Heroes to Hunted

In trying to tame my wild breathing and stifled cries, I forced multiple chest-expanding breaths.

'Breathe in, breathe out... Breathe in, breathe out...' Like a mantra, I repeated this in my mind over and over to pace myself while clutching my hands against my chest.

Finally, after several minutes of my exercises, I reached a point of mental tranquility. Aside from an occasional, involuntary gasp for air, my breathing stabilized.

I stood up only to stumble backward, smacking my head on the tree's base. Given my weariness and previous fit of sobs, my mind was still too delirious for precise movement.

"Ah...damn..." I griped, rubbing the spot of impact on the back of my head and feeling the onset of light swelling.

I squinted my eyes and used the natural moonlight to gauge the surrounding room. What I saw were my companions scattered across the floor, sleeping soundly. Or most of them, at least.

Out of our group, two were nowhere to be seen. One was Shrug, which hadn't surprised me since Mizuno said the three of them would alternate shifts to watch for danger.

Aside from him, there was still one vacancy to be addressed. Takagi, shockingly, was absent from his place of rest.

"Where did he wander off to?" I tiredly mumbled. But that's when I heard it. It was faint, but a clear, audible pattern of squelching flesh and cracking bone, followed by violent grunting, resounded from the outdoors.

I'll admit I could feel my blood run cold, and my heart seized up in fear. Especially after my nightmare, stress had accumulated to the point of bursting inside me. 'What's out there?' I balled my hands up into fists, ready to strike first if I had to.

I was terrified. Still, my curiosity overwrote my worry as I slowly paced to our den's exit.

Step by step, the vicious sounds of gore became louder and more pronounced. When I finally stepped outside, I was greeted by the pale embrace of scattered moonlight...and the huge scarred arm of a man-giant barring me from continuing.

"Sh-Shrug?" I angled my gaze upward to match his.

His expression was fierce and forceful while he shook his head "no" and pushed me backward.

Unsure of what was happening, I thought there were intruders. So I whispered, "what's happ-" but was interrupted by a savage growl.

After hearing it, I remembered what I'd initially set out to do and searched for the origin of the noise.

What I saw next was a man left unhinged by emotions and trauma. He stood over the quillbeast's carcass, drenched in blood from head to toe. He looked like I did...in my nightmare.

He had a sword in hand, Takagi's longsword, and raised it toward the moon before slicing it deep into the quillbeast's body. This motion was repeated several times, with each successive incision becoming more brutal and reckless than the last.

"Fuck. You. You. God. Damn. BEAR!" With every swing, he snarled and grunted, filling the once tranquil night forests with the sounds of a man gone mad. His fury, his sadness, his angst, all of it imbued into his attacks and the air around him.

The man's visage was familiar to me, and I definitely knew his voice. The behavior, however, wasn't his at all. Rather than his usual playful but punk-like nature, it was like he was a true demon, a murderous beast given human form.

"DIE! DIE!" he repeated, over and over again.

After several minutes of him hacking away, the corpse was barely recognizable. It was reduced to a pile of tattered skin, snapped bone, ripped cartilage, and severed organs.

Now that his "enemy" was obliterated into a pile of flesh, he loosened his grip and dropped the blood-soaked blade. It clattered onto the turf below with a blunt thud, and he turned toward us.

Although his eyes were flooded with tears, they could do nothing to quell the wildfire of unbridled rage that hid beneath his gaze.

He winced at us and averted his eyes, seemingly ashamed of his actions. Then, when the air of frustrated embarrassment became too much for him to bear, he made a beeline toward the den's entrance, straight past Shrug and me.

"Out of my way," he choked while avoiding eye contact.

The horrid stench of filthy pennies permeated my nostrils when he ran by. Given that he was covered by so much rotten blood, I guess it was to be expected.

After crinkling my nose in disgust, I glanced at Shrug. He stared at the pile of quillbeast flesh with an unflinching expression, then shook his head. Finally, he sighed deeply before shrugging and returning his attention to me.

"Sleep," he said, gesturing for me to return inside.

And so I followed his instruction, again attempting to find sleep's embrace. But, between bloody memories and even bloodier nightmares, small bouts of rest ranging between a few minutes to a few hours became the best I could accomplish before jerking back awake.

I tossed and turned the whole night, replaying everything that had happened since I came here in vivid detail. All the way until dawn's first light split between the trees and spilled into our shelter's entrance.

Quite a bit happened that following morning.

Takahashi woke up from unconsciousness in a hysteria-fueled panic. However, he calmed down once we explained the situation to him. In fact, even more so than Kamida, the sisters, Takagi, or me, he'd expressed overwhelming joy and interest in our three saviors.

He excitedly asked many questions, which shocked me, considering his timid personality until now.

Some were as simple as how long they'd been surviving as fugitives in this new world (roughly seven months), while others had to do with details such as what types of magic they could use. Eventually, his questions became too incessant and hard to answer due to trust issues, so they stopped answering them altogether.

'Must be an otaku,' I thought, staring blankly at Takahashi. Though I had to admire how giddy he was despite everything that's happened so far.

Next, after they silenced Takahashi's questioning, we moved to breakfast. It was the gray rabbit Suda, and I had caught yesterday, paired with bread rations they had on hand for traveling in their packs.

Since Sato was still unconscious, Mizuno created some kind of liquid paste from bread and water to feed him.

After the meal, Mizuno forcibly washed Takagi with a torrent of water magic to clear him from his stink. She was worried his smell could attract more predators during our travels.

He'd protested against her slightly with growls and profanity. However, he was still too distraught by Nakamura's death to resist as he typically would.

Looking at him, I couldn't help but remember his murderous expression from last night, an image that sent chills up my spine. I couldn't be sure what kinds of demons he'd had hiding beneath his skin now.

Next, Bandages were tended to and changed by Suda. To my joy, Sato's wounds had all but nearly vanished, minus the fresh new scars they'd left. Even Takagi's injuries had healed significantly over the night, leaving only slight scabbing and shallow cuts.

When Kamida and I expressed our awe, Suda explained that their bandages were specially made. She didn't know exactly how, but she'd divulged how the wrapping was infused with various herbs and substances that stimulated healing.

Once everything had been taken care of, we finally began a three-day trek to what Mizuno and Suda had described as "Freehaven." A place they specifically described as "our first step toward freedom."

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