After the ordeal, as Tatsuo wept alone in the dim, blood-splattered house, fate had already prepared another trial for him.
Three figures in black uniforms stood outside the house, their presence sharp against the fog-draped morning. One of them, a towering man with a muscular build and a large spiked kanabō resting on his shoulder, grunted.
"You sure one of them is here?"
The woman beside him, smaller in frame but sharp-eyed, closed her eyes for a moment and took in the air with her nose. Her voice was firm.
"We've been partners for months, Kurou. Do you still doubt my sense of smell? Besides, can't you tell the stench of blood is thick here?"
"Stop arguing, Asami is right" the third one said—taller than both, his demeanor calm and commanding. He unsheathed his katana with a smooth motion, the steel glinting faintly in the mist. "It's heavy. It's coming from inside. Stay alert. We're going in."
"Now that's the spirit, Taichō," Kurou said with a grin, twirling his club and resting it over his shoulder.
The three approached the weathered wooden house.
Inside, Tatsuo's body tensed at the sound of approaching footsteps and muffled voices. His hands, trembling slightly, gripped the handle of his axe. Instinct pushed him to stand, posture ready and feet planted firmly on the creaking floorboards as he moved closer to the front entrance. His heart pounded in his ears like war drums.
He hid just out of sight, a few steps back from the doorway, waiting.
Then—BAM! The door burst open.
Kurou leapt inside like a beast let loose.
Without thinking, Tatsuo roared and charged, swinging his axe with raw desperation.
Kurou's trained and battle-hardened reflexes kicked in. He brought up his kanabō just in time. The axe blade crashed against it with a metallic thud.
"Hoh? This one's got bite," Kurou muttered, surprised.
Tatsuo is shocked as his strike was blocked but he followed the clash with a swift kick to Kurou's stomach. Kuruo stumbled back a few steps with a grunt. "This little—!"
Before Kurou could retaliate, the leader stepped forward, raising a hand.
"Kurou, wait!" he ordered, his voice calm but firm. "He's a human."
Kurou froze, his eyes narrowing as he got a clearer look at Tatsuo. Breathing heavily, he lowered his weapon.
"Oi! Why'd you attack me?" he barked.
Still gripping his axe, Tatsuo shouted back, "What do you mean 'why'? You barged into my house! What'd you expect? A tea ceremony?!"
The leader stepped forward, sheathing his sword.
"My apologies," he said with a respectful bow. "I am Tokuda Kenji. The man you just fought is Fukuhara Kurou, and this is Toyoda Asami. We are members of the Fleshcutters Regiment."
Tatsuo's grip on the axe loosened.
Fleshcutters…
His father had told him stories—warriors appeared after the plague's destruction, humans strengthened with the blood of Fleshbounds to fight the Fleshbounds.
His face dropped, shoulders sagging.
"Well, you're late," he muttered and turned away, walking back inside the house.
Kurou leaned toward Kenji and whispered, "Taichō, what did he mean by that?"
Kenji didn't answer. He followed Tatsuo silently. Asami gave a small sigh and tilted her head as if to say 'men', then followed.
"What? Is it so wrong to catch on a little late?" Kurou grumbled and followed them.
Inside, Tatsuo led them through the blood-smeared hall and at the end. There, on the floor, lay what remained of his mother—a twisted, deformed corpse, head crushed to pulp, her form warped by mutation.
Kenji's expression tightened. He nodded slightly. "Asami, inspect the body and check the house."
Asami nodded, her face unreadable, and moved toward the corpse with a measured pace.
Kenji looked at Tatsuo, who stared at the body with a hollow expression—eyes sunken, soul dimmed.
"Boy," Kenji said gently, "I have a few questions. Will you help me?"
Tatsuo turned his head slowly. He nodded.
"Good. Let's get some air while Asami handles things in here."
Kenji turned and made his way toward the entrance, his steps silent. Tatsuo followed like a shadow, Kurou casting the occasional glance back at him, curious.
Outside, they stood beneath a tall sugi tree, its branches swaying gently in the wind. The breeze carried the scent of blood, woodsmoke, and pine.
Kenji stood in front of Tatsuo. Behind him, Kurou stood holding a scroll and brush, ready to take notes.
"So, let's start with a simple introduction," Kenji said gently, his voice as soft as the wind rustling through the cedar leaves above them.
"My name is Takigawa Tatsuo... I'm seventeen this year and I…" Tatsuo's voice faltered. The weight of the incident still sat heavily on his shoulders. His words trailed off, swallowed by the silence of grief.
"That's good enough," Kenji said, his tone reassuring. "Can you tell me about your parents? Their names?"
Tatsuo gave a small nod. "My father's name was Takigawa Kaede, and my mother's name was Takigawa Aoi."
Kenji waited a moment before continuing, his tone still composed but more focused. "Tatsuo-kun… do you have any idea what might've caused your mother to turn into a Fleshbound?"
Tatsuo's brows knit together. For a while, only the birds chirping in the trees could be heard. Then he answered, slowly.
"Three days ago, she went into the mountain to gather fruits. She slipped and got a small scratch… and used a wild herb to treat it. Maybe that's what caused it."
Kurou, who had been quietly scribbling with his brush, nodded as he noted everything down.
Kenji was about to ask the next question when Asami emerged from the house, wiping her hands with a cloth that had dark stains on it. She addressed Kenji with urgency.
"Taichō, aside from the Fleshbound's corpse, I found another body. Headless. A man, and judging from the facial features of the head nearby, it was likely his father." She paused, her voice tightening. "There's something else. This Fleshbound had merged with a knife—it mutated around it, adapting for speed and strength. That type is one of the hardest for even us First cutters to handle."
She looked over her shoulder toward the house, then back at Kenji.
"But for someone, especially a civilian to crush its head into pulp… that is not something easy to pull off."
Kenji simply nodded, the information sinking in. Then he turned to Tatsuo, eyes calm but piercing.
"Tatsuo-kun, I know it might be difficult for you… but can you tell me everything on what happened today?"
Tatsuo stared at the ground for a moment before beginning. His voice was low and steady as he recounted everything—from heading behind the house to chop firewood while his father tend to his mother, then hearing his father's scream, to rushing inside and seeing his mother devouring on him. His hands trembled slightly as he spoke of the moment her bloodied face turned toward him, and how instinct had taken over. How he'd… ended it.
Kenji listened in silence, his expression unreadable. When Tatsuo finished, Kenji glanced at Kurou.
"Did you get all that?"
"Yes, taichō," Kurou replied, rolling up the scroll with care.
A stillness settled between them, broken only when Kenji asked, "Tatsuo-kun… what are you going to do now?"
Tatsuo looked up at the sky, watching the clouds drift between the branches.
"What's left for me to do?" he said, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "I'm an orphan now. First, I'll burn my parents' bodies… give them a proper farewell. After that, I'll go down to the village and look for work. Then I'll live quietly… just as they would've wanted."
Kurou-san, unable to stay quiet, stepped forward. "Then why don't you join our regiment? You could avenge your parents by—"
THWACK!
Asami's fist connected with the back of his head.
"Ow! What was that for?!"
Tatsuo gave a weak smirk and shook his head. "Heh… My parents weren't killed by the Fleshbound. They were killed by the plague—the plague of Thirteen Veins. My mother killed my father… and I already avenged him. Besides, even if they were alive… they'd never want me to live risking my life."
Kenji stepped forward, voice steady and warm.
"Tatsuo-kun… I believe you. I truly do. Your parents probably wanted nothing more than for you to live a peaceful life. But I must ask—what do you want?"
Tatsuo looked up, his eyes meeting Kenji's for the first time.
"You have strength. You have talent. What you did today—surviving that, defeating a mutated Fleshbound… that's not normal. That's a gift."
Kenji's voice grew firmer.
"We need people like you. Good people, Talented people. People who can stand when others fall, so no-one went through the same thing you went through again but for that to happen we need manpower and If people like you turn away, how can ordinary folk ever find the courage to join us?"
He lowered his head in a deep, respectful bow.
"So please… rethink your decision. This is not an order. It's a personal request—from me to you."
Tatsuo fell silent, his gaze fixed on the earth below him. A storm of thought churned in his mind.
One part of him screamed for vengeance—to accept this power and hunt down the Fleshbound with burning rage. The other part longed for peace, a simple life untouched by blood and death.
But what if it happens again?
What if, in the future, someone he loves faces the same fate?
What if he's powerless then—just as he almost was today?
He hadn't been able to overpower his own mother, and that was mere moments after she transformed. What would happen if he faced something even stronger? Would he watch helplessly again?
The thought tore at him. He looked towards the house, his fist clenching. But amidst the chaos of his heart, a decision began to take shape.
He lifted his head and looked Kenji in the eye. A quiet fire blazed in his crimson eyes—no longer just sorrow, but purpose.
"I'm willing to join the Fleshcutters Regiment," he said, his voice steady.
Kurou let out a cheer. "That's the spirit, junior! You've made the right choice!"
Kenji responded with a firm nod. "Thank you, Tatsuo-kun. I appreciate you honoring my request. Take the time you need to say your goodbyes. Once you're ready, we'll depart for the headquarters."
Tatsuo nodded. "Thank you… for giving me the time."
Kurou nudged Asami with his elbow. "Come on, say something too."
She sighed, crossing her arms. "Welcome to the Fleshcutters Regiment. I promise, you'll find your place among us."
Tatsuo bowed his head slightly in appreciation, then turned back toward the house. Just as he stepped inside, Kurou stopped him and handed him a pair of gloves.
"Use these," Kurou said quietly.
Tatsuo accepted them without a word, slipping them on. The leather felt rough but warm, almost grounding.
He gently lifted his mother's body and carried her to the bedroom where his father's corpse lay. He laid her down on the bed, then did the same with his father, placing him beside her.
Then he stepped outside, gathered the firewood he had chopped earlier, and brought it into the room.
Tatsuo stood silently by the bed, staring at the lifeless forms of his parents. His gloved hands trembled slightly. He knelt down to place the firewood beneath them—but before striking the flint, a memory flickered in his mind.
It was a few years ago, during the autumn festival.
Their mountain village didn't have much, but every year, they lit lanterns to honor those who had passed—and to wish for the health of those still alive.
His mother had handed him a small lantern made of thin rice paper and bamboo. "Write something," she said softly.
"What kind of something?" Tatsuo asked.
"Something you're grateful for."
He hesitated, then scribbled a single line before handing it back.
She held it up to the firelight and read aloud with a smile: "I'm grateful I was born as in this family."
She didn't say anything right away. Just reached up, cupped his cheek with her calloused hand, and said, "Then I'll keep protecting that smile of yours until my last breath."
His father had laughed. "Now don't make me cry before I've had sake."
They released the lantern together that night, watching it drift into the sky, dancing gently in the wind.
That was the time when all three of us smiled together.
Snap!
The flint sparked, pulling Tatsuo back to the present.
He stared at the bed one last time, lips parting in a whisper:
"…Thank you… for everything."
Then he lit the fire.
It started small—just a flicker under the bed—but quickly grew, licking up the sheets and engulfing the bodies. The scent of smoke and burning wood filled the air, mingling with the faint trace of dried blood. The flames climbed higher, reaching the ceiling. The dry wood of the house crackled loudly as the fire devoured it.
Tatsuo stepped outside and stood in the yard, watching silently as his home—the only one he had ever known—burned down before him. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but his expression didn't waver.
There was no sorrow in his eyes anymore. Only fire burning in his red eyes. Determination. A silent promise.
Ten minutes later, the house collapsed with a deep groan of splintering beams. The fire continued for a while longer before finally dying down, leaving behind smoldering ashes.
Tatsuo turned around. Kenji, Kurou, and Asami were waiting quietly a short distance away.
He walked toward them, axe in hand.
Without a word, the group turned and began their journey to the Fleshcutters Regiment headquarters—toward a new day, and a new life.