--- MARCEL ---
Marcel no longer knew how long he had been running through the forest. Barefoot and dressed only in his pajamas, he rushed along the cold, dark forest path. His vision was poor in the night, the darkness thick and merciless—yet the hope of finding Kubato forced his legs to keep moving.
Kubato! Damn it! Why?! Why did Konrad do this?!
Why?! I warned him!
"Kubato!" he shouted through the trees, tears burning in his eyes. "Konrad!"
He kept running. Marcel had no idea how far he had already gone. All he could do was roughly follow the path the van must have taken.
Damn it… Kubato! Please be alive! Please be alive! Please!
Konrad! Don't let them kill her!
A desperate, ragged scream tore from his throat. In blind panic and frustration, he slammed his fist against a tree. Pain shot through his hand, but he clenched his teeth and kept running.
"Kubato!"
All the time we spent hiding her…
All the time we spent keeping her alive…
Was it all for nothing?! Please no!
Give Kubato back to me!
Give me my daughter back!
The memory clawed at him—of long ago, when he himself had made the same terrible mistake Konrad was making now. When he had killed a beastkin. And how he would never be able to beg that family for forgiveness—because the government had executed them all afterward.
From a distance, he spotted silhouettes. And the pale shape of a bulky vehicle.
The van! Kubato!
Marcel forced himself onward. The pain in his scraped, filthy feet vanished. A surge of strength flooded his legs just as they threatened to give out.
He sprinted past the trees, past the van—and then—
"Kubato!"
He saw her.
The small child stood unharmed in the middle of the forest.
"Kubato!"
Relief washed over her face as she looked up at him. Marcel didn't slow down. He rushed toward her, nearly throwing himself at her as he wrapped his arms around her tightly and sobbed.
"I thought you were dead!"
Kubato didn't resist. She returned the embrace and cried as well.
They stayed like that for several seconds.
"How lovely," a melodious, charming voice spoke from the darkness.
"Who's there?!" Marcel snapped, instantly pulling Kubato close and positioning himself protectively in front of her.
"Akumu Keishi," the voice answered. A few steps away, the man sat on the damp forest floor, clearly amused by the scene. "I saved Kubato from the boys who wanted to kill her."
Marcel stared into the darkness in disbelief. It was too dark to see clearly—only faint outlines, and the man's pale face.
"I… see," Marcel said uncertainly, lifting Kubato into his arms.
"Papa," she whispered softly into his ear. "He's my friend. He smells like Grandpa."
"…Like Grandpa?" Marcel repeated, confused.
Kubato didn't look at him. She buried her face into his shoulder instead.
Then something suddenly occurred to him.
"And Konrad?" Marcel asked sharply. "Where is Konrad?"
"I-I'm here…" came the boy's shaky voice.
A violent surge of anger, grief, and frustration crashed through Marcel all at once. Too many emotions, too fast. He didn't know what to do.
"Konrad!" he finally roared. "What were you thinking?!"
Kubato flinched in his arms.
"Please, Marcel!" Konrad pleaded desperately. "I can explain everything!"
In the darkness, Marcel could barely make out his shape. The moonlight struggled to pierce the canopy above.
"And you will!" Marcel shouted back. "March home. Now!"
He heard hurried footsteps as Konrad scrambled to his feet and fled into the darkness.
"He has a good heart," the shadow spoke again.
Marcel paused.
Who was this Akumu Keishi?
"Your name is Akumu… right?"
"That's right."
"Thank you," Marcel said, staring blindly toward where the voice came from. "Thank you for saving Kubato."
"No need," Akumu replied calmly. "For her, I'd walk even into death… hehe. Then again, I am death."
A soft, amused chuckle followed.
"You're strange," Marcel said after a moment. "But… thank you. Would you like to come with us? Meet my family properly?"
He didn't even know if this was the right thing to say. A stranger had saved Kubato.
Kubato herself called him her friend.
Everything about this situation felt unreal.
"I'd like that," Akumu replied, "but perhaps another time. I believe you'll be quite busy with yourselves for now."
And then—
The presence vanished.
As if it had never been there at all.
Who… was that?
Marcel turned to leave. Kubato had fallen asleep in his arms—her limbs hung loosely over his shoulders.
"Let's go home," he whispered.