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The town of Shirogane clung to the base of a jagged mountain like a stubborn weed in a crack of stone. Life here was rugged, and so were the people. The mountain loomed tall and defiant, its face scarred with ancient landslides and steep ridges that made climbing or descending a daily gamble with death. Shirogane was hemmed in, poor, but resilient. The soil was meager, the winters cruel, and the summers dry. But it was home.
Each morning, as the sun flared golden behind the mountain's shoulder, the townsfolk stirred like creaking branches. On this particular morning, the town center buzzed with activity. Makeshift stalls cobbled from old planks and fishing nets were being set up by tired hands.
The people had little, and it showed. Fruits, half-wrinkled from time or storage, were stacked in hopeful pyramids. Vegetables that once promised bounty now seemed more like apology offerings to any passerby. A few desperate sellers even displayed pearlescent stones dredged up from the mountain's base, hoping a rich traveler or merchant woman might pass through and find them pretty enough to buy.
Then came the man everyone looked forward to each day—Yae Kamiki.
Yae Kamiki was not just a merchant. He was energy incarnate, an emblem of hope. Born and raised in Shirogane, he had braved the deadly mountain trails every day to trade with the only village that lay on the other side. With a smile that never seemed to fade, a voice loud and hearty, and a wagon stacked with fresh meat and exotic spices.
Yae was a beacon of life in a place otherwise weighed down by struggle. Children chased behind his cart, women peered from windows, and the elderly nodded as he passed. Today, as always, he rolled into town just past dawn, a bright red scarf fluttering from his collar, a whistle on his lips, and slabs of wild game tied to his cart.
But elsewhere in Shirogane, joy was scarce.
A worn-down house near the town's southern edge stood in weary silence. The wood had darkened from years of rain and rot, the roof patched with mismatched tiles. Cracks ran like veins across the outer walls, and the door creaked with the gentlest wind. Inside, it was barely lit. A tatami mat had seen better decades, and the hearth had gone cold days ago. The shelves were empty, save for a chipped bowl and a broken cup. A faded picture of three children was pinned above the entry—Routa, the oldest; Kazuki, the middle child; and Otomoe, the youngest.
Kazuki sat cross-legged on the floor, his arms around Otomoe, who leaned against him, her face streaked with dried tears.
"Big brother Routa will be back," Kazuki murmured, his voice filled with hope he barely believed. "He'll bring us lots of food. Maybe even those sweet potatoes again."
Otomoe sniffled, her tiny hands clutching his worn sleeve. "Really...?"
Kazuki nodded, brushing her hair aside. "Really."
But his stomach growled, and he knew it had been three days since any of them had eaten properly. Routa had gone hunting in the early hours, taking with him a handmade spear and a sling, promising he'd return by noon. Now, the sun had nearly touched the town's rooftops, and there was still no sign of him.
Kazuki stood abruptly. "You stay here, Otomoe. I'll go look for brother."
She stood with him, alarmed. "I want to come too."
Kazuki shook his head. "If big brother comes back and sees no one here, he will be worried. You go prepare the wood to light the fire. It will be cold soon."
Otomoe nodded slowly, accepting the duty. "Okay... but come back soon."
"I will," he promised.
Kazuki stepped out into the street, the air dry and warm. He pushed through narrow alleys and winding paths until he reached the town center, where the crowd buzzed around Yae Kamiki like bees to honey. The scent of roasted meat drifted through the air, making Kazuki's stomach twist. But he wasn't here to eat.
Yae, standing tall beside his cart, was animated as ever. He wore a bright vest patched with fabrics from different regions, evidence of his travels. He was telling a joke to a group of children, miming a wild bear chase and making exaggerated roars. But the children, like the rest of the town, were too tired to laugh.
Kazuki approached, waving his hand. "Yae-san!"
Yae turned, his face lighting up. "Kazuki! Just the boy I wanted to see. Special discount today! You want some rabbit leg or mountain boar?"
Kazuki hurriedly asked, "Yae-san, have you seen Routa? He went up the mountain this morning to hunt. Have you crossed paths with him?"
The merchant's smile faltered, ever so slightly. He held the meat in his hand a little tighter.
"No," Yae said slowly. "Maybe he hasn't found anything yet. Hunting's tricky this time of season. The beasts hide deeper. But he should be back soon. Don't worry."
Kazuki looked down, worry etched into his face. Yae, noticing the boy's thin frame and shaking hands, sighed.
"Tell you what," he said, grabbing a smaller portion of meat and wrapping it in cloth. "Take this. For you, Routa, and Otomoe. No charge. Just give it back when you can."
Kazuki's eyes widened. "I don't have any money..."
"I said give it back when you can," Yae said, pressing the bundle into his hand. "Family always comes first. Now go warm it up. It won't taste good cold."
Kazuki bowed deeply, gratitude choking his words. "Thank you... Yae-san. Thank you so much."
Yae smiled, but behind it, something dark flickered in his eyes. He watched Kazuki leave, and his hands trembled slightly. Panic would serve no one. Not yet.
Back at the worn-out house, Otomoe had managed to gather a modest pile of firewood. She started a tiny flame, waiting for her brother. They did not return.