A full day passed before Kenta finally saw it. Hamone City.
It rose in the distance like a sprawling mass of stone and life, its outer walls stretching wide and tall, weathered but sturdy. From afar, it almost looked peaceful. Smoke curled gently from chimneys, banners hung from the gate towers, and the faint hum of activity carried even this far out.
Kenta leaned against a nearby tree, one arm braced against the rough bark as his other hand clutched his stomach.
"I'm an idiot," he groaned.
His voice carried a dramatic weight that didn't match the situation so much as exaggerate it. He tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded as if the world itself had wronged him personally.
"A complete and total idiot," he continued. "Walked all the way out here and didn't think once about food."
His stomach growled loudly in response. Kenta glanced down at it.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear you," he muttered.
He pushed himself off the tree slightly, still hunched as he rubbed his stomach.
"Nothing edible on the road, not a single decent bite," he said, shaking his head. "I could've at least asked that Koki girl to pack me something to eat as a reward."
He paused.
"A couple rice balls, maybe. Some pork. Anything."
Another growl.
Kenta straightened a bit, letting out a slow breath.
"Alright," he said, his voice shifting back to something more focused. "No time to waste."
He looked toward the city again.
"Gotta get inside and find some grub. Fast."
With that, he started walking.
The closer he got, the more the details came into focus. Guards stood posted at the gate, armored and alert, watching the steady flow of people entering and leaving. Merchants with carts, travelers on foot, the occasional mounted figure. It was busy, but controlled.
Kenta joined the line without much thought.
When his turn came, one of the guards stepped forward, giving him a once-over. His gaze lingered briefly on Kenta's disheveled robes, the dust from travel, and the general air of someone who had slept more on the ground than in a bed recently.
"Name?" the guard asked.
"Kenta," he replied simply.
The guard nodded slightly.
"Carrying any weapons?"
Kenta lifted his fists slightly.
"Just these."
The guard frowned for a second, then sighed. A quick pat-down followed, more routine than anything else. Another guard asked a few basic questions. Where he was coming from. What his business was.
"Passing through," Kenta said. "Looking for food and maybe some work."
That seemed to satisfy them. After a moment, the first guard stepped aside.
"Alright. Move along."
Kenta didn't need to be told twice. The moment he crossed through the gate, the shift was immediate. The streets of Hamone City were packed with people. Vendors called out from their stalls, merchants haggled with customers, children ran between the crowds, and somewhere nearby a musician played a lively tune.
Kenta didn't take any of it in. Not really. He took one step inside, then another, and immediately veered slightly to the side, his nose lifting just a fraction.
"There."
He turned and started walking at a brisk pace. Not toward any landmark. Not toward any particular street. Just following the scent his nose had picked up.
He moved through the crowd with surprising ease, weaving between people without breaking stride. His focus was locked entirely on one thing. Food.
The smell grew stronger as he turned down a side street, then another. Spices hit first. Then grilled meat. Rich, savory, unmistakable. Kenta's pace picked up slightly.
"Oh, that's good," he muttered.
Then he found it. A small food stand tucked along the street, smoke rising from a simple grill as skewers of meat turned slowly over the heat. The scent was enough to make his stomach twist again. Kebabs.
Kenta stepped up to the stand, staring at them for a moment like he'd just discovered something sacred.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "That'll do."
The vendor glanced at him.
"Two copper coins each."
Kenta blinked. He then reached into his pocket. He fished around for a moment, pulling out a few coins and counting them carefully in his palm. He then looked up.
"I'll take two."
The coins exchanged hands, and a moment later, Kenta was handed two freshly cooked kebabs, still steaming. He didn't even move far. Just found a nearby seat, dropped into it, and immediately took a bite.
For a second, nothing. Then his shoulders dropped.
"Oh, thank god."
He leaned back slightly, chewing slowly this time, savoring it like it was the greatest thing he'd ever eaten.
"Worth it," he muttered. "Absolutely worth it."
The second one didn't last much longer than the first. By the time he finished, the tension in his body had eased completely. The sharp edge of hunger was gone, replaced by something far more manageable.
Kenta stood up, brushing his hands lightly against his robes.
"Alright," he said to himself.
Then he reached into his pocket again. Nothing. He checked the other one. Still nothing. Kenta stared at his empty hand for a second. A small sigh followed.
"Looks like I'm broke."
He slipped his hands back into his pockets, shoulders rolling slightly as he started walking again.
"Guess that was my last meal for a bit."
He didn't seem too bothered. Not yet, anyway. The streets stretched ahead, busy as ever, people moving around him without much notice. Kenta walked casually, gaze drifting from place to place, taking things in now that his immediate crisis had been handled.
Then he hears a sound. Faint and off to the side. Struggling. Kenta's steps slowed. He turned his head slightly, eyes landing on a narrow alleyway tucked between two buildings.
Another sound followed. A thud. Kenta let out a quiet breath as he stepped toward the alley and leaned just enough to look inside.
A woman lay on the ground, red hair spilling around her as she tried to push herself up. One of the men standing over her shoved her back down, rough and careless.
Three of them. All bigger. Rough-looking. The kind of men who thought size was all they needed. One stood off to the side, counting through a handful of coins with a grin. The other two hovered near the woman, snickering as they talked quietly between themselves.
Kenta watched for a second. Then stepped in.
"Man," he said, voice casual, "I really hate lowlifes like you guys."
All three turned. The one with the coins paused mid-count, frowning.
"Beat it," one of the others snapped. "This doesn't concern you."
Kenta kept walking forward.
"I can decide what concerns me," he said, shrugging slightly, "and well, this does."
He stopped a few steps away as one of the men scoffed.
"Listen to this guy," he muttered. "I'll just waste him."
He rushed forward, pulling a knife as he closed the distance. The blade came up fast. Kenta's hand met his wrist mid-strike. The man barely had time to react before Kenta's other arm came up, elbow driving forward.
It connected with the side of the man's head with a dull crack. His body went limp instantly, collapsing to the ground without a sound. The alley went quiet for half a second. Then the second thug's expression changed completely.
"Nah," he muttered, taking a step back. "I'm out."
He turned and ran. Didn't look back. That left one. The man with the coins. He slowly turned to face Kenta, his earlier grin gone, replaced by something harder.
"You've got some nerve," he said, slipping the coins into his pocket.
He stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.
"You've got no idea what kind of trouble you just stepped into."
Kenta let out a small chuckle.
"Wow, that's funny; I was about to say the same thing to you."