They were given a place to sit.
Not chairs.
Not beds.
A stretch of flat stone near the edge of the clearing where no one bothered to look at them directly—but everyone could see them if they wanted to.
Isamu dropped down first, landing hard on the rock. "I hate this."
Aiden sat a moment later. "You hate most things."
"I hate being watched quietly," Isamu said. "If you're gonna threaten me, at least commit."
No one answered him.
The injured man accepted a canteen from Aiden, took a cautious sip—and immediately made a face.
"…Why does it taste like a coin?"
Aiden tried it next. He paused, swallowed once, then handed it back. "Because it probably touched one."
Isamu grabbed it without hesitation and took a long gulp.
Instant regret.
He coughed, doubled over, nearly dropping the canteen. "That's not water. That's a bad decision."
A figure nearby glanced over.
Isamu froze mid-cough.
The figure stared for a second, expression unreadable… then turned away and continued walking.
Isamu lowered the canteen slowly. "I think I just insulted their hospitality."
"They didn't offer it to you," Aiden said.
"That makes it worse."
The injured man shifted. "At least they didn't kick us out."
"Yet," Isamu muttered.
A long silence followed. The outpost moved around them with quiet efficiency. No one hurried. No one lingered.
Aiden watched it all—the way people stepped aside for certain individuals, how conversations stopped when specific figures passed.
Order without noise.
Isamu leaned closer, voice low. "You notice nobody's arguing?"
Aiden nodded. "They already lost those arguments."
Isamu sighed and leaned back, staring at the sky. "So we're not prisoners."
"No."
"Not guests."
"No."
"…We're tolerated."
Aiden stood. "For now."
Isamu glanced up at him. "You ever think about how bad that sounds?"
Aiden didn't smile—but something close flickered across his face.
"All the time."
End of Chapter 20.5