Impact
The house illuminated by that faint light—what Sakura had hoped would be a beacon of safety—was instead dragging her deeper into despair.
Another building, brutally demolished, stood revealed under the dim glow of the outdoor lamp.
Unlike the earlier wooden house, this one had two stories and seemed much newer. Judging by its appearance, it should have been sturdier. And yet, even a house considered durable had been punctured by a massive gaping hole.
Sakura could only stare in disbelief. It took her a few long seconds of scrutiny before she could fully accept what her eyes were telling her.
The same spine-chilling claw marks—three-pronged and jagged—were gouged into the side of this house, just as with the first one.
From the faint aroma of charred meat lingering in the air, it was likely someone had been living here not too long ago.
The interior was partially visible through the destroyed wall. A torn crimson curtain, shattered glass, and scattered chairs painted a chaotic scene. A once-proud painting now slashed by those horrific claws. With the light still on inside, the full extent of the destruction was even clearer.
This couldn't have been the work of a bear or any animal.
Two wrecked houses—there was no more denying it.
Something was happening in Hokujō Village.
Something was threatening the peace of this once quiet town. Something was nearby.
Sakura's fists clenched tightly without her realizing. Her body responded to the turmoil rising within her. She felt her mouth go dry—not from the cold, but from sheer tension.
If this danger were to come for her next… the mere thought made her skin crawl.
She stood frozen, paralyzed before the mystery overtaking Hokujō Village.
The house’s outdoor light flickered—erratically, deliberately. It was as if the lamp had a will of its own, pulsing like a dying candle, mirroring Sakura's fragile grip on life.
Sensing something ominous, Sakura slowly stepped backward, turning around to begin her retreat home.
Right next to the house lay a vast field—roughly ten ares (1,000 square meters). Though the light didn’t fully reach it, she could still identify what grew there.
It seemed the owner had been cultivating small watermelons. Or so it appeared. Maybe they were just immature melons destined to grow larger come summer.
The serene scene of flourishing crops sharply contrasted with the horrifying chaos beside it. Each fruit looked well cared for, full and thriving, a testament to the love poured into their cultivation.
But then… Sakura's eyes caught something else.
"What is that...?"
She blinked. Looked again.
That’s not a watermelon.
The moment realization hit, Sakura's eyes widened—and a sharp glare, unmistakably like Natsuki's, flared within them.
A hand. A human hand.
It protruded from the soil of the watermelon field, slick with red blood.
Focusing harder, she saw a straw hat and what looked like a man's clothing beside it.
Someone was lying there.
At first, she had dismissed it as a mistake… but it was no illusion. It was a person. A bleeding human, collapsed in the field.
—I have to help them!
Her body moved before her mind could catch up.
She ran, shouting, desperate to reach the fallen figure.
Were they conscious? Were they still breathing? How badly were they hurt?
Questions raced through her head as her feet carried her forward.
As she neared the man, his full body gradually came into view…
—!
But when she saw him clearly, she froze.
She couldn’t take another step.
The sight was too horrific. She couldn't get closer.
She instinctively covered her eyes. Slowly, she lowered her hand to look again.
The man's abdomen was split wide open, organs spilled out, smeared into the dirt. His intestines dangled, flies beginning to swarm.
His face was drenched in blood. The right side of his head looked crushed, as if struck with a hammer. He was unrecognizable.
The scene was too gruesome to process. It was night, which thankfully dulled the details. But if it had been daylight… she couldn’t begin to imagine the carnage.
Yet there was no odor of decay. He hadn’t been dead long.
“…You’ve got to be kidding.”
Her voice trembled, almost inaudible. But her face showed it all—the fear, the disbelief.
Sakura’s normally calm expression contorted into a grimace.
In Hokujō Village—this happened in Hokujō Village?
A destroyed house. A man slaughtered.
This was not the peaceful village she knew.
She didn’t know what was happening, but she had to process the facts before her.
She crouched down, trying not to look too long, and studied the body.
He’d been killed. Not just killed—but torn apart. Brutal. Relentless.
His clothes were shredded, body slashed by massive claws.
No human could survive those wounds. He must have died instantly.
Who… or what… did this?
Those claws. The same as the ones gouged into the house nearby.
It clicked.
The shattered home, the claw marks, the scattered belongings—
This man was killed by the same thing.
The pieces came together.
And the image they formed was terrifying.
This wasn’t the work of an animal…
This was something else.
Not human. Not beast. Something else entirely.
And it was close.
She didn’t know what it was. But she knew this much—
Her life was in danger.
In this soundless void, in the pitch-black Hokujō Village, something was lurking.
Something capable of tearing people apart.
Her heart lurched.
A thought intruded: Kizuna.
She had to be at home, waiting for her. Alone.
Was she safe?
—What if something happened to Kizuna…?
The worst-case scenario exploded in her mind like a shattered glass marble.
She couldn’t stop imagining it.
What if Kizuna… ended up like this man…?
She tried to breathe—deeply, slowly—but it wasn’t enough.
Bowing her head, she whispered to herself, “Calm down, calm down,” like a mantra.
Kizuna had to be okay. She had to be.
Like always…
—Like always?
The words triggered fury.
Not at the murdered man. Not even at the threat to the village. Not directly at Kizuna, either.
It was herself.
For depending on the idea of “like always.”
Again. Again, she had allowed herself to believe.
The very thing that had brought her so much pain before—hope rooted in routine—had crept back in.
And yet…
She couldn’t lose anyone else.
She couldn’t lose Kizuna.
Her hands trembled. Her thoughts scattered.
But still, she pressed her fingers to her temple, exhaling as best she could. The acidic taste of bile rose in her throat, but she managed to swallow it down.
“Calm down… calm down…” she repeated.
She hadn’t confirmed anything bad had happened to Kizuna.
If she doubted that “like always” would happen, there was only one thing to do.
—She had to get home. Now.
Every second counted.
She raised her head toward the cloudy sky.
She would run—run all the way back home.
Determined, Sakura gave the dead man one last glance.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help… I hope your family is okay…” she thought.
Careful not to crush any watermelons, she stepped out onto the road.
She was about to sprint—
—when a piercing scream, like a blade slicing through the air, tore into her ears.
