Father and Son (父と子 / Chichi to Ko)

Pain stopped being a warning somewhere after the first few miles. It turned into a constant, a background grind that only spiked when the rhythm slipped.

Seiki stayed buried in Hajime’s legs. Not flaring out, not showing off, just forced into the calf muscle fibers in tight pulses that made each step hit harder and carry farther than a normal body should allow. The speed was real. The cost was worse.

Occasionally, the back of a calf would feel a sharp bite, like a constant sting from a wasp. Tiny rips in the tissue would instantly knit back together with Seiki.

Hajime's breath came thin and fast. Cold air scraped his throat. Sweat soaked his shirt, then chilled as the wind slipped through the thinning trees. He stumbled almost two separate times, both times corrected by reflex and stubbornness instead of grace.

The note wouldn’t leave his mind.

Adam’s heir. Come alone.

Izumi’s folded bedroll kept flashing behind his eyes, too neat, too careful. The scattered petals made it worse. No struggle, no panic, just absence. That meant someone had been precise, or someone had been close enough to do it quietly. Either way, the result was the same.

Run. Faster, damnit. Don’t stop.

The forest thinned into plains as the afternoon slid toward evening. Wind carried smoke, layered and human, cooking fire, and oil lamp soot.

A massive hill loomed ahead. The final push up the hill ignited a fresh fire in both calves, as the muscles fought against cramping that threatened to fold him. His human will and Seiki pushed back, tight and unyielding.

Finally, at the top, Five-Point Crossing spread out below.

A basin of uneven ground where roads met like fingers locking together. No walls. No banners. No faction crests. Just barricades made of stacked stone, broken wagons, and wood that looked like it had been repaired too many times. Watch platforms stood in odd places throughout.

Lanterns blinked on one by one as the sky turned dull gold near the horizon.

The sight should’ve been relief, but it wasn't.

Steps down the slope became more cautious. His calves felt swollen and tight, as if the skin couldn't handle what was happening underneath.

Hajime regained control of his breathing and slowly made his way to the entrance of the town.

The entrance had no real gate. Two men stood near a barricade with mismatched spears. A woman sat on a barrel, a short blade in hand, scraping dirt from under her nails like boredom was her day job.

Her eyes scanned him, then flicked to his palm as he adjusted his strap.

“Don’t start any trouble,” she said.

“Lady, don't start with me,” Hajime replied, voice rough from the run.

A second of silence, then a small nod. “Welcome to the Crossing.”

Inside, the air smelled like smoke, sweat, and too many bodies packed into too little space. The main stretch was more path than street. Stalls lined both sides, some proper, some made from scavenged doors and torn canvas. Weapons were everywhere. Swords at hips, axes strapped to backs, knives tucked into belts. Most stayed sheathed.

People watched each other the way tired survivors do. Not trusting, not eager to fight either. The first person to swing would become everyone’s problem.

A merchant shouted about clean water. A demon with a scarf covering its mouth paid for dried meat at one stall while a human vendor counted coins with no visible fear. Nearby, a pair of travelers argued about prices like the world wasn’t broken.

Then the weird part hit.

Human kids, laughing, darting around the broken base of a fountain. A demon kid ran with them, small and thin-limbed, horns short and curved back, bright eyes tracking their movement. The little demon lunged and missed on purpose, then let itself get tagged, flopping onto the dirt like it had been struck down.

The human kids screamed with laughter and piled on, then scattered when the demon kid popped up and chased them again.

A woman yelled, “Be careful and watch your step,” and went right back to pouring water like she’d done it every night for years.

The scene felt normal, and that was what made it unsettling.

This place really is just a refuge for those trying to have a normal life.

Focusing on Izumi mattered more than his thoughts.

He saw a crooked sign near the center of the town that read THE CROSSBEAM. Light leaked through the seams like warmth couldn’t be contained.

Inside, the heat hit immediately. Lanternlight, smoke, cheap liquor, and bodies packed close around tables. A dice game had drawn a crowd. Laughter rose in one corner, shouting in another, and somewhere near the back, a stringed instrument played a tune that tried to sound cheerful.

The bar was straight ahead. A woman behind it had a scar across her cheek and eyes that didn’t soften.

“Could I get some water?” Hajime asked.

A cup slid across the counter with no questions.

“Rough trip?” she asked, not unkind, not curious enough to get killed. “Most men are trying to drown their sorrows that come here.”

“Yeah, you could say it was rough,” he answered, and left it at that.

The room felt like it was watching him back. Not just the usual stares, but something sharper, the kind that comes from people who already have a story about you.

A glance over his shoulder found the source.

Five figures at a table, half tucked into shadows in the corner. The Forsakers.

Iovah stood first, broad shoulders, steady gaze. No weapon drawn. No hands raised either. Just calm.

“Hajime Takeshi,” he said.

Megumi leaned forward, eyes flicking down the stance and back up. “You look like shit. What happened?”

Shinji grinned wide, too pleased by the situation.

Takumi’s voice stayed even. “We don’t want a fight.”

Hikari stayed quiet, watching like she was listening for the truth.

Hajime stopped at the edge of their table. Sitting felt like surrender, and surrender wasn’t an option.

“Why are you all here?” he asked.

Megumi snorted. "This is our home, so I should be the one asking why you're here."

“Someone kidnapped Izumi in the middle of the night,” came the reply. “Now I'm starting to think you're behind all of this.”

Hajime's gold-silver Seiki began to glow and emit rapid bursts of pressure.

Iovah nodded once. “You have it all wrong! We haven't touched Izumi or seen you since our last fight. Please, calm down and understand that we no longer wish to fight you. It was wrong for us to attempt to kidnap you before. You are the child of prophecy, and we thought we could expedite the process by forcing you to join us. Now I realize we should have helped you and worked alongside you instead. I hope you can learn to trust us again.”

“Then who has Izumi? Am I really supposed to take you at your word after you tried to forcefully kidnap me? Now you expect me to believe you didn’t try to kidnap Izumi either? How can I be sure this isn’t just another one of your foolish plans?” Hajime asked.

Takumi didn’t flinch. “Yeah, you should trust us. We're straightforward and honest, no bullshit.”

Shinji raised his hands. “Get over it already. Whether you like it or not, we're on your side.”

Megumi gave him an icy glare. “We were acting out of desperation. We’re good people, Hajime. We’re just tired of living in a broken world, ruled by these dead Wills that drive human corruption deeper and deeper. It has to stop... It can stop, with you, Hajime.”

Hajime's jaw tightened. "I don't know anything about this damn prophecy. I need to find Izumi right now."

Iovah replied, "Fine, then let us help you."

Megumi leaned in, resting her elbows on the table. "We can assist you in searching for her."

A heavy silence enveloped them, broken only by the clinking of cups and the bustling sounds of the inn.

"Why now?" Hajime asked. "Why are you acting like an ally all of a sudden?"

Hikari finally spoke, her voice quiet yet direct. “We desire the same thing as you... to restore humans' God-given gift of free will."

Megumi crossed her arms and said, “You didn’t become a pompous asshole the moment you gained power. You didn’t start acting superior like a Lord or a Commander. Instead, you show empathy, get angry for the right reasons, and constantly fight for the people you love. That’s why we’ll follow you no matter what.”

“You choose everyone over yourself,” Takumi added. “Even when it costs you. You smile and joke through it. We've been watching since that day we met in Sylva’s Hollow.”

The words struck too close, not for being flattering, but because they suggested that prioritizing people over power and destruction was unusual enough to be noteworthy.

“For the time being, I believe you. Do you know where she could be, or have you seen her around?” Hajime asked.

Megumi answered instantly. “No... I'm sorry.”

Hajime studied their faces for subtle signs of deception. He realized he had reached a dead end.

“What's our next step?” he asked.

The Forsakers smiled at each other and said in unison, "Let's search!"

They began to exit the Inn, with Megumi leading the way.

Megumi’s posture tightened. “Something’s off.”

The room fell silent, not by anyone's choice, but because the atmosphere shifted.

Pressure rolled through the building, sharp and personal. Customers began fleeing to their homes because they understood what this meant.

Shinji’s grin was gone. Takumi’s eyes narrowed. Megumi’s hand shifted toward her belt. Hikari stepped slightly to the side, giving herself a clear line. Iovah readied his stance.

Then the wall exploded inward.

Wood and stone burst across the room as something crashed through from outside, splintering beams, sending dust and debris flying. The floor shuddered. Hajime threw an arm up to shield his face, calves screaming as weight shifted fast.

Through the dust, a figure stepped into the ruined gap like he had simply arrived early to a meeting.

Tall. Unhurried. Seiki pressure filled the room with a cold edge that didn’t belong in a refuge.

The stranger’s eyes locked onto Hajime immediately, sharp and amused.

“Finally,” the man said, voice bright and easy.

Hajime lowered his arm slowly. “Who the hell are you?”

The stranger took a step forward, boots crunching on shattered wood. “Is that any way to treat family?”

“Family? My family died a long time ago. Who are you? Answer me!” Hajime snapped.

The man smiled wider. “Lord Kagehira Tazumi of the Thorned Pact.”

Megumi’s breath hitched. Takumi’s posture tightened. Iovah’s gaze sharpened. The name landed heavily, like it carried more than identity.

Kagehira’s eyes flicked once to Hajime’s gold-silver radiating Seiki, and satisfaction sharpened his smile.

“It's really been too long,” Kagehira said.

Hajime’s brows pulled together. “We’ve never met.”

A soft laugh. “Not like this... I guess you're right about that.”

Then his head tilted, voice turning intimate and mocking at once, the single word landing like a blade aimed at irony itself.

“Dad.”