The sun is warm.
It doesn't burn. It doesn't bother. It simply caresses.
A light breeze dances through the tall grass, and birds trace circles in a clear blue sky. If I had to name the most beautiful thing in the universe... it would be this. No war. No noise. Just peace pure and silent.
Lying beneath this great tree, I feel calm. I can stretch out on the ground and close my eyes, listening to the heartbeat of the world... and mine, in sync.
It's been a long time since I felt this. A long time since I felt... anything.
—Yaiba.
—Yaiba.
—Father.
—Yaiba.
A voice calls me from behind. Feminine. Gentle at first. I turn slowly.
I see a figure. No... two.
A violet-haired woman, walking hand in hand with a small boy. Their faces are blurred by the light, but their steps are steady. They approach.
The child smiles. The woman speaks:
—Let's go home... Yaiba.
—Yaiba...
—Yaiba...
Her voice changes. No longer soft.
Deeper. Real. Annoying. I know that voice.
—Yaiba...
CLANG!
I feel the impact before I understand what happened. Pain explodes in my skull, my vision trembles like an earthquake.
—Old Yang! I yell, still half-asleep.
—Let me sleep five more minutes, old man!
—Five more minutes and I'll wake you up with my Super Grandpa Punch instead of throwing a bottle at you, brat! grumbles a hoarse voice.
—It's past noon! You weren't born to dream. Your brother chose to serve with the Sacred Knights of the realm, and you chose to stay here and help me tend the bar. So get up and open!
I rub my head. A shattered bottle beside me still drips with water. Through the window, the sky is no longer blue. No birds. No peace. Just gray clouds.
And Old Yang's cursed face glaring at me with a deep frown.
—Welcome back to reality, Yaiba, he mutters.
—I wonder how Elliot's doing. If he were here, he'd already be up, cooking breakfast, and opening the bar.
—Yaiba, before you open, remember to take the garbage out to the edge of town.
—Yeah, yeah... I know, Old Yang.
I throw on a wrinkled shirt, grab the trash sacks that stink worse than the old man's drunk jokes, and head downstairs.
The bar is empty, save for some crooked bottles and chairs still flipped over the tables.
Out back, the air is dry. Heavy. The gray sky looks like it's always been that way. I can't remember the last time I truly felt the sun. Maybe only in dreams.
The streets are quiet. Some houses still lie in ruins from the last quake. Others look like patched-up ghosts of homes. Kids play with empty bottles, racing through rubble like they've never known another kind of childhood. Old folks sit outside, eyes fixed on the sky, as if waiting for something... or someone.
You'd think this town reflects the state of the world. But not quite.
Alacrya is five days from the central kingdom, Fuji. And we've earned ourselves a bad reputation. Adventurers, mercenaries, even the occasional demon stop here to resupply food, weapons, or... people. So the king punished us. I don't even blame the adventurers. Weapons here are dirt cheap. If they don't kill their prey instantly, an infection will handle the rest. No one really knows where these weapons come from or how they were made.
Walking down the main road, I realize: nothing's changed.
Deserted. Only old asphalt scars remain. Traces of a past no one dares to name.
Far ahead, a billboard advertises a drink that probably expired a century ago.
Old Yang once told Elliot and me that he tried it as a kid—only to spend three days vomiting with intestinal failure.
You might be wondering: Who is Old Yang?, Why does he have stories like that?
Well… I'll tell you. Since he'll probably show up soon anyway.
Old Yang used to be a Sacred Knight. They say he was once entrusted with the anti demon sword Archangel Miguel wielded against Lucifer. He's lived through many battles and every time, he ended up confessing his love at Artemis' temple. I doubt that part.
He left that life behind when his son died. Yang and I share no blood, but he found me once wrapped in a blanket, starving in a bag and decided to raise me. Since then, he and Elliot became my family.
Elliot is his only grandson. People called him the heir of Yang's blessing. We trained with the sword for years. He was a natural like he'd done it all before. Me? I just got in trouble... and laughed every time he shouted out the names of his moves like an anime character.
Eventually I asked Yang to stop forcing me to train. I didn't want to fight. I just wanted to lie in bed and curse the twisted world I live in.
Elliot was always better. Always brighter. But I... never felt like doing anything. Not training. Not even talking to people.
I reach the dumpster. Drop the bags. Stand there for a while.
—I need to stop talking to myself. People might think I'm crazy...
I sigh.
From this small hill, I can see it. The edge of the world. The tallest mountain.
Mount Fuji.
During the Great War, they say all the angels descended there. A divine place.
The place where everything began.
Every time I look at it... I feel like it's looking back.
—Tsk... damn mountain... I mutter.
I walk back to the bar, hands in my pockets, head still half asleep. The town remains the same: slow, silent, trapped between memories and ruins.
As I turn the corner near the entrance, I see something unusual:
A Fuji Kingdom transport. An armored vehicle with golden emblems drives off down the dirt road, kicking up dust behind it.
Strange to see them around here…
I keep walking but halfway down the road, I feel it.
A sharp pain in my chest. Stabbing.
As if something inside me just slammed shut.
I stop. Breathe. Place my hand over my heart.
—Tsk... what the hell...
The pain fades as quickly as it came. But the feeling remains.
Back at the bar, Old Yang is sweeping the front. His shoulders are slouched more than usual.
He doesn't speak. Just nods and walks inside.
I follow him. The day drags on. Dirty glasses. Half-eaten plates. Drunken fools.
Nothing out of the ordinary... Except for the old man's silence.
No scolding. No bottle throwing. No complaining. No drinking with his friends.
Just cleaning. Like he's not really here.
I try to ignore it, but the look in his eyes eats at me.
We serve cheap beer and mop up vomit until the clock reads 4:12 a.m. I close the last door, kill the lights, and slump over the bar. The old man's already gone to the back room. Or so I think.
Until I notice something on the floor a crumpled letter has fallen from his apron.
I pick it up. The envelope bears the seal of the Fuji Kingdom.
My stomach twists. I tear it open. My hands begin to tremble.
"...During the confrontation on the border of the Xochira Kingdom, the squad led by Knight Elliot was intercepted by hostile forces, including high-level entities associated with the so-called Angels of Desolation. As of yet, his whereabouts are unknown. As his only family, you are advised to remain calm. The realm's forces are working to locate him..."
The words blur. The paper falls. The pain in my chest returns stronger.
As if something was being ripped from me. Something I didn't know I still had.
I storm into the old man's room. He's seated in his chair, staring at the floor. Like he already knew.
My hands shake. The letter is crushed in my fist.
—Why didn't you tell me!? Why, Old Yang?! Elliot is my brother!
He looks up slowly, each second heavy as years.
—They were going to confirm later... he mutters.
—I didn't want to burden you without a definitive answer.
—Definitive answer?! My voice cracks.
—You thought hiding something like this was better?! Elliot could be... dead! Or worse!
Yang rises with effort, walking that slow, stubborn gait of his.
—I didn't want to see you break again, Yaiba.
—After Mount Fuji... after everything you've already carried, I thought you couldn't handle more.
—It's not your decision! You're not my father!
—And yet I was the only one there when you had no one, brat!
Silence.
That sentence hits harder than anything else.
—I... I try to speak, but nothing comes.
—You knew that Elliot—though not my blood—was all I had left. The only one who
—He was my grandson too, damn it. I lost him too.
—But you... you never wanted to see that he chose his path. Just like you chose to stay here with me.
—Because someone had to!
—Because I got tired of watching everyone leave... and never come back!
—And now... now I don't even have him!
My eyes burn, but I don't cry. Not here. Not in front of him.
I turn. Walk out. Say nothing. I don't want to hear his voice. I don't want to feel he's right.
I just want to run.
And so I do.
I race down the stairs, through the dark, nearly stumbling.
I slam open the bar's door fueled by rage, pain... and something else I can't name.
And I run.
The streets are empty. As if the world knows not to interfere.
Streetlights flicker. Stray dogs look away.
My chest aches. Not like a wound. Not like a bruise.
It's something deeper. Something breaking.
As I sprint up the hill eyes foggy, throat burning the words come out:
—So this... So this is what they call sadness?
My voice shakes. I can barely breathe.
I never understood it before. Never felt it this way.
Real sadness.
Not the kind you imagine the kind that steals your breath. That leaves you with nothing but anger and memory.
I don't know why I came here the hill where I toss the trash every morning but this time... I collapse.
Fall to my knees. Hands trembling.
And finally... I cry.
Not like a child. Not like a hero. But like a brother.
A brother who couldn't protect the only thing he had left.
My fists pound the dry earth over and over until I have nothing left.
I look up.
There it is.
The sacred mountain.
The symbol of our faith.
—Damn you! I scream.
—Damn you, Mount Fuji!
You took everything from me!
You mock me every day!
Every damn day!
My scream is swallowed by the wind.
But the echo lingers.
Because the mountain doesn't answer.
It doesn't have to.
It just stands there. Watching me. As if it knows...
It's not over.
My screams fade. The night is cold. But I no longer care.
My body is heavy. My soul, heavier.
Tears keep falling. Pain. Rage. Exhaustion. I can't tell the difference anymore.
I lie beside the dumpster.
Staring at the gray sky.
Eyes burning. Heart aching.
Little by little, crying turns into silence... And silence, into sleep.
I don't know how much time passes. But in the dark, I hear a voice.
Not shouting. Not demanding.
Just calling.
—Go get him...
It's deep. Calm. I don't know if it's real. If it's Elliot. If it's the mountain. If I'm losing my mind.
But I know one thing: I must follow it. I open my eyes slowly. The sky is beginning to lighten. A faint golden glow touches the horizon. And for just a second... Mount Fuji shines.
Not as mockery. Not as a threat.
But as a sign.
I stare at that broken silhouette. That gap in the world.
And for the first time in a long time...
I smile.
—Then so be it...
I rise.
Brush the dust from my pants.
The pain remains.
But it's no longer the only thing I feel.
Now...
There is also Will.
I begin the walk back to town.
The first rays of sunlight kiss the ground beneath my feet.
The air smells like cold earth... like beginnings... like the road ahead.
But what I don't know...
...is that in the distance, in the shadows of an abandoned structure...
...someone is watching me.
Not moving. Not speaking.
Just watching me...
As if waiting.
And so, Yaiba's journey begins.