It was an early morning, and Yoku was walking around buying some components for a project he had been working on for the past three days. As he passed by a broken building structure, he saw Kineki sitting alone on it.
Covering one side of his ear, leaving the other side open, Yoku called out, "Hey, Kineki! What's this kid doing?"
Kineki glanced up, his attention fixed on the wind. "I'm listening. It feels like countless people are screaming... suffering."
Yoku coughed, genuinely surprised by what he had said. Hah, that's quite an imagination.
"Well, see ya, kid," Yoku said, waving goodbye as he continued his walk to the market. It was on the right side of the hall where the mayor worked, always guarded by 4-5 soldiers, their uniforms a mix of metallic scraps and intricate designs.
As Yoku made his way to the market, he noticed it was quieter than usual, with fewer people around. This was normal, as the winter had overtaken the town, and most people were out scavenging for something to barter with.
He picked up the supplies he needed for his next project, including a rifle, handguns, and other exploration gear. There was a nagging feeling inside him, as if something was about to happen—something he wasn't prepared for.
Then, he spotted a girl with short hair, dressed in ornately black clothes and a ragged uniform. For the first time, Yoku couldn't help but be mesmerized. He quickly looked away, trying to focus on his purchases. Just as he was about to leave, the girl noticed him.
"Oh, Mr. Yoku, the one who created the power supply for the town! It's an honor to meet you," she said with a smile.
Yoku, trying to stay calm but feeling unusually nervous, sighed. Why am I like this?
"What?" he managed to say. That was weird...
The girl realized her mistake. "Oh, I'm sorry for not introducing myself. I'm Rya Mitsuishi."
"I'm Yoku Mortes," he replied, glancing at the blueprints and almanac she was holding. She noticed his gaze.
"Oh, this? You probably know about them already," she said, her eyes lighting up. "But these are the blueprints for vehicles and equipment. The problem is, I'm trying to replicate them, but it would be impossible to recreate an artifact of the past when I don't even understand it. I can't even read the writing, only the illustrations."
Yoku couldn't help but admire her determination. The only reason he understood the writings was because his grandfather had taught him. He couldn't imagine the effort it would take to try and translate something so alien.
Rya continued, "I just can't help but think that these artifacts will be forgotten if we don't do something about them. I know it's just a replica, but... it's silly, you know?"
Silence fell between them as Yoku didn't know how to respond. The conversation felt awkward, but Rya just smiled.
"Anyway, it was great meeting you. See you around, Mister Yoku." She gathered her things and walked off.
Yoku stood there for a moment, thinking. That was something…
So thats passion...
Something that you want to do... As he thought about it, why does he want to create something again? Something you want to create, because you just want to...
The thing that drives my existence and my thoughts, what is it... If i had to live my life again and again, would i be proud of my choice that ill repeat them endlessly?
As he walked away, lost in thought, he didn't notice the puddle of water on the ground. His boot splashed into it, getting dirty.
"Ugh, damn it!" Yoku muttered.
He glanced up and saw some kids trying to carve something into the side of the Kettenkrad.
"Hey! YOU! What are you doing?!"
The horror of someone damaging his creation—his hard work—boiled in his chest. Rage flared.
Damn kids… They have no idea how much effort it took to repair that thing.
The kids froze, then bolted, as if they'd been waiting for this. Suspicious.
"Stop!" he yelled, sprinting after them. What's going on...? They're acting weird.
He finally caught up, tackling one of them to the ground.
One of the boys, breathless and panicked, cried out, "I'm sorry! We were ordered to do it!"
Yoku blinked. "Ordered? By who—"
Suddenly, a shift in the air. A sharp sound behind him. Reflexes kicked in—he pivoted just in time, parrying a blow aimed at the back of his head with his knuckles.
He stumbled back, pain flaring in his hand. It throbbed violently, the skin burning, the muscles seizing up. That hit had landed hard—steel pipe.
Huffing, trying to steady his breath, Yoku looked up. A bald man approached, using a cane like a third leg. He wore a grin far too calm.
"Mr. Yoku," the man said. "What a wonderful thing to meet you... or maybe not. Who knows."
Behind him stood a group of five, armed with steel batons and pipes. Silent. Waiting.
"Who are you?" Yoku growled.
They didn't answer. One of them, a tall, skinny, bruised man, glanced toward the bald one.
"This the guy with the white-haired kid?"
"Yeah. That's him."
Yoku glanced around. Cramped alley. Wet ground. Garbage scattered. A bad place for a fight.
Adam... He's here too. So he's the one behind this?
"Oh shit—he's getting up."
The bald man clicked his tongue. "Break his knees. And arms."
A man swung sideways. Yoku stepped forward and countered with a metal pan, striking the back of his attacker's knee.
"Ack!"
Two more closed in. One struck Yoku's arm; the other swung toward his head. Yoku gritted his teeth, grabbed one by the hair, twisted, and used the momentum to slam him down. He ripped the pipe from the man's hand and smashed it into his back.
He tried to hold off the third, but the man was strong, lifting and slamming him. A fourth tried to stomp his chest—Yoku blocked it with both arms, gasping.
Too tiring…
The bald man sighed.
"Useless. Are the kids with him too?"
Yoku's eyes widened. They're after the kids too!?
He yanked his flintlock pistol from his coat and fired into a man's thigh. As he screams limping, yoku stomps his jaw breaking it, finally quite
"Aghhh!"
Another shouted, "You didn't say he had a gun!" and tried to flee.
The skinnty tall man fleed to aswell, Forgive Me!... Huff...
Yoku raised the pistol again—bang!—shot the guy in the knee. The sound echoed through the streets. People turned their heads, confused.
Yoku lunged and grabbed the bald man by the neck, shoving him back of a darker alley door.
"W-wait! You're gonna kill me—!"
"What did you say earlier?" Yoku asked coldly.
Terror filled the man's eyes. "It was a joke! Please—mercy—!" Dammit if i had known...
Yoku slammed a kick into his face. Breaking his nose...Blood splattered.
Then he pinned the man, hand over his mouth.
"Another word, and I'll break your jaw. Who else is with you? Why did you do this?"
Muffled, broken voice: "I—I'm the only one! Please, I beg you—have mercy!"
Yoku raised the flintlock again, his bloody knuckles shaking.
"You know... there's one thing I HATE most in this world," he said, smiling like a madman.
"Hurting my friends."
He grinned wider.
"I'd love to scrape your hair off one by one… Too bad you're bald."
A gunshot..
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