Several people reacted immediately to my decision. The confusion was clear on their faces, some even exchanged stunned glances after hearing Shun's name.
"Are you serious?" one of them asked. "Do you really want to entrust this responsibility to a child?"
I didn't waver.
"Yes."
My answer was immediate, firm, without the slightest hesitation.
Then I added:
"You'll leave for Harima tonight. "
This time, even those who still supported my decisions seemed troubled. The silence that followed was not one of approval, but of doubt.
Saé quickly approached me as soon as the discussions resumed around us.
"Bun… This is a bad idea," she whispered. "You know very well what's going to happen. »
I turned my head slightly toward her.
Of course I knew.
Shun was young. Too young. And above all, he was going to have to lead adults whose survival now depended directly on his decisions. Frustrated, anxious adults, some of whom were already hostile. In this kind of situation, a child would be devoured, manipulated, crushed.
I could perfectly understand Saé's concern, because I, too, saw the danger. I could already see certain eyes fixed on Shun with a strange intensity. Behind their apparent calm, behind their fake smiles… much darker thoughts were already beginning to emerge.
But despite that…
I had no choice.
"I have to do this," I finally replied.
Saé frowned slightly.
"Have to…?"
I didn't elaborate.
Because deep down, this decision wasn't based solely on military strategy.
Edano approached me discreetly while the rest of the group continued to discuss things in a tense hubbub.
"You should go talk to him," he whispered.
I followed his gaze.
In the distance, Shun stood slightly apart from the others, motionless, as if crushed by the sudden weight of this responsibility. No one seemed to be actually talking to him. Some watched him with skepticism, others with a kind of unhealthy curiosity.
I finally walked toward him.
As I got closer, I immediately noticed the state he was in. Shun was discreetly trying to control his trembling by clenching his own hand, as if he hoped to calm his body by force.
But that wasn't what caught my attention the most.
It was his tattoos.
Roman numerals, delicate, strange.
I stared at them for a moment without saying a word. The more I looked at them, the more a disturbing feeling grew inside me, as if these marks weren't there by chance.
But this wasn't the time.
I finally gently placed an arm on his shoulder, making him jump slightly.
"Hey."
Shun immediately looked up at me, nervous.
I gave him a slight smile.
"You don't need to worry so much."
He opened his mouth slightly, as if he wanted to reply, but no words came out.
So I continued calmly:
"Just think of it as a manga. "
He blinked, surprised by my remark.
"A manga…?"
I nodded.
"Or a fictional story, if you prefer."
A brief silence passed before I added:
"And you're the main character. "
Shun stood frozen for a few seconds.
Then, despite his obvious fear…
I finally saw his trembling slow down slightly.
If I was right, then Shun was the kind of person who spent his time living in his dreams. A boy who imagined impossible adventures, trips with his friends, heroic battles where he would finally have an important role to play. That look he sometimes had, that way of zoning out when he thought no one was watching—I knew it well.
Shun wanted to belong in a story.
Not in reality.
Because in reality, people like him are rarely the ones who are listened to. They remain in the background, spectators of decisions made by others, trapped in their thoughts without ever managing to take the plunge.
But that world no longer existed.
Or rather…
It hadn't existed since those puzzles appeared.
Because now, our daily lives resembled those absurd stories he must have admired more than the old world we had lost. Quests, special abilities, battles.
The line between fantasy and reality had vanished.
I kept my arm on his shoulder for a few more seconds before saying calmly:
"Just trust your instincts."
Shun slowly looked up at me.
"And everything will be fine."
That was probably untrue.
In this world, there was no guarantee that everything would be fine.
But sometimes…
People didn't need the truth.
They needed to move forward.
Shun remained silent for a few seconds after I spoke, as if he were really trying to commit my words to memory. Then he slowly looked up at me before asking, in a hesitant voice:
"What about you?"
I raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Do you trust your instincts? Is that why you have that name?"
I didn't immediately understand what he was getting at. Then, as I thought back on my name, the connection became clear.
*Chokkan means "intuition" in Japanese.
That's what he was referring to.
A detail I'd never really paid attention to before.
My gaze drifted into the distance for a brief moment.
That name…
I got it from my mother.
That same mother who had...
I abruptly cut off that train of thought before it could go any further. Old memories had that nasty habit of resurfacing at the worst possible moment, like scars you think have healed but never truly disappear.
I let out a slow exhale, then looked back at Shun.
"Yes," I replied simply.
A brief silence followed.
"Ever since that day… I've decided to trust my intuition."
The moment had finally arrived.
In the dim evening light, part of the clan was preparing to depart. The horses were restless, tapping their hooves on the ground as the final preparations were made amid a strange tension. At their head was Shun, still silent, likely trying to hide the anxiety gnawing at him.
Then, without further delay, the group set off toward Harima.
I watched them slowly fade into the distance, their silhouettes gradually disappearing into the deepening darkness.
"Why can't we go with them?"
The question came from a member who had stayed behind at the camp. Several others seemed to be waiting intently for my answer.
I kept my gaze fixed on the horizon before replying calmly:
"Because a group has to stay here. In case our camp is attacked."
The explanation made sense, and was credible enough to be accepted without much argument.
But in reality…
That wasn't the real reason.
I knew exactly who I had let go with Shun.
The most unstable, the most ambitious.
Those whose eyes already betrayed a desire to manipulate him or push him toward their own interests. Those who saw him as a weak leader, easily swayed.
And that was precisely why I had sent them.
Because Shun needed that.
Shun and the rest of the group eventually reached the vicinity of Miki Castle. The atmosphere there was heavy, almost stagnant, as if the air itself were holding its breath before an inevitable event. The terrain, still marked by recent tensions, gave the impression of a place on the verge of plunging back into chaos.
They stopped at a distance, cautiously surveying their surroundings.
"All right, kid."
The voice of one of the group members broke the silence.
"You use your item to change the weather. And we'll take advantage of the chaos to catch them by surprise. "
Shun blinked, thrown off by the request.
"Excuse me, but what object are you talking about?"
A brief silence followed, as if the question itself were absurd.
The man frowned.
"Don't play dumb. The object Bun used against Imagawa. The one that changed the weather."
Another nodded immediately.
"That's how we won, right? The rain, the storm—none of it was natural."
Eyes turned to Shun, waiting for confirmation.
But he remained frozen.
One of the group members let out a nervous laugh, almost incredulous.
"Wait… are you telling me you came here without a strategy?"
The tone wasn't really mocking at first, more stunned, as if the idea simply went beyond his comprehension.
He shook his head slightly.
"Are you out of your mind or something… "
Shun didn't answer right away. His lips parted slightly, as if he were searching for an explanation, something to say to regain control of the situation. But no words came.
And that silence was enough.
Another member of the group crossed his arms, already annoyed.
"Seriously, why is he the leader, anyway?"
A murmur of agreement spread almost instantly.
"We should take a vote."
"Yeah, a real leader should be chosen properly."
"Not just imposed like this."
The voices overlapped, growing bolder as Shun's authority crumbled before their eyes.
Shun, for his part, remained motionless.
But inside, everything was cracking.
Every word, every glance, every sigh… crushed him a little more. He felt like he couldn't breathe, as if the space around him were slowly closing in.
He wanted to speak, to do something.
But all he could manage to do…
It meant existing in the midst of a group that already refused to acknowledge him.
"It should be you, Raiden…"
The voice had cut through the tension as if it were obvious to some.
"You're the strongest among us. You're the real leader."
A brief silence followed this statement, immediately broken by another, more suspicious member of the group.
"Wait, how do you know that?"
He narrowed his eyes, suspicious.
"Show us your stats window. If you're really the strongest, we'll compare."
A slight hesitation set in.
But the answer was already known to everyone who understood the rules of this world.
No one could access another's stats window. Everyone was trapped within their own perception of themselves, unable to objectively verify the power of others.
And yet the tension did not subside.
Raiden, who had been silent until then, took a step forward.
His gaze swept calmly over the group.
"The leader isn't just the one with the best stats. "
His voice was steady but firm.
"It's the one who makes the decisions."
He paused briefly, letting his words sink in.
"And above all, the one who's willing to make the sacrifices."
His gaze fixed on those who still had doubts.
"So if you think you can do that, go ahead."
The man who had been arguing just a moment earlier immediately changed his mind. As if Raiden's mere posture, his presence, his way of speaking had been enough to crush any form of resistance.
"You're right."
His voice had grown lower, almost instinctive.
"You're the one who should lead us." "
Raiden didn't react immediately. He didn't smile, didn't gloat. He simply stood straight, motionless, as if the others' acceptance were merely a natural consequence of who he was.
His voice carried.
So did his calm.
And above all, that constant impression that he didn't need to spend much time convincing them.
"We'll keep this simple," he finally declared.
He scanned the group.
"A first group goes out on reconnaissance. They assess enemy strength, numbers, and structure."
He paused briefly.
"Then the main group steps in to finish the job."
Silence followed immediately.
Then a voice spoke up, more tense, more fragile.
"Wait, do you mean we're supposed to be cannon fodder?"
The tone betrayed both fear and refusal.
Raiden turned his head slightly toward him.
Without aggression.
But with icy firmness.
"No."
He took a step forward.
"You just have to hold your ground. Wear down the enemy."
His gaze hardened slightly.
"That's how you win a war. Not by charging in all together without any information. "
Silence fell.
The strongest had already grasped the merit of Raiden's proposal. For them, the calculation was simple: survive on the front lines, take the minimum necessary damage, then capitalize on the opening created by the others. A brutal logic, but effective in this world where every battle redefined the group's hierarchy.
For the weakest, however, the situation looked entirely different. A silent acknowledgment of their position… and above all, a growing fear of becoming the sacrificial pawn in a strategy they didn't control.
It was then that one of them finally stepped forward, his voice slightly trembling but determined.
"I refuse. I won't go into battle with this strategy."
A brief silence followed.
Raiden slowly turned his head toward him, his expression hardening slightly, not out of immediate anger, but out of contained irritation.
"You're not going to die," he replied simply.
His tone was cold, almost matter-of-fact.
The man frowned.
"And how can you be so sure?"
Raiden remained silent for a second, as if he considered the question pointless.
Then he replied:
"Because I would never have entrusted you with this role if I didn't have a card up my sleeve."
He paused.
"A guarantee."
Their eyes met, intrigued despite themselves.
"An object capable of healing wounds."
A slight stir ran through the group.
The idea immediately changed their perception of the mission.
What had seemed like a calculated risk suddenly became a controlled operation.
At least on the surface.
Raiden's announcement had an immediate effect on the group.
As if an invisible tension had just dissipated.
The previously wary glances softened. The whispers changed in tone. The idea of not being thrown into the front lines without protection, combined with the existence of an artifact capable of healing wounds, was enough to transform fear into a form of cautious enthusiasm.
Hope, however fragile, remained a powerful force.
Shun, for his part, watched the scene in silence.
Something bothered him.
An inconsistency, a detail, a feeling hard to put into words. But faced with the group's momentum, faced with the sudden sense of trust that was taking hold around Raiden… he didn't dare say a word. He simply swallowed his doubts, locking them away behind a silence forced by the fear of appearing useless once again.
Meanwhile...
At base camp, my reputation as the "Madman of Owari" continued to spread, drawing unexpected types to me—sometimes even individuals who seemed to know more about this world than I had realized.
And among them…
There was him.
An imposing man, tall and massive. His dark skin stood in stark contrast to the austere surroundings of Honnō-ji Temple.
He stood straight and still, his aura strange. Not merely that of a warrior, but that of a figure whom history itself seemed to have remembered.
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
Even without a perfect knowledge of the Sengoku period, even without absolute certainty…
I couldn't help but recognize him.
A silence settled around us.
Then Edano finally voiced the obvious.
"Isn't that the famous samurai Yasuke?"