Nia stared at Yuki.
He was sprawled on the grass, eyes closed, breathing slow and even. The sleepless night had finally caught up with him—the fear, the pain, the constant vigilance had drained him completely. His dark hair was a mess, matted with sweat and dirt. Even in sleep, his brow was furrowed, like he was still fighting something.
She watched him for a long moment, her brown eyes soft with something between curiosity and concern.
Then she stood, walked to the edge of the lake, and stripped off her animal-skin clothes. She slipped into the water, washing the smoke and sweat from her tan skin. Her eyes kept drifting back to Yuki—checking, making sure he was still asleep.
He wouldn't peep, she thought. He doesn't seem like that kind of person.
Still, she watched.
When she was done, she dressed quickly and approached him. He was still out cold, his face relaxed for the first time since she'd seen him. The sharp angles of his jaw, the dark lashes against his pale cheeks—he looked almost peaceful.
She gently poked his cheek with her toe.
Yuki's tongue darted out and licked her toe.
Nia's face went scarlet.
She jumped back, heart pounding, a strangled sound escaping her throat. Her hand flew to her mouth. The tattoos on her arms seemed to darken with her flush.
Yuki's eyes fluttered open.
His blue eyes—striking even half-lidded with exhaustion—found her. He blinked groggily.
"Nia...?"
She snapped out of her daze. Without a word, she turned and disappeared into the trees, her dark hair flying behind her.
Yuki scrambled to his feet.
"Wait—!"
He grabbed his backpack, slung it over his good shoulder, and clutched the dagger in his hand. His bare feet pressed into the grass as he chased after her, crashing through the undergrowth, calling her name.
But she was already gone.
He stopped. Sniffed the air. Caught her scent—wildflowers and rain—and followed it. For a few minutes, he thought he was gaining ground.
Then the trail went cold.
He stood in the middle of the forest, alone, heart pounding. The green canopy stretched above him, blocking out the sky. Shadows moved between the trees—just leaves shifting in the wind, but his nerves made them feel like something more.
She's gone.
Fear crept into his chest. She had made him feel safe. She was the reason he'd been able to fall asleep. And now she was gone, and he was alone again.
He sat down heavily on a moss-covered rock, dropped his head into his hands, and whispered to himself.
"What do I do now?"
He sniffed the air out of habit—checking for predators.
A familiar scent hit him.
Stone. Earth.
Before he could react, the ground beneath him shuddered. A pillar of stone erupted from the earth and slammed into his side.
Boom.
Yuki was launched sideways, tumbling over grass and roots and loose stones. He rolled, caught himself, and came up with his dagger raised, his blue eyes blazing.
"WHO—"
He stopped.
A familiar figure stood where the pillar had emerged.
Tetsu.
His broad frame blocked the light. His face, rugged and weathered, softened slightly when he saw Yuki's battered form.
Yuki lowered the dagger slowly, his expression shifting from combat-ready to cold annoyance.
"Where's Lord Genji?"
Tetsu didn't answer immediately. He looked Yuki over—the torn clothes, the blood-soaked bandage, the fresh bruises. His eyes lingered on the wound on Yuki's shoulder, the way his arm hung slightly limp. Something in his posture relaxed. Relief, maybe. Or guilt.
"I apologize for hitting you," Tetsu said, his voice low and gravelly. "I thought you were a wild animal."
"Where have you been?" Yuki's voice was sharp, edged with exhaustion. "Why did you leave me?"
Tetsu held his gaze for a moment—those bright blue eyes boring into him with barely contained frustration—then turned and started walking.
"Follow me. We'll talk properly."
Yuki followed, still angry, but relieved.
Tetsu led him through the forest, weaving between trees and over roots. Yuki limped behind him, favoring his injured ankle, his shoulder throbbing with every step. He caught his reflection in a puddle—pale, dirty, dark circles under his eyes.
They arrived at a small clearing.
A dead campfire sat at its center, surrounded by blackened stones. Nearby stood a small hut—crude but sturdy, built from stone and wood. It looked like it had been constructed using Tetsu's and Genji's abilities.
They sat by the cold fire.
Yuki broke the silence first, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You must be having the time of your life here."
Tetsu frowned, the lines on his face deepening. "Calm down."
Yuki waved a dismissive hand—a gesture so casual, so effortless, that for a moment he looked less like a battered teenager and more like a Royal Head. His blue eyes flashed with something cold. Regal.
Tetsu noticed. He had seen that look before, on Satoshi. On Haruki. On every Kinatarou who had ever walked into a room and made everyone else feel small.
"We brought you here for training," Tetsu said, his voice steady. "You needed to survive on your own. You're a Kinatarou."
Yuki grit his teeth. His jaw tightened. He ran a hand through his messy black hair, pushing it back from his face.
"Do you have any idea what kind of beasts are in this forest? It's a miracle I'm still alive. I nearly died—" He stopped mid-sentence, exhaled sharply, and looked away. "There's no point."
He sat in silence for a moment, tracing his finger through the dirt, then asked, "Where's Lord Genji?"
Tetsu opened his mouth to answer—then closed it. His eyes flickered to the side, just for a second.
"Hunting," Tetsu said. His voice was flat, too controlled. "He's out hunting."
Yuki didn't believe him. But he didn't push. He just stared at the cold ashes, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion.
Tetsu leaned forward, his gaze dropping to Yuki's injuries. The blood-soaked bandage on his shoulder. The deep gashes on his arms. The raw, bruised cuts on his bare feet.
"What beasts did you encounter?"
Yuki shrugged—then winced as his shoulder protested.
"A large wolf. A giant green snake. And a jaguar with an invisibility Kizo."
Tetsu's eyebrow rose slightly. "And?"
Yuki met his gaze. His blue eyes held a flicker of pride beneath the exhaustion. "I killed the snake and the jaguar. The wolf got away."
Tetsu said nothing, but something flickered in his expression. His hand, resting on his knee, tightened almost imperceptibly.
Impressed.
"The green snakes are the weakest of their kind," Tetsu said after a moment. His voice was low, careful. "The black ones are far stronger. And the red ones..." He paused, his eyes hardening. "Even I would have trouble with a red one."
Yuki's stomach turned.
Thank the stars I ran into a green one.
"I met a girl too," Yuki added, his voice quiet.
Tetsu's eyes widened. His head snapped up. "A girl?"
"Yeah. In animal skins. Strange tattoos on her arms." Yuki gestured vaguely at his own arms. "She didn't speak my language, but she cooked for me." He paused, a faint smile touching his lips. "Her name is Nia."
Tetsu leaned forward, interest sharpening his weathered features. "Where did you see her?"
"Near a lake."
Tetsu opened his mouth to ask more—
A deep voice cut through the clearing from behind Yuki.
"So you met an Amazonian."
Yuki turned.
Lord Genji stood at the edge of the clearing, arms behind his back, posture straight as a blade. His green hair caught the dappled light, and his sharp green eyes—so like Seri's, but colder—scanned Yuki with clinical precision. His royal aura radiated like heat from a forge, pressing against the air.
"Amazonian?" Yuki repeated.
"They are women who inhabit the forest," Genji said. His voice was smooth, measured, like he was explaining something obvious to a slow student. "Nomadic. Self-sufficient. They keep to themselves."
Yuki said nothing. He traced his finger through the dirt, avoiding Genji's gaze. His jaw was tight. His shoulders were tense.
Genji tilted his head, studying him. "You're quiet."
Yuki's voice was flat, barely hiding the bitterness beneath. "I wonder why."
He stood and walked to a tree at the edge of the clearing, a respectable distance away. He sat beneath it, back against the trunk, eyes fixed on nothing. His bare feet pressed into the cool earth. His hand rested on the dagger at his side.
Genji watched him for a moment, his green eyes unreadable. Then he turned to Tetsu.
"Did you disclose any information about our mission?"
"No, sir."
Genji nodded, his expression unchanged. "Go get something we can eat."
Tetsu rose without a word and walked into the trees.
Genji stood alone in the clearing, staring at the boy who refused to look at him. The silence stretched between them, heavy and cold.
Yuki's eyes fluttered closed.
His body was heavy, his limbs limp. The exhaustion he'd been fighting all day finally pulled him under, dragging him toward sleep like a current pulling a drowning man.
Just a few minutes, he thought. Just close my eyes for a few—
Lord Genji's boot connected with his side.
Thud.
Yuki's eyes snapped open. He gasped, clutching his ribs—the same ribs he'd cracked against a tree earlier.
"What the—"
"You shouldn't fall asleep," Genji said flatly. His green eyes were cold, unreadable. "You're still in a dangerous forest."
Yuki glared at him through the pain. His blue eyes burned with exhaustion and frustration. But he said nothing. He just sat up straighter, jaw tight, refusing to give Genji the satisfaction of a complaint.
Genji pushed a hand toward Yuki.
A soft green glow emanated from his palm—the same shade as Seri's healing light, but colder. More clinical. The warmth seeped into Yuki's wounds, knitting torn flesh, easing the deep ache in his ribs.
But not completely.
Genji pulled his hand back after a few seconds. "That's enough. You can move without pain now. That's all you need."
Yuki's voice was flat, laced with bitterness. "Thank you."
The words meant: It's your fault anyway.
Genji didn't acknowledge them.
He sat down across from Yuki, his green eyes sharp and focused. "Tell me about the girl."
Yuki looked away, tracing his finger through the dirt.
"What does it matter? I'll probably never meet her again."
Genji's expression didn't change. But something flickered in his gaze—interest, maybe.
Before he could press further, Tetsu emerged from the trees.
A massive boar hung over his shoulder, its black fur slick with blood. Tetsu's grey-streaked hair was damp with sweat, and his weathered face was set in a grim expression of quiet satisfaction.
"Good hunting?" Genji asked.
"Good enough."
Tetsu dropped the boar near the dead fire and began gutting it with practiced efficiency. His large hands moved with surprising precision—slitting the belly, pulling out organs, separating meat from bone. Blood pooled beneath his feet.
Genji started the fire.
Yuki watched him, confused. Genji simply struck two stones together—once, twice—and sparks caught the dry kindling.
That's it?
Yuki stared at the flames, then at his own hands. He had struggled for thirty minutes to start a fire. Thirty minutes of rubbing sticks and striking stones like a caveman.
And he did it in two seconds.
He said nothing. But his pride stung.
Tetsu cut the meat into thick pieces, skewered them on sticks, and roasted them over the fire. The smell was smoky, rich—almost appetizing.
He handed a piece to Yuki, then to Genji.
Genji took a bite, chewed slowly, and swallowed without complaint. His green eyes remained fixed on the flames.
Yuki took a bite.
He chewed once.
Twice.
His face twisted. He spit it out immediately.
Tetsu's jaw tightened. "You're full, aren't you?" His voice was low, annoyed.
Yuki wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Maybe. But this tastes horrible."
Tetsu's weathered face darkened.
Yuki stood, walking to the edge of the clearing. He moved carefully, his bare feet pressing into the damp earth, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air.
Tetsu and Genji watched him in confusion.
Yuki squatted beside a cluster of green leaves, sniffed once, then twice. His blue eyes lit up.
There.
He recognized the scent. The same leaves Nia had crushed and smeared on his bird meat.
He cut a handful of leaves, crushed them between his palms, and walked back to the fire.
Tetsu raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"
"Watch and learn."
Yuki picked up two pieces of raw meat, smeared the crushed leaves onto them, and skewered them on sticks. He held them over the fire, turning them slowly, letting the aroma bloom.
When they were done, he handed one to Tetsu and one to Genji.
Genji took a bite. His green eyes widened—just a fraction, almost imperceptible. Then his expression returned to its usual cold neutrality.
Tetsu took a bite. His eyes went wide.
He chewed slowly, swallowed, and said, "It's not that good."
His voice said otherwise.
Yuki grinned. "You're lying."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Tetsu's weathered face flushed slightly. He took another bite—a bigger one—and refused to meet Yuki's gaze.
Yuki smirked. "A master taught me."
Nia.
Somewhere far away, the same thought crossed Nia's mind.
She walked slowly through the forest, her bare feet silent on the damp earth. Her dark hair clung to her shoulders, and her brown eyes were distant, unfocused.
Her face was very red.
She pressed her hand to her cheek and felt the heat.
What is wrong with me?
She reached a large opening in the trees. The sky above was painted in shades of orange and amber—the sun setting behind the canopy. A village spread before her, nestled between the roots of ancient trees.
Small huts of wood and leaves. Fires flickering between them. Women moving between the shadows, their tattoos catching the firelight.
Only women.
Nia's village was a sisterhood. No men. No outsiders. Just them.
A figure appeared in front of her—tall, broad-shouldered, at least six-foot-five. The woman's body was voluptuous, powerful, her tanned skin marked with tattoos that spiraled up her arms and across her chest. Her dark hair was streaked with grey, and her brown eyes held the sharpness of a mother who missed nothing.
She was Nia's mother.
"Where have you been all day?" her mother asked. Her voice was deep, melodic, laced with authority. She bent slightly, bringing her face closer to Nia's. "And why are you blushing?"
Nia's face went even redder.
"I just went for a stroll," she said quickly. "Not far. And I'm not blushing."
Her mother tilted her head. "Your ears are red."
"They're always red."
"Your neck is red."
"It's... warm."
Her mother's eyes narrowed. But she didn't push. She straightened, crossing her thick arms over her chest.
"You should ask for permission before leaving," she said. "There are very strange creatures in this forest. You never know what you might find."
Nia's mind drifted to Yuki—his blue eyes, his messy black hair, his scarred body, the way he smiled even when he was exhausted.
Yes, she thought. Very strange creatures.
She smiled faintly. "I'll remember that, Mother."
Back at Genji's camp, the air was thick with tension.
Darkness had swallowed the forest. The fire crackled weakly, casting long, dancing shadows across the clearing. The sky above was heavy with clouds—thick and grey, threatening rain.
Yuki sat under a tree, arms wrapped around his knees.
Genji and Tetsu stood near the hut.
"You're supposed to survive on your own," Genji said, his voice flat. "You'll sleep outside."
Yuki's head shot up. "You're joking."
"I never joke."
"But it's going to rain—"
"Then you'll get wet." Genji turned his back and walked into the hut. "The door is too small for you anyway. You'd have to crawl."
Yuki opened his mouth to argue.
The door closed.
Tetsu lingered for a moment, his weathered face unreadable. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something—then closed it. He followed Genji into the hut.
Yuki sat alone in the dark.
A few minutes later, the sky opened.
Heavy rain. Thunder. Lightning splitting the sky.
Yuki was soaked in seconds. His green camo clothes clung to his skin. His black hair plastered to his forehead. His bare feet sank into mud.
He pressed himself against the tree, trying to use its thick trunk as a shield. It didn't help.
He thought about using his Kizo to create an ice roof—something to block the rain. But the thought died as quickly as it came.
It would drain my ki. If something attacks me, I'd be helpless.
He crouched, hugging his legs to his chest.
The rain crashed against him.
The darkness gaped around him.
He wouldn't be able to sleep like this. His body was exhausted, but his mind was too wired—too alert, too aware of the shadows moving between the trees.
Something could attack me at any moment.
He pressed his forehead to his knees and whispered into the void.
"I hate this forest."
Far away, in a hidden village, Nia lay awake.
Her mother slept beside her, her breathing deep and even. The hut was quiet, warm, safe.
But Nia couldn't sleep.
She stared at the window—a gap in the leaves that framed the rainy forest outside. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning flashed, illuminating the trees for a split second.
I wonder how he's doing.
She touched her cheek, still warm from earlier.
I hope he's okay.