Kurai slipped back into camp without fanfare, stepping past the crude barricades of sharpened stakes and overturned logs. The others turned at his arrival, their conversation halting as their gazes fixed on him. The firelight danced against his form, casting shifting shadows over his face. Even without speaking, something about him seemed different.
His movements were sharper—effortless, fluid, like water flowing around stone. Not just efficiency, but an instinctual grace that hadn't been there before. His presence carried a quiet weight, an almost imperceptible shift in the air around him. Subtle, but felt.
Mira, kneeling near the fire, was the first to speak. "You're back." There was something hesitant in her voice.
Elias's dark eyes lingered on Kurai.
Jace exhaled sharply, arms crossed. "So? What happened?"
Kurai flicked a glance toward the tree line, as if listening for any lingering danger. "They're handled," he said simply.
Jace frowned. "Handled? That's all you're gonna say?"
"They won't be coming back."
That silenced whatever argument Jace was about to make.
Kurai crouched down near the fire, resting his spear across his lap. The weight of 250 points sat heavy in his mind. Only 50 more to reach his goal—but with night creeping in, the jungle would probably only grow more treacherous. There was no need to rush.
"We need to fortify the camp," Kurai said at last, shifting the conversation. "The stakes are a good start, but we'll need more. Traps, barricades, elevated positions. If more come, we should be ready."
Elias nodded, as if he had already been thinking the same. "Agreed. We were considering digging a few pits beyond the stakes—shallow enough to camouflage, but deep enough to break a leg if someone rushes in carelessly."
"Good," Kurai replied. "We'll work on it tomorrow."
Jace huffed, still clearly unsettled, but said nothing more.
***
Night was soon approaching. They had eaten, drank what they could, and despite exhaustion clawing at their bones, none of them felt at ease enough to simply sleep.
Kurai sensed their tension. Fear made people weak. Hesitation would kill them.
So he stood, grabbing a spear and rolling his shoulders. "Get up," he said.
Theo groaned. "Man, I just sat down."
"You'll sit down permanently if you don't know how to defend yourself." Kurai's voice was calm, but there was no room for argument.
Elias smirked slightly. "He's right. We're not exactly in a position to be picky."
With reluctant grumbles, the group stood, grabbing their own spears.
Kurai stepped into the fire's glow, spear resting lightly in his hands. The naginata was his weapon of choice, but the spear shared enough similarities that he could teach them something useful.
"The key to survival isn't just strength," he began. "It's control. Control of your weapon. Control of your stance. Control of your mind. A sloppy attack is worse than no attack at all."
He demonstrated a simple defensive posture—feet firm but light, weight balanced, the spear held diagonally across his body. "This is your guard. Always keep your center protected."
They mimicked him, albeit clumsily.
"Too rigid," he corrected Jace, nudging his stance. "If you're stiff, you'll break the moment someone stronger pushes against you."
Mira, despite her hesitance, caught on quickly. Elias, as expected, adjusted smoothly. Jace was struggling, his frustration visible in every tense muscle. Theo too had a hard time, not used to physically exerting himself.
After about an hour of Kurai showing different stances and moves, he let them to their own devices giving feedback where needed.
Theo, panting, muttered, "Man, I'm beat…" He straightened slightly and cast a glance at Kurai. "Hey, Kurai… were you in some kinda kendo club or something? You're like… one of those samurai from movies, you know?"
Kurai stilled.
The fire crackled, throwing deep shadows over his face.
"…Samurai."
The word lingered, sharp and unwelcome.
Kurai's grip on the spear tightened. His jaw clenched just slightly before he exhaled through his nose. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low.
"I'm no samurai," he said. "Not anymore."
The silence stretched a fraction too long.
The weight of something unspoken settled over the group.
Without another word, Kurai turned, planting the spear into the ground. "I'll take the first watch," he murmured. "Get some rest."
His tone left no room for debate.
The others exchanged glances, but no one dared to push further. One by one, they settled into uneasy sleep, leaving Kurai alone with his thoughts beneath the smoldering embers of the fire.