When he woke up, the first thing he felt was the morning sun's warm embrace filtering through the cracks in the roof of an old, worn-down house.
His body ached at the slightest movement, yet he still struggled to get up from the thin, battered mattress on the floor where he had been lying.
His arms and lower abdomen were bandaged, and the burns across his body had been carefully treated.
He looked around and saw his sword resting in the corner of the room. He staggered toward it and picked it up.
He partially unsheathed the blade and saw that it had been well sharpened and polished.
Confusion began to take hold as he scanned the room, trying to understand what was going on. Just then, the wooden door creaked open and a woman entered.
"I'm glad to see you're awake," she said calmly, followed by a quiet sigh of relief.
"Just where am I?" Tsushiro asked, confusion evident in his voice.
"This is my home, where I live with my two children. As for where we are—this is Toa Village," she replied.
"T-Toa Village?"
"It's the village you saved from the djinn rebels not too long ago."
Suddenly, the events of the battle came flooding back, and Tsushiro remembered everything that had unfolded.
"How long has it been?" he asked.
"Two days."
"Oh… I see. And what about the villagers—is everyone okay?"
"That's kind of you to ask. Yes, everyone is safe, and it's all thanks to you," she replied. "If you hadn't stopped the djinn when you did, more lives would have been lost."
"There were people who died?" Tsushiro asked, immediately regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.
"Yes, there were," she said quietly. "They were the village warriors who stood up to the djinn when they first arrived. They lost their lives in the fight."
She hesitated, a tear rolling down her cheek before she continued.
"And among them was my husband."
Tsushiro looked away. "I'm sorry to hear that."
She wiped the tear from her cheek and shook her head. "Don't be. It wasn't your fault."
She paused before continuing. "Anyway, the chief of the village would like to see you—if you're well enough to go. If not, you may stay here and rest until you've fully healed."
"Why does he want to see me?"he thought. "Is he going to chew me out for all the damage I caused during the fight?"
"Don't worry," she said gently, as if reading his thoughts. "I'm sure it's not for the reason you're imagining."
"Is that so?" he replied, surprised by how easily she had seen through him.
Reluctantly, Tsushiro followed her outside. Once beyond the doorway, he was met with an unexpected sight.
People of all ages were helping one another rebuild the village.
The woman guided him down the main path toward the center. As they walked, Tsushiro noticed several villagers averting their gaze whenever he passed, which only intensified the tension knotting in his chest.
Others whispered among themselves, while children pointed at him, murmuring excitedly.
Tsushiro looked away, focusing on his guide as he clutched his sword in silent frustration.
Suddenly, he felt someone tug at his robe. He turned to see a small girl holding a doll, her brother standing close beside her.
"I'm sorry if she bothered you, sir," the boy said quickly. "We only meant to talk to our mother."
Tsushiro recognized them immediately—the children he had saved when he first arrived at the battle.
"So… how are you feeling?" he asked, trying to ease the tension.
"I'm feeling much better, sir. Thank you for saving me and my sister," the boy replied.
"That's good to hear. What are your names?" Tsushiro asked, squatting down with a small smile.
"My name is Aiko Shia," the girl said as she looked at him with stars in her eyes. "And this is my brother, Haruki. I know this is sudden, but I just wanted to say—you were really cool when you fought those bad guys."
"Oh? Was I?" Tsushiro chuckled.
"What's going on here?" a voice asked from behind them. "What are you two doing?"
Tsushiro turned to see the woman again, her attention now fixed on the children.
"I'm sorry if my kids caused you any trouble," she said as she helped Tsushiro back to his feet. "They were supposed to be playing with their friends."
"It's alright," Tsushiro replied. "I don't mind."
She turned to the children. "Haruki, take your sister home. I'll be there shortly to give her her medicine."
He nodded, taking Aiko's hand as they walked away. Before disappearing from sight, Aiko turned back and waved at Tsushiro, who returned the gesture with a smile.
The two continued toward the village center. There, a wide open space buzzed with reconstruction, villagers receiving instructions from an elderly man.
He was short but well-built, oddly energetic for his age. His head was bald, a thick mustache resting above his lip, and a cane supported him as he moved.
When he noticed them approaching, he stopped and waited.
The woman bowed. "He's all yours. If you'll excuse me."
And with that she departed toward her home.
Without hesitation, Tsushiro bowed deeply. "My name is Tsushiro Yamada. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."
"No, the pleasure is all mine," the old man replied, gesturing for him to rise. "It should be me who bowing instead."
"Before anything else, I'd like to apologize for all the damage," Tsushiro said abruptly. "It's because of me that you lost your homes."
The old man blinked in surprise, then shook his head. "No. If anything, we should apologize for not expressing our gratitude sooner."
"But look at all this destruction I caused."
"None of that matters," the old man said firmly. "Everyone is alive because of you."
"Then why do the villagers seem upset?" Tsushiro asked.
"They're embarrassed," the chief replied. "Embarrassed that they couldn't do anything until you arrived. They're grateful—but don't know how to show it. That's why I'm the one thanking you as their representative."
He bowed deeply. "As chief of this village, I offer you our sincerest thanks. If there is anything you need then name it and if it is in our power, we will give it to you without hesitation."
"That won't be necessary," Tsushiro said quickly. "Please raise your head, sir."
"I insist."
After a moment of thought, Tsushiro spoke. "If that's the case… may I ask for directions?"
"To where?"
"I'm trying to return to my home village. Shion Village, near the Shion Forest."
The chief froze.
"Excuse me?" he said quietly.
"Are you unfamiliar with the region?" Tsushiro asked.
The old man hesitated. "No… it's just that there isn't a village near the Shion Forest, not for a long time."
"What do you mean?"
"That village was destroyed thirty-one years ago. By a great fire."
The words struck Tsushiro like a blade. He stood frozen,his thoughts spiraling uncontrollably.
"D-did you say thirty-one years ago?" he asked.
"Yes."
Silence fell.
The chief studied him, confusion growing—how could someone so young claim a place erased decades ago as home?
"Where is it now? Or whatever is left of it." Tsushiro asked quietly.
"Two days north of here," the chief replied. "But no one goes there anymore. It's believed to be cursed."
"I see," Tsushiro said, resolve hardening in his eyes. "Then I apolgise for not been able to stay and help in rebuilding but I have to leave as soon as possible."
The chief said nothing at first, but then smiled gently. "I understand."
He produced a map and handed it to Tsushiro. "Here its a map of the trade routes in the area. It's not well detailed near the forest, but it should help."
"Thank you," Tsushiro said, tucking it into his robe. "Now, if you'll excuse me."
"I wish you the best on the journey," the chief said, gripping his hand. "It's a shame you couldn't stay longer."
Tsushiro turned to leave, pausing once more. "Please thank the physician for me. Tell her I regret not being able to thank her myself."
"Don't worry, I'll be sure to pass on your message."
Tsushiro then began walking toward the entrance of the village. As he passed by the sounds of clanging metal and chopping wood died down related by an unsettling silence.
The villagers left their workposts, and as he passed by them, they silently bowed. The children, not knowing what to make of what was happening, decided to bow as well. They didn't utter a word as they watched him pass, their silence reverberating.
Near the gate, a small bag rested against the wall.
Inside were rations—and a scrap of cloth bearing a message written in faded ink:
Consider this my thanks for saving my children… and avenging my husband.
A small smile touched Tsushiro's lips as he lifted the bag and stepped forward, uncertain of what awaited him beyond the road ahead.