Haruki Saito's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

Haruki spent the next two days watching more creatures arrive. They came at dusk, at dawn, whenever the forest called them. He opened the greenhouse door each time, counted them as they enter, made sure they had space among the growing vines. On the third morning, he heard something different. Not the careful rustle of vine-creatures seeking shelter, but heavy movement through the underbrush. Something massive pushing through trees that snapped like matchsticks. Haruki stepped out of the chapel, staff in hand, and saw it between the trunks — scales that shimmered blue and purple in the morning light, a serpentine body thick as a train car, eyes that burned with ancient hunger. The kaiju had followed the scent of the gathered creatures, and now it coiled at the clearing's edge, head lowering toward the greenhouse. Haruki's first instinct was to run. His second was to call for help he didn't have. Instead, he planted his staff in the earth and pulled. Roots erupted from the ground in a wall between the serpent and the greenhouse, thick as his torso, weaving together into a barrier. The kaiju struck once, testing. The roots held. It raised its head, tongue flicking, then turned and slid back into the forest. Haruki's hands shook on his staff. He'd driven it off, but he knew it would return. The forest spirit had been right to gather its children — and now Haruki understood he wasn't just their keeper. He was their guard.