CH-11: Guardians In the Rain...

The bus hurtled through the pre-dawn darkness, headlights slicing the mist that clung to the highway. Inside, the air felt thick with unspoken fear and the lingering scent of antiseptic from Dave's bandage. Most students remained slumped in uneasy sleep, unaware of the black van that had matched their speed for the last twenty kilometers—close enough now that its grille filled the rear-view mirror like a predator's open mouth.

Hensudo, seated near the front, had been watching the driver's reflection for several minutes. The man's posture was too rigid, his hands gripping the wheel with mechanical precision. When the van's headlights flashed once—deliberate, impatient—Hensudo's stomach dropped.

He shot to his feet.

"Driver! Stop the bus—now! Turn right, into the side road!"

The driver did not respond. His eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, jaw locked. Hensudo's voice sharpened. "I said stop!"

A low mutter escaped the driver's lips—barely audible, but enough. "...getting suspicious..."

Before Hensudo could move closer, the driver slammed his palm against a concealed panel beneath the dashboard.

A sharp hiss filled the cabin.

Colorless gas sprayed from vents overhead in a fine, silent mist.

Hensudo reacted first. He yanked his jacket collar over his nose and mouth, shouting through the fabric: "Cover your faces—don't breathe it!"

Michi snapped awake, eyes wide. Dave was already moving, pulling her sleeve up to shield her mouth. Yudashi lunged across the aisle toward Saki, who had instinctively pressed her forearm against her lips. The five of them formed a tight knot at the back—hands clamped over noses, eyes watering as the gas thickened.

Around them, the other students slumped deeper into their seats. Heads lolled. Breathing slowed. One by one, eyes rolled shut.

Hensudo didn't hesitate. He seized an empty metal water bottle from the nearest seat pocket and swung it with all his strength against the side of the driver's head.

A sickening crack echoed. The driver swayed, eyes glazing. The bus swerved violently before he slumped over the wheel.

Hensudo shoved the man aside, stomped the brake pedal, and wrenched the emergency door release. Cold night air rushed in.

"Out—now!" he barked.

The five scrambled through the open door, half-carrying one another onto the gravel shoulder. Behind them, the bus hissed to a stop, lights dimming as the engine died. The sleeping students remained motionless inside, cocooned in unconsciousness.

Headlights flared.

The black van skidded to a halt twenty meters away. Four doors opened in unison. Four figures stepped out—black tactical gear, faces obscured by balaclavas. In their hands: sleek, matte-black rifles fitted with glowing crimson laser sights.

The group froze.

Rain clouds rolled overhead, low and swollen. A single drop struck Saki's cheek—then another. Thunder rumbled, distant but growing closer.

One of the men raised his weapon, laser dot dancing across Hensudo's chest.

Hensudo swallowed. His fists clenched, but his feet stayed rooted.

The man's finger curled around the trigger.

Dave moved first—shoving Hensudo aside and stepping directly into the line of fire. "Hey—point that somewhere else."

The man smirked beneath the mask. "Brave. Pointless."

Yudashi stepped forward next, arms spread wide, shielding the others. "You're not taking anyone."

Another gunman laughed softly. "Such a touching little circle of friends. Shame it ends here."

Fingers tightened on triggers.

Lightning cracked overhead.

Rain exploded downward—sudden, torrential, blinding.

And then—from the tree line to their right—something enormous burst through the undergrowth.

An elephant.

Massive. Gray. Ears flapping like storm sails. It charged straight toward the armed men, trunk raised, eyes reflecting the lightning.

The hunters pivoted, rifles swinging.

Laser sights painted red lines across wet hide.

They fired.

Crimson bolts hissed through the rain—impacting the elephant's shoulder, flank, chest.

The animal did not falter.

It did not bleed.

Instead, it lowered its head and slammed into the nearest man, tusks catching him beneath the ribs and flinging him into the darkness. Another was crushed beneath a single, earth-shaking footfall. The third tried to run; the elephant's trunk whipped out, wrapped around his ankle, and hurled him into the side of the van with bone-breaking force.

The fourth man screamed once—then silence.

The rain poured harder.

Dave, Michi, Yudashi, Hensudo, and Saki stood drenched and breathless, staring at the impossible creature before them.

The elephant turned its great head slowly. One amber eye met Saki's gaze.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to that single look—ancient, knowing, almost sorrowful.

Then it trumpeted—low and resonant—and lumbered back into the forest, vanishing among the trees.

Michi's voice trembled. "That elephant... just saved us."

In the distance, more trumpets answered—deeper, more urgent. A family calling.

Saki whispered, barely audible over the rain, "It saved us. We owe it."

Yudashi finished the thought without hesitation. "Our turn to save it."

They ran.

The forest swallowed them instantly—wet leaves slapping skin, roots snagging ankles, rain sheeting off hoods and shoulders. They followed the direction of the trumpets until they broke into a clearing.

A wounded elephant lay on its side, one tusk half-sawn through, blood mixing with mud beneath it. Three poachers—different from the van men—stood over it, chainsaws idling, rifles slung across their backs.

They turned at the sound of footsteps.

One raised his weapon.

The shot cracked.

Hensudo cried out as the bullet tore through his calf. He dropped, clutching the wound.

Dave roared and charged, tackling the nearest shooter to the ground. Fists flew. Yudashi followed, slamming his shoulder into another man's chest. Saki—eyes shimmering violet for a split second—kicked the rifle from the third shooter's hands.

Michi stayed back, eyes wide with horror, but when she saw Hensudo struggling to rise, blood pooling beneath his leg, something snapped inside her.

She scanned the trees—then spotted it.

A second elephant—larger, older—pinned beneath a fallen tree, trunk thrashing weakly.

Without a word, Michi sprinted toward it.

The others fought on—grunts, thuds, the wet slap of fists on skin.

Dave took a rifle butt to the ribs and staggered. Yudashi blocked a knife thrust, twisting the man's wrist until the blade clattered away. Saki ducked under a wild swing and drove her knee into a shooter's stomach.

Behind them, Michi reached the trapped elephant. The tree was massive—moss-slick, half-rotted. She wedged her shoulder beneath a branch and pushed with everything she had. Nothing moved.

Then—a shadow loomed.

One of the forest rangers—drawn by the gunfire—appeared silently beside her. Without speaking, he added his strength. Together they heaved.

The tree groaned... then rolled free.

The elephant surged upright, shaking water from its ears. It lowered its head to Michi, trunk brushing her cheek in what might have been thanks.

In the clearing, the fight turned.

The first elephant—the one that had saved them on the road—burst back into view. It seized a poacher in its trunk and flung him aside like a rag doll. The others scattered, only to be met by the rangers now arriving from every direction.

Rifles were confiscated. Poachers were zip-tied. Wounded elephants received immediate aid.

Rain still fell, softer now.

The first rays of dawn filtered through the canopy, turning every droplet into gold.

Mr. Hoshino woke in the ranger station's small infirmary, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling. Outside, he found his students—bandaged, soaked, exhausted—surrounded by fruit baskets and warm tea.

Hensudo sat on an overturned crate, leg wrapped, feeding banana pieces to the elephant that had carried him to safety. The great animal accepted each piece with delicate precision, then gently bumped Hensudo's shoulder in thanks.

Saki knelt beside a younger calf, helping a ranger apply salve to a bullet graze. Dave and Yudashi stood talking with the head ranger, who kept shaking their hands and repeating variations of "You kids are heroes."

Michi—still dripping—laughed as the elephant she had freed filled its trunk with water and playfully sprayed her face. She sputtered, then hugged its trunk, tears mixing with rainwater.

Mr. Hoshino stepped outside, dazed.

The head ranger spotted him and strode over. "You must be their teacher. I've never seen students act with such courage. You should be proud."

Mr. Hoshino's throat worked. He looked at his class—at Dave's split lip, Yudashi's bruised knuckles, Michi's soaked hair, Hensudo's bandaged leg, Saki's quiet determination—and felt something unfamiliar swell in his chest.

"I... am," he managed.

The ranger smiled. "We'd be honored to visit your school someday. Show the students what real bravery looks like."

Mr. Hoshino nodded slowly. "You're welcome anytime."

Behind them, the elephants lifted their trunks and trumpeted—a deep, rolling chorus that vibrated through the ground.

The one that had saved them on the road stepped forward and gently pressed its forehead against Mr. Hoshino's side.

He froze—then slowly raised a hand and rested it on the warm, rain-slick hide.

The sun rose higher.

For the first time in a long time, the world felt almost safe.

------------------------XOXO------------------------