The wooden sword cracked against Shura’s ribs.

  “Again,” Master Juro said.

  Shura staggered, boots scraping against the soil of the obsidian forest. His arms trembled. His breathing was uneven. Sweat soaked his shirt, clinging cold against his skin.

  He swung anyway.

  The strike was clumsy. Honest. Weak.

  Juro parried it with two fingers.

  Shura stopped.

  The forest hummed softly, bamboo swaying in slow, patient rhythm.

  “…Why?” Shura asked suddenly.

  Juro didn’t turn.

  “Why did you help me?” Shura said, voice shaking. “Why did all of you help me?”

  He lowered the sword.

  “I’m just a boy,” he said. “No name. No place. I fell out of nowhere.”

  His throat tightened.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “I don’t even know if I’m right,” he whispered. “What if I’m wrong about the surface? What if I imagined it? What if I’m dragging everyone into a lie?”

  His hands trembled.

  Tears fell before he could stop them.

  Juro finally turned.

  He didn’t look surprised.

  He didn’t look angry.

  He looked… tired.

  “Come here,” Juro said.

  Shura didn’t move.

  Juro sighed and walked over himself, stopping in front of the boy. He placed the wooden sword aside and rested a hand on Shura’s head—heavy, warm, real.

  “Listen carefully,” Juro said.

  “Whether you’re still searching for your why,”

  “or trying to fix a why not,”

  “I’m here to help you turn the page and finish the story.”

  Shura sucked in a sharp breath.

  Juro tapped Shura’s chest with two fingers.

  “You didn’t fall because you were special,” he said.

  “You survived because you kept moving.”

  Silence settled.

  Shura wiped his face roughly.

  “…Then I’ll finish it,” he said.

  He looked up, eyes burning.

  “I’ll reach the surface,” Shura said. “And when I do—”

  His fists clenched.

  “I’m taking you all with me.”

  The air shifted.

  Then—

  A presence slammed into the clearing.

  “Well,” Zenkyou said pleasantly, stepping out from the bamboo. “That explains a lot.”

  Shura froze.

  Juro’s shoulders stiffened.

  Zenkyou crossed her arms, eyes sharp. “You told him. Everything.”

  Shura panicked.

  “HEY—so where’s Yura?” he blurted.

  “And Orin! And Ren! Why aren’t they with you?”

  “I finished a quest, by the way. Alone.”

  “And I made a friend! Her name is Mio—she works at the Guild—she’s nice—”

  He ducked behind Juro.

  Juro blinked. “…Why are you behind me?”

  Zenkyou’s smile widened.

  “Move,” she said sweetly.

  “No,” Juro replied instantly.

  Shura clutched the back of Juro’s robe like a lifeline.

  “HEY!” Juro snapped. “You stupid kid, let go! I don’t know you!”

  Zenkyou stepped forward.

  They ran.

  Not away.

  Through the forest.

  “STOP RUNNING IN CIRCLES!” Juro shouted.

  “YOU’RE THE ONE LETTING HIM HIDE!” Zenkyou yelled.

  Shura screamed something unintelligible.

  They crashed back into the clearing, skidded to a halt, and collapsed onto the ground in a tangled mess.

  Silence.

  Then—

  Shura leaned forward and bumped his forehead gently against Juro’s.

  “…Sorry,” Shura muttered. “It’s not fair to beat the Master who trains you.”

  Zenkyou cracked her knuckles.

  Her smile was sharp. Dangerous.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” she said cheerfully.

  “I’ll kill both of you to make sure this truth never spreads.”

  Juro sighed, closing his eyes.

  “…I need a new forest.”

  Shura smiled through the fear.

  "Did Master Juro Already Know the Truth" ?