The village square pulsed with life, the steady beat of drums rippling through the evening air, mingling with the rich aroma of roasting meat and the sharp tang of burning incense. Flickering fires lit up the twilight, casting uneven shadows that danced along the dirt paths and timber walls. Tonight was a celebration, but there was tension beneath the surface. Tomorrow was the Totem Shuryo—a rite of passage that would determine the strong from the weak, the hunters from the hunted.
Tatsu stood at the edge of the square, watching the others practice with their wooden blades and spears. Their laughter rang loud and carefree, as if the dangers of the trial were a distant worry. Tomorrow, they'd enter the forest with nothing but their weapons and their courage. And yet, here he was, grappling with a spear he could barely keep steady.
"Hey, sheep!"
The insult cut through the chatter, sharp as a blade. Tatsu turned to see Riku striding toward him, flanked by his ever-loyal entourage. The son of Kaito, the Tribe's most revered hunter, Riku carried himself with the confidence of someone who had never tasted failure. His broad shoulders and sharp grin were enough to make anyone feel small.
"Think you're ready for tomorrow?" Riku taunted, twirling his spear with practiced ease. The others laughed, their eyes gleaming with the anticipation of watching someone squirm.
Tatsu's fists clenched at his sides, but his expression stayed calm. He'd learned long ago not to rise to their bait. Yet the familiar burn of anger churned in his chest. His mother's voice whispered in his mind, steady and soothing: Strength isn't just in how hard you hit or how loud you roar.
"Come on, show us what you've got," Riku pressed, his grin widening. Without waiting for a response, he hurled his spear.
Tatsu moved to dodge, but he wasn't quick enough. The shaft grazed his arm, then struck his shoulder, the sharp tip biting into his skin. He hissed as pain flared up his arm, warm blood trickling down his sleeve.
The square erupted in laughter.
"Didn't even see it coming," Riku sneered, shaking his head. "How can you hope to face a zasshu if you can't even dodge that?"
Tatsu stayed silent, though his jaw tightened. He could feel the eyes of the crowd on him, judging, belittling. But he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
As the laughter began to fade, his gaze flicked to the edge of the square, where Keisuke stood leaning against a tree. Arms crossed, posture relaxed, Keisuke watched the scene with an almost bored expression. Taller and broader than Riku, Keisuke's presence was enough to make even the boldest of the village kids hesitate. He never joined in the teasing. He didn't need to. His strength was evident without theatrics.
Keisuke's eyes narrowed, just for a moment, as he watched Riku's antics. Tatsu noticed the faint flicker of frustration in his gaze before it disappeared beneath the usual mask of indifference. *He might seem unreadable, Tatsu thought, but I've got him figured out. That was enough for now.
Without a word, Tatsu turned and walked away, ignoring the jeers that followed him. He made his way to the outskirts of the village, where the small hut he shared with his mother waited.
Akane was there, her slender frame silhouetted against the fading light. Her curly sheep horns glowed faintly in the dusk, and her soft, dark eyes met his as he approached.
"They're at it again, aren't they?" she asked gently. Her voice was calm, but the faint crease in her brow betrayed her worry.
Tatsu nodded, shrugging off his tunic to reveal the shallow cut on his shoulder. Without a word, Akane pulled out a pouch of herbs and began her work. A faint green glow emanated from her hands as she pressed them to his skin, the warmth seeping through him and easing the pain.
"You've got to stop letting them get to you," she said softly. "They're just boys, puffing themselves up."
"I know," Tatsu muttered, though his voice carried a hint of bitterness. "But tomorrow… it's the Totem Shuryo. If I don't awaken a powerful totem, I'll be a laughingstock forever."
Akane cupped his face, her touch gentle but firm. "Your worth isn't measured by their standards, Tatsu. You have a mind that can see beyond the noise, beyond the chaos. That's more valuable than brute strength. Find your own path."
Tatsu said nothing, but her words settled in the back of his mind, mingling with his own restless thoughts.
As night fell, Tatsu sat outside their hut, staring into the darkness. The forest loomed in the distance, vast and impenetrable. The Totem Shuryo wasn't just a hunt—it was survival against the zasshu, monstrous creatures twisted by some ancient force. They were a nightmare made flesh: wolves with wings, serpents with claws, beasts that defied logic and nature.
The villagers had long accepted the zasshu as part of their world. But Tatsu had questions no one else seemed to ask. He'd read about them in the old books his mother had hidden, texts that hinted at a different time. Why were their totems majestic creatures, while the zasshu were twisted parodies of life? The books had no answers, only fragments of a world long gone.
"Get some rest," Akane called from inside. "Tomorrow will be a long day."
Tatsu nodded but stayed where he was, the weight of the trial pressing heavy on his shoulders. He stared at the dark expanse of trees, the faint sounds of the village fading behind him. Tomorrow, he'd face the forest, the zasshu, and the expectations of an entire tribe.
Tomorrow, he'd prove he was more than just a sheep boy.