A Willing Captive

A dull thud. A brief scuffle. Almost drowned out by the festival's noise.

Lillian stilled.

Her pulse quickened.

No. It could've been anything.

A drunk villager stumbling into a crate. A merchant dropping supplies.

It doesn't mean anything.

She rose slowly, trying to shake the unease curling in her gut. Her boots barely made a sound as she stepped away from the bench, eyes scanning the crowd.

"Alright, idiot," she muttered under her breath, "where are you?"

She moved toward the general direction of the makeshift washroom stalls, weaving through festivalgoers. Laughter echoed and lights flashed. But to Lillian, it all felt… muted. 

She passed by the stalls—simple wooden dividers set up at the far end of the square. A quick glance.

No Kazuki.

She called out softly, "Kazuki?"

No answer.

Her fingers twitched. She stepped behind the stalls, checking every shadowed corner, every possible place he could be lurking—maybe passed out, maybe playing another stupid prank.

Nothing.

Another minute passed. Her patience frayed like a snapped bowstring.

Then she noticed it—just beyond the edge of the stalls, half-hidden behind a stack of crates: the alley.

Dark. Narrow. Silent.

And her heart dropped.

She moved toward it, faster now.

The warmth of the festival faded behind her. Lantern light dimmed. Laughter turned distant, barely audible.

The alley loomed—quiet. 

Her eyes adjusted quickly, scanning the stone. She crouched low, fingers brushing over disturbed dirt, faint drag marks. A wooden crate knocked over.

And there—half-hidden beneath the edge of a broken crate a small, broken trinket—a gift from her, the one he had worn on his belt. 

Her breath hitched.

Lillian stared at it for a long second, fingers curling slowly around the broken piece.

The weight in her chest turned solid.

Kazuki was gone.

And someone was going to pay for it.

***

Kazuki's Pov:

Kazuki exhaled slowly, staring into the cracked mirror of the washroom like a man at edge of insanity.

His reflection stared back, equally disappointed.

This was his life now. Oppressively loved. Smothered by kindness. Drowning in admiration.

He couldn't so much as sneeze without someone declaring it a divine omen.

He once tripped on a chicken—and someone wrote a hymn about it.

Even the hydra, the six-headed embodiment of chaos and snack theft, had more personal space than he did.

He gripped the sink, shoulders slumping.

This is it, he thought. This is how I die. Not by blade or beast, but by one more old woman offering me holy mashed potatoes.

A knock tapped gently at the door. "Holy One? Is everything alright in there?"

Kazuki stared at the door.

"No. No, it is not."

But he smiled anyway. Because that's what saints do.

He stepped outside, letting the night air hit his face like a cold slap from reality. The festival glowed warmly behind him, all lanterns and laughter and blessed fruit sticks.

He hated it.

Out of the corner of his eye, just past the edge of the stalls, he saw it: figures shifting in the shadows. Cloaked. Huddled. Whispering like they were auditioning for Suspicious People: The Musical.

Their every movement screamed, "We are definitely up to something. Please notice us."

Kazuki squinted, curiosity piqued.

Ominous strangers loitering in an alley during a cheerful village festival? Classic.

He took a cautious step closer, peeking around the edge of the stall. His thoughts spiraled instantly.

Are they plotting something?

Criminals?

Do they... not know who I am?

His heart fluttered with a feeling dangerous, yet his curiosity won him out.

One of the figures noticed him and stiffened. The others turned slowly, their faces hidden beneath dark hoods.

Kazuki met their gaze.

Then—he turned on his heel, shaking his head with the grim resolve of a man making a deeply responsible decision.

"Yep. Not my problem," he muttered.

Head high. Shoulders back. Proud citizen ignoring obvious crime.

The figures shifted, stepping into his path. The leader sneered.

"Well, well. Look who wandered off alone. Must be our lucky night."

Kazuki's heart leapt.

Oh no.

They were going to do something.

His mind raced—Were they about to mug him? Curse him? Force him into another ceremonial fruit blessing?

His breath caught. His knees tensed, ready to bolt.

Then—

"We'll fetch a nice price for you, Holy One," one of the cloaked figures said, stepping closer. "Village'll be crawling for their messiah-boy."

Kazuki blinked.

Wait.

They're going to... kidnap me?

Hope bloomed in his heart like a sunrise through storm clouds.

Kidnapping. That meant no more prayer circles. No more holy potatoes. No more awkward blessings over his socks.

This might be it, he thought. This might actually be my chance.

His lips parted in a trembling voice. "You... you're taking me?"

The tremor in his voice—born of awe and barely-contained glee—was completely misinterpreted.

Bandit #1 smirked darkly. "Aw, look at that. He's scared stiff."

Kazuki blinked rapidly. "I—I am," he whispered. "This is... this is amazing."

Bandit #2 chuckled. "Bet he's never been this far from the safety of his altar. Gonna wet himself any second."

Kazuki clutched his chest. "I think I might cry."

"Oh, he is terrified," Bandit #3 said, puffing up with pride. "We're terrifying."

"You're incredible," Kazuki whispered, eyes shining with admiration. "You really thought this through."

Bandit #1 stepped forward with a flourish, drawing a dull blade. "Let this be a lesson, Messiah. The world's not all cozy villagers and fruit sticks."

Kazuki gasped. "Yes! That's exactly what I've been saying!"

Bandit #2 leaned closer, voice low and gravelly. "No one's coming to save you."

Kazuki nodded eagerly. "Oh, goddess, I hope not."

The bandits faltered.

Bandit #3 narrowed his eyes. "Wait. Is he... agreeing with us?"

Bandit #1 hissed, "Stick to the plan! Stay menacing!"

He turned back to Kazuki and growled, "Now shut up and get in the sack!"

Kazuki squealed with joy. "There's a sack?! Oh my gods, you do know how to kidnap someone!"

The bandits exchanged glances again. Bandit #2 muttered, "Do we... do we even need the sack?"

Kazuki eagerly held his arms out. "Tie me up! Tie me up!"

"…He's way too into this," Bandit #3 muttered, already unraveling some rope.

Kazuki wriggled excitedly. "You guys are so professional! I haven't had this much personal attention in ages!"

Bandit #1 slapped a hand over his own face. "By the gods… we kidnapped a lunatic."