Heavy Heart

Slowly, her form faltered, tears streaking down hollow cheeks as raw emotion overwhelmed her composure. Joseph regarded the distraught girl with a tinge of awkwardness. He would’ve preferred to wait it out, but with so many eyes in the camp fixed on him, he was forced to intervene.

“Alright… alright. No need to cry… people are watching.”

Handing over some clean scraps of cloth, she wiped at her eyes to attempt to stop the flood of emotions. Even then, a weak yet genuine smile broke across her thin features.
“Thank you, thank you very much… sniff.”

Cleaning herself up, she glanced at the food, then at Joseph. With a nod from him, she quietly nibbled away, savouring every bite. Joseph, remaining silent while she ate, finally organized his thoughts.

“So, what’s your name? You can just call me Joseph.”

Awkwardly formal, she hesitated before speaking.
“Tokko… Sir.”

“Mmm... Alright, Tokko it is. No need for ‘Sir’ — just Joseph is fine. But I don’t really care either way, do whatever feels natural. Just keep it consistent, whatever it is. I’m still figuring out my plans for you, but for now… relax. Rest. Heal. You’re useless in your current state and rushing into something will only make you more so.”

She winced faintly at the word useless, but nodded and curled up, arms around her legs. Sighing, Joseph pulled out some spare hides from his bag and pushed them toward her.
“Sleep if you can. Eat when you’re hungry. Drink as much as needed.”

She nodded again, lying down, curled up in the leather sheets.

Leaning back, Joseph gave her a careful once-over, thinking of how best to use her. Malnourishment had ravaged her body leaving her little more than bone beneath paper-thin skin.

Jet-black hair, tangled and dirty, hung to her waist. Large, cerulean eyes dominated her delicate face, while faint scars peeked through her grimy clothes — old wounds she hadn’t managed to conceal.

Her figure was modest, though her emaciation made judgment difficult. Her attire spoke louder than her body: a torn school uniform top, muddied and frayed, paired awkwardly with tracksuit bottoms.

Joseph’s thoughts soured, then he pushed them aside. Exhaustion tugged at him — too many events, too little pause. His focus frayed, and he let himself rest.

The group soon resumed their journey, Joseph at the front beside Han, lounging in his cart. With Han leading, he could practice magic and rest, ears open but mind loose. Neither expected more Elder Rukvar — they’d have appeared by now.

When the group settled to make camp, Han slipped away for preparations. Tokko, after resting got to work practicing a meditation technique, learned from Han as a gift after all that happened.

When the technique would eventually turn into a skill, it would bring many gradual but steady benefits, particularly for physical combat-focused roles which he was planning to give her.

Joseph meditated with her for a time, though a grimy discomfort reminded him how long it had been since a proper wash. Stretching out, he intercepted Lianhua on her way past.

“Hey, Lianhua — can you do me a favor? If I create a hot bath, will you wash Tokko? You can use it too. Win-win.”

She blinked at the request, tempted by the bath but wary of appearances. Joseph waved it off.
“If you’re worried about the camp, frame it as a leader’s privilege. Or say it was my request and leave your part out. If you want, I’ll offer it to the camp after we’re done, but don’t expect me to clean and reheat it again.”

Her eyes flicked toward Tokko, guilt in her glance. She nodded. Tokko’s face twisted uneasily, but Joseph reassured her until she relented.

A short while later, Lianhua returned, and Joseph led her down a corridor. There, he shaped concrete into a private enclosure with a door. Inside, he built a broad tub, filling it with water before heating it with wasteful fire magic until it steamed.

No soaps, no minerals — but heat and water alone were enough to cleanse and sooth the body. After chatting lightly with Tokko, he left the two girls to it.

When they emerged, both looked refreshed. Drying by the fire, Joseph replaced the water, then enjoyed his own bath before yielding the space to Han and Lianhua.

Later, back at the cart, he set down basic rules with Tokko, spoke lightly with her, and soon let silence settle, having gained little to no useful information from it. The bath left the camp cheerful, relaxed — for the first time, an almost festive air lingered.

Only a small cluster of the wretched remained apart, whispering and glaring, their eyes flickering with envy and resentment as their dirty, oily skin marking them apart.

With his shadow Rukvar on guard and a wall around the cart, Joseph felt fairly secure. Out of precaution, he slept separately from Tokko, climbing partway up the wall while she remained on the cart. Sleep came quickly.

Elsewhere, Han meditated. Thinking deeply on the day’s events. ‘Should I not have done that? He seemed genuinely quite annoyed… I suppose that’s only fair after he cleaned up a mess I let happen but still…

To value life so little…’ Han’s thoughts drifted to when he found Josephs base, at the top of the scaffolding. ‘Then again to have survived that, maybe it was necessary. *sigh* I also do not know what his life was like before all of this, so I should not presume it was pleasant.’ His gaze opened, lingering in the darkness, conflict battling in his eyes.

Then he heard a voice, a whisper, a soothing, divine-like entity relaxing his expression greatly. “You did great! Life is precious, remember that, Han.” His eyes teared up momentarily as he slipped into his memories.

Just as he let himself go his instincts kicked in, shooting him out of a blissful dream. He stirred awake and looked into the darkness confused. He heard no hulking steps, no roars or clanking of equipment, instead, after a moment he saw a few faint outlines skulking around.

Peering into the dark, his eyes sharpened and focused on the moment. Figures slinked low to the ground, hands pressed as stabilizers while they crawled… all towards one specific location. Han’s gaze filled with anger and sorrow, clenching his fist tightly. He wanted to believe it was nothing — but the sight of metallic daggers, killed his hope.

They crept closer to a tall doorway. Han tensed, conflicted on how to proceed. Steeling himself he stood up and silently approached from behind, but just as he put a hand on one.

CRACK.

Blood splattered across his hand as a bone splintering pop quickly reverberated around. A shadowed footprint slammed nearly silently into the stone floor, a head caved in beneath it.

CRACK. CRACK.

Two more bodies dropped, blood pooling beneath them. Shadowy fists gleamed wet in the faint light before fading into the dark.

Han turned, eyes locking with Joseph’s behind the doorway. Joseph stood, gaze flat, annoyance clear as day as he looked to the corpses. Their eyes met in silence, with Han averting his gaze first.

Finally, Joseph turned back, dismissing his summon into the shadows, trails of blood vanishing into pitch black. He returned to his resting spot, laid down, and shut his eyes without a word.

Han remained, looking at the broken bodies with a heavy heart. He cleaned up the mess himself, each motion hardening his resolve. When he sat again, there was no meditation. Only a cold, watchful glare that lingered on the camp until dawn.