Kibo lay still, feigning sleep, his breath shallow and steady. From the shadows, a figure slipped forward—a boy no older than seventeen, dressed like a feudal peasant. His clothes were worn and patched, and a bow hung across his back with a quiver full of arrows. His eyes flickered with desperation as he scanned the dim hut.
He spotted Kibo lying there and slowly notched an arrow, aiming it straight at the sleeping boy's chest.
Then his gaze shifted. Near Kibo, wrapped carefully in leaves, was a small bundle of food.
The boy's instinct urged him closer—the arrow would lose its edge if fired from afar now.
Silent and cautious, he crept forward, reaching for the food.
Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down.
Kibo's eyes snapped open.
"Who are you? Where did you come from?" he demanded, pinning the boy firmly to the ground.
The boy remained silent.
Kibo tightened his grip, but the boy smirked, wriggled free, and grabbed his bow again. He aimed an arrow at Kibo.
Without hesitation, Kibo drew a crimson sword and pressed the blade near the boy's throat.
"Name," Kibo said coldly.
The boy met his gaze. "Hiroshi."
"And yours"
Hiroshi laughed. "Deaf, are you? Why are you here?"
Kibo's voice was low and steady. "I don't know. I just woke up here."
Hiroshi's eyes narrowed. "Same here. And I keep seeing creatures I've never seen before."
He glanced at the food. "How did you find that?"
"I killed one of those creatures," Kibo answered, jaw tight.
Hiroshi's face twisted with disgust. "Gross."
He eyed Kibo again, hunger and suspicion mixing in his stare. "You got extra food?"
Kibo hesitated but couldn't afford distrust alone in this strange land. He tossed the food toward Hiroshi. "Stay with me. It'll be easier."
Hiroshi grinned sharp and cold. "I'll betray you the first chance I get."
Kibo met his eyes. "So will I."
They circled each other like wary predators, both waiting for the other to slip.
Before they could strike, Hiroshi asked again, "What's your name?"
Kibo answered quietly.
Outside, the night sky shimmered with silent stars—watching their uneasy alliance take shape.
The next morning, they walked through a forest unlike anything they had seen before.
The trees stood tall and golden, their bark smooth and spiraling upward like coiled metal. Leaves shimmered with strange colors—neither green nor gold, but something in between. It didn't feel magical or sacred.
It felt alien.
Everywhere, strange yokai roamed—horned lizards the size of dogs, floating jellyfish-like shapes, and pale, eyeless birds that perched in total silence. None of it felt real.
"You sure these aren't mountain creatures?" Kibo asked.
Hiroshi shook his head. "Never seen anything like this in my life."
As they moved deeper into the woods, a herd of deer suddenly sprinted across their path, vanishing into the brush.
Kibo tensed. "Shoot one."
But Hiroshi didn't draw his bow. He stared past the trees. "No. Something else is coming."
They ducked behind a nearby rock.
A hulking figure emerged from the tree line—gray-blue skin, long limbs, and a single, massive eye. A Hitotsume Kozo.
It limped after the deer but failed to catch them. Its leg was wounded. It looked exhausted. Starving.
"Let's go around," Hiroshi said.
Kibo stopped him. "It's blocking the path. If we swim across the lake, we'll probably be ambushed underwater. This is the only clear route."
Hiroshi hesitated. "It's a yokai. A big one."
"It's limping. We take it together. Follow my lead."
They quickly set up a plan. Kibo stepped out into the open and yelled.
The Hitotsume Kozo turned and charged.
Even when it was limping it moved too fast.
It caught Kibo in one motion, lifting him off the ground with shocking speed and force.
"Hiroshi!" Kibo screamed, thrashing in its grip.
Hiroshi emerged from behind the rock, bow drawn. He aimed for the eye—then froze.
The yokai's voice echoed in the clearing: "Hungry…"
It sounded pitiful. Childlike.
Hiroshi's hands trembled. His eyes were somewhere far away, locked in a memory.
"Hiroshi, shoot it!" Kibo screamed.
The boy blinked, coming back to his senses. He loosed the arrow—it struck the yokai's eye.
The cyclops wailed.
Kibo twisted with all his strength and stabbed his crimson sword into its chest. Thick black ooze spilled from the wound as it fell backward, twitching once, then going still.
Kibo stood over it, panting. He turned to Hiroshi, furious.
"You almost let it kill me," he growled, grabbing Hiroshi by the collar. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
But Hiroshi looked blank. Haunted. He didn't respond.
That night, they rested under a slanted, thorny tree. Kibo slept with one eye open.
In the dead of night, Hiroshi rose again—quietly tiptoeing toward the food stash.
Kibo grabbed him mid-step. "Again?!"
He slammed him to the ground, pinning him hard.
"Why are you like this?!" he shouted. "Why are you so damn selfish?!"
Hiroshi gasped, struggling under the weight of Kibo's forearm pressed to his throat.
His lips moved weakly.
"…for my family…"