The sun was setting behind the trees, casting long shadows over the village. The fences we had built stood tall, though they were rough and hastily constructed. Wooden planks, some crooked and others splintered, made up the bulk of the defenses. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. The villagers had worked tirelessly, hammering and hauling whatever materials we could gather. Most were exhausted, but none of us were willing to leave anything to chance.
I stood at the edge of the perimeter, staring out past the trees. The familiar scent of pine and earth filled the air, but there was something else lingering—uncertainty. This place had been peaceful once, but now... there was no telling what could come next.
"We're almost finished," Yukari said, walking up beside me. Her voice was steady, but I could hear the fatigue in it. She had been working as hard as anyone, maybe harder. Her dragonoid form gave her strength, but even she had her limits. "But these fences won't keep out anything serious."
"I know," I said, not taking my eyes off the treeline. "But it's a start."
Yukari let out a soft sigh. "We'll need more than this, Dad."
The word still felt strange to hear, even after all this time. It wasn't like I ever expected to be called "Dad" in the first place, especially by someone like Yukari. But here we were, connected in ways neither of us could have imagined. I glanced over at her, her dragonoid features half-hidden by the fading light. She looked strong, capable—everything I hoped she would be.
"We'll manage," I said, trying to sound confident. "We always do."
Samui approached quietly, as she often did. I could feel her presence even before she spoke. Her submissive nature made her movements almost ghost-like, as if she was afraid of disturbing the air around her.
"Akira... do you think this will be enough?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She stood a little behind me, her crimson eyes watching the fences with a mix of worry and doubt.
I looked at her, then back at the fence. "It'll have to be. For now."
Her hands fidgeted in front of her, fingers twisting around each other like she was trying to keep her nerves in check. I walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to offer some reassurance. "We've been through worse. We can handle this."
Samui nodded, though her expression didn't change much. She always worried, and I knew why. She didn't want to let me down, and sometimes, I think she feared being a burden. But I trusted her, even if she didn't trust herself.
Yukari crossed her arms, her golden eyes locked on the horizon. "Still, it wouldn't hurt to prepare for more than just wolves or bandits. We don't know what's out there."
"Agreed." I let go of Samui and walked back toward the fence. "We'll do more than just build defenses. Tomorrow, we'll start patrols. Make sure we know what's coming before it gets here."
Yukari nodded, her eyes still focused on the distance. "Good. I'll take first watch tonight."
"I'll join you," Samui said, her voice quiet but resolute.
"No," I said, shaking my head. "You need rest. Both of you do. I'll handle the first watch tonight. Tomorrow, we regroup."
They both started to protest, but I held up a hand to silence them. "I said I'll handle it. You've both done enough for today. We're no good to each other if we're too tired to fight."
Yukari looked like she wanted to argue, but she held back. Samui just nodded and took a step back, her shoulders slumping a bit in relief. I knew they were exhausted, but they also wouldn't admit it. They wanted to protect this place as much as I did.
As the last light of day faded, the village settled into a tense quiet. The crackling of campfires and murmurs of conversation floated through the air, but the usual laughter and camaraderie were gone. Everyone knew what was at stake.
I leaned against one of the fence posts, keeping my eyes on the darkening forest beyond. It felt like we were standing on the edge of something—a precipice, maybe—and all it would take was one push to send us tumbling.