Jason approached the house cautiously, stepping through the open garden gate. His thoughts raced with how to explain what had just happened—how to tell the people inside about the three men he'd killed without terrifying them further.
"Lucky you have me," Nia said in his mind, dry and composed. "I recorded your entire conversation with them. Just tell the women you recorded it with your phone, and I'll play it through your watch. That way, they'll at least be less scared that you might kill them too. Well... slightly less."
"You could've just said thank you without the snark, but... thanks, Nia. I'm really glad you're here," Jason replied, exhaling.
He reached the front door and knocked. His rifle remained slung across his back, and his sidearms were holstered. With his enhanced hearing, he picked up the faintest murmurs inside, though no one answered.
"I know you're in there," he called gently. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk. There's a threat you should be aware of."
A minute passed. Then the door creaked open a few inches. A woman in her early thirties peered through the gap, her eyes cautious. "Who are you? Whatever you have to say, say it from there."
"Name's Jason Wright. I was heading down the main road when I encountered a full-grown tiger and her cubs, believe it or not. I had to detour. That's when I saw three men watching your house. I overheard their conversation and... well, I had to intervene. I think we need to talk. Can I come in?"
The woman blinked, clearly stunned.
From inside, another voice called out in Japanese, sharper, younger. "Let him in, sis. If he tries anything, I'll blow his brains out."
"She said if you try anything, she'll shoot you," Nia translated.
The woman hesitated a moment longer, then unlatched the door. "Fine. Come in. Say what you need to say, and then leave."
Jason stepped inside, eyes instinctively scanning the woman who had let him in. She looked to be in her early thirties—tall, slim, and striking in that quiet, refined way he often associated with Japanese actresses. Her long dark hair was loosely tied, a few strands escaping to frame a tired but composed face. High cheekbones, gentle but wary eyes, faint creases at the corners from stress and sleepless nights. There was an elegance to her even in this tense moment—like someone who had once lived a more peaceful life and still carried its traces.
Nia whispered in his head: "Early thirties. Tired. Nervous. Possibly malnourished. High stress, but still composed."
As Jason took his first steps into the living room, he saw the younger woman standing defensively near the couch. She had a pump-action shotgun in her hands; not exactly pointed at him, but definitely not lowered either. She was younger—maybe early twenties—with a more athletic build, short-cropped hair pulled into a messy bun, and sharp eyes that flicked to every movement he made. Her jaw was tight, her grip too firm.
"She's nervous," Jason thought.
"She's mid-twenties," Nia noted. "Tense. Probably never fired that gun. Hands slightly trembling."
Jason gave them both a small, calm nod as he stepped fully into the living room, keeping his posture relaxed and his movements deliberate. He sat slowly on the couch, placing his pack by his feet.
"Apologies for not offering you anything," the younger one said sarcastically. "We're a little short on snacks and hospitality."
"That's quite alright," Jason replied smoothly. "I'd settle for your names."
"I'm Haruka," the older one said. "My sister's Misaki. Now talk."
"Pleasure to meet you both. Before I explain, I'd like you to hear something. I recorded my conversation with those men. Once you hear it, what I say will make more sense."
The women exchanged glances but gave a nod. Jason tapped the screen on his watch. Nia transmitted the audio. As the conversation played out—the vile plans, the bragging, the admission of their expulsion from a bunker—the women's faces shifted from confusion to horror to cold anger.
By the time the audio ended, both women looked pale and furious. Misaki muttered Japanese curses under her breath.
"What happened to them?" Haruka asked, her voice trembling.
"One of them moved suddenly. I thought he was going for a weapon. I reacted," Jason said, sighing. "I shot all three. If I had the choice, I would have let you decide their fate. But... it happened fast."
There was a moment of silence. Relief mixed with discomfort filled the room.
Jason noticed the way they both shifted, clearly unsettled by his presence, even if grateful.
"Please don't be afraid. I truly mean you no harm. Today is the first day I've stepped outside in months, and I've already had to kill people. I came here not just to warn you, but to help if I can. The world isn't what it used to be. Neither are people."
Misaki eyed him warily. "You're awfully calm for someone who just killed three men."
"True. But I was prepared," Jason admitted. "I trained for this. Mind and body. And those men... they weren't innocent. Thinking about what they would have done if I walked away? That would've haunted me. Letting it happen would have cost me more of my humanity than pulling the trigger."
Haruka met his gaze. "We're grateful. But I hope you understand why we didn't trust you immediately. After what could have happened..."
Jason nodded. "If you'd trusted me right away, I'd have doubted your judgment. You were right to be cautious."
"So why should we trust you now?" Misaki asked. "What do you want from us? If you're hoping for a reward, you're out of luck."
"I never asked for one," Jason said, a little tired. "I don't need anything right now. Just information."
Haruka hesitated, then said, "We'd help if we could, but we don't know much. We've been living out on a farm for months. We only came into the city looking for medicine."
Misaki shot her a look that said, "Why are you telling him this?"
Jason noticed but said nothing.
"You both look healthy. So the meds must be for someone else. If you entered this house during the day, it means you couldn't leave them behind. Am I right?"
Both sisters tensed. Misaki bristled. "Why does that matter to you?"
"Because if you're traveling with someone sick, the city is ten times more dangerous. I'm already heading that way. If I find what you need, I can bring it back. And though I'm not a doctor, I have decent medical knowledge. If you let me, I could examine the patient to make sure I get the right meds."
They didn't answer immediately. The stress, the fear, the uncertainty was etched on their faces.
Finally, Haruka made a choice. "You're right. It's my daughter, Aiko. She fell ill two weeks ago. Her fever won't break. We've done what we could with what little we had, but... she's getting worse. I had no choice but to risk coming here. Please help her. She's my life. Misaki and Aiko are all I have."
She bowed deeply, the Japanese gesture of humility and desperation.
Jason felt a lump rise in his throat. It reminded him of his own mother. There was something sacred about the love of a mother. He shifted uncomfortably—he wasn't used to people bowing to him, and it felt wrong somehow.
"Please, don't bow to me," he said softly. "You don't need to beg. I want to help. Otherwise... I couldn't look my own mother in the eyes."
Misaki turned to Haruka, speaking in Japanese. "Are you sure about this?"
"I can't watch Aiko fade anymore. If there's even a chance... it's worth it" Haruka replied.
Nia whispered the translation to Jason, and he quickly asked, "Can you teach me to say something simple? I want to ease their minds."
Nia fed him the phrase. Jason repeated it awkwardly but sincerely in Japanese: "It won't hurt to try. I promise, you won't regret it."
The women looked stunned.
"You speak Japanese?" Misaki asked, switching back to English. "Why didn't you say so?"
"I used to watch a lot of anime," Jason replied sheepishly. "Picked up a bit. Not fluent. Didn't think it mattered."
Haruka smiled faintly. "Please. Come upstairs. Aiko's resting."
"Lead the way," Jason said gently, following her up the stairs.
Jason followed Haruka up the stairs and into a small, warm bedroom. The air was heavy with the smell of fever and stale humidity. Aiko lay in bed, her forehead beaded with sweat, a damp cloth on her brow. She looked around thirteen, her features a youthful echo of her mother's.
Haruka gently checked her temperature. "Still burning up."
Jason stepped closer, letting Nia guide him through an impromptu exam. He asked questions, felt her pulse, checked her tongue, all under Nia's precise instructions.
"Contaminated food or water. Most likely typhoid," Nia concluded. "You'll need proper antibiotics."
Jason relayed the diagnosis. The sisters discussed potential causes aloud, worry coloring their voices.
Aiko stirred. "Mom? Auntie? Who's that?"
Jason smiled, kneeling beside her. "Hi, Aiko. I'm Jason. Your mom brought me here to help you. I'm kind of a doctor."
"Will I get better?" she asked, weakly but with hope.
"Yes. We know what's wrong. Once you take the right medicine, you'll feel much better in a week."
Haruka stroked her daughter's hair. "Hang in there, sweetheart. You're going to be fine. Just rest."
Aiko nodded and slowly closed her eyes again, falling back into fevered sleep.
Haruka gestured silently for them to leave. Downstairs, Jason sat again while they resumed their places.
"I know exactly what meds she needs. I'll find them. Until then, I have something in my bag that should ease her symptoms. Please stay here. Moving her would do more harm. If you prefer, I can write down the medicine names instead."
Haruka and Misaki shared a long look.
"We'll stay," Haruka said. "I won't risk her getting worse. But how can we ever repay you?"
Jason shook his head. "You don't owe me anything. Just let her get better. That's more than enough."
At that moment, the sound of a distant tiger's roar echoed from outside. The three of them turned toward the window, breath catching.