Chapter 17

The wolves didn’t rush all at once.

They moved slowly at first, circling, growling low, testing the distance. Their eyes flicked from Tadashi to Goro, judging which one was weaker, which one would slip up first.

Goro lifted his stick slightly. “Stay sharp, boy.”

Tadashi swallowed, nodding once. His hands were shaking, but not from fear — from adrenaline. His senses were wide open. He could hear the wolves’ pawsteps, the rhythm of their breathing, the crunch of their claws on the dirt.

The largest wolf stepped forward. Shoulders raised. Head low. Its growl vibrated through the ground.

Tadashi’s pulse quickened.

Goro muttered, “That’s the leader.”

The wolf lunged.

Tadashi ducked out of instinct, dropping to his hands and knees as the wolf flew over him. At the same moment, Goro swung his stick sideways, striking the animal’s ribs hard enough to make it stumble.

The wolf shook itself, lips pulling back into a snarl.

Three more wolves lunged.

“Move!” Goro barked.

Tadashi rolled to the side. A wolf skidded past him, scraping dirt into his face. Another snapped at his leg — Tadashi yanked it back just in time. The third aimed for Goro, but the old man jabbed his stick forward, keeping it at bay.

Tadashi forced himself up, breath coming fast.

He couldn’t freeze.

He couldn’t run.

A wolf came at him from the left. Tadashi stepped aside, letting it crash into a tree. Another charged from the front — he jumped back, heart pounding as it snapped at empty air.

He didn’t realize until now that his body remembered things he didn’t.

Dodging.

Reacting.

Improvising.

All those resets…

All that running…

All those seconds before death…

They had taught him something.

Goro noticed.

“Kids are quick these days, huh?!”

Tadashi didn’t have time to answer. A wolf leaped again, faster than the others. Tadashi pivoted to the right, letting it miss, then kicked a patch of dirt into its face. The wolf yelped, shaking its head.

Goro smirked despite the chaos.

“Atta boy!”

But the fight wasn’t close to over.

The wolves regrouped, forming another circle. Their breaths fogged the cold night air. Their tails flicked in agitation.

“They’re not backing off,” Tadashi said quietly.

“They won’t,” Goro replied.

Tadashi’s pulse thumped in his ears.

“Then what do we do?”

“We stand,” Goro said simply. “Together.”

The largest wolf growled, signaling the next attack.

Two wolves rushed Goro. One rushed Tadashi. Another stayed behind, waiting for an opening.

Tadashi barely dodged his attacker, feeling its fur brush against his arm as it passed. He stumbled back, boots scraping the dirt, then steadied himself just in time to avoid the next snap of jaws.

Goro jabbed his stick into a wolf’s shoulder, but the second one dove low, aiming for his leg. Goro shifted too late — the wolf clipped him, and the old man staggered.

“Goro!” Tadashi shouted.

“I’m fine!” the old man grunted, though he clearly wasn’t.

Tadashi didn’t think.

He sprinted toward Goro, planting himself between the old man and the wolves. A wolf lunged at him — Tadashi swung his arm instinctively, striking its snout with the back of his fist. The wolf recoiled, shaking its head.

Another wolf leaped from behind.

Tadashi dropped flat, letting it sail over him.

He popped back up instantly, chest burning from the exertion.

Goro panted heavily behind him.

“Boy… don’t overdo it…”

“You said we’re doing this together,” Tadashi said, breathless. “So I’m not going anywhere.”

Goro didn’t argue.

The wolves paced again, circling slower this time. One limped slightly. Another hesitated before stepping forward. They had been pushed back—but not enough.

The fire crackled behind them, and Goro coughed.

“Tadashi,” he said, voice strained. “Listen carefully.”

“What?”

“If I say run… you run.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Boy, don’t argue with—”

A wolf lunged at Goro from the blind side.

Tadashi moved before thinking.

He shoved Goro aside and took the hit himself. The wolf collided with him hard, knocking him onto his back. Its weight pressed down on him, pinning his arms to the dirt. Tadashi gritted his teeth, twisting, struggling to push it off.

Its jaws snapped inches from his face.

Goro swung his stick with a desperate shout. The stick cracked against the wolf’s flank, forcing it off Tadashi long enough for him to scramble up to his knees and push it away.

He gasped for air, chest burning, sweat mixing with dirt on his face.

Goro’s voice trembled.

“Boy… you alright?”

“I’m… fine,” Tadashi panted, even though he wasn’t. Then he saw it.

Goro wasn’t standing straight anymore.

His left side drooped. His breathing was uneven. A wolf’s earlier attack had caught him — not a deep wound, but deep enough that Goro was losing strength fast.

“Goro…” Tadashi whispered, fear creeping into his voice.

The old man forced a weak smile.

“I’m tougher than I look… but I don’t have your legs anymore…”

Tadashi’s throat tightened.

The wolves regrouped again.

The largest one stepped forward.

Goro whispered, “Get ready.”

Tadashi clenched his fists.

This time, he wasn’t fighting to survive.

He was fighting for someone else.

The wolves crept forward again.

Their growls shook Tadashi’s arms as he held his stance. His legs hurt. His chest burned. His heartbeat thudded painfully in his ears — but he didn’t step back.

Not this time.

Goro stood behind him, leaning heavily on his walking stick. He tried to hide it, but Tadashi could see the strain in his face. The old man’s breaths came short and hard. Sweat slid down his forehead despite the cold night air.

“Kid,” Goro muttered, “if they rush me—”

“They won’t,” Tadashi said firmly, eyes locked on the wolves.

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can try.”

Goro clicked his tongue.

“…Stubborn brat.”

A wolf barked sharply — a signal.

The pack lunged.

Tadashi reacted instantly.

He grabbed a thick branch from the ground and swung it with all his strength. It cracked against a wolf’s side, sending the animal tumbling. Another wolf leaped at him from the right — Tadashi ducked and shoved its shoulder, knocking it off balance.

But the wolves were fast.

They adjusted.

They circled tighter.

One wolf darted past Tadashi and went straight for Goro.

“GORO!” Tadashi shouted.

He sprinted toward the old man, heart punching against his ribs. He reached him just in time to block the wolf with his shoulder. The impact sent Tadashi staggering, but he stayed on his feet.

He turned and shoved the wolf away before it could regain footing.

Goro huffed.

“Boy… you’re gonna get yourself killed doing that.”

“Not happening,” Tadashi answered sharply.

But the old man’s face told him something was wrong.

Goro’s hand pressed against his side — where the earlier hit had weakened him. His shirt darkened slightly. His lips tightened as he tried hiding the pain.

Another growl snapped Tadashi back.

There was no time to argue. Three wolves charged at once. Tadashi braced himself and swung the branch horizontally. It struck one wolf cleanly, but the force ripped the branch from his hands. He stumbled, unarmed.

A wolf lunged directly at him.

Tadashi lifted his arms to guard and Goro stepped in front of him.

The wolf slammed into Goro’s side.

The old man lost his grip on the stick and fell hard to the ground.

“GORO!” Tadashi screamed.

He threw himself onto the wolf, grabbing its fur and pulling with everything he had. The wolf snapped wildly, trying to twist around. Tadashi pushed harder, adrenaline surging through him.

He slammed his elbow into the wolf’s neck. The wolf yelped and backed off. Tadashi picked up Goro’s dropped stick, gripping it tightly. He stood over Goro, panting heavily.

The pack hesitated now, growling but unsure. They were wounded, tired, and the firelight made their shadows stretch unnaturally.

Tadashi tightened his jaw.

“…Come on,” he whispered. “Try again.”

One wolf did.

Tadashi struck it with the stick, driving it back. Another wolf lunged. Tadashi sidestepped, using the stick to push its head away. His movements were rough, desperate, but effective.

And finally—

The leader stepped forward.

Tadashi’s pulse hammered.

The wolf charged.

Tadashi charged too.

They met in the middle — soil flying beneath their feet. Tadashi swung the stick hard, striking the wolf’s jaw. The wolf bit down, tearing the stick clean in half. Tadashi stumbled back, breath sharp and ragged.

The wolf leaped.

Tadashi ducked under it and tackled its side. Both of them hit the ground. Tadashi scrambled, pushing himself up first. Before the wolf could rise, he grabbed the remaining half of the stick and struck the ground beside its head — not hitting it, but startling it.

The wolf flinched.

Tadashi stood tall, chest heaving.

He yelled — loud and raw, a sound pulled straight from his soul.

“GO!”

The wolves froze.

Tadashi stepped forward, shoulders squared.

“LEAVE!”

And something in his voice — desperation, rage, and newfound will — shook the wolves more than fire or wood ever could.

The leader backed up first.

One wolf followed.

Then another.

Within seconds, the entire pack retreated into the trees, disappearing into the darkness and the forest fell silent.

Tadashi’s hands shook violently as he dropped the broken stick. His knees nearly buckled.

Then he turned.

“Goro?”

The old man lay against the fallen log, breathing unevenly. His hand pressed against his injury, his face pale.

Tadashi rushed to him and dropped to his knees.

“Hey—hey, stay with me,” Tadashi whispered, voice trembling. “We’re okay now. They’re gone.”

Goro looked at him — a slow, tired smile forming.

“Tch… you fight like a chicken with anxiety.”

Tadashi let out a broken laugh.

“Is that… a compliment?”

“Considering you’re still alive… yeah.” Goro closed his eyes halfway.

“You did good, boy. Better than most people I’ve seen.”

Tadashi swallowed hard. “Goro… your wound—”

“Hmph.” The old man exhaled shakily.

“Don’t fuss yet. I’m too stubborn to die mid-sentence.”

Tadashi’s heart sank.

Goro leaned back. His breaths came short, strained.

“Boy… come… sit.”

Tadashi sat beside him immediately.