Red Death S1

During the Dawn From the treeline above the east ridge, Ryu watches.

A quiet switch of patrols. Guards change positions with groggy discipline. One yawns. The east watchtower turns its gaze downhill.

Perfect. When the Patrol Guard Turns his back

Ryu slides down the slope, using dew-wet roots to break his descent. He hurls a flat stone into the opposite direction—it clinks loud enough to draw eyes.

A young sentry turns. "Huh?"

By the time his attention returns, Ryu has already vaulted the ledge, cloak pressed tight, landing in a shadowed alley between two merchant huts.

Now, within the town, Ryu moves like wind—quiet, unbothered, head low.

But something catches his eye.

Steel glinting on multiple belts.

Sleek, curved blades. Slightly longer than standard swords. He pauses as a merchant walks by with one tucked under a crate—and another blacksmith hangs five in the window.

Ryu (curious, internal):These... aren't swords.

He leans slightly toward a passing worker hauling boxes of dried vegetables.

Ryu (low, calm):Those blades. What are they called?

Worker (glancing over):Huh? Oh, those? Katanas. Most of us use 'em. Easier to draw, quicker cuts.

Ryu nods once. Noted.He files away the shape, the curvature, the hilts.

Yizo (musing):Different culture. Probably rooted in duelist tradition.

Ryu:Efficient design.

Across the square, a young man trains with one.

He swings at the training dummy again—and again. Precision. Balance. But his movements are still weighted with hesitation.

Too much internal doubt. Too little kill intent.

Ryu watches him, eyes flat.

Ryu (calculating):Too defensive. Too hesitant. No rhythm of battle.

He asks the worker:

Ryu:Who's that?

Worker (not stopping):That's Kumo. Heir to the Yamatsuki Clan. Does this every morning, like clockwork. Says he's gonna prove himself.

Ryu (quiet):Prove to who?

Ryu continues walking. He studies Shirogane's walls—stone reinforced with wood, layered gates, patrol rotations every few minutes. The archers aren't bad. The tower signals are timed.

Yizo (assessing):Good structure. Decent layout.

Ryu:Not enough numbers. They'll hold off a siege... for a few hours. No more.

Then, Ryu stops. His senses prick.

Someone is watching him.

He doesn't turn fast. Just enough to catch a silhouette near the central hall.

Weathered, broad-shouldered, motionless as stone—but his gaze is locked on Ryu.

Ryu (internal):That man…Heavy mana. Layered. Still.Fighting him here would be suicide.

They stand like statues—two predators scenting each other.

Finally, Hirai walks over. Calm. No hostility—just curiosity wrapped in wariness.

Hirai (low):You're new.

Ryu (unflinching):Didn't see a sign saying I couldn't enter.

Hirai (not amused, not angry):Didn't put one. But we notice everything that moves inside our walls.

Ryu (matching tone):I pass through places. This one let me walk in.

Hirai studies him for a long moment. Then nods.

Hirai (gestures):Come. We'll talk with food. Walls listen too well when we stand.

Later – In the Clan House

A long wooden table. Simple food. Lanterns sway overhead.

Hirai drinks from a carved jug, then looks across at Ryu.

Hirai:How old are you?

Ryu (quietly):I stopped counting.…Probably seventeen.

Hirai raises an eyebrow. Smiles faintly.

Hirai:My son's the same age. You saw him earlier.

Ryu said nothing. Just a faint nod.

Hirai watched him for another few seconds.

Hirai:You don't speak much. But you listen. That's rare.

Ryu (quiet):Talking doesn't keep you alive.

Hirai (finally leaning back):You're not from the Empire, not one of ours.And you're not afraid of anyone here.

Hirai (thinks):

I wonder what monsters this child has lived among

Hirai sits across from Ryu, observing him in silence.

Hirai:What's your name?

Ryu (calm):Ryu.

(beat)

Hirai narrows his eyes slightly, reading between the words.

Hirai:This town—Shirogane—sits on the edge of three provinces. Trade routes pass through the cliffs, but the Empire doesn't control it.

He leans back slightly, tone still even.

Hirai:That's because of my clan—Yamatsuki. We were once part of something larger. Now we keep to the sword, and to ourselves.We do not kneel.Not to gold. Not to emperors.

Ryu (nods):

Swordmen. I figured.

(quiet) The way your people walk. The weapons they carry. The discipline in the air. It's not imperial.

Hirai studies him again—less cautious, more curious now.

Ryu (measured):So... you can probably guess why I'm here.

Hirai (hard):I can guess a hundred things. Doesn't mean I'll believe any of them.

(leans forward)You could be a scout. A spy. Someone soft-spoken enough to slip past our defenses and mark our walls for fire.

Ryu (flat):

The Empire is attacking after 3 days..If I were a spy…why would I warn you?

(quiet)Wouldn't I keep the timing of the attack to myself? Let my "side" keep the element of surprise?

Hirai doesn't reply immediately.

Ryu (continues):Look at me. I walk alone. No weapons. No team.I came in at dawn, knowing full well how many of your people carry blades.

(beat)If I was different from all of you... entering this place would've been suicide.

Hirai's expression doesn't shift, but something in his shoulders loosens slightly.

Still, his tone remains firm.

Hirai:Even so… I can't trust you. Not yet.

Ryu nods once. He understands.

Hirai:You speak calmly. Too calmly. That's not a trait of the naive. It's something you earn.Usually in blood.

Ryu (coldly):You're not wrong.

A silence settles. Firewood crackles faintly in the side brazier.

Hirai (softer):The Empire has been pressing harder lately.They've started calling more zones "rebellious." Using it as a reason to move troops.

(grim)We've refused to aid them in their campaigns. That's why we know what's coming. The silence. The merchants. The disguised scouts.

Ryu (quietly):They called my village a rebel zone too.

(beat)Then burned it.

That lands. Hirai's eyes flicker—only slightly—but he says nothing.

Hirai:I don't trust you.

Ryu (calm):You don't have to.

(flat)But if you want to survive what's coming, you'll need more than tradition and high walls.

Hirai nods slowly.

Hirai (sighs):You saw my son earlier. Kumo.

(beat)He's seventeen. Trains every day. Good reflexes. Strong blood.

(pauses)But… no intent to kill.

Ryu:Then he won't last.

Hirai (agrees quietly):Not in this world.

A long silence follows.

Finally, Hirai refills Ryu's cup, though Ryu never touches it.

Hirai (neutral):Until I know who you really are... I'll keep you close.

(beat)And watched.

Ryu (unshaken):That's fair.

He stands without ceremony.

Ryu:I'll begin preparing what I can. You decide if you want to use it.

He walks to the door. Stops.

Ryu (low):Empire will be here in three days.

(glances back)Make sure your people are ready to bleed… or survive.

He leaves without waiting for a reply. Hirai remains still, watching the door for a moment longer than necessary.

Hirai (quietly to himself):What kind of storm did I just let inside my walls?