Silence pressed down on the small room, thick enough to strangle. The only sound was the faint creak of the tatami mats as Sentarō shifted restlessly, his head cradled in both hands. His mind churned like a storm, a thousand thoughts crashing into each other with no order. Across from him, Ujiyuki sat quietly, chuckling under his breath at the boy's visible panic.
Sentarō suddenly shot to his feet, clutching his head as if he could squeeze the frustration out of his skull. His eyes were wide, frantic, raw.
"Damn it!" he shouted, the sound echoing against the wooden walls.
His breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling too fast. He dropped his gaze to the mat beneath his feet, the panic twisting deeper into his expression.
"If I had known sooner… if I had just known sooner, I would've trained harder. I would've pushed faster." His voice cracked between regret and desperation.
Ujiyuki finally rose, the old wood beneath him groaning as if it shared his weariness. He stepped closer, resting a steadying hand on Sentarō's trembling shoulder.
"Hey, kid. Relax," he said softly. His tone was calm, but it carried weight—an anchor to keep Sentarō from spiraling further.
"The exams are held every year. You can always try again after—"
"No way, Mr. Ujiyuki!" Sentarō snapped, cutting him off before he could finish. His head shot up, eyes locking onto the man with fiery resolve. His panic melted into something sharper, fiercer. "If I had known about the exams earlier, I would've taken them long ago. I want to take this year's exams!"
The fire in his words filled the room, making the silence afterward feel heavier than before.
Ujiyuki sighed quietly, rubbing his temple. He had seen this look before in many young men—burning with ambition, blind to their own limits. He gave Sentarō a hard stare, his voice cutting like steel.
"Sorry, kid. But you're not ready."
Sentarō froze, disbelief overtaking his face.
"What?!" His voice broke, carrying both anger and betrayal. "Why won't you let me? My training is enough!"
"That's exactly my point." Ujiyuki's tone was stern, unwavering. His eyes narrowed with something far heavier than disapproval. "You've been training for five years, and you still haven't finished. You need more time."
The words stung like a slap, but they weren't meant to belittle. Ujiyuki's expression wasn't one of scorn—it was of worry, carved deep into every line of his face. His sternness was born not from lack of faith, but from fear.
"The dangers of the police force entrance exam are greater than you can imagine," Ujiyuki continued, voice low but firm. "I can't bear to see you walk into your own—"
"I get it." Sentarō's voice cut through, sharp but steady. He straightened his back, forcing calm into his tone. "You're worried about me."
Ujiyuki blinked, momentarily caught off guard. The boy had always been hot-headed, yet here he was—grasping the heart of the matter with sudden clarity.
"But, Mr. Ujiyuki," Sentarō went on, his face shifting into something different from the reckless fire of moments ago. His gaze was steady, mature. "Now that I know the next step toward my dream, I can't back down. I have to take the exam."
The room seemed to still at his words. Ujiyuki studied the boy's face. This wasn't just childish rebellion—it was resolve, carved into him like steel sharpened over years. The worry in his chest didn't vanish, but it softened.
"Heh…" Ujiyuki let out a sigh that carried both amusement and resignation. He turned away, his mind churning with possibilities. After a pause, his eyes hardened with decision.
"Alright, kid. If you're this determined…" He walked to the entrance, sliding open the wooden door. Cold spring air slipped inside. "Then follow me. Bring your wooden sword."
Sentarō didn't hesitate. He snatched up the weapon leaning against the wall and hurried after his mentor.
The forest greeted them with cool air and the rustle of leaves. They walked in silence, the path lit only by the fading light of dusk. Wildflowers bloomed along the way, glowing faintly beneath the twilight sky. Sentarō's curiosity gnawed at him with every step.
Finally, he couldn't hold back. "Mr. Ujiyuki, aren't you going to tell me where we're going?"
"Just follow me, kid," came the vague reply. Ujiyuki's tone was unreadable, leaving Sentarō to stew in restless anticipation.
After what felt like forever, they reached a clearing deep within the forest. Trees ringed the space, their trunks bound together with ropes strung with countless small bells. The clearing had a quiet, strange weight to it, as if it held secrets.
Sentarō's eyes widened. "What… is this place? Why are we here?"
Ujiyuki turned to face him, his expression carved from stone.
"You're determined to take the exam. I can see that. But I'll allow it on one condition."
"A condition?" Sentarō tilted his head, confused.
"A test."
"A… test?" The word hung awkwardly in the air.
"Yes." Ujiyuki stepped closer, placing his hands firmly on Sentarō's shoulders. His gaze bore down on the boy like a weight. "If you pass my test, I'll allow you to take the exam."
Sentarō swallowed. His nerves steadied, his expression hardening into resolve.
"If that's what it takes, I'll do it."
"Good." Ujiyuki's voice was steady. "For your test, all you have to do is stay here until morning."
Sentarō blinked. He waited for more instructions. None came.
"That's… it? That's too easy."
"Exactly." Ujiyuki turned away, slipping under one of the bell ropes. "Since it's easy, you'll have no problem. I'll check on you in the morning."
Before Sentarō could argue, Ujiyuki disappeared into the forest, leaving the boy staring after him with his mouth slightly open.
Sentarō chuckled under his breath. "Stay until morning, huh? Super easy."
He walked to the center of the clearing, kneeling with his wooden sword resting at his side. He steadied his breathing, each inhale and exhale measured. The air cooled as night fell, the spring chill settling into his bones.
"Damn, it's cold," he muttered, wrapping his arms around himself. His teeth chattered before he remembered his training. Closing his eyes, he slowed his breathing, shifting it into deep, rhythmic waves. Heat bloomed faintly in his chest, spreading warmth through his limbs.
A grin tugged at his lips. "Heh. Worked like a charm. Too easy."
The hours ticked by. The forest grew darker, quieter. Yet as silence deepened, a faint sound broke through.
Jingle.
Sentarō's brow furrowed. He ignored it at first. Then another chime. Then another. The bells swayed in the night air, but only one direction carried the sound.
"Tch. Maybe a squirrel," he muttered, scanning the ropes. The bells closest to him were still. The sound was deeper in the trees.
His curiosity got the better of him. He rose, moving toward the noise. The jingling stopped as abruptly as it began.
When he arrived, his stomach sank. One of the ropes was shredded—not cleanly, but torn apart, fibers sticking out in jagged tufts.
His pulse quickened. "A squirrel… can't do this."
GROOOOAAAR!
The earth seemed to tremble as a massive grizzly bear burst from the shadows, its eyes gleaming, its fangs bared.
Sentarō froze. His body trembled, not just from the beast's presence but from a trauma long buried, clawing back into his mind. His grip tightened on his wooden sword, but his hands shook violently.
Far above, hidden in the branches of a tall tree, a figure sat cross-legged, dressed in a deep blue kimono. His gaze was sharp, calculating, as he watched the boy below.
"Alright, kid," the man muttered under his breath, his lips curling into a faint smile. "Let's see what you can do."