Tatsuki laid still on the solid tatami mat, the rigid cold wood making sleep a pipe dream.
The only light in the isolated room was a small window, which let the moon's soft glow soak through the empty space.
Tatsuki had been idly resting his racing mind, unable to fall back asleep.
It was a funny thing, how the human mind was incapable of making itself fall asleep, even if it wished so desperately to do so.
To Tatsuki, the night had felt endless—an eternity of waiting in which he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep.
But every time his eyes would close and a momentary peace would fall over him, he would have a vivid, fleeting reminder of those damn demonic eyes that chased him so feverishly through the forest.
It was like a curse that clung to him in a cold sweat at night. Even though that creature had died, it still haunted him.
Both physically and mentally, as the deep gashed wound still lingered at his side—its dull pain a reminder of that day.
How Tatsuki wished to rid his memory of that day, which had turned his life around.
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One week earlier, a day before Tatsuki's run-in with the demon.
The cool winds of the spring air whispered throughout the small fishing town humbly known as Hinokiko, its population no more than a couple hundred.
Tatsuki had come to the town earlier that month as a dock worker, simply bringing the fish in from the boats.
It was a rather simple job that paid a measly wage, but for the time being, that was fine.
He had come to Hinokiko in a rush, as he was ostracized from the last town he worked at after being caught stealing a rather finely made grey haori from a fellow hiyatoi, which was a luxury for their kind.
It was a rather crude theft with not a lot of thought behind it, and Tatsuki could admit to himself that he should have planned it better.
But he just couldn't pass up the chance to steal such a treasure.
"Okay, that's the final load!" an elderly fisherman yelled from the dock at Tatsuki, his work almost finished for the day.
Tatsuki had found Hinokiko's atmosphere infuriating. It was a small backwater town built around a lake, upon which its whole economy was based.
It was the type of town that could be wiped off the map and no one would notice.
Tatsuki could not comprehend how someone could be content living in such a place their whole lives.
He didn't understand how someone could be fine with living an existence that one day would be certainly forgotten.
That was the most terrifying idea to him—the idea that one day he would die and his legacy would mean nothing.
He would do anything to prolong his life and make it mean something.
Plop
Tatsuki dumped out the final small net of fish into the simple cloth sack. Its contents slipped out without a fight.
Now I can finally eat and get some rest. I wonder what I should eat today?
Tatsuki thought to himself while going toward the end of the dock, which he had been working on mindlessly for the whole day.
"Hello, boy. Are you a hiyatoi?" a well-groomed middle-aged man said to him as he was walking toward his momentary home.
Tatsuki looked at the man hesitantly, evaluating him before eventually smiling and nodding.
"Yes, I am, sir. What can I do for you?"
"I am on a rather short schedule right now and am wondering if you would be interested in accompanying me as a porter on a trip tomorrow with a few others."
"Certainly, sir, but I must ask—on such short notice, I'm assuming the pay is rather reasonable, yes?" Tatsuki replied, his young age clashing with his professional tone.
"Indeed, boy. How does 1 yen sound for the two-day trip?" the man said while rubbing his chin, a slight grin on his face.
Tatsuki stood there dumbfounded, his mind trying to comprehend what the man just said.
"That's a two weeks' wage right there," Tatsuki replied hesitantly.
"Quite the offer, is it not, boy? So, are you willing to head out at first light tomorrow then?"
"Yes, sir," Tatsuki simply responded.
"Then meet us at the west gate. I will be there with my companions at daybreak."
With that, the man simply walked off before Tatsuki could say another word.
What could possibly be in that cargo to offer me that much money to transport it? was all Tatsuki could think to himself that night as he rested on the putrid straw.
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As Tatsuki rounded up his possessions and put on his grey haori, he couldn't help but think about the inherent danger he was putting himself in by accepting the job.
Though, for as much as he wanted to decline it—especially with its multiple red flags, such as the vagueness of the task and its suddenness—
he couldn't deny the payout, which would feed him for a few weeks. That kind of money was irresistible to him.
So, without a word to his former employer, he left the small fishing town without a trace.
It was a simple journey without many complications, and a rather straightforward path with not too much of an extraneous climb.
Though the people that had accompanied Mr. Dachi—or at least that's what the merchant called himself—were a bit odd.
One was a boy a few years younger than Tatsuki, a dirty scramp who was apparently sold to Mr. Dachi as a slave to pay off his mother's debt.
The kid had short, dirty blonde hair and wore torn-up cotton clothes which were bathed in dirt.
Though Tatsuki didn't pay much mind to the kid, as he couldn't have cared less about him. To him, that was just how the world worked.
Sometimes you're just born with a bad hand, and this kid got the worst card in the deck.
The other young man that accompanied them, however, was a rather talkative and enthusiastic person.
He was a few years older than Tatsuki and kept babbling on about his dream of heading to Tokyo.
He rambled on and on about how he was going to make it big in the printing industry and be rich.
To Tatsuki, however, it just sounded like mindless prattling with no firm foundation or sense of direction.
Tatsuki, however, hated both of the boys who were accompanying him as porters.
He hated the young boy for having no ambition, and the older one for having ambition with no strategy for obtaining it.
To him, both of them were destined for nothing, as they had no concrete goals for anything. He reckoned they would both die in obscurity.
But eventually, after a day's travel, they had started setting up camp for the night.
The young slave boy was in charge of starting a fire and bringing out the camping equipment, which he carried on his back.
While Tatsuki and the older hiyatoi were in charge of putting up the tents and securing the cargo.
"Hey, what do you think's in these sacks?" the older boy, named
Shinji, asked.
"Has to be something valuable, I presume," Tatsuki answered disinterestedly while tying down the cargo to the cart.
"You want to check it?" Shinji asked, smirking with a childish twinge in his voice.
"I'm not interested in losing my pay for your curiosity, so don't even think about it."
"Come on, he won't even see me do it."
"Make it quick," replied Tatsuki.
In hindsight, he hadn't really known why he went along with it, but deep down, he had the same idea as Shinji—even if his reasoning was a little more sinister.
With that slight approval from Tatsuki, Shinji checked his surroundings before quickly unzipping one of the sealed sack bags.
But as he did so, Shinji's harmless smirk turned into an all -encompassing expression of shock.
"Well, what is it?" Tatsuki said while securing the final wheel of the cart.
"It's… it's… some type of drug. I think it's morphine."
And for the first time in the entire trip, Tatsuki's expression changed—to pure and unadulterated terror.
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"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life."
John 3:16
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