Chapter 18: Questions in the Dark
The tent was quiet, save for the occasional whistle of wind slipping through the seams and the soft shifting of bodies on rough blankets. Most of the children were asleep, huddled in groups for warmth. But Ren lay wide awake, eyes fixed on the sagging fabric above him, watching as it danced faintly with each gust.
The darkness was heavy tonight. Not the kind that came from the absence of light, but the kind that pressed down on the chest—the weight of too many thoughts.
He turned on his side, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. His stomach ached, not from hunger this time, but something deeper, less physical. He had made it back from the forest. They all had. Kota hadn't.
And that thought—it stuck like a splinter in the back of his mind.
Why do I care so much?
Kota wasn't a friend. Ren had barely spoken to him outside of the occasional stolen food or shoving match over space near the fire. Kota had never looked at him with kindness. Most of the time, Kota had been quiet, even a little mean.
And yet—Ren had led Aki and Taro into the woods to look for him. Had felt something sharp and aching when they found the blood-stained stone and torn scarf. Had felt angry when the adults brushed it off with a tired shrug.
What am I doing?
He rubbed his face with both hands and let out a breath, slow and quiet.
In his old world, someone like Kota going missing would have been national news. Search parties. Candlelight vigils. Police dogs, flyers, volunteers combing through forests. No one would have just looked away and said, "It happens sometimes."
But this was a different world. A world at war. Children disappeared here. People died quietly, and the world simply moved on.
Maybe that's what bothered him most. Not Kota's absence, but the silence that followed.
A soft rustle beside him broke the stillness. Aki, curled up tightly in his own blanket, whispered, "You still awake?"
Ren hesitated. "Yeah."
Aki shifted to face him, his voice low. "Can… I ask you something?"
Ren nodded, though he wasn't sure if Aki could see it. "Sure."
"Why are you doing this?"
Ren didn't answer at first. It wasn't a challenge in Aki's voice. Just a question. A simple, curious question. And maybe Aki was wondering the same thing Ren had been all night.
He turned to lie on his back again.
"I don't know," Ren said. "I keep asking myself that."
Aki waited, silent.
Ren continued, slowly. "I think… where I came from, if someone went missing, people looked for them. They didn't just say, 'It happens.' They didn't just forget. It didn't matter if you liked them or not. You cared, because they were someone."
Aki didn't speak, but Ren could feel his eyes.
"But here," Ren added, his voice softening, "people have to care less. Or they'd break."
They both lay in silence, the wind outside growing stronger.
Aki finally said, "If I went missing, would you look for me?"
Ren turned to him. "Yeah. You don't even have to ask."
Aki gave a small nod. "Then I think I get it."
A pause.
"Thanks."
---
The next morning, Juro-sensei gathered them early. The camp was still shrouded in a gray, misty haze. Few others were awake yet.
"We're going back to where you found the scarf," Juro said, voice clipped. "You three will stay behind me and follow orders. No heroics."
Ren, Aki, and Taro all nodded.
Taro looked pale but didn't complain.
The forest greeted them with the same silence as before. But this time, Juro moved confidently, marking their path with strips of cloth and small carved symbols. When they reached the marked stones, Juro crouched and examined the area.
"This is fresh," he muttered. "Blood's dried, but not much. Good instincts, Ren."
Ren didn't respond, unsure whether to be proud or ashamed. He hadn't found Kota. He'd just found a trail that went cold.
Juro moved ahead, pushing aside thick bushes. Then he held up a hand.
Everyone stopped.
A broken kunai lay half-buried in the dirt, the metal still gleaming faintly. Near it, faint footprints—too small for an adult. A second trail.
Juro crouched low, eyes narrowing.
He traced the markings in the dirt with two fingers, brushing leaves and branches aside. Then he glanced at the nearby claw marks on a tree, deep and uneven.
"Looks like an animal did this," he said grimly. "Not a person. Maybe a rogue summon or a predator driven close by the war. But something large spooked the kid. He ran."
Ren leaned forward. "Is he still alive?"
Juro didn't answer right away. He looked at the direction of the tracks, then stood. "He might be. There's no sign of a struggle beyond this point. We'll need more eyes to go further."
Aki exhaled in relief. Taro looked stunned.
Juro looked down at Ren, his expression unreadable. "You did well. Don't let anyone make you feel otherwise."
Ren looked away, unsure what to say.
As they turned back, he caught a final glimpse of the broken kunai.
He still didn't fully understand why he cared. Maybe he never would. But maybe it didn't matter.
Sometimes, you just do the right thing.
Even when it hurts.
Even when it doesn't make sense.
Even when no one else will.