The morning chill woke him with a shiver.
His body, still resentful from the previous night's exertion, reminded him of his frailty with twinges of pain in every limb.
He forced himself to stand, leaning against the rough cave wall so as not to lose his balance. Every step was a challenge, but staying in that place was not an option. With effort, he made his way outside, encountering the vast expanse of the forest. The sunlight was just beginning to filter through the treetops, bathing the surroundings in a golden hue.
After walking for a long while, the scent of food and the murmur of voices in the distance guided him to what appeared to be a village. He stopped at the edge of a dirt road, observing the hustle and bustle of the inhabitants. The buildings were simple, of wood and stone, with tile roofs.
Market stalls lined the main street, with merchants offering fruit, cloth, and other goods. One thing was clear, however: people regarded him with suspicion. His clothes, torn and stained with dried blood, added to the wounds on his body, made him a suspicious figure.
The man decided to approach a merchant selling fruit from a makeshift stall. The man, of stocky build and gray hair, gave him a questioning look as he stopped in front of him.
-What is this place? -asked the man, his voice raspy, as if he hadn't spoken for days.
The merchant arched an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by the question.
-This is Tanzaku Village," the merchant replied, crossing his arms and looking at him more closely. Hey, boy, where did you come from? You look lost, are you all right?
He didn't have an answer for that. Tanzaku... I had never heard of such a place.
Ignoring the question, he walked away from the stall without another word, deep in thought. He had no money, no idea where he was or how to survive in this place. His guts roared, reminding him that he had gone too long without food.
He waited for the right moment. As the merchant turned to serve another customer, he took advantage of a nearby distraction: a wooden cart overturned some crates, causing people to crowd around to see what had happened. With the speed and precision that years of training had bestowed upon him, he slipped his hand in and grabbed an apple undetected. With the fruit firmly in his possession, he calmly walked away before anyone noticed his absence.
As he took the first bite, enjoying the sweet juice that stilled his hunger momentarily, he heard a murmur behind him.
Two men dressed in dark vests and metal bandanas with the symbol of the Rock village were walking among the stalls with a watchful attitude. One of them stared at him and then muttered something to his companion. Before he could react, they were already approaching him.
-Hey, you," said one of the ninjas, his tone firm. Where did you get those clothes? Are you from the Rock village?
The man knew at that instant that he must flee. Without answering, he turned on his heel and ran, pushing a couple of people on the way. The ninja's shout alerted more nearby guards, who began to pursue him. He ran into the alleys of the village, leaping over barrels and crates in his desperate escape.
In an attempt to cut him off, one of the ninjas threw a kunai that grazed past his ear, sticking into a wooden wall. He did not stop. In his race, he overturned a cart full of fish, scattering its contents on the ground, which caused one of his pursuers to slip. He turned a corner and took a narrow alley, barely wide enough to pass sideways. When one of the ninjas tried to follow him, he knocked over a stack of crates on top of him, buying time to keep moving.
Finally, he managed to throw them off. His breathing was erratic and his body screamed for rest, but he couldn't stop yet. He stood still for a few moments, listening carefully. Nothing. The footsteps of his pursuers had faded into the distance.
He looked at his attire. Those clothes were a problem. He could not continue walking through the town wearing the rags of a Rock warrior. He searched with his eyes for some solution and found it: a clothes hanger in the backyard of a house. He crept over and picked up a dark tunic and a pair of coarse cloth pants. He quickly put them on, discarding his old garb. He now looked like any other villager.
As he adjusted his tunic, his mind began to reflect. There was something not quite right about all of this. He faced several combatants since awakening in this world, and they all seemed to have fighting skills heavily focused on melee, on techniques that allowed for stealth and direct combat. He had not seen a single firearm. There were no rifles, pistols, or even grenades or advanced explosives. The combat tools here were specialized knives, kunais, shuriken, and rudimentary smoke explosives. It all seemed strange to him.
This was not simply a village lost in some corner of the world. This was something completely different. Something beyond his comprehension.
His thoughts were interrupted by shouts and sounds of footsteps nearby. She couldn't stay in one place for long. With his new clothes on and his body still sore from his injuries, he wandered into town, searching for answers.
He knew he could not rely on petty theft alone to survive. He needed information, a hiding place, and a way to strengthen himself in this new environment. With that goal in mind, he headed for one of the local taverns, hoping to find something of use amidst the murmur of other people's conversations. The night was just beginning, and his struggle for survival in this unfamiliar world was just beginning.
Night fell over Tanzaku with its usual blanket of shadows and hardship. The man walked among the less traveled alleys, the weight of fatigue pressing down on his back. His body still resented the frantic run he had had with the ninja earlier in the day. Every wound on his skin burned in the night's chill, and though he had procured some food by unorthodox methods, his priority now was to treat his injuries.
With the money he had stolen from some careless villagers, he made his way to a small stall of natural remedies. The old woman serving him gave him a sidelong glance, asking no questions about his appearance or the dried bloodstains on his clothes. In exchange for a few coins, she handed him bandages and a small jar of herbal ointment, which she said would help heal faster. Without wasting any more time, he went out to look for a place to rest.
His steps led him to one of the most miserable areas of the village. Dirty streets, makeshift shacks made of rotten wood and torn tarpaulins, and faces sunken by malnutrition and hopelessness. People huddled in corners, trying to find some warmth in the middle of the night. The stench of decay and misery permeated the air, but what really captured their attention was a scene in the shadows.
A man, ragged and dark-eyed, was going from person to person, holding a girl by the wrist as if she were an object. He muttered something to each one and most ignored him with disdain or disgusted expressions. However, no one stopped him. No one did anything, some even smiled in a malicious and disgusted way at the sight of the girl who accompanied him.
Finally, that guy got to him. He scanned him up and down with a crooked smile and spoke in a cold, dry voice:
-You look like someone who doesn't have much to lose. Maybe you'd be interested in a job... well paid. -
The man remained silent, watching him cautiously.
-I just need a simple assignment," said the man with the girl still holding his hand.
The man gritted his teeth at the man's words. His instinct told him that nothing good would come of this.
It was obvious that the man just needed cannon fodder. Someone that no one would miss, someone that people wouldn't care if he died in order to fulfill his purpose, that's why he was here, in such a wretched place.
-What is it about? -
The guy smiled mischievously and tugged a little on the girl's wrist, who didn't even react. Her empty eyes were more disturbing than any words.
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