Bab 18: 18

The man walked toward his bag, and I noticed him fumbling with something in the bag. It was the '90s, and phones weren't what they are now. Not the same level of convenience, not the same reach. But still, a phone meant danger. If they called someone, even if the signal was weak out here, things could spiral out of control.

The woman, though, kept her focus on me, concern written all over her face. "Hey, what's your name? Do you know the number of your parents?" Her voice was soft, comforting even, but there was an edge to it. She was worried. And in any other situation, it might have felt nice. Human concern, after months of nothing but brutal fights and isolation, felt strange. Weird, but good.

But not here. Not now.

I shifted my weight, trying to come up with the right words. "No," I said, my voice a little shaky, "but don't call anyone, please. For your sake and mine. Just trade me some spices or food, and forget you saw me." I could feel the panic rising in my chest. Had I already messed this up? Was there even a way to salvage this situation, or was it too late?

The woman blinked, confusion flickering across her face. "Why don't you want us to call anyone?" She glanced toward the man, who now had the phone out of his bag, his fingers hovering over the screen as if unsure what to do. "We're just trying to help, you know. We have some cacao we can make by the fire, and I can find you something warmer to wear." Her eyes drifted down to my feet. "You don't even have real shoes. You could get frostbite out here."

Her concern was genuine, and under any other circumstances, I might have appreciated it. But right now? The phone. It was in his hand now, and I could feel my pulse quickening. Panic surged through me, my mind racing to figure out what to do. If they made that call, if they got anyone involved, everything would spiral out of control. And Yuujiro... Yuujiro would kill them. He wouldn't hesitate.

I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let these innocent people get hurt because of me.

I stepped forward, trying to keep my voice steady but firm. "Listen, you really can't call anyone. My dad—he's dangerous. If he finds out you tried to help me, he won't just come for me. He'll come for you, too."

They both froze, their eyes widening slightly. I realized how crazy I must have sounded. A wild, scarred kid with makeshift clothes in the middle of the woods, talking about some dangerous father like it was a scene out of a horror movie. But this wasn't a movie. This was my life.

The man hesitated, his thumb lingering over the phone's screen, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Dangerous?" His voice dropped, uncertainty seeping into his words. "What do you mean, dangerous?"

I swallowed hard, trying to explain without giving too much away. "He's... different. You can't fight him. No one can. If you make that call, you're putting yourselves at risk. Just... please, don't." I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. If they didn't believe me, if they made that call, everything would be over—for them, for me. I couldn't let that happen.

The woman's face softened as she took a step closer, lowering herself to my level, her eyes filled with pity. "Hey," she said gently, her voice warm and soothing, "you don't have to be afraid. We can get you help. Your dad might be tough, but there are people who can protect you. You don't have to stay out here alone."

Her words struck something deep inside me. For a moment, I felt like a normal kid—someone who could be saved, someone who could be pulled out of this nightmare and brought back into a world where things made sense. A world where parents didn't throw their children into life-or-death situations for fun. But then reality crashed in.

I wasn't normal anymore. And no one—no one—could protect me from Yuujiro.

I shook my head more firmly this time. "No. You don't understand. He's not like anyone you've ever met. I'm not afraid for myself. I'm afraid for you." I paused, letting the weight of my words sink in. "He'll kill you if he finds out."

The man lowered the phone slightly, concern and confusion still battling on his face. "Can you tell me your name? And your dad's name? Does he... does he hurt you?" His voice was softer now, trying to make sense of the situation, but I knew no matter how much I explained, they wouldn't understand. How could they? This wasn't just a case of abuse. It was something far beyond what they could comprehend.

I took another step forward, desperation creeping into my voice. "Please. Just give me some food, some supplies, and let me go. I'll be fine. I know how to survive out here. But if you call anyone, it's going to get bad—for all of us."

The woman looked at me with pity, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and confusion. "You don't have to live like this, you know. There are people who can help you. Why don't you just sit with us for a while, warm up by the fire?" She glanced at the man again, as if they were silently deciding to make the call whether I wanted it or not. "He'll just be calling a friend," she added, her voice trying to sound reassuring, but I knew better. I knew what would happen if they made that call.

Panic surged through me. They didn't understand. They couldn't. And I couldn't let them make that call. I couldn't let them get involved in this.

Suddenly, the air around us felt heavy, the quiet of the forest pressing in from all sides. The weight of the situation was suffocating. What was I supposed to do? My mind raced for a solution, but nothing made sense. I had to stop them from making that call. I had to protect them, even if they didn't understand why.

I reached into my pouch, pulling out the herbs and small tools I had collected from the forest. My hands trembled slightly as I thrust them toward the woman. "Here," I said, my voice cracking under the pressure. "Just take these. I don't need your help. I just need to trade. That's it. Please."

The man hesitated again, lowering the phone even further, glancing between me and his girlfriend. He was trying to piece it together, to make sense of what I was saying. I could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the way he wanted to help but wasn't sure how. He was trying to decide.

The woman stood up, still holding the herbs I'd given her, but the look on her face told me she wasn't convinced. "This isn't right," she murmured, more to herself than to me. "You're just a kid. You shouldn't be out here alone." She looked over at the man again, her eyes pleading with him to do something. To make the call.

I could feel the moment slipping away, like sand falling through my fingers. If they made that call, everything would be over. My father would come for them, and there would be no escape.

The air seemed to thicken with tension, the weight of the decision pressing down on all of us.

My heartbeat quickened, a rush of adrenaline surging through me. I didn't want to hurt them. I didn't want to make this worse than it already was. But I couldn't let them call anyone. I had no choice.

Before I even realized it, my body moved on instinct. To them, it probably looked like I teleported—one second I was standing a few meters away, and the next I was right in front of them. The man gasped in shock, stumbling back as my hand shot out, snatching the phone from his grasp.

"I'm sorry." My voice cracked, barely above a whisper, but it was all I could manage in the moment. I didn't want to steal. I didn't want to frighten them even more than I already had. But I couldn't let them make that call. There was no other way.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "I'm really sorry," I said again, clutching the phone in my hand like it was my only lifeline. "I just… I can't let you call anyone. You have to trust me. Please." My voice wavered, a mix of desperation and regret. They didn't deserve this.

The phone felt impossibly small in my hand, but the weight of it was overwhelming—like holding a ticking bomb, each second I held onto it making the situation feel more dangerous. They both stared at me, their eyes wide with a mix of shock and confusion. The man, his mouth slightly open, looked like he wanted to speak but was too stunned to find the words. The woman, however, took a step forward. Her eyes locked onto mine, and for the first time, I saw something shift in her expression—fear.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight and dry. "I'm really sorry," I said again, clutching the phone like it was my only lifeline, the only thing keeping me in control of a situation I had no control over. "I just... I can't let you call anyone. You have to trust me. Please." My voice cracked slightly, a tremor of desperation and regret breaking through. They didn't deserve this. They were just innocent hikers who had stumbled into a nightmare, and now I was dragging them deeper into it.

The woman's fear was evident now, her eyes darting between me and the phone in my hand. I could see the wheels turning in her head, trying to make sense of what I was saying, trying to piece together the story of this strange, scarred boy in the woods who seemed both terrified and terrifying.

"I... I don't understand," she said softly, her voice shaky. "What are you saying? Why can't we call someone to help you? You don't have to do this alone, kid. Whatever it is... we can get someone to come out here."

I shook my head, more vigorously this time, panic starting to edge out the calm façade I was trying to hold onto. "No. You don't understand. My father—he's a monster. He's not like anyone you've ever met. He's dangerous. So strong he defeated the USA." My voice lowered, the weight of that statement hanging in the air like a curse. "I'm not lying. I can't lie. But you can't call anyone. Not now."

The man, still frozen in place, finally found his voice. "A monster?" He glanced at the woman, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "What do you mean, your father's a monster? And... defeated the USA? What are you talking about?"

I could see the doubt creeping in. They thought I was crazy. Maybe they thought I was some abused kid with a wild imagination, spinning stories to cover up the reality of my life. But this wasn't imagination—this was the truth. A truth so terrifying that I barely understood it myself.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "My father—Yuujiro Hanma," I said, my voice more controlled now. "He's not like any other person in the world. He's stronger than you can imagine. Stronger than anyone. He's trained me... he's been pushing me to survive. And if you call someone, if anyone finds out I'm here... he'll come for you." I could feel the desperation rising again, the panic that I couldn't contain. "You don't want that."

The woman's face softened with pity, but the fear was still there, simmering beneath the surface. "Look," she said gently, stepping a little closer, her hand half-raised like she was trying to calm me down, "we don't want to get you in trouble. But you don't have to be afraid of your father. If he's hurting you, there are people who can help. There's no one in the world who can't be stopped."

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound surprising even me. "You think he can be stopped?" I shook my head, more exhausted than anything. "I've seen what he can do. He's not just dangerous—he's untouchable. The government knows who he is. They're afraid of him."

The man, still standing a few steps behind, frowned deeply. "The government knows him? Afraid of him?" He exchanged a look with the woman, disbelief coloring his voice. "What are you saying, kid? This... It sounds like a story. A messed-up one, but—"

I cut him off, my voice sharper now. "It's not a story. It's real. If you don't believe me, just remember the name. Yuujiro Hanma. Ask the higher-ups. Look into him. They know who he is." I paused, my gaze darting between them, searching for any flicker of understanding. "But please—don't make that call. Just trade with me. Let me go. And forget me."

The tension between us was palpable. The woman looked torn, her instincts telling her to help, but the words I was saying must have seemed too unbelievable to accept. I could see her struggle—trying to reconcile the concerned human impulse to help a child with the fear that maybe, just maybe, there was some truth to my words.

The man, however, wasn't buying it. He took a step forward, his hand outstretched. "Give me the phone." he said, his voice low but firm. "I don't know what's going on here, but we're going to call someone. If you're in trouble, you need help."

I could feel the pressure building, like a dam ready to burst. My grip tightened on the phone. "I'm begging you. Please, don't do this. I can take care of myself. If you make that call... you're both in danger."

The woman hesitated, her eyes flicking between me and her partner. "Maybe we shouldn't," she whispered, uncertainty creeping into her voice. "What if he's telling the truth?"

The man shot her a look. "Telling the truth? Look at him—he's scared. Of course he's scared, but we can help him. We can't just leave him out here alone."

I took a step back, my chest tightening. I was running out of time, out of options. They weren't going to believe me. Not fully. And once they made that call... I didn't want to think about what would happen.

I held the phone out in front of me, a last-ditch effort to plead with them. "Just trade with me. Take what I have and let me go. You don't need to call anyone. I'm fine. I've survived out here this long. But if you don't listen to me, if you don't trust me..." My voice cracked, the weight of the moment pressing down on me like an avalanche. Every second felt like it was dragging me closer to disaster.

The woman's eyes flickered with uncertainty, her lips parting as if she was about to say something, but the man wasn't swayed. He took another step forward, his hand outstretched toward the phone. His eyes were filled with frustration, but also determination. He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought he was saving me. They didn't understand.

"Please." I could hear the desperation in my own voice now, the way it wavered, betraying the fear I was trying so hard to suppress. "Don't make that call. Or rather..." I hesitated for a second, my mind racing for a solution. They wouldn't believe me, not with my story about Yuujiro. It was too wild, too impossible for them to accept. But maybe, maybe there was another way.

I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to steady. "Let me make the call. I'll call someone who can explain." They both stared at me, confusion and wariness etched into their faces. "I'll call Gerry Strydum. He's a general in the military. He knows everything about my dad... about the situation. He can explain better than I can."

The woman blinked, exchanging a glance with the man. "A general?" she echoed, her skepticism clear in her voice. "You're telling us a general knows about this?"

I nodded quickly, clinging to the slim hope that they'd believe this part of the truth. "Yes. Strydum... he's my father's... let's call him a 'handler.' He can help. He won't say anything to my dad, I promise." My heart pounded in my chest, the stakes rising by the second. "If you let me call him, he'll know what to do. He'll get you off this mountain safely. He'll explain everything."

The man narrowed his eyes, suspicion hardening his features. "How do we know you're telling the truth? A general? Really? Why would a general be involved with a kid like you?"

I swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. "Because my dad isn't just some guy. He's the strongest man alive. The government knows about him, the military knows about him. They've been trying to keep an eye on him for years, but... no one can control him. That's why Strydum's involved. He's one of the few people who can get close to my father without getting killed."

The woman took a tentative step forward, her face softening with concern. "You're really scared, aren't you?" she asked, her voice gentle but filled with uncertainty. "If this is all true, if your father's really that dangerous, why are you out here alone?"

My chest tightened at her words, the answer hovering on the edge of my mind, too complicated to explain in just a few sentences. Why was I out here? Because this was my training, my punishment, my life. Because Yuujiro was turning me into a weapon.

I lowered the phone slightly, my gaze dropping to the ground. "Because that's how he works," I said quietly. "He doesn't care about me the way normal fathers do. To him, it's all about strength. About survival. If I can't survive on my own, then I'm not worth keeping around."

The woman's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. "That's horrible."

The man looked shaken now, his earlier determination faltering. He glanced at the woman, then back at me, clearly struggling to decide what to do. The phone in my hand felt like it weighed a ton.

"Look," I said, my voice gaining strength again, "I'm telling you the truth. If you call Strydum, he can help you. You don't have to get involved any more than this. I'll call him, and he'll come get you off this mountain. And no one will get hurt."

The woman stepped closer, her face conflicted, torn between wanting to believe me and wanting to help in the way she thought was right. "How do we know he won't tell your father? How do we know this won't make things worse?"

I could feel the pressure building, the fear and uncertainty clawing at my insides. "Because Strydum is the only one who knows how to handle this. He's the only one who won't get you killed."

The man hesitated, finally lowering his hand. "All right. Let him make the call," he said slowly, his voice tinged with reluctance. "If this general can explain, maybe we can figure this out."

Relief flooded through me, but it was short-lived. I quickly dialed Strydum's number, praying he'd pick up and understand the situation. This was my one shot. The phone rang, each ring echoing louder in the stillness of the forest, as if mocking the fragile calm that had settled between us.

Finally, the line clicked. "Strydum," his voice came through, strong and authoritative.

"It's me Baki," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm out in the woods where you dropped me with some hikers. I found them... they were going to call for help, but I stopped them. I told them to talk to you."

There was a pause on the other end, then Strydum's voice softened slightly, as if he understood the gravity of the situation immediately. "All right, Baki. Put them on."

I handed the phone to the man, who still looked unsure but took it anyway. The silence felt heavy as he pressed the phone to his ear, his brow furrowing in concentration as he listened to whatever Strydum was saying. I could see his doubt slowly shift, his body relaxing just a little.

After what felt like an eternity, he nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. "Okay… yeah, got it," he muttered into the phone before hanging up.

The woman turned to me, her expression a mix of concern and cautious hope. "What did he say?"

The man tucked the phone into his pocket, exhaling a long breath. "We just need to wait about ten minutes. He'll explain everything when they get here."

The tension between us didn't vanish completely, but it softened, settling into an uneasy calm. The woman handed me a cup of cocoa, her hands trembling a bit as she poured it from their thermos. The warmth was comforting, but it did little to lift the weight of the moment.

I sipped the cocoa, feeling the heat travel down my throat, but the knot in my stomach didn't ease. About 10 minutes passed, but they felt like an eternity. Every second dragged on, each one heavier than the last. We sat in silence mostly, though they occasionally asked me questions. Simple ones. Where are you from? How long have you been out here? The kinds of questions someone would ask if they were trying to understand how things had gone so wrong for a kid like me.

I tried to answer as best I could, but there were gaps—things I couldn't explain, things they wouldn't believe even if I tried. The more I spoke, the more I realized just how far removed my life was from theirs. It was strange, really, trying to relate to normal people again. I hadn't seen anyone who wasn't part of my father's twisted world in so long.

The woman smiled weakly, trying to make me feel at ease, but her eyes kept darting nervously toward the horizon. The man just sat there, tense, his jaw clenched tight. I could see the worry etched into every line of his face. They didn't say it out loud, but I knew they were afraid. Afraid of me. Afraid of what was coming. Afraid of my father.

Then, finally, the sound of a helicopter broke the silence. It was distant at first, just a faint hum in the sky, but it grew louder quickly, the unmistakable roar of military-grade rotors cutting through the forest air. They looked at each other, their expressions shifting from confusion to shock. This wasn't some small-time rescue operation.

The US flag was emblazoned on the side of the helicopter, and for a brief moment, I saw them exchange bewildered glances. This wasn't what they had expected.

The helicopter hovered above us, unable to land due to the dense forest below. A rope was thrown down, and a soldier, clad in full tactical gear, descended swiftly to the ground. He moved with practiced ease, landing right beside us with barely a sound, like this was just another routine mission for him. But for the hikers, this was far from routine.

They stared at him, their mouths open, as he approached them. His face was impassive, professional, betraying nothing of the urgency or strangeness of the situation. Without even introducing himself, he started giving them instructions, his voice calm but commanding. "You'll be leaving with us. Quickly. Grab only what you need."

The woman's hands shook as she fumbled with her bag, but the man hesitated. "Wait—what's going on? Who are you people?" His voice wavered, trying to catch up to the reality unfolding before him.

The soldier didn't answer, didn't offer any explanation. He simply gestured toward the rope hanging from the helicopter. "There's no time. Just follow the instructions. You'll be briefed once we're airborne."

The man wanted to argue, I could see it in his eyes—the confusion, the fear, the need for answers. But he didn't. Something in the soldier's demeanor, in the no-nonsense way he spoke, shut down any further questions. They obeyed.

In minutes, they were gone. The soldier helped them ascend the rope one by one, and before I knew it, the helicopter was rising back into the sky, disappearing into the distance as quickly as it had arrived. The clearing felt eerily quiet again, like the whole thing had been some surreal dream.

Their bags were still there, scattered around the campsite—half-packed and forgotten in the rush. For a moment, I just stared at them, feeling the weight of everything that had just happened settle on my shoulders. Had I done the right thing? I didn't know anymore.

Strydum had come through, just as I'd hoped, but the whole encounter left a bitter taste in my mouth. They were safe now—or at least, I hoped they were—but it didn't feel like a victory.

The wind rustled the leaves overhead, and the cold, biting air brought me back to the reality of my situation. I was still here. Still alone. And now, even the small distraction of talking to them was gone. I was back to where I started, just another day in this endless, brutal survival.

I crouched down, rummaging through one of their abandoned bags. They had left behind more than I expected—food, water, some spare clothes. For a brief moment, I felt guilty for taking what they had left, but I knew I needed it to survive. This was the reality of my life now. Every advantage I could take, I had to take.

As I gathered up the supplies, I couldn't help but think about how easily my father could have shown up. How close those hikers had come to becoming another casualty of his world. And for what? Because they tried to help me?

I shoved the guilt aside. Survival was all that mattered here. I couldn't afford to feel sorry for them—or for myself.