Stillness swallowed the market.
The air felt heavy, unmoving, as though even the wind was afraid to stir. Villagers stood frozen in place, their expressions locked between disbelief and dread as they stared at the aftermath of what had just unfolded before them. Crushed stalls. Unconscious men. Broken weapons scattered across the ground.
The order had been clear—do not engage.
Yet Sentarō, Tadatoshi, and Reiko had ignored it completely. They had chosen action over obedience, conscience over command. Whether that choice would cost them later no longer mattered. In that moment, they had done what they believed was right.
Reiko stood apart from the others, unmoving. Her gaze remained fixed on the fallen men sprawled across the dirt. Slowly, she knelt beside one of them, her eyes narrowing as she studied the exposed skin on his shoulder.
A tattoo.
Her breath caught.
She shifted to another man. Then another.
Each one bore the same mark.
A lotus flower.
Her fingers curled slightly as unease crawled up her spine. "Something feels… off," she muttered, her voice barely audible. A cold sensation settled in her chest, instinct screaming at her that this wasn't a coincidence.
She quickly scanned the area for the last attacker—the one who had been sent flying into the stall.
He was gone.
Reiko's eyes widened. Her heart skipped. "Sentarō! Tadatoshi!" she shouted, springing to her feet. "One of them escaped!"
Sentarō was still kneeling beside the elderly man, carefully checking him for injuries. His movements were gentle, his expression focused entirely on the old man's well-being. Tadatoshi, meanwhile, paced back and forth a short distance away, irritation radiating from him as he muttered angrily under his breath—still clearly fuming over Sentarō stepping into his fight.
At Reiko's words, both of them froze.
"What?" Tadatoshi snapped, spinning around. "What do you mean one escaped?"
"Why are you asking me?" Reiko shot back, her frustration flaring. "I wasn't the one who sent him crashing into a stall!"
The tension spiked instantly.
"Enough," Sentarō said calmly, standing up and stepping between them. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried authority. "This isn't the time or place for that."
Tadatoshi clicked his tongue. "Tch."
Reiko exhaled sharply, forcing herself to calm down.
Sentarō turned back to the old man, determination steady in his eyes. "It's good to see that you're alright, sir."
"Yes… yes," the old man replied, still clutching the wooden carving tightly to his chest. His hands trembled, but his smile was genuine. "Thank you, young man."
Sentarō helped him carefully to his feet. "It was nothing," he said softly. "Ignoring someone in need would've been wrong." His gaze flicked briefly to the destroyed stall, his expression darkening. "I'm sorry we couldn't protect your goods."
The old man shook his head. "Don't say that. You saved my life. That alone is worth more than fruit or coins." He bowed deeply.
Sentarō panicked instantly. "Sir, please—there's no need for that!" He waved his hands frantically. "We were just doing our jobs as police force samurai."
"Doing your job?" a sharp voice cut in. "Do you really expect us to believe that?"
Sentarō, Tadatoshi, and Reiko turned toward the voice.
Standing a short distance away was a small girl with bright red hair tied loosely behind her head. She wore a green kimono decorated with yellow flower patterns, dirt smudged along the hem. Her eyes burned with hostility far too intense for someone her age.
"Huh?" Tadatoshi scoffed. "And who's this brat supposed to be?"
The girl glared at him. "Why the hell would I tell a rotten police officer anything?"
"Oharu," the old man said, surprised. "You're back."
"Don't say my name to rotten police officers, old man!" she snapped.
Reiko frowned. "And how do you know her?"
"She's my granddaughter," the old man said, smiling faintly.
Oharu shot him a sharp look. "What did I just say?"
"Don't worry," the old man replied gently. "They're kind officers."
"Kind?" Reiko muttered under her breath.
"Old man, you trust people too easily—" Oharu stopped mid-sentence.
Her gaze drifted across the market. The overturned stalls. The unconscious men. The villagers watching in silence.
Rage twisted her face.
Sentarō noticed immediately. This isn't the first time, he realized.
"Oharu," he said softly, "you don't need to worry. We took care of the men who attacked your grandfather."
He reached out, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.
SMACK!!
The sound echoed.
Sentarō recoiled in shock as Oharu slapped his hand away with startling force.
"You didn't take care of anything!" she screamed, tears spilling down her face. "If you rotten police force samurai did your jobs from the beginning, this wouldn't keep happening!"
Her voice cracked as she continued. "Now we have to fix the stall again. Again!"
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Murmurs rose from the villagers. Then shouts.
"That's right!" someone yelled. A stone flew through the air.
Another followed.
"You only help when it's convenient!"
Stones rained toward them, fueled by anger and resentment.
Sentarō, Tadatoshi, and Reiko drew their swords—not to attack, but to deflect. Metal rang as stones were knocked aside. One flew dangerously close to the old man and Oharu, only to be intercepted midair by Sentarō's blade.
"Damn it!" Tadatoshi growled. "Why are they throwing stones at us?!"
"It doesn't matter," Sentarō said sharply. "We're leaving."
Without hesitation, he lifted the old man effortlessly with one arm. Tadatoshi grabbed Oharu, hoisting her under his arm as she struggled fiercely.
"Put me down!" she screamed.
They fled.
No one chased them.
After putting some distance between themselves and the market, they arrived in a quieter part of Sakurahara. Sentarō set the old man down gently. Tadatoshi released Oharu, who immediately spun on him.
"How dare you touch us!" she yelled.
"Huh? I just saved your life, you little brat!" Tadatoshi barked back.
"Tadatoshi," Reiko sighed. "She's a kid."
He froze—then looked away, embarrassed.
Sentarō crouched in front of the old man. "Are you truly alright, sir?"
"Yes," he replied kindly. "Thanks to you."
Relief washed over Sentarō.
"Enough," Oharu said suddenly, her voice cold. "Leave us alone."
The hatred in her eyes was real.
Too real.
Sentarō felt it.
Whatever the police force had done… it ran deep.
And the deeper he looked, the darker it became.