The clearing was quiet.
Too quiet.
Shujinko blinked against the smoke curling through the trees, coughing as it pricked at his eyes. The sun had slipped low behind the horizon, painting the sky a bruised purple that pressed on his chest. The cabin—his home—was gone. Pieces of wood and stone lay scattered, blackened and broken.
He didn't understand. He was just a child.
Tokochi was gone. Papa was gone. The floorboards had groaned and snapped and then… nothing.
Shujinko crawled across the charred earth, tiny hands clawing at the splintered wood, hoping somehow that if he reached far enough, he could pull them back. But there was nothing.
"Tokochi…" His voice was a squeak, lost in the cold wind, swallowed by the trees. "Papa… where are you?"
A rustle.
Shuza emerged through the wreckage, her white hair tangled, her gown torn. Her face was pale, eyes wide and haunted, but when she saw him, her arms reached out immediately.
"Shujin," she said softly, but her voice was shaking. "It's… it's over. Come here."
Shujinko froze. He wanted to run to her, he was glad he had someone left, but his legs felt like they were filled with lead. The world had tilted sideways, and he couldn't understand how the people he loved had just… disappeared.
"Papa… Tokochi…" His voice cracked, little hands clutching at nothing, at the air, at the scorched boards. "They're gone. They're gone!"
Shuza's hands wrapped around him, pulling him close. Her embrace was tight, but it didn't make the pain go away. He felt the trembling in her body, and suddenly, he wasn't just scared for himself—he was scared for her, too.
"Shh… shh…" she murmured. "I'm here. I'm still here. You're safe, Shujinko."
Safe. The word felt wrong. He couldn't breathe it in properly. Nothing felt safe anymore. The smell of smoke, the blood, the lingering shadows—he could feel them pressing in from every side, whispering things he couldn't understand.
He pressed his face against Shuza's shoulder. "I don't want it… I don't want it," he whispered, tears soaking her gown. "I don't want it to be like this!"
The world had broken.
Everywhere he looked, there were reminders: the jagged holes where the door had been, the scorched floor, the ash drifting in lazy spirals. He thought he could see Papa's fire flicker on the walls, his bright voice in the wind—but it was only memory, cruel and fleeting.
He wanted to cry, and he did. Sobs racked his small body, gasping in between words he couldn't form. Why hadn't Papa been enough? Why hadn't he been fast enough to keep them safe? Shujinko knew, deep down, that Papa was the strongest person in the world. Every day he had watched him fight, protect, and never give up. Papa had always been their shield.
So how could he fail like this? Fail him—fail us?
Papa had never stopped. No matter what came, he had always kept fighting, always kept going. Shujinko understood that, even if he was too little to do the same. He wanted to be like Papa—strong, perseverant, brave, unstoppable—but right now… he was too small, too frightened. His hands shook, his legs ached, and his brain couldn't make sense of the terrible, dark things he'd just seen. He wanted to fight, to help, to be brave, but he didn't know how.
He wasn't ready. Not yet.
Shuza's hand stroked his hair, clinging to him as if by holding on she could keep him tethered to the world. "Shujin… listen to me," she said. "We have to move. We have to go. We have to survive."
"Move… where?" His voice was tiny. The forest seemed bigger now, darker, filled with shadows that whispered and slid along the trees. "I don't know… I don't know what to do!"
She knelt to meet his tear-streaked eyes. "I know it's hard. I know it hurts. I can't fix it, but I can keep you safe. We'll figure it out. Step by step. One thing at a time."
He tried to nod, but his head felt heavy. Everything hurt. His chest felt like it had been hollowed out. The world felt wrong. The fire he had seen in Papa… it wasn't inside him. He just wished it was.
A cold wind blew, carrying the faint, bitter tang of something he didn't understand. The forest seemed… alive in a way that scared him. Shadows drifted, twisting just beyond sight, as though watching, waiting. Somewhere in that darkness, the Death Bringers had been, and somewhere out there, worse things waited too.
Shujinko clung to Shuza. "I want Tokochi," he whispered. His voice was a raw, broken thread.
She hugged him tighter. "I know, little one. I know. But we'll find him. We have to be strong… even if we don't understand everything yet."
He shivered, tiny and lost, the night pressing in. His fire hadn't awakened. He didn't know how to fight, how to survive, or what it meant that his father was gone. All he knew was this:
The world had taken everything from him.
And he was alone, except for the mother who clung to him, and the shadows that watched from the forest.
Somewhere far off, a faint presence lingered. It was cold. It was clever. It was patient. And it was waiting.
Shujinko didn't know its name yet. But soon, he would learn.