Rukawa paused mid-breath, his eyes widening slightly—a rare break in his usual composure that spoke volumes. The name hung in the air between them like a physical thing. "...Are you sure?" he asked quietly, carefully, as if the wrong words might shatter something fragile. His analytical mind was clearly racing through implications. "If this is factual—if we're truly standing in Beacon Hills Preserve—then we're not in illusions anymore. This isn't constructed. This is real geography."
Javi nodded, his voice barely above a whisper, rough with emotion he was struggling to contain. "I used to come here all the time with Stiles and Scott. Every weekend, sometimes after school. We played hide and seek for hours, made forts out of fallen branches, pretended we were explorers discovering new worlds..."
He trailed off, a lump forming in his throat that made it hard to breathe properly. The memories were flooding back now—unstoppable, overwhelming. Faces he'd forced himself to forget. Laughter that still echoed in his bones.
"And I know—" His voice cracked slightly. "—this isn't a memory. Not some psychic projection or magical recreation. Not Mr. Graves playing with our heads."
He whispered the next words, just loud enough for Rukawa to hear, but weighted with absolute certainty: "This is real. We're actually here."
Rukawa stared up at him from the forest floor—something unreadable flickering across his usually calm, controlled face. Concern? Recognition? Understanding of implications Javi wasn't seeing yet? Then he spoke, and his tone carried that distinctive analytical quality that meant his brain was working through tactical applications.
"...I suppose this is fortuitous, then. You being familiar with this terrain. It's something we can actually use in this situation—local knowledge is invaluable."
Javi looked down at him from his perch in the tree, eyes glistening with unshed tears—caught somewhere between laughing at the absurdity and crying at the painful nostalgia. "Yeah... I guess so. But that doesn't make it any less weird. Any less impossible."
He wiped his sleeve roughly across his eyes, fast, like he could physically erase the emotion if he just moved quickly enough. "I mean... how is this even possible? This place is in California. Beacon Hills, California. The academy is in England. That's—" He gestured helplessly. "—that's an entire ocean! Thousands of miles! And we just... walked into it? Through a door in a tree?"
Rukawa's gaze turned inward, his expression taking on that distant quality that meant he was running calculations, processing variables. "Another unexplainable phenomenon—one of many today. Yet I believe everything happens for a reason, even if we can't see the pattern immediately." His voice carried unusual gentleness. "If we examine the situation objectively, despite the impossibility, we can hope that everything that's happened to us until now is part of our progress. Part of what we're meant to learn."
Javi exhaled sharply, gripping the branch beneath him until his knuckles went white. "I'm following the logic—the trees, the compass, all those supernatural elements. The tests. The challenges. But why this place specifically? Why bring me here?"
"Perhaps," Rukawa said softly, with uncharacteristic philosophical weight, "this place holds potential. The key to solving mysteries about ourselves—our pasts, our abilities, our purpose. Sometimes the answers we need are buried in the places we left behind."
He looked up at Javi with something approaching warmth—genuine concern visible in his dark eyes. "And if you happen to encounter one of your old friends while we're here—Stiles or Scott or anyone else—don't worry. I won't let them see you. I'll make sure you stay hidden."
Javi hopped down from the tree with practiced ease, landing in a crouch before standing and brushing dead leaves and bark from his clothes. "Really?!" He grinned despite everything, unable to resist teasing. "Awww, that's so sweet. Look at you being all protective. Should I swoon? I feel like I should swoon."
Rukawa pointedly ignored the teasing, his expression returning to its usual neutral mask. He sighed with exaggerated patience. "We need to determine our next move. Standing here accomplishing nothing doesn't help us."
Javi chuckled, the sound breaking some of the emotional tension, and sighed as he pulled out the compass again, turning it over in his hands. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Back to detective work."
Then he noticed something that made his stomach drop.
The hands of the compass weren't moving. At all. The needle that had been so responsive before—vibrating, pointing, guiding—now sat completely still, frozen in place as if it had been painted on.
"Huh?" The confusion in his voice was genuine.
Rukawa glanced down at the device, frowning with concern. "What's wrong with it?"
Javi turned the compass slowly in his hands, examining it in the fading afternoon light that filtered through the canopy. The needle wasn't quivering, wasn't searching. It seemed completely frozen, stuck in a fixed position pointing nowhere in particular.
"...It's not moving at all. It's just... dead."
Rukawa crossed his arms, his tone deliberately flat, almost challenging: "Maybe you broke it."
Javi looked up at him with clear indignation, offense written across his face. "I didn't break it! I barely touched the thing! I've been carrying it carefully this whole time!"
Rukawa shrugged with infuriating casualness. "Maybe you're just inherently bad with mechanical devices. Some people lack the coordination."
Javi rolled his eyes dramatically. "It's literally a hunk of metal and glass with a magnetized needle. I'm not that uncoordinated. You've seen me climb trees—coordination isn't my problem!"
Rukawa scoffed softly, then extended his palm toward Javi in a silent, expectant gesture: hand it over.
Javi sighed heavily, begrudgingly placing the compass in Rukawa's outstretched hand. "Here. Since you think you're so much better with it. Prove me wrong."
Rukawa nodded once and focused his complete attention on the compass with the intensity he brought to everything. He tried multiple approaches systematically: aligning it with the sky to check for solar orientation, holding it level with the grass to eliminate tilt interference, positioning it near different tree species to test for magnetic anomalies.
Nothing.
He turned it slowly—once, twice, three full rotations—then tapped the glass face lightly with his index finger, the way you might tap a broken clock.
The needle didn't budge even a fraction of a millimeter.
Javi watched with his arms crossed, vindication building. "So? Professional diagnosis? Is it broken or not?"
Rukawa's brow furrowed—just slightly, barely perceptible, but Javi had learned to read those microexpressions. "It's not broken. The mechanism is intact."
Javi blinked in confusion. "...Okay? Then why the hell isn't it moving?"
"Because there's nothing for it to point toward." Rukawa looked up slowly, scanning the treeline with renewed analytical focus. "No signal. No pull. No directive force. It's like..." He paused, searching for the right analogy. "Like we've moved outside the bounds of its operational parameters. Beyond its designed purpose."
Javi felt a genuine chill run down his spine despite the warm afternoon air. He looked around as well, suddenly feeling very exposed, very vulnerable. The forest that had seemed almost welcoming moments ago now felt vast and directionless.
"So then what, we're just... lost? Completely without guidance?"
"Not lost," Rukawa corrected with careful precision. "We simply don't have a predetermined destination anymore. The compass was guiding us through the supernatural forest—through Graves' constructed challenges. But here—" He gestured at the surrounding woods. "—we're in normal reality. There's nothing unnatural for it to track."
Javi looked at him with growing anxiety. "Then where do we go? How do we get back to the academy if we don't know which direction it is? We can't just wander randomly through California hoping to stumble across a portal to England!"
Rukawa gave him a flat, pointed look—one that communicated you already know the answer. "You said you know this place intimately. You grew up here. So this time, you navigate. You're in charge of direction now."
Javi stared at him for a long moment, the responsibility settling on his shoulders like physical weight. Then he ran both hands through his hair, groaning with frustration and reluctant acceptance. "Goddamnit, I hate when you make complete sense—"
He exhaled sharply, looking around with new purpose—really looking this time, not just seeing but observing the way Graves had demanded.
Old growth trees with bark patterns he remembered. Mossy roots snaking across the forest floor in familiar configurations. And there—partially hidden by undergrowth—a half-buried tire swing he hadn't noticed before but knew, the rope frayed with age, the tire cracked from years of sun exposure.
Something tugged in his chest—not just memory anymore. Purpose. Direction.
"Alright..." Javi squared his shoulders, decision crystallizing. "If we're doing this—if we're navigating by my childhood memories—there's an old trail behind those birch trees." He pointed toward a cluster of white-barked trees about thirty yards away. "It's overgrown now, probably, but it should still be there. We used to use it when we'd sneak out of the preserve after dark, when we weren't supposed to be here. It leads down to a creek—Duchene Creek, I think it was called. From there, I can get us to more recognizable landmarks."
Rukawa nodded once—immediate, complete, unhesitating trust. "Then that's our next objective." He started walking toward the birches without waiting for further discussion.
"You're not even gonna question me?" Javi asked, genuinely surprised, hurrying to catch up. "Not gonna ask if I'm sure, or if my memory might be wrong after all this time?"
"I trust you," Rukawa said simply, matter-of-factly, still walking—and somehow those three words carried more weight than entire speeches from other people.
Javi stood frozen for half a second, those words hitting harder than they should have.
Then he scrambled after Rukawa with a muttered protest: "...Don't just say stuff like that so casually! You can't just—people don't just—ugh!"
Rukawa's eyebrows rose slightly as he glanced back, and there was something in his tone—something almost vulnerable beneath the usual stoicism. "You dislike my displays of regard."
It was phrased as a statement, but Javi heard the question underneath. The slight disappointment.
Javi stopped short, eyes widening as he registered the tone—the hint of actual hurt beneath Rukawa's typically impenetrable emotional armor. Was Rukawa genuinely bothered by this?
"Wait—no! That's not—I didn't mean it like that!" He scrambled to catch up, his voice jumping an octave with panic at the misunderstanding. "I just—ugh—you don't usually say stuff like that, okay? You're all stoic and professional and then you just drop something like 'I trust you'—boom, just drops it like it's nothing, like it's not a huge thing to say!"
Rukawa glanced back over his shoulder, his expression carefully unreadable—but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. Almost smirking. Maybe... teasing?
"...You're flustered," he observed with scientific detachment.
"Am not!" Javi's denial came too quickly, too defensive.
"Are too."
"Am—" Javi caught himself, realized he was being baited. "You know what, I'm not playing this game."
Rukawa's eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch. His voice carried the faintest hint of amusement: "It's endearing."
"OH MY GOD—" Javi sputtered, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Now you're just messing with me on purpose! Since when do you tease people?! Since when do you use words like 'endearing'?!"
Rukawa deliberately ignored the outburst, turning his attention pointedly to their surroundings instead, scanning the forest with professional focus as if the conversation hadn't happened.
Javi took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus despite the warmth in his cheeks. "Okay, listen. Up ahead—maybe a mile, mile and a half—there's the edge of Beacon Hills proper. The actual town. Do you want us to go there instead of following the creek? We could probably find a phone, call the academy, figure out actual transportation—"
"No." Rukawa's response was immediate and firm.
He crossed his arms, his posture shifting back to tactical assessment mode. "We must focus on finding our own way back to the point of origin—the supernatural forest, the door we came through. We're still within the parameters of the trial, even if the environment has changed. Plus—" He gave Javi a pointed look. "—you don't want anyone recognizing you, remember? Running into old friends while we're in the middle of an examination would complicate everything."
Javi sighed, knowing Rukawa was right but feeling the pull of nostalgia anyway. "I just hope we can get back to the academy in one piece. Never thought I'd actually miss those guys already. Gwen's lectures. Diana's worried hovering. Simon's chaotic energy. Even Richard's know-it-all corrections."
Rukawa glanced at him—just a flicker, but Javi caught the softness in his eyes. Something almost gentle. "We will return. Successfully. But first..." He gestured toward the path ahead. "...we finish what was started. We complete the trial."
Javi looked back one more time at the distant silhouette of Beacon Hills visible through gaps in the trees—the town he'd left behind, the life he'd abandoned, the people he'd lost touch with. Then he looked at Rukawa beside him—steady, focused, unshakable, present.
"...Yeah. Yeah, okay." He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders with renewed determination. "Let's go. Creek first, then we figure out the next step."
They started walking together toward the birch trees, toward the hidden trail, toward whatever came next.
But neither of them noticed—couldn't have noticed—the subtle shimmer in the air behind them, like heat waves rising from summer pavement. The way reality seemed to bend slightly where they'd been standing moments before.
The forest had brought them here deliberately.
As they walked, the sound of grass whispered beneath their feet, creating a gentle rhythm that echoed through the quiet forest. But this time—unlike the previous supernatural zones with their oppressive silence and manufactured dread—they felt safe. Peaceful enough to breathe without constantly scanning for threats.
The afternoon air was cool against their skin, carrying the earthy scent of pine and moss. Natural. Real. Home, at least for Javi.
Rukawa spoke suddenly, cutting through the comfortable silence. "Garcia."
Javi looked up, pulled from his thoughts. "Hm?" He'd been a little lost in memory, watching familiar landmarks pass by, but tried to snap back to the present. "What's up?"
Rukawa shrugged slightly, his tone casual but his question carrying weight. "About everything that's been happening... what do you think of the supernatural? Are you frightened? Is this too much for you?"
Javi was quiet for a moment, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he kicked at a loose stone in their path. The question deserved more than a flippant answer.
"Frightened? Yeah... a little. But not the way you probably think." He glanced sideways at Rukawa, measuring his words. "I wasn't expecting any of this when I joined the academy—climbing wolves, reality-bending forests, getting transported across continents. But considering that our classmates—Gwen, Richard, Diana, Simon—all helped prepare us for this trial..."
He paused, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I'm more assured now. Like we can handle anything thrown at us. We've been trained for the impossible."
His expression sobered. "But now? Being back here again? In Beacon Hills?" He gestured at the familiar woods around them. "It's not the monsters or the magic that scare me most—it's realizing how much of my life I might've forgotten. How much I buried. How I ended up at the academy without even remembering why I left this place."
He paused, then smirked weakly, deflecting with humor as always. "I'm confused as hell right now, dude. But... I have to keep moving forward. That's what the academy taught me. That's the only way through—forward."
He looked ahead toward where the trail continued into deepening shadows, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. "...Also, you're here. So maybe it's not so bad after all, ice partner."
Rukawa considered that response—quiet for several long seconds, processing not just the words but the emotion beneath them.
Then, to Javi's stunned surprise, he sighed and actually cracked a small, wry smile—a genuine expression of warmth that transformed his usually stoic face.
"I always thought your constant joking was just a shield. A way to cover up your fear, to deflect from genuine emotion."
He glanced at Javi with something that looked almost like respect. "I guess I was wrong. You're not just hiding—you're actually learning. Growing. Facing things instead of running."
Javi grinned, giving him a sidelong glance filled with mock arrogance. "I can surprise people, you know. I contain multitudes. Layers, like an onion. Or a really complex pastry."
Rukawa sighed—but his eyes were clearly amused, the corners crinkling slightly. "Most of the time your surprises are just chaos."
"Creative chaos. There's a difference."
"Debatable." Rukawa paused, seeming to choose his next words with unusual care, like they cost him something to say. "But... sometimes it's reassuring. Your chaos. Your ability to find humor even in impossible situations."
Javi raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised by the admission. His steps faltered slightly. "...Really? I reassure you? Mr. Ice-Cold-Never-Rattled Rukawa Hiroshi?"
Rukawa's tone turned dry, almost self-deprecating. "Shockingly, yes."
Javi rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress his pleased grin. "Whatever, man. Let's just keep moving before you get all sentimental on me."
"Unlikely."
"Thank god."
After a while of walking through increasingly familiar terrain—Javi recognizing trees he'd climbed as a child, rocks he'd sat on during long summer afternoons—a soothing sight emerged through the foliage.
Water. A creek, exactly where memory promised it would be.
The stream burbled peacefully over smooth stones worn by years of current. There was a stone crossing to another path on the far bank—large, flat rocks positioned like natural stepping stones. And beyond it all, framed perfectly by the trees, the sunset painted the sky in breathtaking shades of orange, pink, and deep purple.
The beauty of it hit Javi like a physical force.
He sighed, his pace slowing to a stop as he turned in a slow circle, taking in all the familiar sights. The creek itself, clear and cold. Those white birch trees clustered on the far bank. And there—partially hidden but unmistakable—the old tire swing, weathered but still hanging from the same sturdy branch.
"God..." His voice was thick with emotion. He glanced at Rukawa, needing to share this moment with someone. "Everything is exactly as I remembered. Like time stopped here. Like I never left."
Rukawa stood beside him, taking in the scene with his analytical eye but also genuine appreciation. He sniffed the air—clean, pine-scented, alive—and nodded with rare contentment. "This is beautiful scenery. Another reason to admire nature and its resilience."
Javi chuckled, the sound warm and nostalgic. "Yeah, it really is." Then his expression shifted to something more mischievous. "And one more thing—the fish in this stream? They're amazing to cook. Me and Scott used to catch them with our bare hands sometimes. My mom would fry them up with butter and herbs. Best meal I ever had."
Rukawa raised his eyebrows with genuine interest, his stomach choosing that moment to growl audibly. "I wonder what that tastes like."
He muttered, almost to himself: "I'm farnished."
Javi snorted, shaking his head with delighted disbelief. "You mean starving, right? Or famished? You just mashed two words together."
Rukawa gave him a flat, unimpressed look. "That's what I said."
"No, you absolutely didn't!" Javi laughed outright, the sound echoing across the creek. "You just invented a new word. 'Farnished.' Like you're half-starved and mildly offended about it. We should trademark that."
Rukawa rolled his eyes with theatrical exasperation but didn't bother correcting himself—just started walking toward the stone path across the creek, muttering under his breath: "Shut up and move."
"Make me!"
"Don't test me, Garcia."
Before either of them could take another step—
BANG!
The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the peaceful evening, echoing through the forest like thunder.
Both Javi and Rukawa dropped low instantly, their bodies moving on pure instinct, hearts hammering against ribs. The peaceful moment evaporated like mist. They were crouched behind a fallen log, every sense on high alert, adrenaline flooding their systems.
Javi's breath came sharp and fast. His voice was barely a whisper: "Was that—?"
Rukawa nodded once, his expression going cold and tactical. "A gunshot. Close. Maybe a quarter mile northeast."
Without discussion, without debate, they both started moving toward the sound—low, fast, using the terrain and undergrowth for cover. Detective instincts took over, their movements synchronized and silent.
Javi's mind raced as they ran. "Who the hell fires a gun in a nature preserve? Hunting is illegal here. Has been for years."
Rukawa was already several paces ahead, his body tuned to danger like an instrument to its purpose. "Someone who doesn't care about rules. Someone who won't hesitate to use lethal force if challenged."
Javi followed close behind, keeping his voice hushed despite his racing pulse. "So... hunters? Poachers?"
Rukawa glanced back briefly, his expression grim. "We'll never know until we observe directly."
They slowed as they approached the source, their breathing controlled, footsteps deliberately silent.
In the distance, filtering through the trees, they could hear voices. A group of people. Laughing. Two distinct voices, maybe three.
"Bullseye!" One voice crowed with triumph.
"Heh! Lucky shot, Mr. Trigger Finger. I'd have let you take it." Another voice, mocking but amused.
"Oh, shut up. Arrogance can get you killed."
"As if I care? I'm still alive—that tells you something."
"Cocky bastard."
"Just proud of my skills."
The tone was full of arrogance, casual cruelty, the kind of confidence that came from never facing real consequences.
Rukawa paused, crouching behind a fallen log that provided perfect cover. He motioned Javi down with a sharp hand gesture: stay low, stay quiet.
Javi obeyed instantly, his observational training kicking in. He narrowed his eyes, scanning through the gaps in the undergrowth.
Ahead, between the trees—movement. A small clearing. And there, on the ground: a gray wolf. Dead. Blood pooling beneath its beautiful silver-gray coat, eyes still open but vacant.
Javi and Rukawa shared a look of pure horror, their expressions mirroring each other's revulsion.
What the hell are they doing? Javi thought, his stomach turning. That's completely illegal. Gray wolves are endangered. Protected. This is a federal crime.
These people don't care about rules, Rukawa thought simultaneously, his analytical mind cataloging everything he saw. And they're extremely volatile based on their body language. We have to be extremely careful. One wrong move and we're targets.
Back in the clearing,
The man with a cigarette dangling from his lips spoke with obvious annoyance. He had a distinctive scar running through his right eye—an old wound, jagged and poorly healed. "Tsk. This isn't enough. This specimen isn't even worth experimenting on. Too small. Too weak."
The other man chuckled—a sound devoid of warmth. He was wearing an oversized coat with a heavy scarf and leather gloves despite the mild temperature. Middle-aged, probably in his forties, with a face that had seen violence and dealt it back. He spoke with dark amusement: "Every bit counts toward the quota, though. Now come on—we don't want the boss waiting. You know how he gets."
On the sideline, hidden and watching, Javi felt frustration and curiosity warring in his chest. His whisper was barely audible: "Boss? Experiments? Who the hell are these people?"
While Rukawa remained intensely focused, his expression tight and hardened, his tactical mind already working through scenarios and threat assessments.
The scarred man scoffed, standing up and brushing dirt off his coat with rough movements. "Boss this, boss that—I'm sick of it. You really think a little wolf pup is worth all this effort? Worth the risk?"
He turned, contempt clear in every line of his body. "You're too much of a kiss-ass for that old geezer."
The man in the scarf shot him a warning look, his voice sharp with genuine fear: "Don't let HIM hear you say that! You want to end up like Petrov?"
The scarred man just shrugged it off dismissively. "Hmph. Whatever."
Then, without warning, the atmosphere changed.
A third figure emerged from a black van parked just beyond the trees—a vehicle Javi and Rukawa hadn't noticed until now, camouflaged by shadow and strategic positioning.
This man was different. Dangerous in a way the others weren't.
He stepped out while casually holding a cigarette, smoke curling around sharp, angular features. His Russian heritage was obvious—high cheekbones, pale eyes the color of winter ice, an aura of absolute authority that made even the armed men straighten instinctively.
When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of unquestioned command: "We don't have all day. Daylight's wasting."
He opened the van's back door and threw them a heavy net, the kind used for large game. "Now go. Secure the specimen properly this time. The last one was damaged in transport."
Both henchmen exchanged glances—nervous, almost afraid—then sighed in resigned obedience.
"Yes, sir."
From their hiding spot, Javi leaned closer to Rukawa, his whisper barely forming words: "He looks terrifying. Like, genuinely scary. That's not just a criminal—that's someone important. Someone with power."
Rukawa nodded once, his eyes never leaving the Russian. "Yes. He's the real threat. The others are just muscle. He's the intelligence."
Javi bit his lip, anxiety spiking. "What do we do? We can't just let them take that wolf for... whatever they're planning."
Rukawa's whisper was pragmatic, tactical: "See and observe. That's all we can do right now. We're outnumbered, outgunned, and we don't know what we're dealing with yet. Engaging would be suicide."
Javi nodded reluctantly, hating the logic but accepting it. "Let's just hope we don't get caught. Because if we do—"
Rukawa added with darkly pragmatic humor: "We will suffer significantly. Probably die. Definitely wish we were dead."
"Thanks for the pep talk."
"Realism, not pessimism."
Back in the clearing, something changed..
The Russian suddenly turned his head sharply to one side, his gaze fixing on a specific section of the tree line—exactly where Javi and Rukawa were hidden.
He went completely still. Predator-still. Listening.
"Wait."
The henchmen halted immediately, looking back at him with confusion and growing alarm. "What is it, boss?"
The Russian stood like a statue, those pale eyes locked on the shadowed cluster of undergrowth and fallen logs. Had he heard something? A breath too loud? A footstep not quite silenced? The rustle of fabric against bark?
"Someone's watching."
Javi and Rukawa's eyes went wide with genuine terror. Their hearts stopped for a beat. The Russian was sharp—his instincts honed by years of violence and survival.
They had to stay absolutely, perfectly hidden.
The other men tensed immediately, scanning the surroundings with sudden wariness. Hands moved toward concealed weapons. The casual atmosphere evaporated, replaced by lethal readiness.
"Who the hell is out here?" the scarred man muttered, his hand closing around the grip of his sidearm.
The Russian didn't take his eyes off that specific spot—didn't blink, didn't waver. His stillness was more terrifying than movement would have been.
Javi held his breath until his lungs burned, pressing as low as physics would allow behind the log. Every muscle locked. Don't move. Don't breathe. Don't exist.
Rukawa didn't move a single muscle—his body frozen in perfect, practiced stillness, like he'd become part of the forest itself. Like he was a shadow, a rock, anything but human.
A beat passed.
Then another.
The Russian took one slow, deliberate step forward—then stopped, as if listening to something only he could hear.
"You can come out," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. Almost conversational. Almost friendly. Which made it infinitely more threatening. "Or I start shooting into the trees. Your choice. You have until I count to three."
Javi and Rukawa gritted their teeth, preparing themselves mentally for the worst-case scenario. If they were discovered, if they had to fight, if they had to run—
Their thoughts aligned perfectly, unspoken communication flowing between them:
Whatever happens—
—happens.
We face it together.
The Russian's hand moved toward his weapon with casual confidence. He began counting, each number precise and final:
"One."
Javi's muscles coiled, ready to spring.
"Two."
Rukawa calculated angles, escape routes, vulnerable points.
"Thr—"
Then, before the final count completed, before everything exploded into violence—
A squirrel darted out from behind a tree, exactly where the Russian had been staring.
The small creature emerged from the undergrowth just inches from the Russian's polished boots, pausing in startled confusion as it found itself suddenly confronted by a human. It sat up on its haunches, tiny chest heaving, dark eyes wide.
For a single surreal moment, there was absolute silence.
The squirrel stared up at the Russian.
The Russian stared down at the squirrel.
Time seemed to stretch like taffy.
Then the Russian slowly, deliberately looked down at the tiny creature.
A beat passed.
".....a squirrel."
His voice carried profound disappointment mixed with irritation.
Hidden behind their log, Javi and Rukawa exhaled in perfect synchronization—silent, controlled, releasing breath they'd been holding until black spots danced at the edges of their vision.
Thank god. Thank every god. Thank that stupid, perfect, life-saving squirrel.
The Russian stared at the innocent animal for a long moment—then slowly, deliberately lowered his hand from his sidearm. He turned away as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just been seconds from executing hidden watchers.
"Tch. Move out. We're wasting time."
One of the henchmen snorted, shaking his head with nervous laughter. "Stupid creature. Nearly gave me a heart attack over a damn rodent. Jesus."
The scarred man laughed. "Boss getting jumpy in his old age."
But the Russian wasn't quite finished.
"However..." He reached for something at his belt—not his gun, but a combat knife. In one fluid motion, he drew and threw it with casual, practiced precision.
The blade flew through the air with a whistle of displaced atmosphere.
The squirrel, which had been in the process of scampering away toward the safety of the trees, never saw it coming.
Thunk.
The knife pinned it to the tree trunk, the small body going instantly limp.
Rukawa's jaw clenched hard enough that Javi heard his teeth grind together—but he didn't let himself flinch, didn't let any reaction show. His eyes fixed on the fallen animal with something dark and cold building behind them.
Javi's hand closed tightly around a piece of bark, white-knuckled, fighting the urge to do something, anything. The casual cruelty of it—killing something innocent just because he could—made bile rise in his throat.
The henchman closest to the Russian gave a bark of harsh laughter, genuinely impressed. "Damn, boss. Perfect throw. Didn't even look. You've still got it."
The Russian walked over with leisurely confidence, retrieved his knife with a sharp tug that made the squirrel's body drop limply to the ground, then wiped the blood on his pants with complete indifference. As if cleaning his blade of tree sap rather than innocent blood.
"Let's move. And be careful with the package this time. The last specimen was damaged in transport. The old man wasn't pleased."
The henchmen nodded quickly, nervously. "Yes, sir."
The Russian didn't look back as his men dragged the wolf's body roughly across the ground, stuffing it carelessly into a heavy black body bag. One of them wiped blood off his sleeve with a grimace of distaste.
The van's engine roared to life—harsh and loud in the quiet preserve. It lurched forward, tires churning up dirt and leaves, disappearing down an old, half-overgrown logging trail.
A heavy, suffocating silence descended in their wake.
Neither Javi nor Rukawa moved for a long moment, making absolutely certain the criminals were truly gone, that this wasn't some trick, some test to draw out hidden watchers.
Finally, when the engine sounds had faded completely into the distance, Rukawa rose slowly from their hiding spot. His movements were controlled, measured, but there was tension radiating from every line of his body.
He walked directly to where the squirrel had fallen.
Javi followed, his legs slightly unsteady, adrenaline still coursing through his system making his hands shake.
Rukawa knelt beside the small body with unexpected gentleness. The squirrel was still—so small, so fragile, its fur soft and gray-brown in the fading evening light. It couldn't have been more than a year old. Maybe younger.
"It didn't deserve this," Rukawa said quietly, his voice carrying an edge Javi rarely heard. Not anger exactly. Something colder. More absolute. "None of them did. Not the wolf. Not this creature. They were just... existing. Living."
Javi knelt beside him, his throat tight. "No. They didn't."
For a moment they just stayed there, two teenage boys kneeling in the dirt beside a dead squirrel, the weight of what they'd witnessed pressing down on them.
Then Rukawa spoke again, his voice steady but carrying quiet conviction: "We should bury it. Give it that dignity at least."
Javi looked at him with surprise, then something warm and aching bloomed in his chest. Of course Rukawa would think of that. Of course he'd want to make this small gesture in the face of such casual cruelty.
"Yeah," Javi agreed softly. "Yeah, we should."
They had no tools, so they used their hands and flat rocks, digging a small hole in the soft earth near the base of the tree where the squirrel had died. The work was slow, methodical, almost meditative.
Neither spoke as they worked, the silence between them comfortable, shared purpose making words unnecessary.
When the hole was deep enough, Rukawa carefully lifted the squirrel's body—cradling it with such gentle care that Javi's chest tightened further. He placed it carefully in the earth, positioning it as if the creature were simply sleeping.
They covered it slowly, reverently, patting the dirt down with careful hands.
When it was done, Rukawa sat back on his heels, studying their work. Then he reached out and placed a small, flat stone on top—a marker, a memorial, proof that this life had mattered to someone.
"Rest now," Rukawa said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're safe now."
Javi found his own voice thick when he finally spoke: "Do you... do you think animals have souls? Like, go somewhere after?"
Rukawa was quiet for a long moment, his dark eyes thoughtful. "I don't know." He paused. "But I'd like to think they do. That somewhere, this creature is running through endless forests, free and safe and happy."
"Yeah," Javi said softly, wiping at his eyes quickly before tears could actually fall. "Yeah, I'd like to think that too."
They stood together, both looking down at the small grave.
Then Rukawa's expression hardened, shifting from grief to something else. Determination. Cold purpose.
"We need to report this. Document everything we saw. Build an airtight case."
Javi nodded, his own resolve solidifying. "Yeah. We do."
He moved toward the kill site where the wolf had fallen, scanning the disturbed earth with trained observational skills. "And we need proof. Physical evidence."
His eyes caught something glinting in the dirt—a brass shell casing. He crouched down, brushing aside leaves carefully. "Look at this."
He picked it up, turning it in his fingers. The metal was still slightly warm. "Fresh. This is what they used."
Rukawa took the casing from him immediately, examining the markings with sharp focus. "Military-grade. 7.62x39mm. Not standard civilian ammunition." His expression darkened further. "This confirms military suppliers. Black market connections."
"So we can't just call local police," Javi said, though it wasn't really a question.
"No. We can't risk it. We don't know how deep their network goes." Rukawa stood, pocketing the evidence. "Police could be compromised. Officials on their payroll."
Javi nodded slowly. "You're thinking there's a mule. Someone on the inside."
"Yes." Rukawa looked at him with clear approval. "Exactly."
Finally, Javi asked the question they'd both been avoiding: "...What now? What's our next move?"
Rukawa's expression settled into calm determination. "We need to find a place to stay first. It's getting dark, and operating at night without preparation is foolish." He glanced at the sky, where the sunset had faded to deep twilight. "Second, we need supplies and resources to properly prepare for when we face these people again. Because we will face them. This isn't over."
Javi sighed, disappointment evident in his voice and posture. "Looks like we have no choice but to head into the city then. Into Beacon Hills proper."
The thought of walking through his old hometown, of potentially being recognized, of facing the past he'd fled—it all crashed down on him at once.
Rukawa stepped closer and delivered a surprisingly hard slap to Javi's back—supportive but firm, grounding him in the present. "Stop looking back at the past. Focus on the present, on what we can control. And don't worry—" His voice softened slightly. "—I've got your back. I won't let anyone recognize you if that's what you want."
Javi scoffed and rolled his eyes—but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a brief, grateful smile. "Thanks for the pep talk. Really inspiring stuff. You should write motivational posters."
Then Rukawa's expression shifted to something more pragmatic, almost sheepish. "However... we don't have any fortune to spend. That's a significant problem."
Javi tilted his head, confused. "Money? You mean 'money,' right? Not 'fortune'?"
Rukawa nodded, already scanning the trees as if he could see past them to the city beyond. "Yes. Currency. Financial resources for exchanging goods and services. We have none."
Javi glanced sideways at him with growing suspicion. "What—don't tell me you're planning on robbing a bank or something."
Rukawa dropped the comment with perfectly straight delivery: "If the situation demands it, then I'll do what's necessary."
Then he simply started walking toward the distant lights of the city, completely unbothered, as if he hadn't just casually suggested armed robbery.
Javi jogged to catch up, disbelief written across his face. "Wait—what?! Don't you have any dignity?? That's a terrible, awful, felony-level worst thing to do!"
He paused as realization dawned, studying Rukawa's expression. "Wait, was that sarcasm? Really dark, deadpan sarcasm?"
He rolled his eyes with theatrical exasperation. "God, you have absolutely no sense of appropriate humor boundaries."
Rukawa replied with complete sincerity: "That was my dignity. My pragmatic approach to problem-solving."
"Yeah—casually discussing bank robbery. Very dignified. Very upstanding citizen behavior." Javi muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "How the hell am I supposed to work with this guy?"
Rukawa flicked his gaze sideways at Javi and allowed himself a tiny smirk. "You can always go back to the academy."
Javi rolled his eyes hard enough to see his own brain. "Yeah, sure, I'll just walk back to England. That's only, what, five thousand miles? An entire ocean? No big deal. And our little magical compass is still not working, in case you conveniently forgot."
Rukawa was already several paces ahead, his voice carrying back: "I didn't forget. Now let's proceed before we waste more daylight. Or would you prefer I navigate the city alone and inevitably get lost?"
"Hell no!" Javi picked up his pace to match Rukawa's stride. "You don't know this town at all. You'd probably end up in the worst neighborhood asking gang members for directions. I don't want to be your babysitter, but apparently that's my role now."
Rukawa scoffed lightly. "Then don't be. Regardless, we need to solve the immediate problem of acquiring currency and purchasing our essential needs."
Javi sighed with exaggerated patience. "You mean work? Getting actual jobs? Because we don't have time for that. We need to act fast before those guys move their operation or hurt more animals."
Rukawa raised his eyebrows. "Then what's your alternative input?"
Javi's expression shifted to something more thoughtful, his problem-solving brain engaging. "Well... maybe we can find resources without money first. Like a map of the preserve, surveillance footage if any cameras caught that van, public records. There should be a library or community center. Maybe even a homeless shelter that could give us food and a place to crash for the night."
Rukawa considered that, nodding with approval. "Possible. More practical than robbery, admittedly. Now let's proceed."
Javi fell into step beside him, then groaned dramatically. "Dude, I'm starving. We didn't eat breakfast or lunch, you know? My stomach thinks my throat's been cut."
Rukawa added matter-of-factly: "And we'll miss dinner at this rate. Perhaps we should embrace the beggar lifestyle temporarily."
Javi grumbled under his breath, but there was affection beneath the complaint: "What a plot twist. From detective academy students to homeless beggars in one afternoon. This is definitely not what I thought my Friday would look like."
"Life rarely matches expectations."
"Philosophical and unhelpful. Great combination."
–
And with that slightly absurd exchange, they eventually made their way toward Beacon Hills proper—toward civilization, preparation, and an uncertain future.
Two fourteen-year-old students from a detective academy in England, somehow transported to a small California town, preparing to face down what appeared to be an organized criminal operation.
The question hanging unspoken between them:
Can we actually do this on our own?
Neither had an answer.
But they'd figure it out. Together. One impossible step at a time.
That's what partners did, after all.