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 morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, though its warmth barely touched the room's corners. The events of the night before replayed in my mind: the beast, the crack, Satoshi, the soldiers. Each memory was sharper than the last, cutting into my thoughts.

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. Even so, Satoshi was right. This was my home. It gave me purpose, and for that, I was grateful.

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 cloth I’d found. I hesitated, pulling it out cautiously, ensuring no guards were around. The blue crest caught the light, its intricate patterns as mesmerizing as ever. I traced the lines with my fingers, but then a memory surfaced—the markings in the crack. Were they similar?

The realization hit me like a hammer strike. This wasn’t just a coincidence.

Later that afternoon, I slipped out of the forge, carefully avoiding the Overseers patrolling the streets. My heart pounded with every step, but the thought of meeting with Kaelan outweighed the risk.  The farther I moved from the forge, the more precise the divide in the kingdom became. 

Passing through the lower quarter, the air was heavy with the noise of labour. The clang of pickaxes and scraping of shovels filled my ears as Doro-ashi worked under the watchful eyes of the Overseers. Their bodies were bent and frail from exhaustion and malnourishment, mining and digging into the earth for ores. I tried not to stare, but it was hard to look away.  These were less fortunate than me and had no trade, resources, or shelter for their work. The forged was a sanctuary compared to them. And yet... was it really Or just a disguised cage?

By the time I reached the upper side of the kingdom, the oppressive air felt lighter, filled with the aroma of perfumes and oils being sold nearby. The streets were cleaner, and the noise was replaced by the chatter of merchants and buyers as soft melodies played on flutes and stringed instruments. 

The world felt entirely different here. Children ran through the streets, laughing as they played with small wooden toys or chased one another. People in fine tunics and robes strolled with an effortless grace, their smiles bright and carefree. Couples walked arm in arm, pausing to browse the market stalls for bolts of silk or trinkets.

 Everywhere I looked, there was colour—banners draped across the stalls, bright flowers arranged in clay pots, and vibrant patterns woven into the merchants’ fabrics.

It always felt almost unreal, like stepping into a story of fantasy. But as beautiful as it was, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of its indifference. These people didn’t spare a thought for the pits or forge labourers. Why would they?  The marketplace wasn’t a place for people like me—Doro-ashi weren’t meant to linger here or wander freely. Kaelan could move where he pleased and always chose the market for our meetings.

I spotted him near a stall selling silks. His arms crossed, he pretended to examine a piece of cloth. He glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of me, and motioned for me to follow him down a quieter alley.

When I reached him, Kaelan leaned against the wall, his expression uneasy. “Took you long enough. I thought they caught you,” he said,

I shrugged. “You worried about me, huh? Didn't think you cared that much.”

Kaelan hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “Look, last night… I should’ve said something. Done something. The way they treated Satoshi—it wasn’t right.”

I let out a sigh, shaking my head. “It’s not your fault, Kaelan. It's not like you could have changed their minds anyway.”

“No.” He frowned. “I stood just there and did nothing. I could’ve stopped it earlier.”

“You did what you could,” I said, though the memory of Satoshi’s humiliation still stung. “But if you’re feeling guilty, maybe you can help me with something.”

Kaelan raised an eyebrow. “Help you with what?”

I pulled the cloth from my pocket and handed it to him. 

He turned it over, “The cloth from the woods. What about it?”

“The patterns,” I said. “They’re the same as the markings I saw in the crack last night.”

Kaelan squinted at the cloth, tracing the faint design with his fingers. “You’re serious?”

“I’m sure of it,” I said. “I need to see it again. To figure out what it means.”

“Renjiro, you can't be serious? After what happened last night, do you want to go back? You saw what’s out there—what nearly killed us. And after everything with Satoshi…”

“I have to,” I interrupted. I need to be sure I saw what I saw. I can’t explain it, but I need to go.”

Kaelan glanced around the alley, then leaned closer. “You’re going to get yourself killed. Or worse. If anyone finds out we’re sneaking out again, you know what they’ll do.”

“I know. But I have to do this.”

Kaelan chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible, you know that?” He shoved the cloth back into my hands. “Fine. I’ll go with you. But if we run into that thing again, you're alone."