Chapter 8

Wander in the woods

Cavern lit by torch’s glow

Lair of the queen


“What does it mean to be sentient? What makes us different from the animals of our world: pigboars, sheep, birds, insects, and others? ‘That is simple,’ says the average citizen. ‘Sentients are intelligent, and animals are not.’ But can an animal not learn? One sees enough enlarged pigboars pulling carts in and around Unify, and surely no animal is born knowing how to do such a thing. ‘It must be speech,’ says another. ‘We sentients can speak, write, and communicate with each other.’ A valid point; the gifts of words and language seem to be exclusive to sentientkind. However, animals have been observed exchanging information with each other by sounds, gestures, body language, and scent… so in their own way, are they not communicating? ‘It must be magic, then,’ they say. ‘Only sentients can control and manipulate the elements.’ Again, a valid argument… but do the humble ants not reshape sand and soil to build great colonies? Do the birds not weave together twigs and branches to build nests? The squirrels seem to think so; they view magic as manipulation not only of the elements, but of natural order itself. Small wonder that they so zealously forbid its practice.

            “Therefore, I propose that what defines us is this: the eight sentient species are the only ones that display knowledge of their own mortality. Every living creature dies eventually, but only sentients learn of our inevitable fate, to someday depart the world of the living and travel to the Beneath, and from there to the worlds beyond. We fear death, and that, I propose, is what truly makes us sentient.”

[An excerpt from Questions of Belief, by Broad Bircholder]


In Tasakeru, the further to the east one ventured, the more difficult it became to tell day from night. Once one crossed over one of the many tributaries of Lake Juniper, the branches overhead grew ever more densely intertwined, blocking out all but the barest shafts of light, even at high noon. In concert, the terrain became steadily rougher; verdant, even soil gave way to hills at sharp angles to the ground, studded underfoot with rough stones that had never seen the sun. It was almost as if the rivers marked a dividing line between the parts of the forest that were merely ominous or threatening, and the parts that belonged to an older world… wilder, angrier, and more savage.

Faun led the way for the Outcasts, being able to see perfectly well in both the dark and the light. Zero followed her, his nerves singing with tension, ears turned back, and one hand hovering close to the hilt of his sword. He knew this forest better than anyone, but even he never went out this far if he could help it. Crossing the rivers always left him with a vague sense of unease, like he was trespassing on forbidden ground. Tonight, Tasakeru’s eastern depths felt even more malevolent than usual, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of many eyes watching him from just out of sight. That wasn’t even mentioning the noise, or lack thereof. All the sounds of a late summer night that he had grown so used to, the wind in the leaves, droning cicadas, and croaking frogs… none of those could be heard here. An oppressive silence lay upon them, one that magnified every small sound of rustling or cracking made by their passage.

Behind him, Drake hobbled along on his walking stick, huffing and wheezing, stopping on occasion to catch his breath or sniff the air, or to call a direction to Faun. And behind him walked Hanami, her ears pressed flat and her tail tucked close to her body. Rowan brought up the rear, moving as quickly and quietly as his bulky frame allowed.

It was only the badger’s presence behind her that kept her from fleeing. There was something wrong about this part of the forest, wrong on a fundamental level, in a way she couldn’t describe… she only knew that it gave her the crawling horrors. More than that, though, there was the old wolf. He was so haggard, worn down on the verge of decaying entirely, and he moved as if every step weighed upon his stooped back like lead. His eyes… something about the way Drake stared at her with those golden eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking. When he stared at her, she had an inexplicable feeling that all his age and tiredness could fall away in an instant, and a tiny voice in the back of her mind squealed a constant, high-pitched cry: Danger. Danger. Danger.



Chapter 7

Attack at twilight

Appropriate punishment

Sixteen eyes watching


            “As one might surmise from the various grumblings of more vocal members of society, the Magistrate Representatives are not typically held in high regard by the average sentient. The Magistrate is a noble idea in theory: a governing body in which each species has an equal voice and equal influence… but in execution, sadly, it leaves something to be desired.

            “To begin with, each Representative is appointed or elected by their species in whatever manner their culture sees fit. The rabbits and badgers, for example, choose their Representatives by popular vote, while the squirrels delegate that responsibility to the heads of their noble families, the Shichi Meimon, with the common folk largely excluded from the process. For skunks, the Representative is chosen by the Grand Mistress of the Silver Order herself, and the wolves select theirs by convening the various packs and praying to the Gods for guidance. Foxes, to my knowledge, pass the position on to whomever wants it, and does not mind wading through the massive amounts of paperwork required to obtain it. Ferrets divinate to find their Representative, and as for the raccoons… like almost everything else in their culture, their method of choosing a speaker for themselves is a mystery to the rest of us, unlikely to ever be solved.

            “It is diverse, yes, but just because a Representative is popular and well-liked by his or her own kind does not necessarily mean that he or she will interact well with the others. Thus, frequent arguments, dysfunction, and stagnation… all legitimate reasons to feel cynical about the entire enterprise.”

[An excerpt from Parts of the Whole: A Guide to World Cultures, by Ash Caeruleus]


            “This meeting of the Magistrate Representatives is called to order. Takaishi Reimaru, step forward,” said the battle-scarred buck from his perch, using the Old Standard naming order. The vermillion rays of the setting sun lit him from behind, giving him an almost divine appearance.

After a hard push from the two samurai flanking him, Zero did as he was told, grimacing as he did every time someone not of his family or close friends used his given name. He had been “Zero” for so long now that being called “Reimaru” left a bitter taste in his mouth… it reminded him too much of the past. Funny, there was a time he hated the nickname “Zero”, and now he found himself preferring it. At least “Zero” didn’t imply as much familiarity… Then again, being called that by the Representatives would have an additional, unwelcome meaning: “Zero”, meaning “nothing”.



Chapter 6

Usual suspects

Face the iron hand of law

Awaiting trial

“Like the cherry blossoms falling,

So we go! So we go!

Come now, brothers, death is calling,

So we go! So we go!

Standing straight and unafraid,

So we go! So we go!

Crimson blood upon our blades,

So we go! So we go!

Like the winter turns to spring,

So we go! So we go!

For to settle everything,

So we go! So we go!

Though the Beneath awaits us all,

As sure as summer turns to fall,

We march to war and heed the call,

So we go! So we go!

-Traditional Daigundan battle anthem


“Three cheeses and five loaves of bread,” said the grimacing willow badger in Healer robes as she pawed through Zero’s belongings, including the bread and cheese he had been forced to release from Faun’s compression bombs. The badger’s brow was wrinkled in a semi-permanent frown. The skinny little ferret at her side studiously took notes on a scroll. “One loaf badly burnt,” she said, her distaste evident. “Three flasks, filled…”

“Careful.” The word of caution came from Lady Nadeshiko, standing guard over her prisoner. Zero’s wrists and ankles were shackled with heavy manacles, but she knew better than to assume he would cooperate. “Those may be from the vixen. They could be dangerous.”

“It’s milk,” said Zero, rolling his eyes heavensward. “You do still drink milk in the Order, don’t you, Milady?”

“Silence.” The floris, as ever, was in no mood for levity. “Sister Cherry, if you would, please.”

Nodding, the willow uncapped one of the flasks and brought it to her great striped muzzle to take a sniff. “It’s milk, Milady.”

“Check the others to be sure.”

“Is this really necessary?” Zero shifted in his chains. “Just send me to the Crown and get it over with.”

They stood in an enforced stone bunker near the base of the Shinju, an ugly little building that stood out like a canker amid the natural beauty of her roots. At least part of the sacred tree was visible through the barred windows of every cell… supposedly, the architect’s idea was that prisoners would be forced to contemplate the Shinju’s majesty and how they had wronged what she represented. It was a novel idea, but it grew less effective over time, especially when one had been held here as many times as Zero had.

“You will hold your tongue, Takaishi, unless I direct you otherwise!” snapped Nadeshiko.

“They’re all milk, Milady,” the badger reported.

“Hmph. Carry on.”

“A dozen small kunai throwing knives.” said Cherry. The ferret scribe’s pen scratched away.

Brilliant green eyes bored into Zero. “And what are those for, may I ask?”

“Escaping,” said Zero with a devious grin. It wouldn’t help his case, but he couldn’t resist.

Nadeshiko tapped one armored foot against the floor, a growl rising somewhere deep in her throat. Her eyes remained locked on the buck, daring him to try something.




A raucous outing

Treasure in the back alley

Bonds beyond distance

“When it comes to the foxes, I regretfully inform the reader that this next chapter may lose its objectivity and sway into personal opinion. I have no doubts that some foxes are fine, upstanding citizens who are decent in their morals, obedient of the law, and respectful to other sentients. Unfortunately, I have yet to personally encounter any who meet most of those criteria, so I must therefore relate my information regarding the fox culture based only on research and hearsay.

“I theorize that the entire race centers on the twin concepts of excess in consumption and excess in expression. Foxes eat too much, drink too much, mate too much, celebrate too much, and above all, talk too much. When using the word ‘gluttonous’ to describe them, one demonstrates the versatility of the word; they overindulge not only in food, drink, and self-gratification, but in every kind of experience, especially of the debauched and depraved variety. They explain themselves to other species by claiming that they are, and I quote, ‘living passionately’. To which I counter thus: living passionately is one thing, and constantly debasing oneself for one’s own pleasure is quite another.

“However, though it pains me to admit, the foxes are talented at expressing themselves in a variety of ways. More art, music, literature, theater, and dance comes from their species than from all the others combined, as if creativity swells inside each one and might burst their bodies should they not let it out. The content of their creative works is… varied, shall I say. For every great and meaningful piece that they produce, there are ten pieces which tend to make decent-minded folk recoil in disgust.

“In the words of their noted philosopher, Maurier: ‘Life is beauty. Beauty is life. We are the most beautiful of all sentient species, and our beauty must be shared with all.’ My response to Lord Maurier’s words is to point out that foxkind shares quite enough already without his encouragement, thank you very much. One only hopes that the next great fox philosopher introduces them to the concept of self-restraint.”

[An excerpt from Parts of the Whole: A Guide to World Cultures, by Ash Caeruleus]


One constant in every species’ portion of Unify was the layout. In all eight of the great city’s walled-off districts, the richest and most powerful lived closest to the Marketplace, in the Inner Rings. These were the oldest sections of the city apart from the Marketplace itself, housing noble and influential families that dated back centuries. As one traveled outward from the center, one saw a steady decrease in signs of luxury: simpler clothes, smaller dwellings, and shabbier surroundings. The newest areas of the city and its subdivisions were by extension the poorest; those on the Outer Rings didn’t have much of anything at all.

Hanami thought of this as she walked behind Faun, two overstuffed wicker baskets of bread, meat, and vegetables under her arms. The vixen had offered to let her use one of her compression bombs to carry the load, but Hanami declined; they made her nervous.

Not helping her nerves was the fact that the same principle that applied to the rest of Unify seemed to apply to the Marketplace at a smaller scale: the further you strayed from the Shinju at the center, the dirtier, poorer, and more ominous their surroundings became. She shivered… she had always been taught to avoid these places. “Faun, if you don’t mind my asking…”

“I never do, kitto.” Faun turned and smiled, walking backward with her arms behind her head. It seemed she knew the way well enough that she didn’t even need to look where she was going. “Go ahead.”

“Um, two questions, actually,” the doe admitted. Her eyes darted back and forth… every alley seemed a prime place for someone to jump out and attack them. “First of all, just where are we going?”

“You’ll see. You’ll have a great time when we get there, I promise,” said Faun, grinning widely. “What’s your second question?”




Go across the plains

To the divided city

Sheltered by the boughs

    “To understand why our civilization fractured as it did, it is important to know the differing beliefs that the Three Gods inspired. The only common element between them is the presence of the Three themselves. In all other aspects, each species’ culture and worship differs greatly from the others.

    “Squirrels, for example… The smallest in stature of the eight sentient species, but far from the least among us, the squirrels developed a culture based upon the virtues of loyalty, honor, dignity, and strength. Their Godlore focuses on the great heroic deeds of the Shogun, their God of Time, and the boundless empathy and grace of their Goddess of Life, Tsuchi-megami-sama, whose name was later simplified in New Standard as ‘Lady Terra’.

“The Shogun (whose name is Old Standard for ‘General’, though it may be argued that ‘Warlord’ is a more appropriate translation) is said to be the perfect embodiment of a warrior: unrelenting on the battlefield, upholding honor at all times, protecting those weaker than himself and challenging those stronger. Unafraid of death, he is always willing to lay down his life for his cause. A wild, untamed, bloodthirsty beast of a buck at first, the Shogun was eventually tempered by his love and devotion for Lady Terra. It is unsurprising that the squirrels so encourage their young bucks to emulate the Shogun… core tenets of the faith are his sacred Seven Virtues: Loyalty, Courage, Benevolence, Respect, Honesty, Honor, and Justice. These Virtues were written for his first band of loyal samurai followers, and passed down through the ages from father to son.”

[An excerpt from Godlore: Our Sacred Legacy and Foundations of Society, by Ash Caeruleus]


It’s too hot.

Hands pressed against the glass, the soft pads on the tip of each finger and thumb blistering from the inferno outside. Pulling away, seeing the reflection of wide, frightened eyes, and a face bathed in a flickering orange glow.

Someone stop it, please…

Shadows on the wall behind, twisting and contorting like demons in a frenzied dance. The smell, sharp and acrid, scouring, overwhelming everything else…

Stop it! It’s too hot!

    And then a familiar sharp crack, a stinging pain… and the glass broke under the pressure of flaming black vines lined with thorns, reaching in through the empty frame to grasp her and crush the life out of her…

Hanami sat bolt upright, her short, sharp scream echoing in the small space. It was dark, too dark to see, and something was wrapped around her, stiflingly hot. In a cold panic, she bared her claws to tear at it, she couldn’t breathe… “Huh?”

Whatever was wrapped around her, it didn’t fight back. Stopping short of ripping it to pieces, she paused and ran the pads of her thumb and forefinger over it… it was soft and warm. Fabric. A blanket. This isn’t mine! How? Where—

An enormous, rumbling noise from somewhere to her right was enough to prompt another scream. Where am I have to run have to get out… Her thoughts were a desperate stream as she resumed her struggle with the blanket, a second, even louder noise setting her fur on end…

Wait. She stopped, heart hammering in her breast and tail ramrod straight, and listened carefully to the noise from the right. It was loud, but regular and even… snoring. Hanami took a steadying breath, and caught a dusky, playful scent, traces of a campfire, and a scant few nuts, seeds, and berries on the sleeper’s breath… it was Faun. Hanami supposed that she must have fallen asleep staring into the fire, and this dark place must be the vixen’s den. Calm settled over her.

She took me back to her home. Yes, that made sense. It was all right now, she didn’t need to run anymore. The doe smoothed down her fur and smiled in the dark, more grateful for Faun’s kindness than she had words to express. Out of habit, she reached up to touch the flower tucked behind her left ear, and found it still in place, as always. I wonder…




Strangers become friends

Watching dancing fireflies

Outcasts’ gathering

“So it was… we heeded the words, and change and new life flourished throughout the world. From our savagery, we were uplifted into civilizations, each one based upon the Gods that so awed and terrified us. We reclaimed the land, healed it as best we could, and made it our own. We tamed the animals, the goats, sheep, pigboars, and fowl, nurturing them as if they were our own children. Where there was once only ruin, we built homes, towns, villages… and Unify, our capital city.

“Built in a circle around the Shinju, the great tree that the Goddess of Life raised in the world’s center and named after part of the message that the Gods gave unto us, Unify spread as our numbers grew. Among the Shinju’s roots we mingled, sharing our stories and our knowledge, and under her boughs we slept in peace. When it came time to lead ourselves, those chosen by each species took to meeting high up in her crown, where the Representatives could see all of Unify spread out before them.

“For a while, it was paradise… but then, to our sorrow, our belief in the Gods led to more conflict than ever…”

[An excerpt from Godlore: Our Sacred Legacy and Foundations of Society, by Ash Caeruleus]


“Well, kitto, there it is!”

A gasp left Hanami’s lips as Faun pulled aside the underbrush blocking their view of a grassy clearing. At the clearing’s center, under a canopy of stars, there stood a huge slab of granite. Ten meters across, it was low enough to the ground that one could step up onto it without having to climb. Its surface was almost perfectly flat, smoothed and leveled by who knew how many centuries of rain, and so polished that it reflected some of the light of the late summer moon above. In the center of the rock there were a half-dozen logs, each large enough to sit on and covered by a hand-woven blanket. The logs surrounded a shallow dip in the rock’s surface, in which lay a pile of blackened timber and ash, the remnants of a fire. All around, the air glimmered with tiny, lazily drifting yellow lights blinking off and on… there was a company of fireflies out tonight, engaged in a courtship dance.

“It’s beautiful,” said Hanami in a hushed tone as she climbed over the edge. The place was like an illustration out of an old storybook, the kind she used to love as a child.

Faun shrugged and grabbed a blanket, wadding it into a rough ball shape before she sat down on it. “It’s not much, but we like it.”




A new arrival

Dusk upon a frigid lake

A flash of scarlet

“Every sentient is taught the story at an early age. Ask any cub, pup, or kit old enough to speak, and they will tell you. It is the story of our world, how it rose from a state of violence and chaos to become the society we know today. They may tell you different names, or different motives, but at its heart, the story is always the same… and it always begins like this:

“Long ago, the world’s eight sentient species were locked in endless war with each other. So brutal, savage, and lengthy was this conflict that all recorded history prior to its beginning was irrevocably lost. All reasons for the fighting, any knowledge to who or what had started it or why, we now have no way of knowing. This tragedy came to be called the Species War. Countless numbers wept… the atrocities committed by every side during that era still haunt us all, even centuries removed from those dark days.

“The lore tells that the last battle was held on a spring morning. What was the spark that ignited into the inferno that followed? No one knows for certain… theories abound, but whatever vile action triggered it, it was enough to awaken something from deep within the earth… a monstrous being, an entity far beyond our understanding.  Was it always there, waiting for the day it could reveal itself? Or was it called into existence by our long history of bloodshed? Again, no one knows…

“On that morning, it erupted from beneath us, vast enough to block out the sky, black as night and boiling with hatred… With pitiless eyes of white-hot flame, it looked down upon our multitudes and spoke in a voice that split the skies and cracked the earth: “You fools” it said, and every living creature heard its words and trembled, “This world with all its beauty and promise was given to you, and you have squandered it. You have stained the earth with blood and darkness for far too long. Now, your retribution is at hand. Heed my words, for I am DEATH, and all shall wither before me.”

The God of Death breathed, and all that its breath touched began to burn…”

[An excerpt from Godlore: Our Sacred Legacy and Foundations of Society, by Ash Caeruleus]


For the past half hour, there had been no words between them. Nothing save for the dry leaves crinkling underfoot, the sighing of the breeze, and a few birds up in the branches, singing to warn of the encroaching twilight.

Numb… Hanami felt numb, disconnected from herself. Cold, despite the lingering heat of the late summer evening. It was shock settling over her, she supposed. Shock at not only her new status as an exile (or Outcast, rather), but that what she had been taught and what she had been told about this forest for her entire life had been lies. Deliberate lies, according to the buck called Zero. The foundations of her world were shaken apart… how and why anyone would go so far to distort the truth, she didn’t know.

She found herself wondering what else she had been lied to about.

“So,” said Zero next to her, giving her a start.

Kya! Y-yes?” Hanami stammered as she ran her hands through her tail fur, trying to smooth it back down.

“It’s my turn to ask a question… if you don’t mind my asking.” He looked back over his shoulder at her, smiling a sad little smile.

“I… I s-suppose not…”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” said Zero. “It’s just sort of… a custom. When we get a new arrival, one of us asks them why they’re here.”

Hanami froze. Her ears pressed down flat.

“No one comes to Tasakeru without a reason,” he  said. “Every one of us made a mistake, or angered our people somehow… we all did something they couldn’t forgive us for.”

Shaking like a leaf in a gale, Hanami’s hands closed tight around her tail. A few dry sounds came from her mouth, but she couldn’t seem to form words.





Into the forest

To the place where no one goes

Runaway maiden

“Hanami. That’s my name, my only name. I don’t think anyone knows who I really am, or why I ran away. Honestly, sometimes I’m not even sure myself. Maybe the reason I’m writing this is to try to figure it out. Not because I think someone will read it, but for me, just me.

“On the day that it began… I made one mistake, and everything fell apart. I didn’t think, I didn’t plan, I didn’t know where I was going, if anyone was coming after me, or if they even knew what it was that I did… I just started running, as far away as I could. The running itself… it’s all a blur, I barely remember it. There was pain, of course. My feet were screaming at me to stop, my eyes were burning… but I just kept going, until I found myself in the forest…”

[An excerpt from the compiled journals of the Outcasts, translated from New Standard]


Had they been able, the ancient oaks would have blinked in surprise. Here she was, stepping on leaves and pushing aside branches in the deepest heart of the forest, their forest, paying no attention to any of the beauty around her. Not only that, but she was running down the narrow, winding path between the mighty trunks, her panicked flight at odds with the tranquil atmosphere of the late summer afternoon. Bizarre, to say the least. However, even if the oaks were aware, they paid her no notice. High above, a sparrow alighted on a high branch. It watched the girl for a few seconds and flew away, its attention on other things.

Time passed. The girl ran on.

“As far as I can remember, my mother and father never mentioned the forest, and it never came up in my lessons. I had caught glimpses of it before, though; you could see it clearly if you stood on top of Unify’s outer wall. Maybe I asked about it at least once when I was small, but I can’t remember them ever answering.  I heard things from other kits, though… strange and awful things. They said that it was haunted; that monsters lived there that could kill you just by touching you or looking at you. One girl told me what her parents had told her, that it was where the ‘bad people’ went. That if you disobeyed or got into trouble, you would be sent there and never come back. It wasn’t a place I ever thought about going, in any case. But maybe on that day, some part of me realized that if I went to the forest, no one would follow…”

When she finally stopped and leaned against the cool trunk of an oak, her legs and side burned white-hot, protesting the distance she had run. Even so, she was prepared to flee again, to force her exhausted body into action should she need to. Every muscle tensed as she listened carefully for sounds of pursuit… nothing. The forest was deep and silent, save for a few singing birds, the sound of her own breathing, and the frantic hammering of her heart.

It was all right. She was alone. Then, and only then, did she feel safe enough to press her slender body against the bark and weep.

With all the greenery and earth colors around her, she looked quite out of place.  Her eyes were robin’s egg blue, her sunny golden hair nearly waist length, tied back in a tail at her neck with a white ribbon. Tucked behind one of her pointed, tufted ears was a strange flower, somewhat like a rose and somewhat like a carnation, with deep, blood-red petals arranged in an unusual spiral pattern. Her fur was tawny, though on her face and around her teary eyes it faded to a more sandy color. The simple wool tunic she wore had once been white, but now was filthy, scratched and torn open in a dozen places by stray branches. A long bush of a tail poked out the back of her dress; normally it would have curled over at the tip like a question mark, but now it drooped behind her, limp as a rag.

The sadness and exhaustion combined were simply too much for her to bear. As if a great weight had descended on her shoulders, she slid roughly down the oak’s trunk, staining its bark with tears. Upon the forest floor she laid nestled in its roots, looking for all the world like a frightened infant trying to find comfort in a mother’s arms. There was no warmth to be found there, though, only cool wood and long dead leaves blanketing fragrant soil. In desperation she curled her tail around herself and hugged it to her body as she rocked slowly back and forth, crying until she could cry no more.

“The forest was so huge, and I was so small… it was like I was the only person in the world, like everyone and everything else had disappeared. Thinking back on it, that was the first time in my life I had ever truly been alone… maybe that was what I needed.

“I wasn’t alone for long, though. Those old children’s stories were right after all. Monsters did live in the forest…”



From the boughs above her, the creatures watched with growing interest. They moved silently back and forth on hairy limbs, whispering excitedly to one another. Solid black eyes like beads of ink looked down at her, and slavering jaws drooled at the prospect of young, fresh, tender meat… but no, the mind would not let them eat yet. The mind wanted this one for other things first. It sent them an order, a single word. Take. They descended as one…

Her scream split the forest’s calm like an axe blade splitting a log. Her ears pressed down flat against her skull as they dropped down all around her in a rough half-circle. Six horrible, alien creatures with too many eyes and too many legs, their mandibles moving ceaselessly as they advanced on her… Small claws twitched on their melon-sized, bulbous abdomens, busily spinning whispery white silk. Their scent was dry, dusky, horrid… The girl backed up against the oak tree as if she wanted to melt into it, her pale blue eyes wide and blank with terror. The creatures advanced, making eerie clicking and chittering sounds to one another. They could smell her fear on the air, as sweet and intoxicating as fine wine. One scuttled forward and began crawling up her leg. Her throat grew tight, and her fur stood on end… too repulsed to scream again, the girl’s hand shot up to the flower in her hair…

Something glinted as it fell through a thin ray of afternoon sunlight. The thing on her leg tensed and gave a loud screech and dropped back to the forest floor, a metal throwing knife now embedded between two of its many eyes. A shadow dropped down in front of the girl and drew an old and battered sword. The blade flashed once, then twice in the light filtering down from the canopy, felling two of the monsters where they stood. Moving with a swift and savage purpose, the shadow made its blade dance almost like a living thing as it did its deadly work. Another monster split in two, and then another… When the last monster in sight was dispatched, the shadow turned around to the girl, who was speechless, barely able to breathe.  It spoke, in a shockingly blunt, direct tone… no formalities, no courtesy, just a question:

“What are you doing here?!”

“I had no idea what to think. My mind had just stopped working… Here he was, in the middle of an ancient, haunted forest, looking at me like I was the one who shouldn’t have been there…”

He was taller than she was, slightly older by the looks of it, and his scruffy fur several shades darker. Long, unkempt chestnut hair framed his angular, thin face, with a black headband barely visible beneath his bangs. He had a muscular body, but at the same time lean and underfed from what she could see of him. Making out his exact build was difficult due to his loose-fitting robes with wide sleeves… a fighter’s clothes, all black save for a few scarce lines of red trim. A dark wooden scabbard for the old sword hung from the wide belt on his hip. There were deep red climbing boots on his feet, with grooved metal soles for better grip and traction. His tail twitched; there may have been a curl in it at some point, but the fur was too untamed and overgrown to tell.

His eyes… they bored into the girl, making her shiver. Mahogany-colored, intense, hard and unreadable, they scanned her, took in her ruined clothes and her state of near hysteria without so much as a blink of surprise.

This strange, wild, violent creature frowned, and once again he spoke. “What are you doing here?” he repeated, harsh with suspicion, just as blunt as before.

She didn’t answer him. She just stared at the stranger, her lips moving without forming words. Finally, her voice emerged in a dry croak. “You’re… you’re sentient…”

His frown disappeared, replaced by a darkly amused smirk. “So are you.”

“And… and you’re a squirrel…”

He let out a sound that might have been a chuckle. “Again, likewise.”

This did nothing to ease the girl’s panic. “B-but— you just can’t be…!” Even frightened out of her wits, her speech was far more reserved than his. “N-no one is supposed to—”

“Grew up hearing the stories, did you?” he said, crossing his arms. “‘Don’t go into the forest, it’s full of monsters’, right?”

“H-How did you know?” she stammered, completely lost. “A-Are you r-reading my—”

He sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “That’s what they tell everyone. It’s not entirely true, but they figure it’s the best way to keep people from coming here. Look, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” He flicked the ichor from his sword, sheathed it, and held up both hands. “See? It’s going to be all right. Can you calm down?”

Calming down seemed hardly better than facing more monsters, but at least he had now put his weapon away. Hesitantly she nodded, still ready to cut and run at the slightest sign of aggression.

“Good.” The stranger took a few steps back, giving her space. There was softness in his voice that hadn’t been there moments ago. “Just take it easy.”

She realized she was still pressed against the tree, the claws on her fingertips digging into the bark. With a great effort, she relaxed her muscles and forced herself to take a few deep breaths. Slowly, her fur settled and her ears perked back up as the adrenaline thundering through her veins subsided bit by bit. When she felt a little better, or at least not as panicked as before, she nodded at him again.

Still he kept his distance. “I think I see what’s going on. You came here without knowing anything about this place, right? Without knowing anyone lived here. Which says to me that you didn’t mean to be here… no one told you to come.”

“I’m sorry.” She swallowed, feeling her throat tighten again. “I’ll leave, I promise!”

“Settle down, settle down.” He held up a hand once more. “Please, let me explain. You’re… not exactly the first person to come here like this.”

The girl blinked. “B-but… I thought this place was forbidden—”

“It is. At least, that’s what the Reps tell everyone,” said the stranger. Bitterness crept into his tone. “They don’t want anyone to know the truth that doesn’t have to. It’s part of the punishment.”

Bad people. The words from long ago echoed through her mind. The forest is where the ‘bad people’ go. She tensed and prepared to flee…

Again, those intense eyes bored into her, freezing her in place, but now she could see in them… sympathy. Sympathy, and regret, and loss. A deep pain that would most likely never heal. “I understand you’re afraid,” he said, “but it’s not what you think, I promise. This forest is called Tasakeru; it’s a place for exiles.”

The word struck a chord with her, cutting through her fear. “Exiles?”

“Outcasts, is what we call ourselves.” There was that bitterness again, more than before. He looked away, gazing at the expanse of woods around them. “We’re the people who don’t belong in the world… rejects. Trash. Some of us were banished by the Representatives, because we went against the ways too much, or we were too difficult to deal with. Others… well, others didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Against her better judgment, the girl’s heart opened for him. The stranger described himself and his fellow exiles with such harsh words, but in such a casual tone… Trash, rejects. Clearly, those words and others like them had been levied at him so many times that he had grown accustomed to hearing them. But of course they still stung, even if only a little… no wonder she sensed so much anger in him. “I’m sorry,” she said, softer this time. “I’m sorry. That’s so terrible…”

“You get used to it after a while.” He shrugged. The hurt in his voice diminished, but didn’t fade entirely. “Like I said: people who come here don’t have anywhere else to go. That’s you, right?”

The girl’s eyes stung. She bit her lip and nodded. “Yes.”

“Then you’re in the right place, whether you meant to be here or not.” A deep sigh escaped him… but then he smiled, and while it was a sad, tight smile, it was also full of warmth and understanding. “Welcome to Tasakeru. I’m Zero Takaishi.” He punctuated his statement with a bow, his hands at his sides.

“Good afternoon, Lord Takaishi. My name is Hanami.” The girl wiped her eyes and bowed in return, her hands clasped in front of her. As she rose back up, she tucked the flower more securely behind her ear, lest it slip out of place. “Just Hanami.”

“Please, there’s no need to be formal out here. Call me Zero.”

The prospect of doing so with someone she had just met made her ears turn back, but she forced the name past her stubborn lips. “Z… Zero.”

They met each other’s eyes, and the forest held its breath. Even the birds stopped singing.

The moment was broken when Hanami realized the state of her ruined tunic. Her ears turned back as she ran her hands over the tears, trying to cover them or smooth them out. It was a lost cause, but she made the attempt anyway. To his credit, Zero looked in another direction, pretending not to notice. Still, the silence festered, growing uncomfortable… she cast around, desperately searching for something else to say. “I-if you don’t mind my asking…” she began, her eyes falling on the motionless leg of one of the monsters. “… what were those things?”

“Wood spiders,” said Zero, his features twisting into a grimace. “Remember how I said the rumors about monsters weren’t exactly true? They’re the ‘not exactly’ part.”

“Those were spiders?!” Hanami goggled at him. “But they’re huge, I’ve never seen them grow anywhere near that big…”

“Near as we can tell, that’s what they are.” Zero shrugged. “Some kind of older, offshoot breed is my guess… they look like the tiny ones in the city, but they don’t act anything like them. They hunt in packs, they’re hostile, and they can overwhelm you if enough of them catch you off guard. We should get moving, in case there are more around.”

Trembling, Hanami nodded. After a pause, she tilted her head. “Um, if you don’t mind my asking… again… get moving to where?”

He had already started down the winding path that snaked between the trees. That wounded smile from before flickered on his lips as he spoke to her over his shoulder. “To find a place for you to stay. I’m sorry to have to tell you this so abruptly, Hanami, but… now that you’re here, you’re not going back to Unify.”

Fresh tears prickled in the corners of Hanami’s eyes. She had suspected as much, but to hear another person put it into words struck her like a blow to the stomach. She was never going home… there was an awful, almost unbearable weight in that realization. Turning around, she gazed back at the winding path that had brought her to this place, to Tasakeru: an ancient forest filled with monsters and a stranger calling himself trash, an Outcast, a person that no one wanted her to know about… The strangeness and confusion of it all crept up on her at once, overwhelming her to the point that she could hardly stand. Had it really been only this morning that she woke from her bed, made a cup of tea, and watched the shoppers go by as she bought breakfast at the marketplace? It was the same routine she had done every morning for years… it was only hours removed from her, and already it felt like memories from someone else’s life, the life of a stranger. Everything was different now… suddenly, horribly, terrifyingly different. Hanami was seized by a sudden desire to go back, to escape the forest, the monstrous spiders, and the stranger, to hurry home to her bed, her tea, and the familiar marketplace. To go home.

That was when she remembered what would likely be waiting for her there if she should return.

A chilling sense of loss settled over Hanami as the realization finally sunk in: that that life, that home, was gone, its sense of safety and routine forever shattered. Even if she was able to go back by some miracle, what had happened there this morning…


Hanami turned and followed Zero’s back as he disappeared into the depths of Tasakeru, wordlessly bidding farewell to her old life. Iron bands squeezed her heart… it hurt so much to throw it all away, it hurt more than she thought she could bear… but when faced with the alternative, there was no other choice.



High above them, the single remaining spider watched. It had retreated to the shadows when the warrior slaughtered its brethren. Briefly, it considered leaping down on him and avenging the fallen… but no. The mind didn’t want that. The mind demanded that it stay, that it watch and listen, following the warrior and the new arrival. Vengeance would come another day.

And the mind knew best, of course. There was no reason to question it.







Somewhere far away, on another Earth, devoid of humankind…

There was once an island country, alone in the vast ocean, isolated by storms and deadly currents. Its inhabitants knew nothing of any land or people outside of their own, so to them, their island was “the world”.

In the place of humankind, the animals grew and changed, becoming like man… and yet not like man. Faint echoes of human cultures and ideas unknowingly bled across reality from our Earth to theirs, shaping the growth of the island’s civilization.

There were eight of them, eight intelligent species that called themselves “sentients”… eight species sharing a world that became too small for their differing ways of life.

It was a world of ancient gods, of long-remembered wars and the heroes that fought them. It was a world of magic and science, logic and emotion, faith and proof clashing against one another.

It was a world where the only way to enforce order and stability was to keep the many different cultures separate… and to exile any people deemed too dangerous to coexist with the rest of sentientkind.

Unknown to the world, the very exiles they shunned and feared had a part in saving civilization itself. They should have quietly faded from history… but their story refused to be forgotten. They live on as legends, whispers in the wind.

These are those legends, the tales of the Outcasts of TASAKERU


Tasakeru, tasakeru.com, and all related contents, text, and media are the Intellectual Property (IP) of BHS and BHS Productions, registered in 2009, and may not be modified, reproduced, or changed in any way, shape, or form without the author's express permission. For more information on usage rights, see the From the Author page.


google.com, pub-5010106122800170, DIRECT, f08c47fec0942fa0
Pets Supplies Shop online for pet supplies, pet care products for house hold pets as well as small garden animals at low internet prices and fast home delivery service - petsboutiques.eu

Member of The Internet Defense League