Chapter 26: The Jungle of Questions
The forest was alive.
Tall trees whispered ancient secrets, leaves rustled softly under the weight of the breeze, and beams of light filtered through the thick canopy in broken shards. The warmth of the morning had faded into a blanket of soft humidity. Bokuro stood silently, his Script Book in hand, staring into the depths of the jungle.
He took his first step into the unknown.
"This doesn't seem challenging," he muttered to himself with a confident smirk. "I've trained harder than this with Father. A jungle? Hah. Just trees and bugs."
But the smirk faded.
He looked down at his blank page.
"So... how do I make my Anthem?" he asked aloud.
Silence.
The trees offered no answer. The birds kept chirping, unaware of the weight hanging on Bokuro's shoulders.
"What is an Anthem, anyway?" he muttered again, growing more frustrated. "A permanent script that represents me? That's so vague. How do you write something that defines your soul when you don't even fully know yourself yet?"
The silence grew heavier.
Bokuro sighed. "Oh, this is a problem."
---
The sun moved slowly through the sky as Bokuro wandered. Hours passed. He climbed over roots, ducked under hanging vines, and crossed narrow streams.
By the time the sky started to turn golden, hunger struck. His stomach growled, sharp and persistent. Bokuro placed his hand over it.
"Great. No Anthem and no food."
He began searching around, eyes scanning the ground for anything edible. After a few minutes, he stumbled upon a strange patch of mushrooms growing beneath the roots of a fallen tree.
There were four kinds:
Bright red with white spots
Yellow and long-stemmed
A wide green cap
Small and earthy brown
He knelt down and observed them.
"Okay... No idea which ones are poisonous," he said. "But I'm starving, and I've got no other choice."
He picked one of each type, carefully placing them in his small cloth pouch.
As he continued walking through the dense forest, he bit into the yellow one first.
"Tastes like... wet socks," he said, making a face.
He kept walking, nibbling on each mushroom, unsure if they'd help or hurt him. Thankfully, after ten minutes, he still felt okay.
Then his eyes caught something golden.
High up in the trees, clinging to a thick branch, was a nest full of honeycomb.
His eyes lit up.
"Jackpot!"
He climbed halfway up the tree, but just as he reached out to grab it, the buzzing started.
"Uh-oh..."
A swarm of angry bees burst from the nest and charged at him.
"GAHH!" he screamed, dropping to the ground.
The next two hours were a war — Bokuro vs. the bees.
He tried everything:
Covering himself in leaves
Smacking smoke with his jacket
Lighting dry twigs and waving them around
Finally, near sunset, he succeeded in generating enough smoke to make the bees scatter.
They didn't die instantly — Bokuro had dragged a rotting log over, lit moss on fire using sparks from striking his blade against rock, and used his jacket to fan the smoke. The bees, overwhelmed, either fled or perished.
Sweaty, swollen, and victorious, Bokuro took a massive bite from the honeycomb.
His face lit up like the moon.
"Heaven! I have found heaven!"
He licked his fingers and laughed like a child. His earlier frustration with the Anthem faded for a moment. He was just a hungry boy enjoying something sweet.
---
Meanwhile...
In another part of the forest, Nensudo stood before a tall tree. He tied his sleeves, cracked his knuckles, and punched the bark hard.
"I don't need no fancy spell to start," he grunted. "First, I make my fists stronger. Then the kicks. Then the rest."
He kept striking — over and over. The tree's surface slowly dented, and his hands bled. But he didn't stop.
---
Elsewhere, under a clear patch of sky, Kitsui stood with her Script unsheathed. Her blade, sleek and curved, pulsed with blue energy.
She narrowed her eyes, holding it in a calm stance.
SWOOSH! — She slashed the air, and a bright blue arc erupted from the edge of her script.
Her breath was steady.
Emotion: Courage.
Another slash. Another beam.
Emotion: Focus.
The script responded only when her emotions aligned with her intent. It was delicate work — more art than war.
But she was focused. Her heart was still.
---
Back to Bokuro
Now full of honey, Bokuro wiped his face and let out a long sigh.
"Okay... jungle food: handled."
He noticed the sky was now deep purple. Night was falling fast.
Looking around, he spotted a small, cave-like hollow between two tree roots. He ducked inside, placed his satchel down, and sat cross-legged.
"Time to make a fire."
He took out two flat stones from earlier, struck them together, and began creating sparks. Using dry grass, moss, and bark he had collected earlier, he caught a spark and gently blew air until it turned into a small flame.
He added dry twigs, then thicker sticks. Soon, a small fire crackled warmly before him.
Bokuro smiled. "Thanks, Master Yusugo... your wilderness training actually helped."
He reached into his pouch and pulled out one of the brown mushrooms. Holding it over the fire using a thin branch, he roasted it until the edges browned.
He sniffed it. "Smells edible."
He took a bite. It was chewy but not bad. He roasted two more and ate in silence.
When finished, he gathered a few stones and gently covered the fire's embers. Then he poured some dirt on top, stirring with a stick until it fully died out.
He lay down on the soft moss inside the hollow, arms folded under his head.
The stars twinkled outside.
His body was tired. His face was still swollen from the bee battle, but he smiled to himself.
"Day one... was something."
He closed his eyes.
> "The first Anthem is not just a spell. Not just a power."
"It is a lesson. A reflection. A memory forged in solitude."
"It is emotion, written in raw form. It is bravery, tested by silence."
"And for Bokuro... this is only the beginning."
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