*** Yumi ***
The trees grew thin near the top. The earth turned to stone, and every step up the slope bit into my soles. I could feel the warmth of the village far below slipping away, like the last comfort of a dream before a cold morning.
Above us, the cave waited.
I knew it was there. Not from sight, but because I had watched. For three days. Three long, cold, hungry days hiding in the brush, crouched in trees, waiting for patterns, for weakness. Watching a monster that no one in the village dared name.
Tonight I would kill him.
Renzoku moved somewhere behind me. I never saw him. But I could feel him. His presence stuck to the back of my neck like sweat on a bad day. Heavy. Breathless. A blade hovering. If I failed, he would be the last thing I ever saw.
Good.
That's how it should be.
I crept through the underbrush, finding the narrow deer trail I had used before. The rocks were slick with moss. My fingers were numb, my chest tight. I climbed, silent, slow, until the trees opened up behind me and the cliff face loomed ahead. The cave mouth was hidden just behind the curve of a broken ridge. Black and quiet.
The smell hit first.
Rot. Feces. Spoiled meat.
I swallowed.
I'd smelled worse.
I moved closer, hands brushing the stone, keeping low. There was a narrow ledge around the curve of the cliff. I pressed myself flat and crawled across it, breath held. One slip, and I'd tumble fifty feet into rocks and tree limbs. A trap worse than anything the killer had left behind.
But I made it.
I always make it.
I crouched before the cave mouth, wrapped in night.
And froze.
For the first time in a long time… I hesitated.
It wasn't just the smell. It wasn't the whispers I heard in the dark, or the way the firelight flickered deeper inside, throwing dancing shadows on the rough cave walls.
It was the fear.
Real fear.
Not the kind I'd lived with every day of my life. Not the kind that makes you smaller, makes you fold in on yourself to survive.
No. This fear was pure. Because it wasn't about surviving.
It was about failing.
Failing him.
Failing myself.
I didn't just want to survive anymore. I wanted to win. I wanted to kill.
"Kill or be killed," came the whisper again.
His voice. Somewhere behind me. Or maybe not. Maybe just in my head now.
But it worked.
I steeled myself. Dug my fingers into my thigh to ground the panic. Then I moved.
One breath.
Two.
Then I stepped into the darkness.
The cave was damp and bitter cold. Moonlight filtered through cracks in the ceiling, thin and silver. The walls were smeared with filth. Bones littered the edges, broken and gnawed. Cloth. Jewelry. Child-sized sandals.
"Don't look."
Just keep moving.
I slid along the right wall, quiet, low. I heard him now. His breathing, ragged and thick like wet cloth.
I saw him a moment later.
Hunched near a dying fire. Back turned. Muttering to himself. Fingers twitching.
I licked my lips.
One step.
Another.
Closer.
Closer.
A glint of light. Moonlight through a crack… just for a second.
But enough.
My shadow spilled across the floor and touched him.
He turned, snarling. His eyes were yellow with sickness. Black teeth. Beard full of rot.
I lunged.
He rolled.
My blade caught nothing but ash.
We crashed to the ground, a tangle of limbs. He kicked me hard in the ribs. I tasted blood.
He scrambled for a heavy piece of wood, a broken table leg, and swung it wildly. I ducked the first swing. The second clipped my shoulder.
Pain flared.
I surged forward and slashed his thigh. Blood sprayed.
He screamed.
He grabbed a bottle and threw it at my face. I ducked again, and it shattered on the wall behind me.
He was bigger. Stronger.
But not faster.
I darted in, cutting his arm. Then his side. But my strikes were weak, not deep enough. He howled, lunged again, tackled me into the dirt.
I kicked him off, rolled, grabbed another blade from my belt.
He picked up a rock. Threw it. Hit my face. Everything went white.
But I didn't fall.
I wouldn't fall.
I dove, slashing again, this time across his belly. His guts didn't spill. Not deep enough.
From the cave mouth, I heard laughter.
His laughter.
Renzoku.
Watching.
Judging.
Not helping.
He was testing me.
And I was failing.
I growled, spit blood, and dove again. My blade caught the man's cheek, slicing deep. He screamed and tackled me back, this time pinning me beneath him.
His hands found my throat.
He squeezed.
I thrashed, knives scraping against his arms. But he was screaming now, mad, bleeding, wild-eyed. He didn't care about pain.
My lungs burned.
Darkness closed in.
This is how I die.
This is—
A thud.
He jerked.
Stopped.
I gasped for air.
Looked up.
A blade jutted from his shoulder.
He howled. Fell back.
Renzoku's gift.
My opening.
I didn't hesitate.
I drove a knife into his throat. He gasped.
I drove another into his chest. He spasmed.
I drove a final one straight through his forehead. His body jerked. Then stilled.
Silence.
His weight collapsed onto me, hot and twitching.
I lay there, heart hammering, the stench of blood and piss clogging my throat.
Alive.
I was alive.
Barely.
I squirmed and pushed, struggling out from beneath him. My limbs shook. My fingers were numb. Everything hurt.
But I was smiling.
I looked up.
Renzoku stood in the cave entrance, arms crossed, that grin of his split across his face like a gaping wound.
He didn't speak.
He didn't have to.
I stood, knees trembling.
"Kill or be killed," I whispered.
His grin widened.
I collapsed beside the fire and let the shaking take me.
This was my jungle now.
And I had survived it.