His grandfather didn't respond. He just kept mumbling as they trod through the forest on the other side of the river, still clasping the box against his chest.
They reached the safe house Ryosuke had been preparing for situations such as this. This wasn't a lone hut. There were a few others scattered in the area.
People who used to live here seemed to have moved to the village for practical reasons. Thankfully, they didn't tear their old houses apart.
Ryosuke was a smart kid. He knew they couldn't light a fire as the smoke would lead the invaders to their location.
But they needed light, so whenever he went to the forest to gather firewood, catch wild animals, or pick mushrooms, he'd also collect beeswax.
Over the span of three years, he'd collected a large pot of it and brought a handful that day. He remembered what his grandfather had taught him before the old man lost his memory—put a wick into the beeswax and light the tip.
A few hours later—
"This is a nice village. You wouldn't expect these many people living far away from civilization," Ryo said somberly as he gazed out on a deck overlooking the village.
The lodging Hozumi offered them was on an elevated section of the village, affording the visitors a view of the mountainside.
"I thought so, too. But seeing its position—rivers on both sides, a lush forest in every corner, and a clearing that served as a farm—I think it's perfect.
They have everything they need," Shingen posited. Hozumi led the others into the hut as they spoke, picking up trash and debris left by the previous occupants.
"We'll take care of it, Hozumi-san. Thank you for your kindness," the boys unanimously expressed.
"Okay then, I'll let you rest. You looked exhausted," the host responded. He had just realized that there was nothing to worry about until he panned around and noticed something strange about the visitors' belongings.
Each one has a backpack, a long tool, not longer than a shaku, wrapped in thick cloth. He had his suspicions, but he could be wrong, so he didn't inquire.
Hozumi exited the hut and met with Ryo and Shingen on the deck.
"Thank you so much for your kindness and generosity, Hozumi-san. We'll rest for the day, and tomorrow, we can talk business," Ryo said. Hozumi acknowledged with a bow and left.
After ensuring that his grandfather was safe, Ryosuke decided to sneak into the village to check the situation and maybe gather more supplies.
He was expecting the worst possible scenario—houses burnt down, dead bodies lying around, blood everywhere.
It was almost sundown, and the way back to the village was giving in to darkness. The night sky should have been stained with the smoke and ashes rising from the burning houses.
The air should have been filled with the wails of survivors collecting their dead from the blood-soaked ground and the diabolical chortles of the invaders raping the women and pillaging the storehouses.
Yet, there was no sign of any of that. It was peaceful as if no invasion had ever taken place. To be sure, Ryosuke made his way back to the village.
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...
