"You're limping," Lysara said as she slid into step beside him, boots crunching against gravel and charred debris. The air was still thick with the remnants of last night's raid, the acrid scent of gunpowder mixing with salt and morning dew.
Kazuha glanced at his leg, then kept walking. "It's nothing."
"You took a spear to the thigh," she said, arching a brow as if waiting for him to admit something even remotely human. "That qualifies as something."
"It glanced off," he replied evenly. "Missed the artery."
"Yeah? And how's the pain?"
"Manageable."
Lysara gave a soft snort. "You're a terrible patient."
Kazuha paused at the corner of a narrow alley, peering down toward the harbor where a crowd was beginning to gather. Most were townspeople—dockhands, merchants, a few shell-shocked children standing too close to their mothers—but at the center of it all was a wooden platform hastily erected from ship planks and crates.
Atop it stood a man in chains. Lieutenant Marq, Dorin's second-in-command.
He looked less like a soldier and more like a drunk merchant—bloated, sweating, and trying to pass his fear off as indignation.
Lysara followed Kazuha's gaze. "The people want him dead."
"He's not even pretending to deny it," Kazuha said, voice flat.
"Still… you planning to be the executioner again?"
He didn't answer right away. His eyes narrowed as he watched a child pick up a stone and hurl it toward the stage. It missed, but others soon followed.
"He deserves it," someone shouted.
"Hang him!"
"Kill him like he killed the captives!"
Marq's bravado cracked. He tried to speak, but the words came out garbled, broken by fear. "I-I didn't… I just followed orders!"
"Exactly," someone yelled back. "Orders to sell people!"
Kazuha stepped forward, and as he did, the crowd fell into an uneasy hush.
No one spoke his name, but his presence had already become enough. The sword at his side, the expression that never changed—it all spoke louder than any reputation.
Lysara followed, her arms crossed but her eyes watching him carefully. "So? What's the call?"
"I want the truth," Kazuha said.
He approached the platform and looked up at Marq, who was now shaking openly.
"I can't… I didn't mean for it to go that far!" the man stammered. "I was just—Captain Dorin—he threatened me! Said he'd ship me off to Impel Down if I didn't sign the ledgers!"
"You ran the manifests," Kazuha said, voice calm. "You categorized the slaves. Weapons. Age brackets. Physical strength. You turned people into cargo."
Marq's knees buckled. "I didn't have a choice—"
"You always have a choice."
The crowd stirred, murmurs growing, but Kazuha held up a hand without turning. The gesture alone was enough to silence them.
"What would you do to someone like you?" he asked, stepping onto the platform.
Marq's face twisted. "What?"
"If you were me," Kazuha said, voice a quiet blade. "Standing here. With power. With a sword. Looking at yourself, knowing what you did. What would you do?"
Marq's lips trembled. Then, finally, he whispered, "I'd kill me."
Kazuha reached up and, to everyone's shock, cut the chains—not the man.
Marq fell to the floor with a thud, unable to comprehend what was happening.
"You'll stand trial," Kazuha said. "Real trial. Not this."
Angry shouts erupted from the crowd.
Lysara leaned close, muttering under her breath, "You sure about this? They're going to hate you for it."
Kazuha's voice was steady. "They need to remember what justice actually looks like. Not vengeance."
Someone threw a rock. It struck the edge of the platform, scattering wood chips.
"You let him live, he'll run!"
"We want blood!"
Kazuha turned. His gaze swept across the crowd—not furious, not emotional, but heavy, commanding. "You're rebuilding a town, not a prison. You want it to mean something, or you want it to burn again next week when the next monster comes wearing a different coat?"
A long silence followed.
Then, slowly, people began to back away. No applause. No praise.
But no more stones.
By the time the sun dipped toward the horizon, Kazuha was already at the shoreline, watching the tide roll in with a distant gaze. He stood with his arms loose at his sides, shoulders tense but not tired.
Lysara arrived a few minutes later, her rifle strapped across her back, boots kicking loose sand as she approached.
"You keep choosing the hard way," she said, standing beside him. "Even when no one thanks you for it."
"Not doing it for thanks."
"I know. That's what scares me," she said with a half-smile. "People like you usually break sooner or later."
"I'll deal with it when I do."
Lysara looked at him for a moment, then shook her head. "You should rest. Your leg's still bleeding."
"I've had worse."
"I'm serious," she said. "And don't give me that stoic lone-wolf crap. You're not indestructible."
He glanced sideways. "That concern I hear?"
"No," she said, too fast. Then added, quieter, "Maybe a little."
For the first time in a while, Kazuha let out something that might've been a chuckle. Brief. Dry. But real.
"Thanks," he said.
Lysara blinked. "Did you just say thank you?"
He started walking. "Don't get used to it."
A figure stepped from the shadows near the base of the cliff road, wrapped in a dark cloak stitched with crimson thread. The stranger had been watching since dawn, careful to stay out of sight.
He whispered a name under his breath, lips curling into a quiet smile. "So the rumors were true. He's here."
Then he turned and vanished into the forest.
"System Sync: 51%."
"Karma Event Completed: Path of Mercy – Public Distrust Gained / Internal Growth Achieved."
New Skill Unlocked: Shunko – Thunder Veil (Active)
Description: Amplifies user's speed and force through condensed spiritual pressure. Produces static pulses during movement and combat, enhancing Flash Step and precision strikes.
"Bond Status Updated: Lysara Affection – 36%."
"New Companion Trait Activated – Tactician's Insight: Minor bonus to enemy detection and tactical engagement when partnered."
That night, Kazuha leaned against a driftwood pillar beneath a canopy of stars, eyes half-lidded, listening to the sea. The katana rested across his lap, no longer just a weapon, but something more—a presence that responded now to emotion, to silence, even to the smallest shift in thought.
He still didn't know what name it would take. But he could feel it coming, piece by piece.
And somewhere in the distance, the winds began to shift.
*********
Hey everyone! I'll be dropping an extra 1 chapter once we hit 200, 400 power stones! If you're enjoying the story, don't forget to spend some power stones. I'd really appreciate the support. Thanks a bunch!