Hiro's father stared at him, his stern gaze unwavering.
"Where were you? I summoned you some time ago,"
"Sorry, Father. I stopped by to visit Rin, and… time seemed to pass faster than usual,"
Hiro admitted, lowering his eyes.
His father exhaled sharply, the irritation still evident as he shifted his focus to a pile of documents on his desk.
"I see. Be quicker next time,"
"Yes, Father. What have you called me for?"
His father stood slowly, the weight of his movements heavy with purpose. Kneeling down so their eyes were level, he placed a firm hand on Hiro's shoulder.
"I have important news, Hiro. Do not interrupt until I've finished."
"Okay…?"
"The camp will be attacked in a few days. We don't have the manpower to defend ourselves. We will lose—of that, there is no doubt."
Hiro's eyes widened in shock, his breath catching in his throat. Before he could speak, his father gripped his shoulders tighter.
"We will lose,and I will die. But I am determined to ensure that you survive. Listen closely."
Hiro felt a cold shiver run down his spine as his father continued.
"When the attack begins, you must hide. Go to the northernmost tent in the camp. Inside, you will find a wooden box containing a mask. Put it on, and when the coast is clear, run. Run as if your life depends on it—because it will. Do you hear me?"
Hiro stared at his father, stunned by both his words and the raw intensity in his voice.
"Do you hear me, Hiro?"
"Oh, uh… yes, I hear you,"
"Good."
His father released him, rising back to his full height.
"Now go, and tell no one what I've said."
"Okay…"
Hiro muttered, still reeling as he stepped away.
Leaving the partitioned section of the tent, Hiro passed through the bustling main hall, his father's grave words echoing in his mind. His heart was heavy with confusion and fear
Hiro walked away from his father's tent, his mind heavy with unease.
For hours, he sat at the edge of the camp, staring into the distance and thinking about his father's words.
'Will we really be attacked?'
he wondered. It doesn't make sense. We've been so careful to cover our tracks.
Yet, his father's certainty gnawed at him. Why was he so sure? Hiro tried to piece it together, but the effort only made his head throb.
Needing a distraction, he decided to visit Rin again. As always, her presence was calming, but she quickly noticed his troubled expression.
"You okay, Hiro?" she asked, her tone gentle but probing.
"Oh, yes. I'm fine—just tired,"
Hiro wasn't supposed to tell anyone, not even Rin. His father's warning echoed in his mind, keeping his lips sealed.
"Alright,"
She said, her eyes lingering on him.
"Hope you feel better soon."
After spending some time with her, Hiro returned to his tent.
As he walked, another thought surfaced, unbidden and unwelcome
'What will happen to Rin if we're attacked?'
He shook the thought away, comforting himself with a belief that felt almost like a prayer.
'Her father will protect her. He must.'
The thought eased his mind, if only by a little.
- - -
Many days had passed without an attack, yet Hiro couldn't shake the conversation he'd had with his father—it lingered in his mind like an uninvited guest.
He couldn't confide in anyone, and the secrecy left him feeling far more conflicted than he thought he should be.
'I haven't seen Rin in a while. Maybe I should—'
His train of thought was shattered by a loud, piercing blare from the far side of the camp. Hiro froze, instantly recognizing the sound. It was the cry of a war horn—an unmistakable warning of an attack. His father's words echoed in his mind, but another thought quickly overtook them.
'Rin. I need to find her.'
Instinct urged him to protect his friend, but doubt crept in like a shadow.
'No. I'm too weak to help her. Her father's with her—she'll be safe. Everyone will be safe. I just need to make sure I survive.'
Resolving himself, Hiro knew what he had to do. Fortunately, he was already near the northern edge of the camp, so finding the northernmost tent—and the box within it—shouldn't take much effort.
He ran, his heart pounding with every step. The northern tent wasn't hard to spot; it stood alone, though it could easily be mistaken for a supply tent.
Hiro stepped inside the tent. It was mostly empty, save for a few scattered supplies and a singular box resting in plain sight.
He hesitated for a moment, surprised by how exposed the box was.
'Shouldn't it be hidden?'
Shrugging off the unease, he walked over and opened it.
Inside was a wooden half-mask, carved from ashen wood. Its surface was etched with sharp lines, forming an angry scowl. Two small horns curled in opposite directions, giving the mask a menacing aura.
Hiro reached out and picked it up. The mask was unnervingly cold to the touch, and as his fingers traced the carvings, he felt every groove and ridge.
'What is this thing?'
His thoughts spiraled as he stared at the mask, a mixture of curiosity and dread flooding his mind.
Before he could make sense of it, the distant clash of swords shattered his focus. The sound was followed by screams—raw, piercing, and close.
Hiro froze. His breath hitched as fear rooted him to the spot. The mask hung limply in his hand, its coldness now matching the chill racing down his spine.