Rain hammered the thatched roof with relentless force, each drop striking a drumbeat in a war march. The storm had arrived suddenly, darkening what had begun as a bright morning. Only hours earlier the sky had been open and pale, white clouds drifting lazily above the forest canopy. Now those same clouds had thickened into a rolling grey mass.
The shelter’s roof groaned under the weight of water.
It had been built carefully: thin branches lashed into a sloping frame, layered with dried reeds, woven palm strips, and slabs of bark packed tightly with clay and moss. Rain struck the layers and ran down in narrow streams, dripping steadily from the edges.
Inside, the air smelled of damp wood and smoke.
Toho lay on the floor among the others, arms resting loosely across his chest. His breathing remained slow and steady, eyes closed, body unmoving.
Beside him, Imei lay on his back, “meat” he murmured.
His hand drifted lazily through the air, fingers clutching nothing. The man was dreaming.
Then his arm dropped. THUD. It landed squarely across Yotsino’s face. The boy’s nose flattened under the sudden weight. His eyes flew open in silent agony.
He tried to push the arm away, but Imei snored louder and rolled slightly, pressing it harder.
Yotsino wheezed.
With desperate effort he shoved the limb aside, turned onto his side, and buried his face in his sleeve with a miserable groan before drifting back toward sleep.
Thunder cracked across the sky. The entire shelter shuddered.
Toho shivered.
His chest tightened—an instinct sharpened by days of strange winds and stranger lands. His thoughts drifted toward the rocky peak beyond the river, where the eagle’s nest clung to the cliffs.
Something was wrong there. Then a shadow passed across his eyelids.
Toho’s eyes snapped open.
He shot upright, grabbing his bow in one fluid motion. “Who’s there!”
Rain pounded harder against the roof.
Across the dim shelter a figure flinched, raising something wooden in defense.
“Yo! It’s me!” Sawai shouted.
He stood near the doorway, holding the crude wooden target Yotsino had used for training as a shield.
Toho stared for a moment, then exhaled slowly. His shoulders lowered.
Sawai’s mouth curved. “Easy there, hero.”
Toho rubbed his forehead and sat back down. Then his eyes moved to the empty roasting rack near the fire pit.
He blinked.
“Uh… what’s this?”
“What’s what?” Sawai asked casually.
Toho leaned closer, inspecting the rack. His eyes widened. “Eh—you ate the boar?”
Sawai shrugged. “Well not really. We ate the boar.” He pointed toward Haruto, who leaned near the small window opening, watching rain fall in long silver sheets through the trees.
Toho waved it off and sat cross-legged.
“Well, there are some remains here if you want.” Sawai tossed a small strip of leftover meat toward him.
The piece was barely larger than a handful.
Sawai dropped beside them, tossing forest berries into his mouth one by one. He flicked them upward with practiced ease, catching them lazily between his teeth.
Crunch.
Crunch.
“Well,” he said between bites, “it’s nice we’re all together.”
Sawai's eyes drifted toward Yotsino, who was still half asleep.
“So… the boy?”
Toho scratched his head. “Well… it’s a long story.”
Sawai raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. Sure it is.”
BITE.
“OUCH! IMEI!”
Toho jerked upright.
The entire shelter exploded into motion.
Roni sprang up instantly, spear in hand.
Haruto grabbed his medical satchel.
Yotsino blinked awake, rubbing his eyes in confusion.
Toho clutched his hand in pain. His fingers pulsed red where teeth marks pressed deep.
The piece of meat had vanished.
Across from him Imei chewed lazily, still half asleep.
Sawai stared. “You alright, man?”
Toho glared at Imei.
Roni stepped forward and smacked the back of Imei’s head with the butt of his staff.
“Pff! IMEI! Wake up!”
Imei’s eyes popped open.
“Aye, sir.”
He blinked at the scene around him, then at Toho’s injured fingers.
“What happened?”
He continued chewing faster.
Toho inhaled slowly.
“No… nothing.”
“Okay then!” Imei said brightly, wiping his mouth. “Another day! Let’s go get some meat!”
Sawai slapped a hand on his shoulder. “That would be fun… if you hadn’t eaten half the supplies. And if it wasn’t raining.”
Yotsino stretched and yawned, watching the group with quiet curiosity.
Haruto carefully applied crushed herbs to Toho’s bitten finger. The paste stung sharply. “Hold still,” Haruto murmured.
Meanwhile Imei stood proudly and cleared his throat.
“Well… I feel generous today.”
Everyone looked up.
“You all may share one of my papaya.” He said bringing one out from his sleeve.
Roni blinked.
L “Wait… what? You’ve got ten of them.”
Imei clicked his tongue.
“My reservoir is precious. Leave it or take it.”
Sawai looked at Toho.
Toho nodded once.
The next moment chaos erupted.
Sawai grabbed Imei’s arm. Roni tackled his legs. Toho snatched the bag from his shoulder while Haruto calmly began dividing the fruits.
Imei flailed helplessly.
“TREASON! TREASON!”
Within seconds each of them held a fruit. Peace returned. Rain continued beating the roof.
Haruto turned toward Yotsino.
“So… what’s your name, boy?”
Yotsino swallowed the last bite of fruit.
“Yotsino.”
Haruto smiled warmly.
“You look mature beyond your age.”
The boy scoffed proudly.
“To be expected from a future cavalry commander.”
Sawai blinked.
Future cavalry commander?
Yotsino suddenly glanced around the shelter.
“Apart from you guys… are there others?”
Roni opened his mouth—
“Well yes, it’s just us,” Imei interrupted.
“Is it a matter of concern?” he added casually.
Yotsino flushed slightly.
Haruto chuckled.
“Easy now. He’s just asking. He’s a child.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Sawai leaned forward.
“We’re actually on a mission.”
Toho stood slowly. “Yeah… a difficult one.” He sighed. “But it got aborted because of me.”
Immediately the others shouted in unison—
“YEA!”
Yotsino blinked, startled.
Imei crossed his arms proudly. “The mission was to get Togo back. Now we found him.” He grinned. “So we return.”
Yotsino froze.
Awkward.
His eyes slid toward Imei.
One eyebrow lifted sharply.
Outside, a violent gust of wind slammed through the forest.
Branches bent.
Rain surged harder.
BRAAAOOOOM.
The horn blast ripped through the storm.
The sound rolled across the valley, echoing against the cliffs near the eagle’s nest and tumbling through the forest canopy. Rain struck the roof harder, as if the sky itself answered the signal.
Inside the shelter, everyone froze.
BRAAAOOOOM.
The horn cried again.
Twice.
Yotsino flinched.
For a moment the boy looked younger than before, eyes flicking toward the forest. Then his expression hardened. The hesitation vanished. Discipline took its place.
He stepped forward and pulled the bow from Toho’s resting hands.
His movements came fast now—efficient, practiced. Arrows slid into the leather scabbard at his hip. A small water gourd disappeared into his sack. The wooden training target was snatched from the floor and tied against his back.
“Hey—what is going on?” Toho asked.
BRAAAAAAOOOOM — the horn cried again, longer this time, rolling across the valley like distant thunder.
Yotsino glanced around the shelter, then met Toho’s eyes.
“Well… it was nice meeting you. See you around.”
He stepped past the group quickly.
“I advise you stay out until the rain ends,” he added over his shoulder.
At the doorway he paused. Rain poured outside in silver sheets.
“Hope you make it back safely.”
Then he ran.
His sandals slapped against rain-filled puddles.
Splash.
Splash.
Splash.
Within seconds the forest swallowed him.
Roni scratched the back of his neck.
“What was his matter?”
Imei leaned toward the doorway, squinting into the rain.
“Wait… did you guys hear that sound?”
Haruto nodded slowly.
The horn blast still lingered in the air, the aftershock of distant thunder.
Toho folded his arms.
His jaw tightened.
“Guys… I have to tell you something.”
Every head turned.
The shift in attention was immediate. Conversations died. Even the rain seemed to soften against the roof.
Toho stood still, eyes lowered to the dirt floor.
“This land… is not what we think it is.”
He walked slowly toward the narrow window opening, watching the last glimpse of Yotsino vanish into the dark forest.
Then he said it.
“We are in… TANNA.”
“TANNA?” Sawai blurted.
“You know about it?” Roni asked quickly.
Sawai shook his head.
“No.”
Haruto’s words stalled halfway from his mouth.
“So that boy is a…”
Silence stretched.
Imei rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“…a Tannense.”
“We know that, genius,” Sawai grunted, irritation rising in his voice.
Toho turned back toward them.
“Actually… he told me that—”
A gust of wind swept through the shelter entrance, rattling the roof and carrying the scent of wet earth.
“Toho,” Sawai said impatiently.
Toho continued anyway.
“Tanna is one of the Seven Great Warring States.”
Imei’s eyes widened.
“Seven…”
“Warring states,” Roni finished slowly.
The weight of the words settled heavily.
Sawai’s gaze drifted toward Toho’s pack lying near the wall. His mind returned to the carved military symbols they had found days earlier etched into wood and stone along the riverbanks.
It doesn’t make sense…
Imei suddenly shook his head.
“Wait, wait. What if the boy is lying?”
Sawai hissed quietly but said nothing.
“He taught me the basics of the bow in an afternoon,” Toho insisted.
Imei stepped forward.
“Well any hunter could do that.”
The others exchanged glances.
Haruto frowned slightly.
Roni looked uncertain.
Sawai folded his arms but remained silent.
Imei spread his hands dramatically.
“This land is empty.”
“No, it’s not,” Toho replied sharply.
Imei laughed.
“Oh really? Got any proof, hero?”
Toho strode to his pack and pulled out the carved wooden piece they had discovered days before. Without hesitation he thrust it toward Imei’s face.
“You carved this out with your blade yourself. Remember?”
Imei leaned back slightly, taking the wood in his hand.
The markings were clear—military symbols burned deep into the grain.
Imei lowered it slowly.
Then he placed a hand on Toho’s shoulder and spoke in a quieter tone.
“Toho…”
His voice carried a sly patience.
“Even Sawai said those carvings came from the place where they were held captive.”
He turned to Sawai.
“Was it called Tanna?”
Sawai shook his head.
“No.”
“You see?” Imei gestured triumphantly.
Toho gripped the wood tightly.
He looked toward Haruto.
Haruto sighed. “Imei may be blunt… but he has a point.”
Toho’s chest burned with conviction.
“Listen—this is Tanna—”
“Toho, it is not Tanna!” Replied Imei, “These carvings were made by Bakaru’s men.”
Sawai grunted. “Even I said that.”
Silence settled again.
Toho lowered his head.
Then am I wrong…? The thought clawed at him, unwelcome.
Haruto added carefully,“The Bakaru clan has been crafty ever since we joined them at sea”
Roni nodded. “It’s possible they don’t even like that Osei was elected leader.”
Toho’s grip on the carved wood loosened.
The argument faded.
Perhaps they were right. Perhaps the horns, the markings, the strange boy—none of it meant what he thought.
But something inside him refused to quiet.
Outside, rain hammered the forest.
Heavy drops softened to scattered taps on broad leaves, then faded entirely — leaving only the patient drip… drip… drip from branch to branch.
Mist lifted slowly from the ground.
The scent of wet soil and crushed pine drifted through the clearing where the travelers had taken shelter the night before. Pale morning light pushed through the thinning clouds, turning the nearby river into a ribbon of dull silver.
Yotsino was gone. No footprints clear enough to follow. Only the faint memory of sandals splashing through rain puddles during the night.
Toho stood at the edge of the clearing, eyes fixed on the tree line where the boy had disappeared hours earlier. A small knot of worry twisted in his chest. Yotsino knew these lands—knew them like a hawk knew the wind—but the forests of Tanna held dangers even seasoned hunters feared.
Still, the boy had moved with confidence.
Toho exhaled slowly and turned back to the others.
Sawai tightened the strap of his satchel and tied his blade around his waist. Haruto adjusted the cloth binding around his forearm. Roni kicked dirt over the last embers of their fire.
Imei, meanwhile, crouched dramatically near the riverbank.
He ran two fingers through the mud, squinting at nothing in particular with exaggerated seriousness.
“Well,” he announced proudly, rising to his feet, “it appears fortune has chosen its guide.”
Sawai groaned.
“Oh no.” Haruto chuckled quietly.
“Toho told us about the boar yesterday,” he said calmly. “Morale is low. Let the man feel useful.”
Imei puffed his chest.
“You see? Leadership recognizes talent.”
Sawai rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. “Fine. Lead us, great master of footprints.”
Toho simply nodded.
“Let’s find the missing ones.”
The group turned away from the towering cedars where Toho had slain the boar and moved toward the opposite stretch of river. The water here split into a wider, slower branch that curled into a different forest entirely.
The cedars vanished.
In their place rose thick tropical growth—towering ferns unfurling giant and tall. Moss coated the ground in deep green cushions. Orchids burst from tree trunks in violent splashes of red and violet.
Vines hung everywhere.
Some thick as ropes.
Others thin as whips.
Insects hummed endlessly, weaving through shafts of sunlight that pierced the canopy. Bright birds darted between branches sunlight reflecting on it.
Beautiful.
And suffocating.
As the sun climbed higher, the forest trapped the heat.
Sweat soaked tunics.
Air clung to skin, sweat dripping down.
Imei marched ahead confidently, pointing at the ground.
“Broken reeds,” he declared. “Clearly someone passed here.”
Roni squinted.
“That could be a turtle.”
Imei ignored him.
“And this!” he continued dramatically, pointing at a muddy patch. “A footprint!”
Sawai crouched beside it.
“That’s yours.”
Imei waved dismissively.
“Details.”
The group followed the river upstream for nearly an hour before Imei abruptly turned into thicker undergrowth.
“This way,” he said boldly. “Shortcut.”
The shortcut lasted ten minutes.
Then the forest swallowed them.
The river's sound faded behind dense vines. Ferns hid twisted roots waiting to trip careless steps. Branches snagged clothing and packs. The air grew hotter, heavier.
No breeze.
No direction.
Just jungle.
Sawai wiped sweat from his brow.
“Your genius is remarkable,” he muttered.
Haruto glanced around uneasily.
“We should head back before—”
“My echo-reading never fails!” Imei interrupted loudly.
Roni returned from scouting ahead, shaking his head.
“Nothing. Just more forest.”
Toho lagged behind.
The heat hammered against his skull. His throat burned. Yesterday’s struggle with the boar had drained him more than he cared to admit.
He pushed through a curtain of vines, chasing the faint whisper of moving water.
A stream appeared.
Narrow.
Clear.
It bubbled gently over smooth grey stones.
Relief washed through him.
Toho dropped to his knees and plunged both hands into the water. Cold shock raced up his arms. He drank deeply, the chill flooding his parched throat.
Then he froze.
Across the stream stood a man.
A soldier.
Heavy armor wrapped his torso—dark leather sleeves layered with iron plates. A spear rested in his hand, its iron head glinting faintly beneath the filtered sunlight. A helmet shadowed his face, leaving only the stillness of his posture visible.
Beside him stood another figure: thin, hunched.
Eyes darting nervously.
The scrawny man from Bakaru’s tent.
The whisperer.
What is he doing here?
Toho’s heartbeat thundered.
Is he a Tanna soldier?
Are they watching the settlement?
A cold thought crept into his mind.
Did, did I lead them here?
Is this my fault?
He dropped lower, sliding beneath a bush. Leaves scraped his face. Mud soaked into his knees. Through narrow gaps in the foliage he watched them.
The soldier remained still.
Listening.
Waiting.
Toho barely dared to breathe.
Then—
“Toho!”
Sawai’s voice cut through the forest.
“Toho! Where are you?”
Toho jerked upright instinctively.
“Here!” he called back, stepping out from the bush.
Sawai pushed through the foliage moments later, panting slightly.
“There you are,” he said. “Thought you—”
Toho turned back toward the stream.
The soldier was gone.
The scrawny man too.
Nothing remained.
Just water flowing quietly between the stones.
Toho blinked.
“...”
Sawai frowned.
“You alright?”
Toho stared at the empty forest.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Just… thought I saw something.”
Sawai studied him for a moment.
“You look like you saw a ghost.”
Toho forced a small smile.
“Probably the heat.”
They returned to the others.
Imei immediately announced, “Good news! I believe we are extremely close to somewhere important.”
Sawai groaned again.
The group pressed deeper into the jungle.
Hours later, as the sun dipped behind the canopy and shadows thickened, the forest grew eerily quiet.
