Just behind the town hall, the topography was different, a slope that descended toward a stream. That was where the villagers fished and got their water.
This stream was a tributary of the river they had crossed earlier. The water was clearer and quieter, and the forest on the other side was accessible through a small bamboo bridge that also doubled as a fish trap.
One hour earlier—
"Ojiisan, eat your food before it gets cold," the ten-year-old Ryosuke told his grandfather, Genjiro, who seemed spacing out at the table.
"A storm is coming," the old man said, which surprised the young boy because he rarely heard his grandfather speak clear sentences. Genjiro was senile and often mumbled to himself. He was no longer capable of proper speech.
Curious, the boy looked out the window, which was beside the dining table. The sky was clear, and the wind mild. Birds were also chirping calmly. These weren't signs of an impending tempest.
"There's no storm ojiisan," Ryosuke argued.
"A storm is coming," Genjiro echoed.
The old man ended up not finishing the boiled yam his grandson had prepared, leaving his grandson wondering if he was having one of those episodes.
He left the table and went to his room, seemingly to rest. To Ryosuke's surprise, his grandfather went out of the room carrying a wooden box and seemingly heading outside.
"Ojiisan, where are you going," Ryosuke inquired. He paused what he was doing and followed his grandfather outside to stop him.
He didn't want the old man wandering around the village without his supervision. The last time that had happened, his grandfather had hurt himself.
"Ryosuke, listen to me. We have to go," Genjiro insisted, his words now even clearer than before, as if he had returned to his younger self. This shocked Ryosuke.
It didn't take long before he realized that something was wrong. This wasn't his grandfather showing signs of cognitive decline. Something bad was about to happen.
He went back into the house and grabbed a back of supplies. It seemed they'd been preparing for this moment for a while. In fact, they knew exactly where to go.
Ryosuke had been cleaning up an abandoned hut deep in the woods to turn it into their hideout when the Mongols finally reached their village.
"Ryosuke, where are you going? Are you leaving town?" A neighbor, who had seen them frantically marching away from their home, asked.
"We're just going for a little hike, Yuna-san. Go back inside. A storm is coming," Ryosuke responded.
Suddenly, they heard a faint growl. It was faint not because it was from a small animal, but because it was from far away.
Suddenly, the bell from the lookout started ringing, warning the village of an impending attack.
Ryosuke and his grandfather wasted no time and continued marching. They were already far away from the courtyard before the invaders reached the village.
"By the way, ojiisan, what's that box? I've never seen that before," Ryosuke asked, curious.
YOU ARE READING
Saving Touma
Mystery / ThrillerWhen the past and the future collide, chaos follows. Lives from different worlds intertwine and dance in a perpetual loop. The victim? An innocent child whose future would remain uncertain and cost many lives to retrieve. The key to all of this is a...
