Grumpy Hero

The Ironwood was quieter here than in camp. Still. Muted. Only the steel leaves creaked in the breeze.

Selka knelt in the roots of an ancient tree.

“These trees have thicker roots… meaning they’re here longer and have even harder mood swings.”

Kagi’s gaze drifted to the massive tree Selka was working on. She didn’t say it aloud, but she didn’t need to.

Talking to trees.

Her fist balled up. Trees had feelings? How could that be possible? It felt like the universe was mocking her. After all she—

Selka pressed her palm flat against the bark. “Go on. You try. Just clear your head and—”

“No.”

It came out sharper than she intended. But she didn’t take it back.

Selka blinked. “No?”

“I’m not talking to a tree.”

“You’re not talking,” Selka said, a little amused. “You just… listen. See what it’s feeling. The peculiar magic you wield—”

“No.” This time the word had a finality that cut straight through the clearing’s still air.

Selka studied her for a moment. It could’ve been stubbornness, but the look in Kagi’s eyes said otherwise. There was a weight there — something heavier than pride.

“It’s pointless,” Kagi said flatly. She turned around and sat on a log, “I’m done with this. Just tell me when you’re finished.”

Selka tilted her head, studying her. She couldn’t pinpoint where her sudden denial was coming from.

Even still she ventured.

“What’s really going on?” She said sitting down next to her.

Kagi looked away, eyes fixed on a sliver of light through the canopy.

“It’s none of your business.”

Selka laughed, “Sure it’s not. I’ll just go tell the Warden you’re not helping with the investigation.”

She grinned in amusement.

“Excited to get kicked out?”

“Are you threatening me?” Kagi raised a brow.

“Nah, I just want to make you talk.”

Kagi sighed. There was no way to get out of this. She reluctantly resigned herself.

“It just feels… unfair.”

“What does?”

“Trees.” Kagi looked around, “With feelings. While I… don’t have them.”

“Don’t have what?” Selka scoffed, “Feelings? I’m pretty sure the tantrum you’re throwing now is proof you do.”

Kagi looked down at her feet. Voice low.

The words tumbled out easier than Kagi thought they would.

“…But what if what I feel isn’t even mine? What if I was made to feel it? Made to trust, or care, or…” She hesitated. “…love.”

The words that came from Kagi were heavier than Selka had thought.

Selka’s smirk faded, “What do you mean?”

“I was summoned. Not born like you. I don’t have memories of the past. I don’t have reasons to feel the way I do.”

A small nod came from Selka.

“What if all of this is just… how I was forged to be and I’m just too foolish to see it? All of your feelings are shaped by what type of memories of the past you have. If I don’t have any… how can mine be genuine?”

Selka leaned back against the tree, letting the moment breathe. Then she said, smile always present on her face.

“Everyone’s born for a reason. You just happen to know yours. That doesn’t make your feelings are fake.”

“But—”

“You’re not faking anything,” Selka cut in. “Feelings are feelings, even if you don’t have any memories to back them up. If you feel it, it’s real. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Not even that smart little brain of yours. Besides…” Selka leaned in, “If you were created to feel certain things, you wouldn’t be able to doubt them like you do now.”

Kagi glanced at her — just for a heartbeat — and for the first time since they’d entered the forest, the knot in her chest eased just a bit.

That was a perspective she never thought about before but for the first time… she didn’t feel guilty for things she couldn’t control.

“…You’re strange.” Kagi finally said.

“Takes one to know one.” Selka pushed off the tree, swinging her satchel over her shoulder. “Come on. The forest’s in a good mood today. Let’s not waste it.”

That’s when a thunderous rumbling in the distance split the peace of the forest. Kagi and Selka exchanged a glance.

“Emberhold…”

╒ 🗝 ╛

The landing shook the ground. Lami’s talons carved into the ground, her wings folding with a low, thunderous whump.

Rokuro hopped down after Nero, eyes darting across the camp. This wasn’t the normal morning bustle—people were shouting, smoke curling from the Crownrest district, and the air stank of something burnt.

And then—

ROOOOAAARR!

The sound ripped through the camp like an iron saw through wood. Every hair on Rokuro’s neck stood up.

"A wild animal attack?!" Rokuro jumped.

Nero’s expression tightened. “Damned beasts! Stay here—I’m getting Lykos.”

He took off without waiting for an answer.

Rokuro didn’t stay. His legs were already moving.

He sprinted down the main path toward the noise, weaving between startled rebels. His stomach twisted.

He turned a corner—

And froze.

A beast rampaged through Trunkhold’s central square. Bigger than a cart, all corded muscle under a hide that shimmered like dull steel. Its eyes were wild, foam flecking from its jaws as it smashed into stalls and scattered debris like leaves.

Non-combatants were running, and armed rebels tried to restore order.

“Evacuate immediately!”

Yet there was one figure who stood frozen despite it all. Rokuro couldn’t mistake the small silhouette, the short black hair.

“SANA?!” Rokuro shouted in disbelief.

She was standing on a wooden platform that had sagged dangerously, its middle section collapsed into a jagged hole.

A shadow swept over her.

For a second, cold sweat began to form on his back. Rokuro was rendered immobilised. Just like back then—

No!

Rokuro didn’t have the luxury to think. He simply pushed himself forward.

A beam crashed where she’d been standing, splintering the boards to dust. He rolled, cradling her against his chest, and came up with his back to the fire.

“Phew!” Rokuro exhaled, “You okay, shrimp?”

“Locku!” Sana’s eyes widened, “Y-You saved me!”

“Well don’t celebrate just yet…” Rokuro’ eyes swept the scene. The platform groaned under them, ready to collapse. They either crossed to the other side or burned.

A loose support beam hung at an angle, one bad tremor away from falling. Rokuro’s eyes locked on it.

Lykos’ voice flashed in his head—Strike where it matters. Not harder. Smarter.

“Heh.” Rokuro smirked. It was as if fate was having a laugh. The log training came back to him like a flash.

But this time he wouldn’t fail.

WHAM—

The gauntlet lit up, slamming into the beam’s joint with pinpoint force. It crashed into place across the gap, forming a narrow bridge.

“Yosh!” Rokuro gritted his teeth, and picked Sana up, “Hold on tight.”

Sana clung to him as he stepped onto the beam. It bowed under their weight, creaking, but he kept his eyes forward. Just like that his muscles remembered the strain like a long lost friend. The bucket balancing training…

Every shaky step drew on a week’s worth of balancing drills—water buckets, wind, aching shoulders.

Heat shimmered. Ash fell like snow. Steady breath. Keep calm.

He didn’t have the luxury to fall now like he did back in the forest.

He tuned out the shouting below, the groan of straining wood, the way Sana’s small hands tightened on his jacket. His body moved instictively.

One step.

Another.

The other side was close now—

CRACK.

A section of the beam split behind them.

“LOOK OUT!”

“RAAAAAH!”

Rokuro lunged forward, planting both feet on solid planks just as the makeshift bridge gave way into the flames.

“We… made it…?” Sana exhaled in relief.

As the rebels tried to fight back the beast in the distance, Rokuro moved as far away from the commotion as possible and laid Sana down.

“You stay here.” He declared, as the girl tried to hold onto him just a tad longer.

“But you—“

“I’ll be fine. I’m the grumpy hero, remember?”

Sana’s eyes widened. Then came a short nod, and a slight smile of admiration.

“Okay.”

Rokuro stood up and turned towards the carnage back in the square.

“Now then…”