Red Death S1

The sun has barely risen. Mist coils low across the ground, curling around stones and blades of grass. Far from the town's center, near the edge of the training grounds, Ryu sits alone on a flat rock.

He holds a stick. And with it, he draws in the dirt.

Lines. Arrows. Shapes.

Routes through forest. River choke points. Possible fallback zones.

Each motion is quiet, methodical.

Kumo (softly):You're up early.

Ryu doesn't look up.

Ryu (flat):We must expect getting attacked at anytime

Kumo steps closer, hands behind his back. He glances down at the markings.

Kumo:Are those… battle plans?

Ryu:Just thoughts.

Kumo (smiles faintly):They look serious for "just thoughts."

Ryu says nothing. He draws a cross near one hill. Circles a point along the riverbank.

Kumo shifts awkwardly, watching him.

Kumo (gently):I heard you're the stranger my father met.

Ryu (calm):He invited me to dinner.Didn't kill me. So I guess that counts as a welcome.

Kumo laughs softly. It's a clean laugh—untouched by cynicism.

Kumo:He's not bad. Just... cautious. Too many people want something from him.

Ryu keeps drawing.

Ryu:And you? What do you want?

Kumo blinks. The question hits unexpectedly.

Kumo (quiet):To help, I guess.

Ryu finally looks at him.

Ryu:You don't sound sure.

Kumo:I want to protect Shirogane. Our people.But I'm not like my father.

Ryu eyes him for a moment—studying the posture, the gentle voice, the hesitation.

Ryu (flat):You train every day.

Kumo:Yeah.

Ryu:But you don't want to kill.

Kumo hesitates. Then nods once.

Kumo (soft):I was raised to be strong…But not cruel.

Ryu (quiet):Cruelty isn't strength.

(beat)

But hesitation gets people killed.

Kumo's eyes lower. His hand grazes the hilt of his katana—not to draw it, just to feel its weight.

Kumo:Do you think I'm too soft?

Ryu (neutral):I think you're too kind for the world coming for this town.

Kumo looks up at him—unoffended, maybe even relieved by the honesty.

Kumo:Maybe that's why I need to learn from you.

Ryu (dry):What makes you think I'm a good teacher?

Kumo (smiles slightly):You haven't smiled once.People like that usually know things others don't.

Ryu looks back down at the dirt. His stick presses a sharp line across the path drawn earlier.

Ryu (quiet):Or they've seen too much to laugh.

(beat)

Sit, if you want. But don't talk.

Kumo obeys, sitting a little distance away. He watches the lines form again, silent, thoughtful.

After a while, Kumo speaks—softly.

Kumo:Sometimes I wish things could be different.That conflicts could be solved through talking.Not blood.

(beat)

But I guess I sound naive.

Ryu doesn't answer.

The wind shifts. The lines in the dirt begin to fade with the breeze.

Two sons sit in silence.

One, born of scars and battle.

The other, a son of peace—still believing words might one day be enough.

Kumo brushes his fingers across the fading lines in the dirt.

Kumo (softly):

I'm Yamatsuki Kumo by the way

Ryu:Ryu... Just Ryu.

Kumo (softly):You've seen a lot, haven't you?

Ryu:More than I wanted to.

Kumo nods, not pushing for more. The silence stretches again, but it's no longer awkward. Just… present.

After a moment, he glances at the horizon.

Kumo:When I was little, I thought being strong meant lifting heavy things, swinging a sword…(beat)But I think real strength is knowing when not to use it.

Ryu (quiet):Then most people are weak.

Kumo looks over, half-smiling, but there's sadness behind it.

Kumo:Do you think the Empire will attack here… even if we don't give them a reason?

Ryu doesn't answer immediately. His eyes track the mountains in the distance, calculating distance, terrain, time.

Ryu (flat):They already decided.

Kumo (quiet):So no matter what we do, people will die.

Ryu (without emotion):Yes.

Kumo leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands together.

Kumo:Then I want to make sure the ones who live… remember why we fought.

Ryu looks at him again.

Ryu (studying):You're not stupid.

Kumo:No.

Ryu:You're just... not broken.

Kumo (smiling):Not yet.

They sit in silence once more—wind brushing the grass, morning sun rising slow behind the trees.

Then a bell sounds faintly in the distance—a signal from the inner wall.

Kumo stands, brushing dust from his clothes.

Kumo:That means breakfast's ready. You should eat something.

Ryu:I'm not hungry.

Kumo hesitates, then nods.

Kumo:Still... you should come. My father will want to know where you are.

Ryu doesn't move.

Ryu:Go on. I'll follow soon.

Kumo turns, starts walking toward the town—then pauses, looking back.

Kumo:Even if you don't believe in peace...(soft)...thanks for helping us survive long enough to still dream about it.

He leaves.

Ryu stares down at the dirt where the lines have begun to blur completely. He picks up the stick again.

Draws a new one.

Sharper. Colder.

A route that leads not to defense...…but to ambush.