CHAPTER SIXTEEN

After cleaning themselves up sufficiently, the two emerged from the stream. Farah sat on a moss-covered rock beside her neatly folded clothes and lids shut while, a few feet away, Tatsuya— damp hair hung loosely over his forehead—sat on the grass with his legs stretched out. Although he mirrored her tranquil expression, he kept his eyes open and fixed on her, watching how the sun’s rays danced upon her skin, lending a warm glow to her face.

Captivated as he was by the sight, the babbling stream meandering through the serene forest became the backdrop for his thoughts. He was unable to tear his eyes away, yet was so lost in reverie, he was unable to tell she had become aware of his gaze until she started making her way to him. Droplets of water glistened on her sun-kissed skin as she approached, her steps deliberate yet carefree, and he found his heart racing as he watched her close the distance.

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she broke the silence. "Enjoying the view?" she asked, her voice light and teasing.

Caught off-guard, he couldn't help but flush with embarrassment and excitement. He fumbled for words, finally saying, "I mean, the stream is nice."

Farah's laughter rang out, warm and genuine, and as she made to settle on the grass next to him, he reached for his shirt to wring out the excess water for her to sit on instead—and with a muttered thanks, she used it.

He turned to her with a smile. "We haven't had the chance to really talk. How have you been?" The air was filled with the soothing sound of water cascading over smooth pebbles, lending an inviting atmosphere to their long-overdue conversation.

She sighed, her face betraying a hint of exhaustion, and took a moment to compose herself before replying, “Honestly, it's been a whirlwind, to say the least. I don't know if you have noticed, but I've barely spoken to the others.”

“Yeah, I've noticed. You and Zoel are pretty much always absent.” His eyes sparkled with curiosity, though, in reality, his thoughts had screeched to a halt at a particular intrusive thought. “I don't want to presume, but are you two—”

She shook her head. “Spirit, no. I’ve simply been sparing with her.”

“Oh,” he said, leaning forward.

“Yeah”—Farah took a deep breath, placing her hands across the crook of her knees and rested her head upon it—“I don't want a repeat of how we met; I don’t want to be so helpless I have to depend on anyone, stranger or friend, coming to save me.”

Her voice wavered slightly, and in its wake, an awkward pause settled between them, the silence thickening.

“Have you ever felt helpless?”

Tatsuya jolted in place, his gaze meeting hers briefly before shifting to the stream. The question seemed to have come out from nowhere—despite it being a logical next step in their conversation—and, as he made out the vague and distorted suggestion of his face amidst the gentle ripples, he had to take a moment to settle his thoughts. However, a mix of emotions washed over him instead as he saw the lines etched around his eyes: the creases of worry and stress, the deep-set fatigue that seemed to have settled into his bones, and the remnants of injuries—his reflection was a weight, a stark reminder of the helplessness he endured.

In the suffering of the human soul, the inner candle flickered in each emotional storm; yet, in helplessness, the wick is unlit, as if there never was a flame, as if the comforting warmth of power had been only imagined.

Tatsuya didn't know where he heard those words from, but they brought with them dreams he once had and aspirations he once held dear. He remembered a time when the world seemed full of possibilities, when he burned bright with ambition, as simple as they may have been to most. But over the years, the harsh realities of the world had dimmed that fire, and he had grown weary from the endless struggle to achieve his life’s purpose.

There was no doubt about it; helplessness was a feeling he was well-acquainted with. Yet—

“No,” he finally said, his fingers drumming on the ground while his eyes flickered with a hint of guilt. “Not really.”

Tatsuya couldn't admit his vulnerability. He had spent so long repressing his emotions that it was second nature to him to avoid acknowledging his emotions to anybody, locking them away behind a controlled facade most of the time. However, a deep desire for connection and a sense of belonging still lingered within—to let his guard down and reveal the stories of his scars, physical and emotional, to someone. He yearned to fully experience the richness of life, those moments of shared openness and vulnerability, where friends would offer words of support, admiration, and gratitude for trusting them.

He understood that vulnerability was not a flaw but a form of strength, and true courage lay in confronting his emotions—he wasn’t stupid enough to see emotions as weakness—but until he achieved his goal, he couldn't open himself to the world in any authentic way.

“Is that so?” Disbelief hung in the air, and a frown tugged at her lips. “Then why are you so hellbent on killing Kuro? What could drive you to such extreme measures?"

He had no problem answering questions like this—he had already said as much to Lao during the interrogation—but they never failed to elicit a reaction from him; his gaze hardened, burning with a mixture of anger and pain, and even as he cleared his throat and spoke softly, bitterness laced his voice.

“He took everything from me—my family, my happiness, my future." His hands trembled with the weight of his vendetta as memories of his past flooded his mind. “I made a promise to myself that he would pay for his actions, and I intend to make that happen. Whatever the cost.”

He had tried moving on. He had tried to find peace, but every time he closed his eyes, he wandered back to that fateful scene and heard the bone-chilling screams and subsequent death throes. Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure why he was telling her (even if he had no problem with doing so) about this as it wasn't exactly her business, but maybe he was more starved for conversation than he had realised.

He shook his head. No, it was undoubtedly something else; the burning mix of desperation and anger that gnawed at his heart had fully enveloped his mind, shrouding every thought he possessed with a deep-seated desire that screamed for vengeance. He could see it quite clearly in his mind's eye, the sight of Kuro’s body snapping under the strain of his fury brought to bear and torn apart by the vehemence of the very air—and, he knew, the only way he could find closure was if he brought those thoughts to life and made Kuro pay for what he did.

She reached across the space between them, her hand hovering near his, offering a comforting presence.

“I had suspected, but it's good to have confirmation that we are the same,” Farah said, and Tatsuya turned to face her in surprise, curiosity piqued. “My master had the attention of my village’s chief as she had a powerful speciality, and I was so helpless, I could do nothing to stop them from killing her when she refused the king’s orders.”

In the ensuing hushed atmosphere, he found solace in her empathy and wasn't able to stop the unbidden laughter from escaping his lips. He had tried to avoid being vulnerable, but still, after her words, there was an obvious shared sense of kinship, a connection due to their similar origins—as if the universe itself had orchestrated this meeting to remind him of the power of human connection and the inevitability of it all.

He couldn't help but feel a bit lighter. The weight that had been pressing down upon his shoulders loosened, if only a fraction, and the tension released itself from his body.

However, though the moment was broken and Farah leaned back (withdrawing her hands away), the silence continued. Yet, he couldn't deny that the barrier between them had been dissolved, and for the life of him, he didn't know whether that was a good or a bad thing.

Eventually, the sun started its descent behind the towering trees, its fading light painting the sky in hues of pink and gold and dappling through overhanging trees. The two rose from their spots and helped each other put on their clean, dry clothes. The water droplets clinging to their skin sparkled like tiny diamonds, remnants of the weighty experience they had just shared, intentionally or not.

With a touch of reluctance, Tatsuya bid farewell to the stream, and side by side, they ventured back to the camp.