Chapter 25: Under Shadowed Trees

The day unfolded beneath a shroud of gray clouds, the forest thick with a restless wind. It swept through the village, rattling the thin walls of makeshift structures and carrying with it the acrid tang of distant smoke. The uneasy stillness that had gripped the village for days now felt suffocating, and the looming specter of Toru’s ultimatum was like a storm cloud hanging overhead.

Atsushi stood at the edge of the infirmary, his eyes scanning the treetops that swayed under the wind’s force. His hands rested on the rough wooden table beside him, where a half-completed poultice lay waiting. He had spent the morning tending to minor injuries—splinters from hurried repairs, strained muscles from relentless work. But the real wounds, the ones weighing on everyone’s minds, were yet to come.

“Atsushi,” Ana’s voice broke through his thoughts.

He turned to see her standing a few paces away, her bow slung across her back. Her expression was serious, as it always seemed to be these days, but there was something softer in her eyes—an unspoken acknowledgment of the shared burden they carried.

“We need you at the gate,” she said. “Daichi spotted something in the woods.”

Without a word, Atsushi grabbed his satchel and followed her.

The northern gate was crowded with villagers, their voices a low murmur as they gathered to see what Daichi had discovered. Ana pushed her way through the throng, Atsushi close behind, until they reached the front where Daichi stood with his spear planted firmly in the ground.

“It’s not far,” Daichi said, gesturing to the forest beyond. “Just near the last patrol marker.”

Ana nodded, her eyes narrowing as she looked toward the trees. “Show us.”

The group moved cautiously into the forest, the villagers left behind whispering nervously. Daichi led the way, his movements deliberate and silent, while Ana walked beside Atsushi, her hand resting near the hilt of her knife. The dense canopy above muted the light, and the air grew cooler as they moved deeper into the woods.

They reached the marker—a twisted tree with a deep scar running along its trunk. Beyond it, the ground was disturbed, the earth churned as if by heavy footsteps. The scent of ash hung thick in the air.

“What is this?” Ana asked, kneeling to inspect the tracks.

“It’s not human,” Daichi replied. “Too large.”

Atsushi knelt beside her, studying the ground. The prints were strange—wide and shallow, with no clear shape. He couldn’t make sense of them, but the unease they stirred in him was undeniable.

“Something’s been through here,” Ana said, rising to her feet. “And it’s not trying to hide.”

“Could be a message,” Daichi suggested. “A warning.”

Ana frowned. “Or bait.”

The discovery left the group on edge as they returned to the village. The tracks, though strange and unexplained, felt like an escalation—a deliberate provocation meant to unnerve. The elder called a meeting that afternoon, gathering the leaders in his hut.

Ana stood by the door, her arms crossed as she recounted what they had found. Atsushi sat nearby, his satchel resting at his feet, while Daichi leaned against the wall, his spear within easy reach.

“The Ketsuro tribe isn’t just testing us anymore,” Ana said. “They’re trying to break us.”

“They’re playing games,” Daichi added, his voice low and tense. “Pushing us to see how far we’ll go before we snap.”

The elder’s face was lined with worry, his staff resting across his lap. “What do you suggest?”

Ana’s jaw tightened. “We need to act. We can’t keep waiting for them to make the first move.”

“And risk provoking an outright attack?” another leader asked, his tone sharp.

“We’re past that point,” Ana shot back. “If we wait, they’ll come when we’re least prepared.”

The room erupted into argument, voices overlapping as tempers flared. Atsushi stayed silent, his thoughts racing. He hated the way every decision seemed to teeter on the edge of disaster, the way every choice felt like the wrong one.

“Enough,” the elder said, his voice firm. The room fell silent. “We cannot act out of fear. We need a plan.”

Later that evening, Atsushi found himself by the river, the fractured device in his hands. Its glow was faint in the dim light, a reminder of the life he had left behind. He turned it over, his fingers brushing the cracked surface, as he tried to focus his thoughts.

Ana appeared beside him, her footsteps soft against the damp earth. She didn’t speak immediately, instead watching the water rush by.

“You’re quiet,” she said finally.

Atsushi glanced at her. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Everything,” he admitted. “The village. The Ketsuro tribe. This.” He held up the device.

Ana studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Do you regret coming here?”

Atsushi hesitated, the weight of her question pressing on him. “Sometimes. But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met any of you. Wouldn’t have been able to help.”

Ana nodded, her gaze returning to the river. “You’ve done more than help. Whether you see it or not.”

The words caught him off guard, and he looked at her, his brow furrowing. “Coming from you, that almost sounds like a compliment.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Don’t get used to it.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the river’s steady murmur filling the space between them. Despite the tension and uncertainty, Atsushi felt a small measure of peace in that moment—a fleeting but welcome reprieve.

The following morning, the village awoke to the sound of the warning horn. Atsushi bolted upright, his heart racing as the alarm cut through the early light. He grabbed his satchel and rushed outside, joining the throng of villagers heading for the gate.

Ana was already there, her bow drawn and her eyes scanning the forest. Daichi stood beside her, his spear at the ready. The elder arrived moments later, his expression grim as he took in the scene.

“What is it?” Atsushi asked, breathless.

Ana pointed to the tree line. Figures were moving between the shadows—dozens of them, their forms indistinct but unmistakable. The Ketsuro tribe had come.

“They’re testing us again,” Ana said, her voice low but steady. “Trying to see how we’ll react.”

The elder frowned. “Hold the line. We do not provoke unless they strike first.”

The villagers scrambled to reinforce the gate, their fear palpable. Atsushi moved among them, offering what reassurance he could, though his own nerves were frayed. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than a test—that the storm they had feared was finally breaking.

As the sun rose higher, the figures retreated into the forest, leaving only the faintest trace of their presence. The village remained on edge, the tension thick and unrelenting. Atsushi found himself back at the infirmary, his hands shaking as he tried to focus on his work.

Ana appeared in the doorway, her expression tense. “They’re gone. For now.”

Atsushi looked up at her, his exhaustion plain. “How long do you think we have?”

Ana didn’t answer immediately. When she did, her voice was quiet. “Not long enough.”