Chapter 3 – Meeting Zetsubo

  (Arata Arrives in Mizukaza)

  ---

  The Morning After His Escape

  The streets of Mizukaza were already alive with movement.

  Unlike Honfaza, Mizukaza was bigger, busier, and louder. Buildings lined the streets, their rooftops stacked high in layered designs. The air carried the scent of fresh bread, roasting meat, and the crisp morning breeze.

  Vendors called out their sales, carts rolled by carrying goods, and people bustled through the streets, too caught up in their daily lives to notice a small, bloodstained boy stumbling into their town.

  Arata’s legs ached. His feet burned. His body swayed with exhaustion, but he forced himself to move forward.

  He had made it.

  Now, he just had to find Zetsubo.

  But there was a problem—

  He had no idea where to look.

  ---

  Alone in a New City

  Arata walked through the streets, keeping his head low. He clutched his mother’s necklace tight against his chest, his only comfort in this unfamiliar place.

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  People passed by, not paying him any attention. He was just another dirty kid in a busy city.

  His stomach growled.

  He needed food.

  His hands twitched. He had seen a stall selling small loaves of bread. The vendor wasn’t looking. If he could just—

  “Hey, kid.”

  Arata froze.

  A strong hand grabbed his shoulder.

  ---

  Meeting Zetsubo

  The voice was deep and rough, but not unkind.

  Arata turned, his body tense—ready to run.

  The man standing before him was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in dark robes. A single scar ran across his cheek, and his piercing gaze studied Arata carefully.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke.

  Then—the man’s eyes fell on the bloodstained necklace clutched in Arata’s hands.

  His entire demeanor changed.

  “…Sayaka.” His voice barely came out as a whisper.

  Arata’s breath hitched. He knew that name.

  The man knelt, removing one of his gloves, revealing a tattoo on his wrist—an identical mark to the one Sayaka had.

  “Kid…” The man’s voice was softer now. “You’re her son, aren’t you?”

  Arata’s grip on the necklace tightened. He hesitated, but finally, he gave a small nod.

  The man exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something—but instead, he just rested a hand on Arata’s head.

  “You did good getting here.”

  A lump swelled in Arata’s throat. The weight of the last 24 hours crashed down on him.

  He had made it.

  He had found Zetsubo.

  Will this be his friend or Foe?