The Path of Silence

The room was steeped in solitude. Ken sat cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed, surrounded by the echo of the hooded figures' words.

Hachioji... Information... Your brother...

He was meditating, or at least trying to. His mind was an unsettled sea. "Is this really the best choice?" he thought to himself. "Leaving Saito behind, the kids, the people who took me in when I was nobody?"

But then, the darkness behind his eyelids shifted. He remembered the world from before. He remembered his father working in the garden. He remembered Takeshi's loud laughter when they played. But above all, he remembered a blurry figure who radiated calm and tranquility. His mother.

He couldn't remember her name. The trauma of the Calamity had erased many memories, leaving her face as a blur of white light. But he remembered her hair. Long, straight, and pure white, identical to what he had inherited. And he remembered a sensation: a soft hand on his forehead and a smile that soothed any pain.

"Mom..." Ken clenched his fists on his knees. "I have to know why Takeshi left. I have to know if they're still alive."

The forty eight hours had passed. The moment had arrived.

The plaza at the north gate was full, but this time there were no cheers or overt sadness, just a melancholy murmur. Ken had said goodbye one by one to his adoptive family: from the lady who cooked, to the children he always played with.

And finally, there was Saito.

The old man leaned on his cane. He seemed to have aged ten years in just two days. Ken stood before him, trying to maintain a brave smile, but it trembled.

"Why do you always have to be such a reckless brat?"

Saito tapped Ken on the head. But it wasn't the painful whack as always. This time it was a soft, trembling touch, laden with desperate affection.

"Old man..." Ken began to speak.

"Ken..." Saito's voice broke. Tears welled in his clouded eyes. "I know I said I would support you. I know you have to find your own path. But... you don't have to do this."

Saito took a step forward, grabbing Ken's sleeve like a small child who doesn't want their father to leave. "You could run away. Go to the next Citadel, hide, live a quiet life. You don't have to be a hero. I don't want to receive another box with a flag on top. Please."

Ken's heart shattered in that instant. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around the fragile old man and hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Grandpa," Ken whispered in his ear. "Thank you for giving me a home when the world ended. I'll come back. I promise."

The sound of an electric motor began to be heard, shattering the moment.

The vehicle had arrived. It wasn't a rusty transport truck like the Citadel's. It was an armored transport, black, with an angular, aerodynamic design meant to deflect projectiles and claws. It moved almost silently, like a nocturnal predator.

The side door slid open swiftly and silently. From the shadows of the plaza, the other figure departing that same day appeared.

Tanimoto. His jaw, shattered by Ken's fist two days prior, was completely healed; Kijin regeneration was impressive. But something else in him had broken that hadn't healed. He didn't walk with his chest puffed out. He didn't look down on anyone. He walked with his head bowed, shoulders slumped, and an empty gaze, lost on the ground.

Ken felt a stab of discomfort. Tanimoto's silence was more unsettling than his insults.

From inside the dark vehicle, a feminine voice, distorted by a mask, spoke. "It's time to go. Get in if you want to arrive alive at the facility. The night waits for no one."

Ken let go of Saito, wiped a tear, and boarded the vehicle. Tanimoto followed him in silence. The door closed, sealing them in airtight. The outside world, with the old man Saito crying under the red light of dusk, disappeared.

The vehicle started, gliding onto the dirt road.

The interior was claustrophobic. There were only two rows of metal seats facing each other. In the front cabin, separated by a steel mesh, were the pilot and the hooded girl, the same one who had stopped the sword with her hand.

In the back, it was just Ken and Tanimoto.

An hour passed. Then two. The silence was absolute, broken only by the hum of the wheels. Ken watched Tanimoto. The Kijin sat across from him, gaze fixed on his own boots. He hadn't moved an inch.

Ken's discomfort grew until it became unbearable. He needed some noise. He needed to know what was wrong with his possible new companion. "Hey..." said Ken, trying to sound casual. "Do you know what the Hachioji facilities are like? They say they're in the mountains..."

Tanimoto didn't blink. He didn't look up. He didn't even seem to hear him. It was like talking to a statue. Ken frowned and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "Great. Now he's mute."

Many hours had passed. The dashboard clock read 3 a.m. The darkness outside the vehicle was absolute, a maw that swallowed the beams of the headlights.

Ken was starting to nod off when a strange sound vibrated, not in his ears, but in his bones. A rhythmic, dry clattering.

Clac... Clac... Clac...

Ken's eyes snapped open. Tanimoto reacted too, lifting his head for the first time, his eyes filled with fear. Both turned toward the small reinforced glass window.

In the distance, on the black horizon, flashes of orange light were visible.

They were explosions. Someone was fighting out there. The detonations were loud enough to have woken the owners of that land.

And then, a lightning flash from an explosion illuminated the scene. Ken gasped.

They weren't creatures of flesh. They were bones. Colossal skeletons, fifteen or twenty meters tall, rose through the early morning mist. Their ribs were like building cages, and their empty eye sockets glowed with a bluish fire.

"W-What are those things?" Ken asked, his voice trembling, pressing his face to the cold glass.

The hooded girl in the front seat didn't turn, but her hand closed around the hilt of her sword. "Gashadokuro," she said, her tone grim. "Hungry Skeletons. They form from the bones of those who starved to death during the siege. They normally sleep underground, but... those explosions have woken them. They seem agitated."

Ken looked again. One of the giant skeletons leaned toward the source of the explosions and snapped its jaws at the air. The sound of its teeth clashing resonated even through the truck's armor.

"Who's crazy enough to fight those things at this hour?" muttered the pilot, visibly nervous. "We're in the dead zone. There shouldn't be any squads here."

The explosions seemed to be getting closer. Someone was drawing the Gashadokuro toward the road. Or perhaps, they were being driven toward it. Though the pilot insisted their camouflage would protect them, the tension inside the vehicle skyrocketed.