stay hidden, and endure the pain of separation until Hayate was ready.
The Cold River Crossing
Hayate's "compass" led him straight to the winding, shallow River Tsukikawa, near the edge of the dark forest.
He could feel Neshuda's presence now—a constant, thrumming intensity that was almost overwhelming. The reflected pain had lessened, replaced by a deep, quiet protective resolve—Neshuda was nearby, and he was watching.
Hayate, weak and trembling, was preparing to cross the freezing river when he heard the shouts.
Three men on horseback—part of Qalvetta's patrols, likely hunting Hayate or looking for Neshuda—came tearing out of the trees on the opposite bank.
"There he is! The King! Arrest him!" one of them yelled, recognizing the distinct features of the Angelic bloodline, despite Hayate's peasant clothes.
Hayate froze, too weak to fight, too shocked to run. He felt a sudden, paralyzing fear—the powerful reflection of Neshuda's panic that the King was about to be caught.
As the patrol charged into the river, Hayate instinctively raised his hand, trying to use his charisma, but his power was too dull.
This is it. I failed, Hayate thought, closing his eyes.
WHOOSH!
Before the patrol could cross, a massive, dark object—a large, heavy fallen log—was violently launched from the trees on Hayate's side. It slammed into the patrol horses with incredible force. The horses panicked and fell, throwing the riders into the cold, churning water.
The men scrambled out, coughing and confused, and turned their focus to the trees. But there was nothing. No sound, no movement, just the dense, green silence of Mori no Kage.
Hayate stared, his mouth open. The force required to lift and throw that log was immense, inhuman. Only Neshuda, fueled by his fierce, protective instinct, could have done that without being seen.
The Unseen Anchor
Hayate felt a rush of overwhelming, protective devotion reflected from the trees—a feeling so strong it was like a physical embrace. Neshuda was there. His Life Anchor was near.
Hayate plunged into the icy water, crossing the river quickly, his heart pounding with desperate hope. When he reached the other side, he didn't look back at the confused patrol. He ran into the dense trees, knowing Neshuda would cover his tracks.
Hayate stopped deep within the dark forest, leaning against a rough barked tree, tears blurring his vision.
"Neshuda!" he whispered into the silence. "Neshuda, I know you're here! Show yourself! I'm sorry! Come back to me! I need you!"
The only reply was silence. Neshuda, hidden deep in the shadows, refused to come out. He was protecting Hayate from the curse—if they were together, Hayate might bleed again. Neshuda would remain the perfect, invisible shield.
But Hayate's curse was his strength. Hayate focused on the reflection—a deep, agonizing sadness and self-hatred, mixed with a rock-solid resolve to stay hidden.
Hayate pulled out the map. He pointed to a small, hidden cavern marked on Neshuda's old maps—a place they had joked about using as a secret escape route.
"I know where you're going!" Hayate cried out, his voice cracking with emotion. "I will follow you, Neshuda! Your pain will not let me fail!"
He turned and ran, following the compass of the curse, trusting that the agony in his chest would lead him to his home. He was no longer running away from danger, but running to his Anchor, a King prepared to fight for the one person who mattered more than the crown.