I woke to the smell of ash and old wood. My back stuck to the hard ground with dried blood and sweat. My body still throbbed from the fights we'd had, but I was already healed. Mostly.
I opened my eyes.
Yumi was crouched by the wall, wiping herself down with a damp rag. Her skin was bare, streaked with dirt and old bruises. One eye was hidden beneath the patch I gave her. The other flicked toward me, and she froze when she saw me watching.
She jerked upright, grabbing for the nearest cloth. "You're awake."
I didn't blink. "Why are you acting strange?"
She wrapped herself in the ragged robe. "You're staring."
"I've seen blood pour from your eye and steam rise from your cracked ribs. I've seen your hands dig into a man's throat. Now I see your skin." I sat up. "And now you're nervous?"
"It's not the same," she muttered, fidgeting. "Men and women are… different."
I frowned. "Why?"
She blinked. "Because… people say so. Because bodies—"
"Bodies bleed. Bodies break. Bodies kill. That's all that matters." I stood and stretched. "This is stupid. We have killing to prepare for."
She smirked, shaking her head, then tossed a bundle at my chest. "Fine. Get dressed."
I unwrapped it. Clean clothes. A dull brown tunic, black trousers, a belt with a crude iron buckle.
I sniffed them. "Where did you get this?"
"I went out before dawn," she said, pulling on her own clothes. "Lifted it from a few back rooms, stole some money too. And a map."
I grunted in approval. "You're more useful than I thought."
She tied her belt with a grin. "I try."
"Make sure you don't die before I'm done using you."
"I'll die when you say I can."
We dressed in silence. The shack groaned as the wind pressed against the warped walls. Outside, the world waited.
New. Unknown. My jungle.
Yumi sat cross-legged near the small fire pit, holding the map out for me. "So… what's the plan?"
I stared down at the paper, not really understanding most of the symbols. The edges were worn, frayed. But I could see one name, written over the largest piece of land near the coast.
Kusanagi.
My target.
But I wasn't ready.
"This place is a new jungle," I muttered. "I need to learn. The land. The rules. The prey."
"You mean the people?"
I nodded. "Kusanagi is the biggest beast here. But I won't reach him yet. I need to fight others. Grow stronger."
Yumi's face darkened. "If you start hunting people with power, the Iron Clan will take notice. They'll send hunters. Stronger ones."
"I hope they do."
"No." She pointed at the map. "You kill too many, too loudly, and the whole continent will know your name. You'll be dead before you ever get close to Kusanagi."
"Dead?"
"You know what I mean."
I studied her. Sharp. Clever. She still smelled like fear, but her eyes burned hotter every day.
"You're right," I said. "For now, we learn. I'll walk like them. Talk like them. I'll hunt without being seen."
She gave a short laugh. "I thought you'd say that. You stand out, you know. You're too tall, too scarred, too… wild."
I smirked. "Then teach me. Teach me how to hide in plain sight."
Yumi stood, brushing dirt off her knees. "Alright. Lesson one. Don't snarl at every person who bumps into you. It's not normal."
"Why not?"
"Because normal people apologize, then go about their day."
"Sounds weak."
"It is. But it keeps you alive." She walked in a circle, mimicking a polite bow. "This is how we greet others."
I copied her, my movements stiff and too low. She chuckled.
"Closer. Not so deep. You're not praying."
"I don't pray."
"I know."
We spent the morning like that. Her teaching me how to walk without stomping, how to listen without growling, how to smile without baring my teeth.
"How do I ask for food?"
"Depends on the setting," she said, adjusting my collar. "If you're in a market, be polite. Use this word: Please." She repeated it a few times until I could mimic the sound.
"I'd rather just take it."
"You can't kill every seller you meet."
"Says who?"
"Says surviving longer than a week in town." She took a step back and eyed me critically. "You still look like a killer."
"I am one."
"But you'll need to look like a worker. A traveler. Someone not worth noticing."
I adjusted the strap on my shoulder and nodded. "Fine. I'll play your game."
"You'll need to trim your hair. And that beard."
I ran my fingers through the mess on my jaw and hair. "Why?"
"Because you look like you've been raised by wolves."
I grinned. "Close enough."
We found a cracked mirror nailed to the back of the shack. She handed me a small blade.
I cut. She directed. My face emerged slowly. Clean, still angular, the gold in my eyes still wild. My hair was shorter now, jagged at the sides, barely touching my ears, but long enough to hide my forehead and eyes. I looked like someone you'd hesitate to cross, not run screaming from.
She trimmed her own hair too, tying it in a neat braid and tucking it under a rough hood.
"There," she said, admiring our work. "Now we just look poor. Not dangerous."
"Not yet."
She tucked the map into her sash. "We'll walk into town like we belong there. I'll do the talking. You observe. Listen. Understand."
I grunted approval.
The fire in the corner of the shack died out. I kicked dirt over it.
We stepped out into the gray morning fog.
The town sprawled down the slope ahead of us, rooftops stacked like armor plates, the banners of the Iron Clan fluttering above watchtowers in the distance.
Smoke drifted from chimneys. Voices echoed in the alleys. Children chased carts. Farmers bartered. Soldiers patrolled in tight groups of three and four, iron glinting on their shoulders.
Yumi tugged her hood lower. I followed her lead, my steps light.
This wasn't my jungle. Not yet.
But it would be.
Every face I passed was prey that didn't know it yet.
She turned to me as we entered the edge of the market.
"Rule two," she whispered.
"Understand your enemy."
"Exactly."
We vanished into the crowd, the hunters in disguise.