Jiro felt the blood drip from his wound as Alet knelt beside him. When he looked up at her, he saw that her cheeks had caught a splatter of red. Her blue eye shimmered with what looked like worry or pity when she reached out to him.

"Don't touch me!" Tears fell from Jiro's eyes as he glared at the girl who had just killed Hako and Shoka. He had known them since he was young. He grew up with them—now they were dead like their father. His heart pounded in his chest as fear and confusion crept inside him.

"You're bleeding." Alet grimaced. Despite his warning, she held his arm and turned him on the ground so she could see the wound on the back of his shoulder. "Keep still."

Whimpering part in pain and part in despair, Jiro's chest heaved in a trembling breath. He flinched at her touch and tried to fight her off. "I don't need your help."

Alet held him down, pushing his front to the ground, and he grunted. "I said keep still." Then she paused.

Jiro shoved himself from the ground, getting her weight off him. Despite the pain and the blood he'd lost, he turned on his back and scowled at Alet. "Why!" A shuddering torment in his chest shook his voice.

As if she felt his pain, Alet winced. Something stricken came over her face, and her throat bobbed when she swallowed.

"Why did you kill them!" Jiro begged for an answer. The tears kept flowing. He boiled with regret, fear, and devastation.

Alet's eye flickered with hurt, and her lips parted.

"Why!"

"They would have killed you." Her words were too soft, apologetic.

Jiro heard her, but he didn't understand. "You already had the gun." He gritted his teeth as Shoka's face flashed in his mind when he thought it was over. Shoka stood there, hands raised in surrender, but Alet still pulled the trigger. "You didn't have to kill him." His voice was laced with anger.

Alet pressed her lips together. "Let me help you." She reached out again, but Jiro swatted her hand away.

A shot of pain burst on his back, and he collapsed to the ground, his elbow support giving way. "Just let me die!" There was truth in his words. At that moment, death would be better than dealing with the regret and guilt of this kind of suffering again. He was furious, partly at Alet and partly at himself.

"If I hadn't killed him, he wouldn't have stopped hunting you until you were dead," Alet said. "He would've seen to it. He would've seen to my death too."

"You don't know that."

A short laugh escaped her lips, disbelief. "I don't remember much, but I know I've met men like them. Everyone is the same. Always searching for vengeance."

Jiro shook his head, letting all his weight fall on the ground, completely surrendering. "Maybe you're like that. Not everyone is."

Alet raised her brow. "If you knew who killed your father, would you avenge him?"

A lump caught in Jiro's throat. How dare she mention his father? And yet... a tiny light in his mind had the immediate answer... yes. He would want to avenge his father.

How could this be so hard? He understood that Alet had done this to protect him, but his heart couldn't accept it.

"Let me help you," Alet said again, her voice calm.

Had she wanted to kill them? Hadn't he seen her smile while she was fighting? Had she tried to give in to that darkness inside of her?

He looked up at her blue eye, and she tucked her hair behind her ear so he could see her green eye too. They were filled with no regret, but they begged for understanding.

Somehow, Jiro knew. Alet killed Hako and Shoka... for him. It was all for him. All because of him.

Tears rolled over Jiro's cheeks, and he turned his face away. He dared to look at the bodies—at Hako and then at Shoka. The overgrown grass came up high that he could not see their buried faces, but he saw the shape of their unmoving backs and the shade of spilled blood.

Alet had to choose. It was either him or them, and she had chosen the latter.

Jiro twisted to the side, turning from Alet so that his wound was to her. He didn't need to say anything else.

"Bite into this." She fed a stick into his mouth. "Don't move."

Jiro heard the familiar clicking of Alet's butterfly knife, and he realized that she hadn't even used it during the fight. How had she fought the way she did? If not for guilt, he would've been impressed, amazed at what she could do.

Alet cut his vest and exposed his back to the light. As soon as her fingers touched his skin, he felt the tip of the knife dig into his shoulder right where the wound would be. The sting exploded on his shoulder. He gritted the scream in his throat, biting down hard as if his teeth would break. The surge of pain was a flood, lingering even when she'd pulled the blade out with the bullet.

"Got it," Alet said. "Stay still."

Whimpering, his tears continued to fall from his eyes. He deserved this torment, this torture, and he would endure it. The sound of tearing came from behind him, and something soft pressed on his back.

"The bullet didn't bury deep. He was too far when he shot you." Alet dressed the wound with a ripped cloth. "It didn't damage anything vital."

Alet helped him to sit up so she could continue to bandage him, creating a sling and tucking his arm to his chest.

He watched her as she moved, quick and knowing. "How do you know what to do?"

Alet shrugged. "Training, maybe. I don't remember, but I know what to do. It's like an instinct."

Jiro knew what that felt like. He did it every time he hunted. All his senses would tune into the smallest details around him. He would see, hear, smell, feel, and know what to do.

When she finished, she examined the wrap over his shoulder, seeming pleased with her work.

Was Jiro supposed to thank her for saving his life? A part of him wanted to hate her, but it was wrong. If not for him, she wouldn't have done it.

Alet didn't kill Piriu for her own sake and for her revenge, no matter how angry she'd been. She allowed him to flee. But she killed Hako and Shoka to save him.

Tears gathered in his eyes and threatened to fall again. "You should have let them kill me," he whispered.

Alet looked up at his face. Nothing touched between them, but they remained close. "You know I can't do that."

"Did you at least feel remorse?" He searched her eyes for it.

Alet's brows furrowed with concern—her skin glistened with sweat. She swallowed heavily and parted her lips, sucking in a deep breath. "There's something inside me that I can't control once I give in. It's like a different person. Someone who doesn't feel." She took a long pause. "And I'm afraid of it." Then she stood up and turned from him.

Jiro pushed himself off the ground, grunting as he stood. He watched Alet move to the nyx, wondering if he should follow.

I'm afraid of myself, he recalled her words, and he wished he knew what she meant. But he knew it had to do with the round metals on her nape and head. He knew her past held the key to the answers she sought. The very least he could do for her was get her to Kazima. And he had never felt more determined, more sure of what he needed to do.

His eyes fell back to the bodies of Hako and Shoka, and he had a responsibility to them too. "They need a funeral."

Alet turned back to him. "We can't stay here long."

"Please," he said. This was his fault. He was to blame for it all. "We need to burn their bodies, or they will never find their way to the afterlife." This would not make amends for their deaths, but he could give them peace to allow their souls to rest and be with their father, Tata Ero, to the old kings and their old kingdom.

Alet pressed her lips together, hesitating. "Alright. I'll gather the wood, but it won't be enough for a proper pyre."

Jiro thanked her, and she went into the woods, leaving him. He became aware he was alone with the bodies, and a certain coldness weighed over his bare shoulders.

A tingling sensation started at his fingertips and crawled over his arms, numbing his limbs. His chest tightened, and his body shook, trembling. He fell to the ground on his knees, looking down at his shaking hands.

Something was happening to him worse than he'd experienced before. He laid himself on his side on the ground as the numbing sensation reached his back and neck, but the pain of his wound didn't go away. He heaved his breaths, too heavy, too full. As he curled into a ball and wrapped his free arm around himself, an intense fear took over him, and he felt like his heart would explode.

Alet's voice spoke in his mind, breathe. He focused on it, on the only calm sensation within him. The memory of her voice and her face as she said, look at me. You're safe. Breathe.

Jiro focused on his breath.

In and out.

In and out.

One. Two. Three. Four. In. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Out.

He counted in his head as he inhaled the cold air, rubbing his bandaged arm to bring back the feeling in his body. Though the numbing kept climbing and reaching his face, he kept rubbing, trying to feel his touch. He thought he was going to lose consciousness, but he continued.

"Breathe," he told himself.

At a steady pace, he began to feel the warmth of his palm. The weight in his chest slowly lifted, the sense of danger fading from his mind. His body slacked where he lay as everything in his focus returned to his surroundings.

"I'm here. I'm safe."

Though he was still breathing hard and his hands still shook, he pushed himself up to sit. He turned to the river that bent against the side of the hill. The rice terraces on the slope glittered with sunlight.

"I'm here. I'm safe," he said to himself, and he believed it as he sat there, staring at the streaming water. Pressing his arm, the bandaged one to his chest, he felt his heartbeat slowing.

"Jiro." Alet had returned.

He turned his face to her, looking over his shoulder, and saw her carrying the firewood she'd promised.

"Are you alright?" She asked as she dropped the sticks and logs by her feet, crashing with their hollow echoes.

Jiro nodded, his trembling had stopped, but he continued to breathe in a slow rhythm.

Alet stood there and watched him for a long moment, her gaze contemplating. "I'll have to gather more," she said, and there was a flicker of worry in her words.

"I'll be fine," Jiro managed to say.

Alet had left him again by the river as he focused on the water, the field among the slopes, and his breath. But she had only gone a short time. Each time she'd gathered wood after that, she'd returned quickly, almost as if she had hurried with it, coming back every time to ensure he was alright.

When Alet finally decided there was enough to make the fire burn the bodies, Jiro had already settled into a certain calm. He stood up, paced to where Hako fell, and dragged the body with one arm to the pile of wood as Alet hauled Shoka and placed him beside his brother.

It wasn't a proper pyre, a far cry from it. But it should do for the rite, and Jiro couldn't complain, given that he'd not helped Alet gather the wood.

They both stepped back, and Jiro whispered a prayer before Alet lit the dried grass with their flints. It caught fire, quickly spreading among the tips of the sticks. The flames licked at the bodies.

"Soar to the old kingdom, to the old kings, to your mother and father. May they accept you... I will see you in the afterlife, brothers. Before then, I ask for your forgiveness. But if you do not grant it, then in the next life, you may hunt me for all eternity," Jiro prayed.

"We have to go," Alet spoke when the fire finally consumed the Maharlika.

Jiro watched the dancing flames for a while before he nodded. He took a deep breath and realized that he'd gone through a panic attack alone. Alet hadn't been there. And he hadn't urged for the high of the garak.

He patted his trousers and felt the bulge in his pocket. He pulled out two things—the last of his betel quid and the pouch filled with black powder. The leaf of the betel quid had begun to darken with its age. Patches of brown grew on the green of the wrapped leaf. Both were light in his hand, these things he'd come to rely on.

His hand tightened over them, and he was aware that Alet watched him. When he opened his palm again, he looked at the items again. There was no more need to hold on to them. He raised his eyes at the burning pyre and threw them into the flames. When they caught fire, the garak sparked, small combustion within the flickering heat. Then it died, and a sense of freedom took hold of him.

"Let's go." Jiro turned to Alet, and she gave him a proud nod.

.