By the third morning in the cave, Haruto was dying.
Or at least, that's how he acted.
He lay flat on the cold stone, arms spread dramatically.
"Sataro… if I don't make it… tell everyone I died a hero…"
Sataro didn't look up.
"You ate two handfuls of berries."
"That was a SNACK, not a MEAL. My stomach is eating itself."
Sataro sighed, stood, and tossed him a cloak.
"Fine. We'll find food."
Haruto shot up like he'd been reborn.
"For real?! REAL real?!"
"Yes. Hood up. Stay quiet."
Haruto put the cloak on backwards.
Sataro fixed it for him.
"…Let's go."
The Village
They walked through thick woods until smoke and the smell of cooked meat drifted through the cold air.
Haruto sniffed dramatically.
"I smell… salvation."
Sataro nudged him.
"Hood on. No acting weird."
"I'm NEVER weird."
Sataro gave him a blank stare.
"…Okay, sometimes."
They followed the dirt path until they reached a small village — rough, crooked houses, shady merchants, and men glaring at anyone who walked by.
Haruto whispered, "This place looks like crime itself."
Sataro pushed open the tavern door.
Inside The Hollow Goat Tavern
Warm air and noise hit them immediately.
Chairs scraping.
Men arm-wrestling.
Mugs slamming.
Someone unconscious on the floor.
Someone else stepping over him like it was normal.
Haruto sniffed.
"It smells like sweat and feet."
Sataro whispered, "Stay close."
They approached the counter, where a grumpy bartender eyed them suspiciously.
"What'll it be?"
"Two plates," Sataro said. "With meat."
"Got coin?"
Sataro slid a few coins across.
The man shouted behind him.
"LIRA! Two meals! MOVE!"
Lira
A young girl appeared.
Small, maybe 12 or 13.
Beautiful under the dirt — long black hair, brown eyes, delicate features.
But what stood out were:
The bruises on her arms
The torn dress too small for her
The metal collar around her neck
And the way she avoided everyone's eyes…
Except she glanced at Sataro and Haruto with a flicker of curiosity.
She placed the plates down gently.
"Here… please be careful. The plates are hot…"
Her voice was soft, tired.
A drunk man at a table slapped the chain attached to her collar.
"HEY—Lira! Get over here!"
Lira jumped.
"Yes—coming."
Haruto gripped Sataro's sleeve tightly.
"She's a slave," he whispered, voice shaking.
Sataro's jaw tightened.
He didn't respond.
They sat down, and Haruto watched her silently as she hurried from table to table, serving drinks while men grabbed her or yelled at her.
Haruto whispered, "They're mean to her…
Sataro… can't we help her?"
Sataro shook his head gently.
"We can't draw attention. We're hiding."
Haruto frowned.
"But she's… she's just a kid."
Sataro looked up at her again.
He saw the fear.
The forced smile.
The exhaustion.
Something twisted in his chest.
Haruto whispered again, "Please. We can't just leave her…"
Sataro exhaled slowly.
"Not yet," he said.
"But… I won't forget her."
Lira passed by their table again, placing a water jug.
She gave Haruto a small smile — the kind someone gives when they're used to being hurt but still trying to be kind.
Haruto smiled back shyly.
Lira hesitated…
"Are you two alone?" she whispered softly.
Sataro shook his head quickly.
"Just passing through."
She nodded, stepping back quickly as her owner shouted again.
"That girl…" Haruto murmured.
"She deserves better."
Sataro's eyes hardened.
"Yes," he agreed quietly.
"She does."
He didn't know it yet…