The man with the blood-soaked grin flipped the dice again.
Clack.
It landed on two.
Man: Two… It's you, little girl.
Arata's sister froze, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Sister: No… please…
The man raised his katana, eyes shining with sick excitement—
Swish!
A blade pierced through his back.
Man (choking): Y-You…!?
His grin faded.
He collapsed to the floor, blood spreading like ink.
Arata stared at the stranger who now stood over the corpse, panting, blade trembling.
Arata (voice shaking): W-Who are you…?
The man wiped his sword and spoke, voice rough, tired.
Guy: I'm with the Revolutionary Army.
…Sorry. I was too late.
He grabbed Arata and his sister, lifting them in his arms.
The house burned behind them. Screams echoed.
The night smelled like smoke and blood.
Arata clutched the man's shirt, crying.
His sister's tiny hands shook.
They ran toward the ocean. A ship waited, anchored in the dark waves, lanterns swaying.
Guy: Hold on. You're safe now.
I swear it.
They reached the shoreline. A man on the ship called out.
Shipman: Yo! You got survivors?
Guy: Take care of them for me!
Shipman: Leave it to us.
The revolutionary placed Arata and his sister on the ship deck.
Arata tried to speak, but the man was already turning back—running toward another ship burning further downshore.
Arata watched him disappear into the fire.
A hand rested on his shoulder.
Shipman (calm, rough voice): Welcome aboard, kid.
We're pirates.
…Now set your heart steady.
Shipman: We set sail at dawn.
The ocean wind hit Arata's face.
He didn't cry anymore.
Just empty.