The inherenter of jin mori

Chapter 16: The Cost of Freedom

Yuta Takahashi

The sky is dark, thick clouds rolling over the sea like an omen. The ship creaks beneath my feet, the tension in the air heavier than the weight in my chest. Something is wrong. I can feel it.

Varro is standing at the bow, staring out at the horizon, his arms crossed. He's quiet—too quiet.

The crew doesn't trust us. They've tolerated our presence for the past few days, but that tolerance is wearing thin. I see it in the way they whisper when I pass, the way their hands linger on their weapons.

I clench my fists. If it comes to a fight, can I protect us?

That thought lingers as I approach Varro. "Something's off," I murmur.

He doesn't turn to me. "Yeah."

His voice is distant.

I frown. "What is it?"

This time, he does look at me, and what I see in his eyes scares me.

Resignation.

Like he's already made a decision.

Before I can push further, a voice cuts through the air.

"They're awake."

I turn. The pirate captain stands at the center of the deck, his crew gathered behind him. Their hands are on their weapons now—not just lingering. Ready.

My stomach drops.

I step forward. "Look, we don't want trouble."

The captain sneers. "You brought trouble the second we pulled you out of the water. That kind of strength?" He nods toward the broken crate from earlier. "That ain't normal."

The rest of the crew murmurs in agreement.

"You're a liability," the captain continues. "And we don't keep liabilities on this ship."

My muscles tense. They're going to kill us.

I glance at Varro, expecting him to move, to prepare to fight—but he doesn't. He's still staring at the horizon, unreadable.

"Varro," I say quietly.

Then, before I can react, he moves.

He steps in front of me.

And he draws his sword.

Flashback: One Month in HellThe chains were the worst part.

They weren't just heavy. They were alive. Seastone, draining every ounce of strength from my body, leaving me weak, helpless.

I had spent the first three days in denial, convinced this was some kind of nightmare I'd wake up from.

By the end of the first week, I had stopped thinking about Earth.

By the second, I stopped thinking about anything at all.

There was no time in that prison. No sense of day or night, just endless labor, hauling barrels of sugar and crates of sweets until my muscles screamed. If I moved too slowly, they beat me. If I stopped, they beat me harder.

The other prisoners weren't much better. Some were broken, shells of people who had long since given up. Others were worse—monsters who had given up their humanity to survive.

I learned to keep my head down. To endure.

But then, in the third week, I saw him.

Varro.

He wasn't like the others. He still fought.

I didn't understand it then. Didn't understand why he kept pushing, why he didn't just give up like the rest of us.

One night, after a particularly brutal beating, I had collapsed in my cell, barely breathing.

Varro had crouched beside me, tossing me a stale piece of bread.

"Don't die," he had said. "That'd be a waste."

I remember looking up at him, blood dripping from my temple, and asking the only thing that mattered.

"Why are you still fighting?"

He had stared at me for a long moment before answering.

"Because someone has to."

Back to the PresentVarro grips his sword, stepping forward.

"You want him?" His voice is calm. Too calm.

The pirates hesitate.

"Take me instead."

My heart stops.

No.

The captain raises an eyebrow. "You offering yourself?"

Varro doesn't look at me. "You said he's a liability, right?" He smirks. "Then I'm the solution."

"Varro, don't—"

"Shut up, kid." His voice is sharp, but there's something else in it. Something I don't understand.

He turns back to the captain. "One life for another. You take me, let him go."

The captain considers this. Then, finally, he nods.

"Deal."

The pirates move fast. Before I can react, they grab him.

"No—wait!"

I lunge forward, but hands pull me back.

Varro glances at me over his shoulder, and for the first time, I see peace in his expression.

"Survive," he says.

Then they drag him away.

And I am left standing there, helpless.

Just like I was in that prison.

Only this time, I am not going to accept it.