Chapter 11: What Lies Ahead (2)

Ren sat near the hearth, the crackle of firewood mixing with the steady scrape of a knife. The smell of blood and smoke filled his nose. It wasn’t the stench of Seiryo’s halls or a city set aflame, but the sharper scent of venison being dressed on a reed mat.

The small farmhouse groaned with age. Faint drafts slipped through the paper doors, soot curled in the rafters. Around him, the others settled in uneven silence.

Haruka kept her post near the door, back rigid, gaze flicking every so often toward the dark veranda. Reina and Lilly curled tight beneath a blanket near the fire, watching sparks rise with glassy stares. Midori crouched near the stacked firewood, knuckles pressed against his thigh as if to anchor himself.

No one seemed to know what to say. The quiet stretched until Yuka spoke up. “Excuse me, sir. Not that we’re not grateful, but this place… what is it? And, if you don’t mind my asking, who are you?”

The old man who had led them here didn’t answer at once. His hands worked with practiced precision, opening the carcass with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times. The firelight caught the deep lines of his face, the stern set of his jaw beneath a white mustache.

He didn’t look at her long enough that Ren thought he might ignore her completely. Then his voice came, rough as bark. “This house has stood longer than you’ve been alive, girl. My father was born under this roof. His father before him. Farmers, hunters, keepers of these woods.” He set the knife aside and wiped his hands on a cloth. “I am Takemori Genzo. My daughter, Takemori Sayaka, stays with me. This land fed us, sheltered us, and I swore to protect it.”

Ren felt the heat of the hearth on his face and thought that no fire lasted forever.

“To keep something like this going for so long… it’s amazing,” Haruto said.

“Big enough for all of us, too. That’s what matters,” Midori said.

Ren saw Reina tuck Lilly’s blanket higher, smoothing her sister’s hair as the girl’s eyelids fluttered, her breathing slowing.

“Doesn’t matter how old this place is. Those monsters don’t care. If they’re out there, they’ll find us,” Kurobane muttered. The only response was the fire’s steady crackle.

Then came a sound, footsteps on wood, light but steady. Ren watched everyone but Genzo tense. The old man went back to his cutting, his knife keeping its rhythm.

The door slid open, cold air sweeping in. A young woman stepped inside with two rabbits strung from her belt. Short black hair clung damp to her cheeks, honey-brown eyes bright even in the gloom. She blinked once at the sight of strangers crowded around the fire, then smiled. “I thought you said no more strays.”

Her voice was light, jovial in a way that didn’t belong to the night they had endured. The heaviness in the room shifted—if only slightly. He saw Reina blink, as if she’d forgotten cheer still existed.

“You’re a lucky bunch,” Genzo said. “Same as those others I found wandering. They’re probably out sulking on the grounds somewhere. But we’re not in the clear out here. I’m sure some of those things wandered into the woods. Chasing animals, people.”

Satsuki leaned forward, arms braced on her knees. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“How would I know? I don’t leave these woods. Ask my daughter, she keeps her ear to the radio more than I do.”

“But before everything cut off… Did you hear anything else on the news?”

“Just the same messages repeating over and over. Quarantines. Warnings to stay in your homes.” The old man paused for a moment. “Although a military buddy of mine did call, just before the lines went dead. Said they were setting up a base at the off-shore airport. Using planes to fly people out of the city.”

Ren noticed Reina stiffen. She exchanged the briefest glance with her sister, whose drowsy eyes fluttered open. Their family name painted across more than a few planes there.

Haruto’s head snapped up. “They’re flying people out? That could be our chance!”

“If it’s still standing,” Shion added.

Genzo gave a slow nod. “True enough. Could be ashes by now. I haven’t seen any planes overhead. If you ask me, it’s the panic making things worse. People have always been more dangerous than beasts.”

The fire popped again. Minutes passed. When Sayaka offered hot water and a bath, no one hesitated. They took turns washing. By the time Ren’s turn came, most of the others were already slipping back into fresh clothes, the weight of exhaustion catching up to them.

He passed Shion in the narrow hall—wrapped in a white towel, the old boards creaking beneath. She was strong, he noted absently, shoulders and arms marked by muscle and more than one or two old scars. She paused just long enough to glance at him, her eyes pale pearls catching the light. “You did well today,” she said with a smile, brushing past.

He watched her go, then stepped into the small bathhouse. The sliding door rasped shut behind him. Steam curled from the wooden tub, clouding the air. The old, spotted mirror threw back his scarred, weary face.

His thoughts tangled—circling Reina’s face, then snapping back to Haruka. The steam thickened. The roar of flames pressed into his ears, heat licked his skin. The world burned again. He blinked once, and like that, the fire was gone.

When he stepped out of the bathhouse, the air was colder. The chatter had died out. Only Genzo remained at the hearth. The old man sat cross-legged on the worn tatami, running a whetstone along the edge of a hatchet.

Ren slowed, unsure whether to walk past or say something.

“Sit,” Genzo said without looking up.

He stood for a moment before obeying, lowering himself across from the old man. For a while they sat in silence, the only sound the scrape of stone and the faint hiss of the fire. When Genzo’s eyes lifted, they were sharp as the hatchet. “What’s the story with that arm of yours?”

Ren glanced down at the constant reminder.

“It’s a memento.”

Genzo grunted. “Doesn’t look like a good one.” He nodded once, satisfied with the way his tool looked after a quick inspection. “You’re unlike the others. They’re scared. I imagine it takes quite a lot to shake you.”

Ren’s jaw worked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Genzo went on. He set the hatchet aside and pushed himself to his feet. “You’re here now. That means you can make yourself useful. There’s work that needs some hands, but not four,” the old man said simply. “My daughter’s busy, and the rest of them are too rattled to do more than sit and waste time. You, though… you look dependable enough.”

He nodded.

“Alright.”