Franco threw Leonard over his shoulder and bolted deeper into the woods. The man wheezed dramatically as if the some tragic incident were buried in his painful existence. Fast moving objects blurred alongside, tree branches rustling about, as if they were narrating the tales of the long lost wars.

Hachizen's voice, cold as the frost that clung to the underbrush, sliced through the air. "I don't like to chase," he declared, his eyes unyielding. "Fetched him for me."

Hachizen's men knelt, their forms dissolving into mist. "Yes, Master Hachizen," they murmured, their voices hollow. Shadows swallowed them whole, leaving only the memory of their obedience. "Your brother owe me this... Leonard," He said in a cold tone.

The ancient boughs bearing witness to a brutal dance. "Where are you even taking me?!" but Franco remained silent. Shadows chased them, their edges sharp as the kunai hurtled toward Leonard.

In a heartbeat, Franco acted. Leonard's body met the ground. The kunai missed its mark. But another figure blurred past-the kimonos, the black mask-an assailant seeking to end Leonard's life.

Franco's grip tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric. "Running away?!" he growled, flinging the man to the stricken roots of a twisted trunk. The sound reverberated. Leonard stared, gasping, as Franco's fist collided with abdominal cavity and the wood shattered.

Nevertheless, there were imminent threats. Another hostile figure, driven by vengeance, it charged forward. For a moment, Leonard's life lay at the mercy of Franco. He was a force of nature - a cyclone of extreme rage. "Get distracted so easily?" said Franco, calling forth the technique he was most well-known for.

[Viking Smash] - the hammer appeared, its heaviness signaling obliteration. It struck flesh, bone, and soil, leaving the man's face a battered place. These were Hachizen's men, mere players in a perverted chess game.

"What a beast..." Leonard commented.

Franco's forearm struck Leonard's stomach, the impact jarring. Then, Franco hoisted him once more. They stumbled through the forest, shadows clinging to their heels, until they reached Franco's place.

"Thanks for saving me, we could've died if not because of you."

"Who said we?"

Leonard's confusion hung heavy in the air. What did Franco mean?

"W-what do you mean by that?"

Franco's eyes bore into him, unyielding. "You thought I was gonna help you?" His voice, like a blade unsheathed, cut through Leonard's hope. "I came here to collect your bounty, not to help you, you murderer."

"I-i promise I didn't do it!" His voice cracked, and he knelt before Franco, fingers gripping the worn leather of the lumberjack's boots. "I would do anything-anything-just don't hand me to the authorities, please!"

Franco's gaze bore into Leonard, the weight of judgment heavy. He considered the man's plea, the guilt and desperation. "Hmmmm... No."

The perspective changed - a harsh picture. Leonard's transformation from a lumberjack trying only to feed his family to that of a cornered beast in a cage.

And there, in the periphery of the picture, was him, the outlaw - the one who deals weapons, and parcels ready made destinies. There was a transaction of currency which along with the sound of the disturbance made by the pieces; signed a pact of impossibility with Leonard.

"Yow! Don't forget our deal." His eyes gleamed with avarice, a predator scenting victory.

"How can I forget? The 10 million will be yours after we hand him to the authorities." His gaze shifted to Leonard, the man who had become both pawn and prey. "I know you're a heavy drinker," The merchant added, "and I've heard you'll have an upcoming battle with Bane. I'm looking forward to it."

"See ya soon, pipsqueak!" Franco's laughter was a cruel refrain. The bandits joined in, their mirth like daggers twisting in Leonard's gut. He stared at the ground, hollow-eyed-a man stripped of hope, his very essence fading.

Three weeks had passed, each day a descent into hunger and despair. Leonard's once-vibrant face now bore the pallor of the forgotten. His bones pressed against paper-thin skin, a testament to suffering.

And then, when all seemed lost, A cloaked figure, no taller than three feet, approached. His wooden staff tapped the earth.

"Hey, kid," the diminutive stranger said, voice kind. "You seem lost."

Another bandit chimed in, mocking. "Where are your parents?" Their laughter cut through the forest, a cruel chorus.

"Never seen a dwarf here wandering around," the first bandit jeered.

"Pardon me, sir," the old man's voice carried the weight of years. He shed his cloak, revealing a face etched with time. Leonard's disbelief hung in the air.

"W-what..." the bandit stammered, his mind reeling.

"What's the problem?" one of the bandits asked his companion, oblivious to the gravity of the moment.

But the other bandit's voice cracked, fear and awe intertwining.

"Are you fuck in the head?! H-h-he... He is... Saburo, the one who took on the Moniyan Empire 50 years ago. It even resulted in them signing a peace treaty with him in exchange for 42 million gold. What are you even doing here?!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, my child. I'm here to buy one of your prisoners. May you please lead the way?"

"MOVE!" He pushed his fellow bandit aside, urgency on his face.

The old man's gaze swept, catching a glimpse of Leonard's eyes-the hollow windows to a shattered soul. His heart wrenched, for he knew the weight of guilt and despair.

"I want him..."

"Do you even have the money to afford him? I've heard you've just filed for bankruptcy. How would you even get that incomprehensible amount of money? You should be resting in a nursery home, old man!" The bandits erupted in laughter.

"Yeah, Saburo, you're past your prime. What's an old relic like you doing here?"

"And that's exactly why..."

"Eh?"

And there, amidst the ancient trees, a procession materialized-a vision of opulence. Ten chariots, it's wooden frames adorned with the finest gold, glided forward. Wheels made from metals and adamantine.

Each chariot carried a chest, its lid engraved with runes, and sacks upon sacks of gold sitting at its trunk. The men, their muscles straining,  they heaved the chests onto the forest floor. The wealth pressing into its roots.

"So heavy!" A shout from one of the men, his voice barely registering in the forest's ancient wail. Saburo observed, following the outline of avarice.

"F-for him?! You're crazy?! That man killed his own family! Do you want to be his next victim?"

Saburo's gaze shifted to Leonard, the man who bore the weight of guilt and despair. "I don't see any wronging in his eyes," Saburo said, his voice calm as the forest's breath.

The bandits exchanged shocked glances. "Enough of this nonsense, are you gonna accept it or what?"

"Aight, just don't say we didn't warn you." He strides toward Leonard, a sneer on his lips. "See that midget over there? Yeah, he paid in exchange for your freedom. If not for him, you'd probably end up being the prison's butt bitch."

"Hurry up!" The cage bars swung open, and Saburo draped a brown scarf around Leonard's neck. Together with the man who had helped carry the chests and sacks of gold, they led Leonard toward one of the chariots.

The journey continued, winding through ancient trees, until they arrived at a traditional Japanese mansion.

✳✳✳

As Leonard soaked in the hot spring, he could feel the heat penetrate the fatigue in his bones. Quiet and kind, Saburo's maid scrubbed him clean of sweat - product of his many fight and the many sins he carries.

"Use this," she said, offering a small object. Leonard's curiosity stirred.

"What's this?" he asked, his voice raw from hardship.

"We call it Kamisori," another maid chimed in, her smile soft. "It's used to shave your beard."

Leonard retreated to the bathroom, the mirror reflecting a face etched with pain and choices. The blade glided across his skin, severing the past.

As soon he leaves the bathroom, He sees the maids blushing profusely.

The maids, their faces flushed, cling to his arms, their touch both gentle and possessive. They led him toward Saburo, who watched with amusement.

"Ah, Leonard. You've emerged from the cocoon-now a whole new person," He jokingly said.

"I bet all the ladies want to have a piece of you~"

Leonard's face flamed, caught between embarrassment and disbelief.

"I'm just kidding."

Leonard settled onto a foam cushion, the room's warmth. Saburo gestured for him to sit, and he obeyed.

"May you please leave us alone."

The maids bowed, their faces flushed. "Yes, master Saburo," they murmured "Later handsome~". As they walked away, their laughter lingered secrets and desire.

The foam pad worked miracles for them even as Saburo served green tea into two small cups. The steam rose high above, cloaking the house in aromatic fog. A lot of effort focused on Saburo and the movement of liquid in the cup, but it was the heaviness of the matrix that Pacific leant towards Leonard.

Saburo reseated himself after taking a sip of his drink. His mined deep that pierced right through his objection. "I imagine you are curious as to why I offered those rascals a ransom for your release, yes?"

Leonard's fingers traced the rim of his cup. "I think I should be the one asking you that," he replied, his voice a low rasp.

Leonard's eyes narrowed, suspicion on his weathered face. "How did you even get the money?"

Saburo bent forward, the flame of the candle illuminating his old eyes. "And precisely for that reason," he muttered, "is the reason why I declared myself bankrupt. My riches, which were once very large and expansive, became a mere sigh. I splurged on buying lands and trading and even in some underhand dealings. But the last money-the last spark of my inheritance-I spent on buying a captive. A friend, maybe. Or a successor."

"And that's you... My child." Saburo's hand settled on Leonard's shoulder.

Leonard stood there. "But why me?" he asked. "And... How did you even figure out that I was innocent?"

In Saburo's gaze, there were whole galaxies; the weight of bygone ages and eternal lost worlds. Time and enigmas shrouded his right eye that had seen unfathomed truths. "I have this ability," he said. "It's called the Virtued Eye. This allows me to see further than the physical-a vision of the spirits. All is clear-the masks, the corners where mysteries lurk. The colors which constitute a person tell me the person's mood, their mental state, and their feelings."

He leaned closer, and Leonard felt the warmth of ancient suns. "And yours," Saburo murmured, "was the most beautiful I have ever seen." His voice, a whisper from forgotten tombs, carried the weight of prophecy. "You are so pure, so innocent, lack of impurities, you bear the most beautiful color I have ever seen."

"The last time I saw this color," he confessed, "was when my mother was alive. Her love was unmatched."

But still, Saburo glimpsed the shadow etched upon Leonard's face. "What's wrong?" he inquired.

Leonard stepped away, drawn to the window-a lattice of thin wood strips cradling glass. Beyond, the world lay suspended, caught between dusk and dawn. His laughter, brittle as fallen leaves. "I have gained everything," he mused, "just to lose it. I have tried to regain it, yet... I'm no more worthy than an apple. I'll rot into this earth like the rest of us."

"Don't you see, Leonard? This is a new beginning. A chance to redeem yourself. And a chance for you to grant the justice your family is longing for." Saburo's voice, like ancient winds, carried hope and purpose. Leonard's eyes, still clouded by grief, met Saburo's unwavering gaze.

"Please... Have faith-not only in yourself, but because there are people who still look up to you. They are the reason for you to keep going." Saburo's words hung in the air, as dew-kissed petals. Leonard's fists clenched, memories of loss and vengeance churning within him.

Leonard cried out, his voice raw with anguish. "And how will you help me?! A... A dwarf like you wouldn't be able to!" His pain spilled forth, crashing against the walls of the room.

Saburo's smile remained gentle, undeterred. "Tell me... HOW! HUH?!" Leonard's desperation, a plea for answers in a fractured world.

"I may be small," Saburo replied, "but I have a heart of gold. My heart beats for you." promises made across centuries. "I would train you," he continued, "but the question is... Are you up for the challenge?"

Leonard's gaze shifted, his eyes tracing the edges of the room. "Are you a loser?" he asked.

"N-no!" Leonard's reply.

Saburo leaned closer. "Are you in pain?"

"Y-yes," his vulnerability laid bare.

"Then do something about it!"

"Now I'm asking you again! Are you a loser?!"

"No!"

Saburo leaned closer, the weight of centuries in his gaze. "I can't hear you!" he insisted.

"NO,"

"I can't hear you! LOUDER!!!" Saburo's urging Leonard to break free from the chains of defeat. He screamed at the top of his lungs and he punched the wall-a collision of flesh and stone.

Tears welled in his eyes. "I WILL NEVER LOSE AGAIN! YOU HEAR ME, OLD MAN?!" His declaration hung in the air.

In that charged moment, Leonard's redemption like a burning bird from the dereliction of its fiery temple.

"Ichiban Hachizen, Remember this: as long as I live, I'll chase you-even into the deepest part of hell. I would make sure... That you will bleed."

The atmosphere was tense, if not oppressive, as though the very walls of the room seethed with rage. At that moment, Following the solemn tone became a unitarian resolve-a sworn vow, like the burning fire and sharp edge of a blade.

To be continued...