Flickers of Warmth in the Dark

  Dig. Haul. Stack. Sleep. Repeat.

  Dozai kept to his rhythm, but somehow his shadow always ended up near hers. Close enough to notice the black grit pressed into the lines of her palms. Close enough to catch the way she handed pieces of herself away like it cost nothing.

  The first time Nobu collapsed mid-haul, Dozai’s fingers twitched toward him. Just a twitch.

  Rei was already there, kneeling before the dust had even settled, helping him up.

  Dozai’s eyes lingered too long, at the soft frame of Rei’s posture, at the way Nobu’s stiff shoulders sagged as if someone had stolen a stone off his back.

  She kept doing it, smiling at people who glared, talking to people who never answered. Dozai told himself he only trailed after her to keep her out of trouble. But when she spoke, he listened, even when he hated that he did.

  At lunch she slipped toward the far corner and Dozai drifted after her, staying along the wall where the torchlight broke. He saw her spot her next target of kindness.

  Roi knelt over Kenny like a battlefield surgeon, her hands stained with blood and focus. She was wrapping his leg with what looked like a strip of torn uniform, her brows knitted in tight concentration.

  Kenny grinned through a split lip like none of it mattered.

  Rei’s gasp came out louder than she meant. “Oh no. What did they do to you this time?”

  Kenny looked up, blinking. Then his smile widened, wobbly but real. “Ah, don’t worry about it. I was humming that melody you always hum. Tried to copy it. Probably messed it up. One of the hunters didn’t like the tune.”

  He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling dramatically, and puffed out his chest like a caricature.

  “‘You singin’ like you ain’t got nothin’ to cry about?’” he barked, mimicking the hunter’s voice—throaty, slow, and mean. He hunched his back, stomping in a stupid circle, more donkey than gorilla.

  Rei giggled and a laugh slipped from Roi’s mouth. Just a small one.

  Dozai blinked. He’d never heard Roi laugh before.

  Kenny grinned at her like he’d won a prize. “And then—bam!—he slapped me across the face!”

  Rei’s smile faltered as her eyes swept over him—bloody cheek, bruised knees. “It was more than a slap, wasn’t it?”

  Kenny scratched the back of his head, sheepish. Rei sighed, hands on hips, like a mother too small for the job.

  “They’ll hit us either way,” Kenny said, plopping back down. “Might as well make ’em earn it.”

  Roi didn't look up as she muttered, “The guards like when the hunters beat us. In fact, they prefer it. It’s entertainment for them.”

  “Yeah, well,” Kenny shrugged, “They’re lucky I don’t have a Maho yet. I’d have ‘em all crying to their mothers.”

  Roi finally looked up, eyes flat. “You do know it’s not like some cool power-up, right? What do they teach in the outer villages? Forty-nine percent survival rate. At best.”

  “I did not go to school for your information,” Kenny said, grinning. “Besides, Forty-nine’s my lucky number.”

  “Lucky number, huh?” A small, crooked smirk ghosted across her lips, then closed again, mask snapping back in place.

  Roi glanced back at Rei. Their eyes met, just for a moment. She reached into a pocket, then tossed something to Rei.

  A small piece of cooked meat, slightly chewed on one edge. Salvaged, most likely, from one of the hunter slave trays.

  “Here,” Roi muttered. “On the house. Thanks for checking in or whatever. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

  Rei’s thank-you stumbled out, honest and embarrassed.

  She backed away with a clumsy wave and Dozai followed without even acknowledging the other two.

  Kenny waved brightly at him. “Hey, Dozai! Talking once in a while won’t kill ya, y’know!”

  Dozai continued walking behind Rei, silent, folding himself smaller. That sharp, dangerous pull stirred in his chest, the same one from that time he’d left bread behind for Nobu and walked off before it could mean anything.

  Rei was the opposite and he used to be sure that that was a bad thing, but now…

  Ahead, Rei bounced on her toes. She fist-pumped the air, grinning like she’d won something more valuable than the meat.

  Then she turned to Dozai, “Alright… where to next, Dozai?”

  Dozai froze in the half-dark, staring.

  What am I even doing? Why do I keep following her?

  He didn’t have an answer.

  Rei kept walking, humming her half-tune, and Dozai—hesitant, tight-shouldered—stepped forward into her wake.

  The Arrival

  The rhythm of digging and hauling became reflex. Rei's humming grew familiar. Nobu learned to sleep without flinching.

  And Dozai... Dozai stopped pretending he wasn't keeping watch.

  Then she arrived.

  Tall. Silent. Unblinking.

  A girl.

  She was led in by a guard with a broken jaw and a stitched eye. She was also beaten black and blue as a result though.

  The morning was cold. The cave’s breath curled around their ankles like smoke and the children had already begun their endless labor, digging into the mineral veins like ants.

  When the guards called for intake, most never paid much attention.

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  New kids came in all the time. Most broke within days. Some didn’t even last the walk.

  The man holding the ledger sneered when he asked, “Name?”

  “…Rizaru,” she answered. Only that.

  Names were luxuries. Echoes from a world that pretended they’d ever mattered.

  “Six-Six,” he muttered, marking it down.

  They stamped the number on a rusted tag and tied it to a fraying rope, slung it around her neck like a noose made of identity.

  Nobu watched from the shade of a pillar, arms crossed, posture still and fox-like.

  “That one doesn’t flinch. That’s rare. Means she’s not new to pain… or she’s numb to it.”

  Rei noticed her too. She approached like she always did.

  A half-smile. Open palms. No judgment.

  “Hi. I’m Rei. Do you want to sit with us?”

  Rizaru didn’t answer. Didn’t even blink.

  Just stared through her, then past her, as though gauging which shadows were safest to step into.

  They all watched her walk away with the guards.

  Dozai stared.

  Something ancient and wordless stirred in him, a subtle warmth flowing to his heart.

  He blinked slowly. Didn’t know why he felt that way, he was sure he never met this girl before.

  “Rizaru,” he said softly.

  It wasn’t memory exactly.

  More like recognizing a place from a dream you hadn’t had yet.

  The Soup Game

  As days went on, Dozai couldn’t stop thinking about her. That height. That silence.

  That stare that had cut through the shadows like a blade.

  Even at work, he found himself glancing toward where the new girl had walked. Sometimes she'd stare blankly at them from afar, sometimes ignore them completely.

  Nobu, sitting in the shade of a pillar, mirrored his curiosity, but with careful restraint.

  Rei, humming quietly as she worked, seemed to sense the shift too, her hands pausing just a moment longer than usual.

  By evening, when the workday had drained everyone and the cold seeped into their bones, Rizaru reappeared and sat next to them.

  They didn’t know what to expect from her.

  Quiet. Deadpan.

  Possibly dangerous. Possibly… nothing.

  Still, she came to the corner where the three usually sat.

  Dozai felt his chest tighten slightly. Nobu’s hands twitched. Rei gave the tiniest of smiles.

  And so it started with a cracked pot.

  Someone must’ve tossed it out from the upper kitchen, split down the middle, barely able to hold heat, but Dozai spotted it near the waste crates and dragged it with him before the guards noticed, alongside some of the thrown out food.

  That night, they sat in their usual corner, knees pulled close for warmth. Steam from the mess bowls rose in faint spirals, thin soup and half eaten dumplings for each. Somehow, it smelled better than usual.

  Probably the cold. Hunger made everything taste like something else.

  Rei blew on hers. “Almost reminds me of winter,” she said quietly, fingers cupped around the tin bowl.

  Nobu looked up. Dozai glanced over. Even Rizaru’s eyes shifted toward her.

  Rei smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “My mom used to boil snow when we couldn’t find clean water. Called it ‘first frost broth.’” She gave a soft laugh. “One time, we made dumplings out of tree bark and stale rice. She told me they were ‘blizzard buns.’”

  Dozai tilted his head. “Did they taste good?”

  Rei shrugged, eyes on the steam. “I don’t know. I didn’t care. We huddled near a little stove, held each other through the nights. She smiled so brightly at me. That’s what I remember.”

  Then her voice dropped lower. “I didn’t realize how much I could miss those dumplings… If only…”

  She stopped.

  A silence settled between them, soft and respectful.

  Nobu tucked his arms tighter around his knees. He stared down at his bowl, the light in his eyes had retreated somewhere deep, where none of them could reach and his dumpling remained untouched.

  Rei reached over and gently nudged him with her elbow. “Hey,” she whispered, “the chef’s not that bad. You gonna let your dumpling get cold?”

  Nobu didn’t answer, but his shoulders eased just a little.

  Then Rizaru moved.

  She leaned forward silently and reached into the cracked pot they'd dragged over earlier, now filled with rainwater, a few rocks, and a bit of moss someone threw in as a joke. With deliberate solemnity, she pinched up a handful of dirt from the ground, sprinkled it into the pot, and gave a single, deadpan nod.

  “Spice,” she said with a deadpanned look.

  Everyone stared. Rei blinked.

  Then burst into laughter. “No way...did she just...?!”

  Nobu tilted his head. “She talks?”

  Rizaru looked away like it hadn’t happened. Her face stayed blank, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of her mouth. Almost a smirk.

  Rei grinned wide, leaning toward Nobu like she’d seen a ghost. “She talked. I heard it. You heard it, right?”

  Dozai, still watching Rizaru, reached for a charred twig, stirred the slop inside the pot, and sniffed the air dramatically.

  “Too much spice,” he said, tone flat. “She’s ruined the royal broth.”

  Rei clapped her hands. “We’ll have to exile the chef!”

  Nobu sat up, trying not to smile. “Chef Rizaru, what do you say in your defense?”

  Rizaru blinked once. Then, in perfect deadpan. “I blame the ingredients.”

  The silence that followed lasted only half a second, then all four of them broke at once.

  Rei laughed so hard she snorted again, nearly falling backward. Dozai covered his mouth but couldn’t stop grinning. Nobu giggled, shoulders bouncing up and down.

  They all sat there a while longer, steam rising, shoulders brushing, bowls half-finished.

  For the first time in a long time, something felt safe—

  "I'M SORRY! IM SORRY!"

  A scream cut through the tunnels.

  High. Raw.

  Rei froze mid-laugh.

  Nobu’s smile vanished instantly.

  Dozai’s hand tightened around his bowl.

  Then yelling, a guard.

  "YOU THINK YOU'RE SMART?! COME HERE! IM GOING TO MAKE AN EXAMPLE OUT OF YOU!"

  Somewhere farther down the tunnels, boots started moving.

  Heavy. Unhurried.

  Rizaru was already on her feet. She kicked dirt over the cracked pot, scattering the steam, grinding it into nothing. Her eyes were sharp now, alert, watching the tunnel mouth.

  “Beds,” she murmured.

  They moved immediately.

  Rei dumped the rest of her soup into the dirt, hands shaking just enough to notice. Dozai snuffed the twig against stone and shoved it beneath a crate. Nobu wiped his mouth hard with his sleeve.

  They split without looking at each other, slipping into the flow of Workers funneling toward their sleeping rows.

  Heads down. Backs hunched. Empty faces back in place.

  Through the narrow gap, he caught a glimpse of a blonde worker, hair fallen over one eye, being dragged down the hallway by the guard.

  He’d been here long enough to know most of the worker's faces and name by habit. But in the moment, the name slipped his mind.

  No one spoke.

  They let the night swallow them.

  Whispering Shadows

  Later deep in the night, as the children huddled into sleep corners or slipped between crates for warmth, two guards passed near the rear fence, talking in hushed tones.

  He kept jolting awake with his chest tight, breath shallow, and knuckles aching like his body had fought a battle his mind couldn’t remember.

  He shifted and looked around.

  Nobu and Rei were out cold, drooling on each other. Kenny snored like thunder across a pile of limbs. Roi kept shifting, frowning in her sleep.

  Then he glanced at Rizaru, who was staring at him all of a sudden.

  He jolted slightly at her unexpected gaze.

  Just then, the whispers got louder in the halls.

  A girl guard, Irena, the one who always made bets when the kids would fight eachother, sat nearby, whittling bark with a sharpened scrap of bone.

  “…Heard they’re moving kingdom knights in again,” she muttered. “Because of him again. Crow.”

  Dozai’s ears perked up. He didn’t turn his head, just listened.

  “Fuck, that guy again?” the other asked.

  “Yeah. The border's a mess again. Knights are pissed.”

  “Hope they don’t come snooping around here. Y’know how Master Hellick gets.”

  “I’m just tired man, these long shifts are killing me.”

  “I could always… ease your stress, y’know.”

  “Don’t start, Paul.”

  Their voices faded into the rustle of cold wind.

  Dozai felt it then.

  A sudden pressure twisted through his chest, sharp and wrong—like ribs that had already been broken once before.

  His breath hitched.

  Pain crawled down his arm next, settling deep in his knuckles.

  For an instant, his hand curled into a fist without him meaning it to.

  Crow.

  The name passed through his lips like a myth carried on whispers and punishment.

  And somewhere deep in his body, something answered, even when his mind didn't.

  Rizaru whispered, “The Kingdom of Vestonia...”

  Dozai turned his head to look at her. All he ever knew was the slave camp.

  Though he wasn’t surprised that there was something more.

  Rizaru turned away and looked at the cracked roof, reaching her hand to the sky.

  “Sky sure was pretty there...”

  Dozai didn’t answer. Just closed his eyes, like sleep might protect the thought.

  Something stirred again. Like the taste of smoke on a breeze.

  He stored the words. Catalogued them.

  He wasn’t sure what it all meant, but he thought someday he would.