Eventually, we reached the gates to the kingdom. I thought we made it back unnoticed, but then came the sharp clang of armour and footsteps heading our way.

"Halt!"

Three soldiers, wearing lacquered chest plates and helmets, reflected the moonlight. Their blades rested at their sides, reinforcing their unyielding authority. One was tall, with a scar sliced across his cheek. His faded haori was marked with the orange crest of the kingdom.

"Out for a midnight stroll, I see. How did you get past the gate, and why aren't you in your quarters?" he said with a snarl.

Satoshi quickly stepped in front of us, bowing low. " Please. Forgive us. The boys were curious, and I failed to guide them properly. It won't happen again."

The soldier titled his head, "Failed, did you? I assume you know what the cost of failure is, kajiya?"

Satoshi snapped, hearing the soldier say, "They're children. They don’t know any better, so there’s no reason to punish them for this."

"Are you talking back to me, doro-ashi?"

The insult was like a slap. Doro-ashi—“mud feet.” A slur used for those at the bottom of the kingdom.

"No, sir. I wouldn't—"

The soldier stepped forward and struck him with the hilt of his blade. The impact sent Satoshi staggering, but he didn't fall. His fists were clenched at his sides, yet he said nothing.

"Stop it!" I shouted, stepping forward, but another soldier grabbed me by the collar and elbowed my jaw, pinning me to the ground.

The soldier drove the hilt of his katana into Satoshi’s ribs again and again, each strike landing with a wet, sickening thud like something inside him was shifting with every blow. He gasped sharply, wheezing as if each strike was squeezing the life from his lungs. His hand trembled as it moved toward his mouth, covering it like he was holding something back. I froze, staring at him. Why is he doing that?

"Get up," the soldier barked. But Satoshi didn't move fast enough. The soldier grabbed him by the hair and threw him to the dirt, placing a boot on the side of his head and grinding it into the soil.

"Look at you," he sneered with mockery. "kajiya, who can't even control his apprentice? Do you think that title makes you worth anything? Look at you squealing in the dirt. That's all you are. Say it. Say you're dirt."

He pressed harder with his boot, forcing Satoshi's face further into the dirt.

I Locked eyes with him, but the words I expected never came. His eyes were heavy with pain, yet he stayed silent.

"say it."

Satoshi's hand dropped from his mouth. His voice was soft and shameful: "I... I'm dirt."

The soldier leaned closer, his grin widening. "Let your apprentice hear you."

"I'm dirt," he said.

Anger went through me as my nails dug into my palms. I would fight back, but I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything.

Finally, the soldier stepped back, removed his boot, and sheathed his katana with a satisfying sneer. "Good. Keep your doro-ashi in line. Or next time, I might not be so generous."

The soldiers turned away, disappearing into the shadows. I rushed to Satoshi's side, kneeling beside him. "can you stand?"

He groaned, "I'll be fine."

“You’re not fine,” I whispered, “This is my fault. If I hadn’t—”

“Don’t,” Satoshi interrupted. His voice was firm despite his injuries. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

Behind me, Kaelan stood frozen, uneased. He didn’t intervene, shout, or demand the soldiers stop. He simply watched. He could have done something, or maybe he was torn between the safety his status afforded him and the brutality unfolding before his eyes. 

 I slid my arm under him to help him up. But my mind wouldn’t stop replaying the moment—how he covered his mouth like he feared what might come out—the look in his eyes.

“Why did you cover your mouth?” I asked softly.

Satoshi didn’t answer. He leaned heavily on me as we walked; his silence was louder than any words he could have spoken.

The next morning, the image still haunted me. That moment. The way he clutched his mouth was like something was breaking inside him.

It wasn’t just pain.

It was fear.

Fear of what?

Footsteps approached. I looked up as Satoshi entered, his expression weary but calmer than it had been. His arm and torso were bandaged, though he didn’t seem slowed by the injury. He sat across from me, lowering himself into the chair. Neither of us spoke at first. Then, with a deep sigh, he broke the silence.

“You scared me last night, Renjiro.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “I—”

“I know you’re curious,” he continued, holding a hand to stop me. “You’ve always been that way. Always wanting to see what’s beyond the mountains. But the world isn’t what you think it is. It’s dangerous. Unforgiving. You saw that yourself.”

I nodded, guilt settling in my chest. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” Satoshi interrupted, “And I’m not here to scold you. But you need to understand something, Renjiro. This place… it’s safe. It’s your home. And it gives us purpose. The forge, the people—we serve the kingdom, and that’s how we survive. Everything you need is here.”

His words weighed on me, but they didn’t silence the restlessness gnawing at my thoughts. “Safe? Purpose? Was it purpose when they forced you to the ground and made you call yourself dirt?"

Satoshi hesitated, his jaw tightening. “That’s how it is, Renjiro. This is our way of life. What we do here, the work we put in, it matters. It keeps people fed, armed, and protected. Without it, we’d have nothing.”

I leaned forward, “But what if there’s more out there? Everyone here… accepts this. They don’t even question if there’s something beyond these mountains. Something better.”

Satoshi leaned back, “Maybe there is, but it’s not for us to find. Dedicate yourself to the craft. Help the people who need you and care for you. That’s your role. That’s how you make your life mean something.”

Satoshi looked at me for a long moment before standing. The chair scraped against the floor as he pushed it back. “I need to clear my head for a bit. Head over to the forge before any Overseers come for inspections.”

As he left the room, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. The guilt still weighed heavily on my chest, but it didn’t silence the questions. No matter how hard I tried, that restless spark refused to die. 

As I entered the forge, the rhythmic clang of hammers against anvils filled the air. Apprentices moved about, their focus unwavering as they shaped steel into tools and weapons. I headed to my station as the forge's heat wrapped around me like an old, familiar coat.

I picked up the hammer, letting its weight settle in my hand. The half-formed blade from yesterday lay on the anvil, its edges rough and unrefined. With a deep breath, I raised the hammer and brought it down, sparks dancing.

I set the hammer down, stepping back from the anvil. My hand moved instinctively to my pocket, brushing against the blue cloth I’d found. I hesitated, pulling it out cautiously, ensuring no guards were around. I stared at it, tracing its edges. My fingers tingled like I grabbed something hot, but when I pulled back, there was nothing. No burns. No wounds. Just that strange, fleeting warmth.

I exhaled, gripping the cloth tighter. What was this?

I ran my fingers over the fabric and then my mind raced. It wasn’t just similar to the markings in the crack—it was the same. The same flowing script. The same symbols, like they were calling out to me. The pit in my stomach tightened. This wasn’t a coincidence.