Akitsu Shouga did not linger.

  The moment the duel ended and the chief turned away, Akitsu slipped back into motion—quiet, careful, weight returned to his bones all at once. Exhaustion hit him like a delayed wound. His steps felt heavier than before, his shoulders tight, his breathing shallow.

  Seraphine Orion floated beside him, unusually silent.

  “You’re tired,” she said at last.

  Akitsu nodded faintly. “Hungry too.”

  The white-haired girl clutched his sleeve, her steps small but determined. Frost no longer crept from her feet. Whatever fear she had felt earlier had settled into something quieter—trust.

  They moved through the tundra unseen.

  Akitsu avoided open paths, leapt between higher branches, timed his movements between patrols. No elf noticed the human slipping through their sacred trees.

  When the massive tree with the hollow doorframe came into view, Akitsu slowed.

  The wood looked unchanged—ancient, scarred, alive.

  He stepped through.

  The cold vanished.

  Green swallowed him whole.

  The lively forest breathed around him—warm air, chirring insects, rustling leaves. Akitsu staggered slightly, one hand braced against bark.

  “…I forgot how loud this place is,” he muttered.

  Seraphine smiled faintly. “That means you’re alive.”

  He didn’t answer.

  Hunger gnawed sharply now. Akitsu searched—low shrubs, mossy ground, tangled vines. Nothing but berries.

  “…Figures.”

  Seraphine knelt and wove vines together, fingers moving quickly. Branches bent and snapped into place, forming a simple wooden basket.

  “Here,” she said. “At least you won’t drop them.”

  Akitsu filled it with berries—red, blue, dark purple. He stared at them for a moment, expression unreadable.

  “Let’s go back,” he said.

  They returned through the hollow doorframe.

  The tundra greeted them again—quiet, pale, endless.

  Akitsu leapt into the trees, basket secured to his back. His movements were slower now. Fatigue tugged at his limbs.

  Then—

  CRACK.

  A stone arrow tore past his face, close enough to stir his hair.

  Akitsu twisted mid-air, landing on a branch.

  He turned.

  An elf stood on a neighboring tree, skin marked with earthen patterns, eyes sharp and burning. Stone hovered around his hands, orbiting like obedient moons.

  Seraphine inhaled sharply. “One of the guardians…”

  The elf snarled. “Human.”

  Akitsu straightened. “I don’t want trouble.”

  “You exist,” the elf snapped. “That is trouble.”

  He launched forward.

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  Stone hardened around his fists as he attacked mid-air, forcing Akitsu to dodge between branches. The confined space limited Akitsu’s footing—but not his calm.

  Akitsu ducked under a stone fist, pivoted, and punched the elf square in the face.

  The impact cracked bark.

  The guardian flew backward, slamming into a trunk, stone shattering off him.

  Akitsu landed lightly and said evenly,

  “Elves and humans are both living beings. Why can’t you accept that?”

  The elf staggered upright, blood at his lip, eyes blazing.

  “Because you humans kill animals!” he roared. “You slaughter forests! You even killed my mother—centuries ago!”

  Akitsu didn’t flinch.

  “…Centuries ago?” he repeated quietly.

  “Yes!”

  Akitsu exhaled.

  “Why fight over something that happened centuries ago?” he asked calmly. “Can’t you let go of the grudge?”

  The elf rushed again—wild, furious.

  Akitsu stepped aside and struck once—precise, controlled. The elf collapsed to one knee, gasping.

  Akitsu placed Rosary near his throat.

  “You still want to fight?” he asked softly. “…I’ll kill you if you don’t stop.”

  The elf froze.

  Akitsu withdrew his blade, turned away, and leapt off toward the village.

  No further arrows followed.

  The tree house lights glowed faintly when Akitsu returned.

  He climbed in quietly.

  Kael Ardents looked up immediately. “You’re back.”

  Akitsu handed him the katana. “Here.”

  Kael took it, relief flashing across his face. “You’re alive.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  Vale stared at him, eyes wide. “You went alone…?”

  Akitsu set the basket down. “Found food.”

  They sat together, sharing the berries. Hunger dulled the bitterness.

  Kael glanced at him. “What happened?”

  “It went well,” Akitsu said simply. “The chief will let us stay for a while.”

  Vale froze. “…He will?”

  “Yes.”

  She whispered, “He never goes easy on humans…”

  The little girl climbed onto Akitsu’s lap, tugged his sleeve.

  “Ayaka.”

  Akitsu blinked. “…Is that your name?”

  She nodded enthusiastically.

  “…Ayaka,” he repeated.

  Vale sat back slowly. “Tell me… what happened before you came here.”

  Akitsu and Kael exchanged a glance.

  Then they told her everything.

  When they finished, Vale’s hands trembled. “…That’s… horrible.”

  Kael smiled faintly. “We’ll leave soon. After a few days.”

  Akitsu nodded. “We’re heading to the neighboring kingdom.”

  Vale looked relieved—and sad.

  “…Then rest,” she said. “While you can.”

  Outside, the tundra wind whispered—watching.