After eating their fill, everyone began learning to make shoes, and Broly joined in.
But his handiwork was terrible. The vines and fur in his hands always turned into a ball.
"If you shove your foot in, you can still wear it."
Kurome judged the "shoe" he made.
Broly tried. It did fit his foot, but probably only he could move around freely in such round, tumbleweed‑like footwear.
"Need help?"
Looking at the tumbleweed shoes on his feet, even the youngest kids could not bring themselves to say, "Yes, help him."
"Big Brother Broly, I think it's better if we make our own shoes."
"All right then. If you need my help, just call me."
Broly was a little disappointed. Maybe he should not have finished his shoes so fast.
"Need help?"
Cornelia could see he just wanted something to do, so she said, "If you don't mind, Big Brother Broly, could you help scrape some vine bark?"
No one was very skilled yet. If they wove the vine strips wrong, they usually had to grab new ones and start over.
"No problem."
Broly picked up a knife and started scraping bark. Working on something together like this felt like playing cat's cradle to him. Even just "playing support" in such a game made him happy.
After that brief grade‑school life in the Nasuverse, Broly had occasionally felt something called "loneliness" back on Vampa.
He rarely showed it, but it was there, now surfacing as this urge to be more involved whenever the group did something together.
So he scraped a lot of vines, and only a few were actually used. The rest became firewood.
…
"So you and your wild kids, bought as recruits, got wrecked? My ears aren't failing me?"
"Lord West Palace, there was a monster among them—someone incredibly strong…"
"Stop. I don't care how you got wrecked. All I know is Minister Honest gave you an order to form an assassination unit.
"I've already done my part for that order, sending you the men and supplies you needed. And you bring me back this?"
"My own strength was lacking and I failed in the task. Please forgive me, Lord West Palace. But I still hope to receive some support, to wash away this humiliation."
"Gozzi, you're from the Four Rakshasa Demons yourself. If you couldn't handle him, what good would ordinary reinforcements do?"
"If possible, I'd like you to ask Minister Honest on my behalf—request support from the other Rakshasa Demons."
Gozzi spoke, a bandage wrapped around his forehead.
"Gozzi, if you'd told me rebels attacked you and disrupted the formation of the unit, I'd mobilize provincial troops in an instant.
"But you're telling me a single purchased child is why you failed?"
"He's a monster. His power is terrifying. I'd stake my life on that."
"Fine. Say he's real. Then who is he? A rebel?"
"No."
"If not, where do you get the nerve to ask me to beg for help? Losing face is one thing for you. Don't drag me in front of Minister Honest to lose it with you.
"The empire needs people everywhere, and this term's Four Rakshasa Demons are charged with guarding the minister himself.
"No one has time to help you get your pride back from some kid. Understand?"
"But that monster stole our assassin candidates."
"The empire doesn't feed dead weight. I don't want to hear your complaints. You have a problem, you overcome it. To me, results matter more than the process. And it's the same for Minister Honest—he only wants one thing: a successfully formed assassination unit."
Thrown out of the palace, Gozzi looked sour. If he knew how to solve it alone, would he have come here begging?
"He probably thinks we're just trying to milk more money."
Bill muttered.
"Miser. He only sees money."
Gozzi cursed.
"Forget it. That's the empire for you. The harder you work, the worse you get burned."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to skip this 'recruiting' nonsense and use death row inmates for drug enhancement and hypnosis. What about you—still planning to go after that monster?"
Gozzi stayed silent. His Teigu had broken on the boy's neck without leaving a mark. What was the point of going back? He sighed.
"Same as you. I'll train those six brats we did get. The bigwigs don't care, so why should I?"
"If we fail later, we die."
Bill reminded him.
"It's just one rotten life."
As an assassin, Gozzi understood how assassins ended. Dying quietly of old age in turbulent times was nearly impossible. Dying on a job was reality.
At least training killers took time. However much he slacked, he had a few easy years ahead. He would worry about the rest later.
As for that little monster who had smashed his face—if the empire was not worried, why should he be?
Once the idea of giving up took root, the world suddenly felt wide.
A once‑formidable demon‑blade assassin had met a monster, reported up, gotten shrugged off—and turned straight into a slacker.
My strength may not be top‑tier, but it's first‑rate. And even going all out, I couldn't hurt that monster one bit. What happens when he grows up? If rebels win him over, what happens to the empire then? Heh…
Gozzi thought, then turned to the bald man beside him.
"Want to go for a drink?"
"No time. You're injured. Lay off the booze."
Bill said, then turned and left.
…
Once the vine shoes were done, walking became much easier. But their way out did not line up with the way they had come in.
Following the road Broly had blasted open, they walked through Gifnora Seatre Forest for three full days before reaching the edge.
This was the western border of the empire, near the western kingdoms, with a dangerous mangrove swamp between them.
The brown‑skinned girl lit up at the sight of the mangroves.
"This is Rivarina's homeland. I used to live in a place like this."
She had been caught by a slaving party, and never imagined that, just by following the group through the forest, she would end up back somewhere familiar.
Of course, this was not her exact home, but with a point of reference she knew which direction home lay in.
"Papa said there's a giant forest of tall trees north of our mangroves, full of terrible danger beasts. We're not supposed to go near it. If this is that forest, then my home should be farther south."
Seeing how excited she was, Broly said, "Then we'll keep heading south."
"Yeah!"
The kids echoed him. Days of traveling together had broken them in as a team, and they trusted their big brother.
"Idiots, you're going the wrong way. That's east."
Chikushi's reminder made the whole group, who had started drifting, stop and shuffle back.
"Again. We head south."
A little embarrassed to return to where they'd started, Broly called out once more.
This time, they headed in the right direction.
__________
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