Chapter 1 rewrite
The wind stirred the red-gold leaves overhead, sending a quiet rustle through the woods. Cool autumn air brushed Sosuke's cheeks as he strained to lift the log. It wasn't big—just wide enough to need both hands—but his small fingers slipped on the bark, damp with morning dew. He gritted his teeth and gave it one last heave, managing to tip it into the wagon with a solid thunk.
Breath fogging in front of him, Sosuke looked up, chest rising and falling. He waited.
Shuhei crouched beside him, one knee pressing into the carpet of leaves. His smile was quiet, approving. "Good job." He reached out, ruffling Sosuke's hair with a rough palm.
Sosuke lit up. "Can I try carrying more next time?!" His arms shot up as if ready to lift the whole wagon. "I promise I can do it!"
Shuhei laughed—deep, unguarded. "Try not to promise anything you can't follow through with." He stood, brushing specks of dirt and leaves from Sosuke's tunic with a few careful swipes. "It's time to head back."
The creak of wood and gentle clop of hooves followed them as they rode the familiar path home. Sosuke sat perched at the edge of the wagon seat, boots too short to reach the floor, heels swinging back and forth in a steady rhythm.
"Hey, Father?" he asked, eyes on the narrow dirt path ahead. "Why does everyone call you the… Sword Saint?"
The question caught Shuhei mid-breath. His features tightened—just for a moment. A flicker of something old passed behind his eyes. Regret. Memory.
Then he smiled again, gentler this time, like brushing dust off a blade. "I became the strongest warrior with a sword," he said, voice carrying the weight of a campfire tale. "I was never really good with spells," Shuhei continued, his gaze still on the winding path ahead, "so I had to find another way."
He paused, the reins slackening in his hands.
"They called it The Negation," he said at last. "My core technique. It let me erase the force of another's spell or strike—just cut it out of the world like it never happened. No matter how strong the enemy's technique was, it wouldn't matter. Not against me."
Sosuke blinked. "So… like, you cancel their attacks?"
Shuhei chuckled quietly. "That's one way to put it."
"But how?"
He didn't answer at first. Just a shake of the head, faint, like he was brushing off dust again. "That's a lesson for another day."
"Really…?" Sosuke whispered, gaze wide with wonder. "That's so cool…"
Shuhei didn't answer. He turned back to the road, jaw set, the reins held a little tighter.
The cabin came into view near the treeline, tucked between moss-covered stones and the long shadows of oaks. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney. The roof sloped low, patched in places with fresh wood. A narrow porch wrapped around the front, where a worn axe leaned against the railing beside a bundle of chopped logs.
As the wagon stopped, Shuhei stepped down first and reached up to lift Sosuke. The boy yawned, wobbling in his father's arms as he was set on his feet. Shuhei peeled off his jacket, shaking off a few stray leaves before draping it over one arm.
"You sleepy?" he asked, ruffling the boy's hair again.
"N-no!" Sosuke's voice cracked as he struggled to stay upright, eyelids twitching with the effort.
Shuhei chuckled. "Let's get you to bed."
He held Sosuke's hand as they walked inside, the floorboards creaking underfoot. Sosuke's grip loosened halfway through the hall. Shuhei kept pace with him, guiding him gently into the small bedroom. Sosuke climbed up onto the bed, limbs heavy. Shuhei tugged the covers over him and sat at the edge.
"You do better each day," he said, smoothing a wrinkle in the blanket.
Sosuke rolled over with a faint yawn. "I have to," he mumbled, eyes barely open. "So I can be stronger than you."
Shuhei's laugh this time was soft, almost sad. "Most kids want to be like their parents. Not better." He gave the boy's shoulder a light pat. "Get some sleep this time, okay?"
He stood, footsteps slow as he crossed to the door. He paused there for a heartbeat. Then shut it with a quiet click.
——
A sound woke him.
Sosuke blinked into the dark, heart skipping. Rattling—like a shelf shaking. Then, a loud crash. Wood splintering. He shot upright, breath shallow and fast. The shadows in the room seemed to stretch.
Another crash. Louder.
He stumbled as he left the bed, knees buckling under him. His chest rose and fell in rapid bursts. Get up. Move. His fingers trembled around the doorknob, slick with sweat. He turned it and stepped into the hallway.
The air felt colder out here.
Down the hall, the living room glowed with faint firelight. And his father was there—standing. Blade in hand.
Sosuke froze.
The sword. The Sword Saint's blade. Shuhei never took it out, not even during training. It was always locked away, hidden under the bed.
Something was wrong.
Then, without warning, a thunderous crash shattered the wall behind Shuhei. Wooden planks exploded inward. Dust and debris sprayed the room.
Something lunged.
A hulking creature—wrong-shaped, all muscle and bone and jagged teeth—barreled forward with an ear-splitting roar. Shuhei barely raised his sword in time. The blade jammed between the beast's fangs. It clamped down, teeth screeching against steel.
Shuhei staggered, muscles straining. "Sosuke!" he roared. His eyes met Sosuke's across the room. "You need to get out of here!"
The beast slammed into him again, forcing him to his knees. The blade shuddered in its jaws.
Sosuke couldn't move. His legs wouldn't work. His mind blanked—then filled all at once. Panic, terror, helplessness. He'd never seen a creature like this before. Had never seen a real monster at all. Not until now.
"GO!" Shuhei's voice cracked with effort.
Something snapped inside Sosuke. He turned and ran.
The back door blurred past him. Then the forest swallowed him whole.
⸻
Branches whipped at his face as he sprinted through the trees, sobbing, gasping, running on instinct. Cold air tore through his lungs. His legs burned. Roots caught at his feet. He stumbled once, then again—but never stopped.
He didn't know where he was going.
Only that he had to run
Leaves crunched beneath him. His vision blurred. The dark between the trees seemed to reach for him. Every crash of his footfall sounded like the monster just a step behind.
And then—
His legs gave out.
He collapsed onto the forest floor, curled up in dirt and frost, shaking. The tears didn't stop. His chest felt like it might split open.
Then—blackness.
⸻
Sosuke awoke with a start. His face was wet. He wiped at it—tears, cold and sticky. His breath caught.
"You're up?" a voice asked.
He turned his head slowly.
A bearded man sat nearby, rough hands folded in his lap. Beside him, a woman knelt, gentle-eyed and steady. She pressed a warm ceramic cup into Sosuke's trembling hands. The scent of herbal tea drifted up—mild, earthy.
"You must be scared," the woman said softly. "What happened, dear? Where are your parents?"
Sosuke opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
"Easy, now," the man said. "You're safe. I'm Beorne. This is my wife, Katherine." His accent was thick but warm. "Can you tell us where your parents are?"
Sosuke's throat clenched. He gripped the cup tighter. "M-my father…" he whispered. "He was attacked." His voice cracked. "He's the Sword Saint."
Beorne's brows rose. He leaned back slightly, then let out a long breath. "If that's true… then you'll be okay."
But Katherine froze. Her eyes widened, color draining from her face. "No…" she said quietly. "When I was in the village earlier—I saw the news. In the paper."
She turned to Beorne.
"The Sword Saint is dead."