hikers

It was now a new year, and winter had fully settled in, its icy grip tightening around the forest. The once green landscape was now buried under a thick blanket of snow, and the cold was relentless, seeping into my bones no matter how hard I trained. But the training itself... that never stopped.

Yuujiro had taken things further than I ever thought possible. Every day was a new challenge, a new nightmare to overcome. It wasn't just the brutal physical training anymore—it was survival against nature's most ferocious predators. I thought after the bear, I had seen the worst. But that was only the beginning.

He threw me into fights against packs of beasts—wolves, wild boars, even giant elk with antlers sharp enough to pierce through trees. The wolf pack had been the toughest. Thirteen wolves, all of them circling me at once, their eyes glowing with hunger. Their movements had been coordinated, calculated. One wrong step, and they would've torn me apart. But I survived. 

No beast matched the sheer size and power of the bear, but the challenges kept coming. Each fight tested me in a new way. The wolves had forced me to hone my reflexes, to think on my feet, and to use everything around me as a weapon. I was forced to adapt, to learn, to evolve with each battle.

And the more I fought, the more I realized...I was growing stronger. My body healed faster, my strikes became more precise, and I could feel my mind sharpening with every battle. But no matter how much I improved, it never felt like enough. It never felt like it would end.

Winter brought more than just cold. It brought isolation—more of it than I had ever known. The longer I stayed out here, the more I could feel my sanity slipping. Days blurred into nights, and weeks passed without me realizing it. There were moments when I questioned if I was still even human. Was this what Yuujiro wanted? To strip me down to nothing, a weapon of pure instinct?

I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

That's why I had started meditating. I needed to filter out the chaos in my mind. The constant fighting, the endless training, the survival—it was wearing me down. I was getting stronger, yes, but at what cost? My mind was restless, and I could feel the weight of loneliness pressing down on me every day. Meditation was the only thing that gave me some peace, a way to clear my thoughts and center myself in the madness.

It wasn't much, but it helped. It gave me something to hold onto, something that wasn't just about fighting or survival. In those quiet moments, I could feel a small piece of my old self still clinging on. The part of me that wasn't just Baki Hanma.

Yuujiro's presence had changed, too. He was talking to me more, engaging in conversations that weren't just about strength or dominance. But still, it was always there, underlying everything he said—the idea that strength was all that mattered. I tried to tune him out most of the time, but with him being the only "human" I could interact with, I had no choice but to talk to him sometimes.

At first, I resisted. I didn't want to hear his lectures on power and control. I didn't want to be sucked into his worldview. But as the days passed, and the isolation grew heavier, I found myself talking to him more. It wasn't that I wanted to—it was that I needed to. If I didn't talk to someone, if I didn't have some form of human interaction, I was going to lose it. I was going to go crazy.

Maybe I already had. The constant fighting, the isolation, the silence of the forest—it was all getting to me. And Yuujiro, in his twisted way, was the only thing keeping me grounded. He pushed me, tested me, and threw me into life-or-death situations, but he was also the only link I had to something that resembled a normal life—even if that life was wrapped in brutality.

I hated it.

But I needed it. 

There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think about my previous life. About my family, my friends, the people I left behind. Sometimes, I wondered if they had forgotten me. If my old life had just moved on without me, like I never existed at all. The thought terrified me more than any of the beasts I had fought out here.

I missed them. I missed the simple things—the warmth of my family, the laughter of my friends, even the mundane routines of my old life. The way my mother's voice would call me for dinner, the way my friends and I would joke around about nothing important. All those small moments I had taken for granted.

And now?

Now I was out here, fighting for survival in a world that seemed to grow colder with each passing day. The trees were like silent sentinels, towering above me, indifferent to the struggles I was enduring. This wasn't just a test of strength—it was a test of endurance, of will. I was constantly on edge, always ready to face the next beast or survive the next round of brutal training. The forest might've been alive, but to me, it felt dead, suffocating me with its unrelenting isolation.

This world wasn't mine, and it never would be.

But I couldn't afford to dwell on that. Not if I wanted to survive. Survival required focus. It required pushing everything else—every stray thought about home, every fleeting memory of laughter and warmth—deep into the recesses of my mind. I had to stay sharp. I had to stay present.

Yet, sometimes, I felt the weight of it all crashing down on me, pressing so hard I couldn't breathe. Sometimes I didn't want to survive. I found myself standing in the middle of the woods, staring off into the distance, thinking, Would it be easier to just... stop?

I had been contemplating it—ending it all.

Just giving up, letting the forest take me. Maybe if I just stopped fighting, stopped caring, it would all be over. The constant pain, the loneliness, the endless grind. What if I just... quit? Ran away from it all, found a way out of this brutal existence? No more beasts, no more battles, no more waking up every morning not knowing if it would be my last.

But then something inside me snapped back.

I couldn't do that. I wouldn't do that. Not in this life, and not in my previous one. Even back then, when I went through tough periods—moments when everything felt overwhelming and I didn't see a way forward—I never gave up. There were days when it all seemed pointless, when the weight of it all made me wonder if I should just stop fighting. But in that life, I had something. Friends. Family. Happy memories.

And those memories carried me through the darkest times.

They still did. I knew I had to keep going, to keep fighting for something better. I had to believe that this—this endless cycle of pain and survival—was temporary. That one day, I would break free of this forest, break free of Yuujiro's shadow, and live the life I wanted.

The reason I made that wish— the reason I had asked for the ability to travel to different worlds—was because I wanted more than this. I wanted experiences. I wanted to create new memories. Life was hard sometimes, but I knew, deep down, that it could also be beautiful. I had seen that beauty before, and I wanted to see it again.

I wouldn't give up because I wanted to experience more. Different worlds, different lives, different challenges that didn't just revolve around surviving day by day. I wanted to live, really live—not just exist in this constant battle for survival.

That's why I wished for this. I wanted to go beyond the ordinary, to explore and see things most people could only dream of. And even though I was stuck in this brutal, unforgiving place right now, I had to believe that it would get better.

It had to.

Sometimes, life was tough. Sometimes, it beat you down, left you with nothing but scars and broken dreams. But I knew—I had to know—that there was more waiting for me. There was always something better.

If I could just survive this, if I could push through the pain and the loneliness, I knew that one day, I'd find it. The happiness, the peace, the joy. It was out there, waiting for me. All I had to do was keep going.

__

As I wandered through the forest, my mind racing with thoughts of home and what lay beyond this brutal existence, I stumbled upon something unexpected—two hikers. A young man and a woman, probably in their mid-twenties, dressed in thick winter gear and clearly not from around here. They looked normal. Like they belonged to a world I hadn't seen in what felt like forever.

They were the first people I had seen in months. My body tensed immediately, instincts kicking in, and for a moment, I just stood there, frozen. What should I do? Should I talk to them? Ask them for help? Maybe they could call someone to rescue me, to get me out of this nightmare. But that plan was stupid.

Even if I could somehow convince them to call for help, Yuujiro would just find me. He'd come for me like he always did, and if he thought these people had interfered, he'd kill them. I knew that much. There was no escape.

The hikers hadn't noticed me yet—they were too busy talking, setting up camp by a small clearing near the river. I watched them from the shadows, feeling a strange mix of excitement and fear. Part of me wanted to rush out and talk to them, to tell them everything, to beg them to take me away from here. But another part of me—the rational part—knew I couldn't. I'd be putting them in danger. And besides, I was a mess.

I glanced down at myself. Makeshift clothes made from animal skins and scavenged materials hung loosely around me. They weren't bad, considering the circumstances, but I knew I looked wild—dirty, scarred, like some feral child that had wandered out of the wilderness. I took baths, sure, but they were cold and infrequent. And my skin... the scars were a constant reminder of what I'd been through. No one would look at me and think I was just some normal kid.

If I saw someone like me, I'd probably call the cops or a rescue team too.

No, I couldn't do that to them. They didn't deserve to be dragged into my mess.

I stood there for what felt like forever, trying to figure out what to do. Should I just leave? Walk away before they see me? But then again, this was the first human interaction I had come across in so long. My heart ached for it, for a conversation that didn't involve survival or training, for a moment that reminded me of what it was like to just... be normal.

My stomach grumbled, and I realized how hungry I was. Maybe I could trade something. They probably had food, maybe even some seasonings—something to give the bland meals I'd been living off of a bit of flavor. I missed that. The taste of real food. I could try talking to them, just casually, without revealing too much. Maybe I'd get lucky, and they wouldn't think I was completely out of my mind.

I took a deep breath. There was no point in hiding now.

Stepping out from behind the trees, I approached the two hikers, my heart racing in my chest. As soon as they saw me, their faces twisted into shock. Of course they were shocked. I was probably the last thing they expected to see out here—a kid, alone in the middle of the forest, dressed in makeshift clothes with scars covering his body. They stared at me, their mouths slightly open, clearly unsure of what to say.

I forced a smile. "Hey," I said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "You guys wouldn't happen to have any extra food, would you? Maybe some seasonings?"

The man blinked, looking at the woman, then back at me. "Uh, are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern. "Where are your parents?"

Parents. The word stung a little. I didn't have any parents in the traditional sense anymore. Not in the way they were thinking. I had Yuujiro—if you could even call him a father—and Emi, who was more of a distant figure now than anything else. I bit back the bitter response that threatened to come out and shrugged instead.

"I'm fine," I said, keeping my tone light. "Just been out here for a while. My dad's around somewhere, but, you know, we've got... our own way of living."

The woman furrowed her brow, clearly not convinced, and I could see them both exchanging glances. They were starting to worry. I could feel the tension building in the air, and I knew I had to act quickly before they decided to call someone.

"Look," I continued, taking a step closer, "I just wanted to see if you had anything to trade. Food, spices, whatever. I've got some stuff too." I gestured toward the small pouch hanging from my belt. It wasn't much, but I had some herbs I'd found in the forest, some tools I'd made—things that might be useful to someone who wasn't used to living out here.