Chapter 8: The Wounds That Linger

Dawn broke with a mist that clung to the forest like a forgotten memory, shrouding the village in a muted gray light. Atsushi woke to the sound of footsteps outside his hut. The faint voices of villagers carried through the air, mingling with the distant caw of crows. Sleep had been fitful at best, his mind replaying the blood-soaked chaos of the battle and the faces of those he couldn’t save.

He pulled on his tunic and stepped outside, his breath misting in the cool morning air. The village was already stirring. Men and women worked to repair the damaged wall while children gathered water from the nearby stream. The air buzzed with the quiet hum of routine, but Atsushi could see the shadows that lingered in their eyes. Fear wasn’t easily banished, even in daylight.

A faint call drew his attention to the edge of the clearing. Ana stood by the half-rebuilt wall, her bow slung across her back. She was speaking to a group of hunters, her posture commanding. Though her face was as stoic as ever, there was a flicker of something else in her expression—tension, perhaps, or exhaustion.

Atsushi approached her, his footsteps crunching softly against the damp ground. Ana glanced at him briefly before returning her attention to the hunters.

“Take the eastern path,” she instructed, her tone firm. “If you see any signs of movement, send a runner back immediately. Don’t engage unless you have no other choice.”

The hunters nodded and moved off, their weapons clinking softly as they disappeared into the mist. Ana exhaled, her shoulders dropping slightly as she turned to Atsushi.

“You look like hell,” she said.

“Thanks for the morale boost,” Atsushi replied dryly. “What’s going on?”

“Scouts spotted tracks near the river,” Ana said. “Probably from the other tribe. We’re sending hunters to make sure they’re not planning another attack.”

Atsushi frowned. “And if they are?”

“We’ll deal with it,” Ana said simply. “Like we always do.”

Her calm facade was impressive, but Atsushi wasn’t fooled. He could see the tightness in her jaw, the way her fingers hovered near the hilt of her dagger. She was bracing for something, and it unsettled him.

The morning passed in a blur of tasks. Atsushi tended to the injured, his hands steady even as his thoughts raced. The villagers came to him with minor cuts and lingering fevers, their gratitude quiet but sincere. He worked methodically, focusing on each patient as if they were the only person in the world.

Midway through changing a bandage, he was interrupted by the arrival of a young girl, no older than ten. She stood in the doorway of the hut, her wide eyes brimming with urgency.

“You need to come,” she said, her voice trembling. “It’s Toma.”

Atsushi’s chest tightened. He nodded quickly and set down the bandages, following the girl out into the clearing. She led him to the edge of the forest, where a small group of villagers had gathered.

Toma lay on the ground, his face pale and glistening with sweat. His right leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, blood seeping through the crude bandage that had been tied around it. He was conscious but barely, his breaths shallow and ragged.

“What happened?” Atsushi asked, kneeling beside him.

“Boar trap,” one of the villagers said grimly. “He didn’t see it in time.”

Atsushi examined the wound quickly, his stomach sinking. The trap had torn through flesh and muscle, and the jagged edges of the bone were visible through the gash. It was a brutal injury, one that would require precision and time—two things in short supply.

“I need a fire and boiling water,” Atsushi said, his voice sharp with urgency. “And clean cloth. Now.”

The villagers scrambled to comply, their movements frantic. Ana appeared moments later, her expression dark as she took in the scene.

“Can you save him?” she asked quietly.

“I’m not sure,” Atsushi admitted. “But I’m going to try.”

The operation was grueling. Atsushi worked with a focus born of desperation, his hands moving with practiced precision as he cleaned the wound and set the bone. Toma cried out in pain despite the herbal concoction Atsushi had given him to dull the sensation. Ana stood nearby, her bow at the ready, her presence a steadying force.

Hours passed as Atsushi stitched the torn muscle and bound the wound tightly. His back ached, and his hands were slick with blood, but he didn’t stop. Not until he was certain he had done everything possible.

When it was over, he sat back on his heels, his chest heaving. Toma was unconscious, his breathing shallow but steady. Atsushi wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, exhaustion washing over him.

“He’ll live,” he said finally. “But he’ll need time to heal. And rest.”

Ana nodded, her expression unreadable. “Thank you.”

The sun hung low in the sky by the time Atsushi returned to his hut. He collapsed onto the woven mat, his body heavy with fatigue. For the first time in days, he allowed himself a moment to simply exist, to let go of the weight that pressed down on him.

The device lay on the small table beside him, its fractured surface catching the dim light. He reached for it, turning it over in his hands. The cracks seemed deeper now, the once-bright glow reduced to a faint flicker. It felt like a reflection of himself—damaged, uncertain, but still holding on.

A soft knock at the doorway drew his attention. Ana stood there, her silhouette framed by the fading light. She stepped inside, her movements quieter than usual.

“How’s Toma?” Atsushi asked.

“Stable,” Ana said, sitting down across from him. “The others are watching over him.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the air between them heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Ana spoke.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” she said quietly. “The way you fought for him… it’s different.”

“I’m a doctor,” Atsushi said simply. “It’s what I do.”

“It’s more than that,” Ana said. “You care. Even when you don’t have to.”

Atsushi looked at her, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. There was no sarcasm, no sharp edge—just raw honesty.

“I don’t know how else to be,” he admitted.

Ana nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “Maybe that’s what this place needs. Someone who doesn’t just survive but tries to make it better.”