A moment later—
Joon-soo holds several artifacts that Aldo just gave him for free and dashes toward Zihao. He excitedly raises the Bloodspear, grinning from ear to ear.
"Hey, Zihao! Look at this! Top-tier stuff! Aldo gave it to me for free!"
Zihao lifts his head from the pile of calligraphy fans. In front of him stands Joon-soo, his face beaming as if he just found a treasure. Zihao raises an eyebrow in surprise.
"Aldo gave you these?"
"Yeah, just like that! No idea why!"
Zihao stays silent for a moment, narrowing his eyes in thought. Then, suddenly, he bursts into laughter and claps his hands together.
"Ha! He's probably quitting combat and doesn't need them anymore, so he gave them to you!"
Joon-soo's jaw drops.
"For real? If that's the case, great! Now I have the best gear in the group!"
Zihao crosses his arms, looking at Joon-soo with a knowing expression.
"But do you think just getting these gifts is enough to secure an alliance?"
Joon-soo pauses.
"What do you mean?"
Zihao sighs and shakes his head.
"Zara is a noble from Rahman Al-Khouri. She doesn't lack treasures. If you want to form an alliance, you need long-term benefits, not just some random gifts."
Joon-soo frowns.
"Don't nobles like gifts?"
"They do, but not to the point of blindly following them."
Joon-soo chuckles, his tone teasing.
"That's funny. Your country had entire empires bribed with just a box of tea."
Zihao fires back instantly.
"Still better than your country, which got tricked over a pot of eel soup!"
Joon-soo clicks his tongue.
"At least it was food! What about your country? You signed a treaty written in chicken ink!"
Zihao shrugs.
"No different from your country, which got dragged into wars over some vague 'strategic alliances' that weren't even real alliances."
…
"Your country had countless emperors fooled by their own eunuchs!"
"Your country always complains about foreign invasions, but kneels to the strong without a fight!"
"Even your Forbidden City got burned to ashes by a bunch of British and French soldiers!"
"At least the Qing only lost Hong Kong. Joseon lost its entire nation!"
"Great job 'defending' your homeland—you even let bandits march through to Manchuria without a fight!"
"Your country made it to the 20th century and still had a queen assassinated inside her own palace!"
"We only lost our country once! How many times has yours been carved up? The Qing lost Tibet, Mongolia, Manchuria, Taiwan… What do you have left?"
"At least we're still a major nation. Has Joseon ever had a say in its own fate? First a vassal of China, then a colony of Japan, then split in half by the US and the Soviets… Your country is like a ball being kicked around!"
…
The two glare at each other for a long moment, then Joon-soo bursts into laughter.
"Just messing with you. But… how come someone as smart as you didn't think of this from the start?"
Zihao raises an eyebrow and taps his fan against the table.
"You think I'm some flawless mastermind? I'm only 14, you know!"
He sighs before continuing.
"Besides, Zara will probably just add these to her collection. What really matters is the economic benefits that Aldo—or any of us—can provide. That's the real incentive for her to form an alliance."
Joon-soo crosses his arms, immediately pushing back.
"But that's Aldo's, not ours!"
Zihao shrugs.
"Isn't Aldo part of our organization?"
Joon-soo pouts, huffs, then turns away and stomps off, clearly sulking for real.
Zihao watches Joon-soo's retreating figure, gripping his calligraphy brush in mild frustration. He lowers his gaze to the fans, grabs a new one, and begins writing.
Fan 13:"愚人不知世事,唯懂食饱与战."(The fool knows nothing of the world, only how to eat and fight.)
Fan 14:"以力欺人者,终为力所欺."(He who bullies others with strength will one day be crushed by it.)
Fan 15:"智者慎行,愚者争口舌."(The wise walk cautiously; the foolish quarrel over words.)
Zihao examines the freshly written characters, nodding in satisfaction. Then, he sighs again.
"He even sulks like a pro."
Zihao sighs softly, setting aside the calligraphy brush. He stares at the fans covered in characters, but his mind no longer focuses on them.
"Right now, I'm the only Chinese in the group, Joon-soo is South Korean, Shinji is Japanese, Aldo—no, Minh, and Veritas—no, Trường, are both Vietnamese... That makes the complete quartet from the Sinosphere, doesn't it?"
He mutters to himself, tapping lightly on the table, as if trying to piece together something interesting.
Suddenly, Joon-soo appears with a displeased expression, arms crossed, his voice full of teasing:
"Not enough! We're missing one from Azad Hind, one from Kampuchea, one from Burma, one from the Land of a Million Elephants, and one from Siam—then we'd be complete!"
Zihao blinks in confusion.
"What do you mean, Azad Hind? Kampuchea? Land of a Million Elephants? Are you making up names again?"
Joon-soo clicks his tongue, slapping his forehead as if he can't believe Zihao doesn't know.
"My god, you study history and don't know these? Let me explain!"
He raises his hand, counting one by one:
"Azad Hind"—The name of the puppet government Japan set up in India during World War II."Kampuchea"—The original name of Cambodia, also its official Khmer name, but hearing it immediately reminds you of the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere."Burma"—The old name of Myanmar, that's what it was called back then."Land of a Million Elephants"—That's Laos, named so in the feudal era because its flag had an elephant."Siam"—That's Thailand, but in the feudal era, it was called that. Even during the Greater East Asia Sphere, some still used the name.
Zihao listens, his eyes gradually lighting up with interest.
"So that's it. These names really do have a historical feel to them."
Joon-soo shrugs.
"Exactly! If we bring in people from those places, we'd basically be rebuilding the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere!"
Zihao bursts out laughing, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"But, didn't you say there was also Nazi Germany? Where does that fit in?"
Joon-soo tilts his chin up.
"Helene!"
Zihao freezes for a moment before breaking into hearty laughter.
"Ah-ha! That's true! She's a German machinist, and the only European member in our group right now!"
Joon-soo laughs loudly as well.
"No wonder she's always as cold as a Wehrmacht soldier!"
Zihao rests his chin on his hand, thinking for a moment before narrowing his eyes.
"So, maybe we should give our group an official name? Just calling ourselves The Strays is just a nickname, after all."
Joon-soo slams the table, grinning slyly.
"Let's call it the New Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Council! Sounds grand, doesn't it?"
Zihao laughs heartily, slapping his thigh.
"Great idea! Truly historical!"
Under the shade of the cherry tree, where pale pink petals fall one by one, Shinji's wooden house stands like a rustic yet refined painting. Sunlight filters through the branches, reflecting on the polished wooden walls, creating an interplay of light and shadow that feels almost artistic. Not a single nail holds the planks together; instead, they fit seamlessly using the ancient Kigumi technique—a testament to the precision and masterful craftsmanship of Japanese architecture.
In front of the house, Shinji carefully tends to his medium-sized bonsai trees. Under his meticulous hands, each branch is pruned with absolute precision, like a miniature sculpture shaped by nature itself. The Japanese boy carries a composed and elegant presence. Every feature on his round face reflects his East Asian heritage, while his deep brown-black eyes hold the depth of someone far more mature than his age. His jet-black haori flutters gently in the breeze, the blue flame patterns on his sleeves seeming to dance under the light, creating a mysterious illusion. In contrast to his dignified aura, he quietly trims each branch with unwavering focus.
Joon-soo and Zihao approach. Without turning his head, Shinji speaks, his tone calm but not cold:
"A bonsai only becomes a true work of art when its owner understands patience. Rushing leads only to death."
Zihao raises an eyebrow, about to respond, but Shinji sets his scissors down and turns to face his two friends.
"Joon-soo-san, Zihao-dono, what brings you here?"
Joon-soo crosses his arms, a smirk tugging at his lips, as if holding onto an intriguing secret.
"Strengthening the group."
Shinji does not react, merely lifting the bonsai pot and rotating it, evaluating each leaf.
"Specifically?"
"We want to rename the group," Joon-soo says, now serious. "The New Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Alliance."
Shinji's hand stills. A breeze sweeps through, sending cherry blossoms spinning in the air. Slowly, he sets the bonsai down and looks Joon-soo in the eye.
"That name is ridiculous."
Joon-soo stiffens but immediately launches into a passionate speech about the historical, political, and unifying significance of the name for those from East Asia and Southeast Asia. Shinji does not interrupt, listening silently, his gaze still fixed on the half-trimmed bonsai.
When Joon-soo finishes, Shinji picks up his scissors and resumes trimming.
"Just call it The Strays."
"Absolutely not!" Joon-soo protests.
"So The Strays will become a real group, then?" Shinji asks, his tone free of sarcasm.
"That's right." Zihao nods firmly.
Shinji exhales softly, setting the scissors down again. His brown-black eyes gleam with a mix of pity and realism.
"A group of fourteen-year-olds, led by a bunch of fourteen-year-olds? Do you really think anyone will take such a group seriously?"
Joon-soo opens his mouth to argue, but Zihao stops him. Shinji continues:
"Your group is too small. Compared to other former slave groups—like An Guihui's 1,000 people, the Chun-hei Sisterhood with 120 female members, the Indochinese Communist Youth League with 300 members, the Iron Horde with 280 fighters—or even large organizations like Edison Industry with 2,000 people, your group is nothing more than a grain of sand in the desert."
Zihao nods but remains composed.
"Then, in your opinion, what should we do?"
Shinji does not hesitate.
"Seek help from UEC. If you're serious about building an organization, you can't rely on just a group of nine." His eyes darken. "The biggest threat is the Sapphic Cult—a group that has existed for over 500 years with tens of thousands of members. Do you really think nine people can stand against something like that?"
Joon-soo grits his teeth.
"I refuse to believe there's no way."
Zihao interjects, his tone calmer.
"And if UEC refuses to help?"
Shinji's hand stills. A brief silence lingers before he chuckles lightly.
"Then, I'll fight alongside you."
Joon-soo scoffs, crossing his arms in frustration.
"But we're not using the name 'New Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Alliance.' "
Joon-soo pouts, visibly sulking, before turning and heading toward the city. Zihao lingers a moment, his eyes drifting toward Shinji's wooden house, curiosity flickering in his mind.
"Shinji-dono, why doesn't your house have a single nail?"
Shinji smiles slightly, his hand brushing over a joint in the wall.
"This is the Kigumi technique. It relies on absolute precision in the joints to hold the entire structure together without the need for any nails. More than that, it makes the house far more resistant to earthquakes."
Under the simple yet sturdy wooden eaves, Zihao watches Shinji's house intently. Not a single nail has been used, yet its structure remains astonishingly firm. He reaches out, running his fingers along one of the joints, feeling the seamless fit without the slightest gap.
Shinji, still casually adjusting the bonsai branches, notices the curious gaze and looks up, speaking in an even tone:
"Are you wondering why there are no nails, Zihao-dono?"
Zihao nods, his eyes still fixed on the intricate design.
"This is Kigumi, a traditional Japanese woodworking technique." Shinji speaks slowly, his hand gliding over the smooth wood. "Instead of using nails or glue, Japanese craftsmen devised a way to join wooden beams through interlocking mortises and tenons, aligned with millimeter precision. A house built with Kigumi can last for centuries, standing strong even through earthquakes."
He steps toward a pillar, pointing at the connection between the wooden joints.
"Look here. This is Tsugite, a joint technique for horizontal beams. This is Shikuchi, which ensures the wooden pieces fit so tightly that no glue is needed. And over here is Kane-tsugi, an L-shaped joint that reinforces the corners of the house. These techniques have been passed down for generations, refined over time, until each joint fits perfectly—so precisely that once assembled, they become a single entity."
Zihao runs his hand along the joint, tracing the fine wood grain.
"Incredible. No nails, no adhesives, yet this structure is this strong."
Shinji smiles faintly, his voice tinged with quiet pride.
"Because it's not just a technique—it's a philosophy."
Zihao raises an eyebrow, intrigued.
"What do you mean?"
Shinji meets Zihao's gaze, his eyes steady.
"It's the difference between a civilization rooted in tradition and one that depends on..."
Zihao crosses his arms, ponders for a moment before responding:"I don't deny the beauty and value of tradition. But the world is changing faster than ever. If we keep holding on to old things, how can a nation keep up with progress?"
Shinji brushes his black hair back slightly, smirks."What do you think progress is, Zihao-dono? Chasing after Western trends, losing your own culture? You see, Japan's Kigumi architecture still exists after centuries without having to imitate anyone."
Zihao nods, but doesn't entirely agree."However, if a people only cling to the past, they become a living museum instead of a truly developing society. Innovation and adaptation don't mean losing identity, but expanding it."
Shinji places the bonsai pruning scissors back on the table, speaks slowly:"But to what extent? When a nationaccepts too much foreign influence, do they still remain themselves? Look around you—how many civilizations have collapsed just because they chased after the 'progress' you speak of?"
Zihao smiles faintly, his eyes gleaming with sharpness."But how many nations have grown strong because they dared to embrace the new? You can name the civilizations that have vanished, but I can name the civilizations that have risen thanks to cultural exchange."
Shinji crosses his arms, tilts his head in thought."You believe that globalization is the future, while I believe that preserving identity is the core. So how can a peoplemaintain their identity when everything around them constantly changes?"
Zihao replies slowly:"By controlling the change, not resisting it. A strong culture isn't a closed culture, but one that knows what to preserve and what to adopt."
Shinji narrows his eyes."So, do you think that all cultures are equal?"
Zihao answers without hesitation."No. But I believe that every culturehas its own value. What about you?"
Shinji nods slowly."I don't believe in cultural equality either. Some cultures are stronger, some are weaker. But I believe that a people can only survive if they believe in their own value rather than following others."
Zihao smiles, a flicker of amusement in his eyes."You're more conservative than I expected, Shinji."
Shinji shrugs."And you're too idealistic, Zihao-dono."
Zihao chuckles, then gazes back at the Kigumi wooden house once more."Maybe we'll never see eye to eye, but I still respect your perspective."
Shinji nods slightly."Just as I respect yours. But if you want to lead a group, you must have a firm stance. And prove that you can guide it."
Zihao remains silent for a moment, then smiles lightly."I will prove it."
Shinji smiles slightly, bows his head."We'll see."
Zihao nods, finds it quite interesting. He bows his head.— Thank you for the lesson. I'll be going now.
Shinji stands still, watches Zihao's silhouette fade into the distance, his mind lingering on the path ahead for The Strays—a path filled with obstacles, yet brimming with opportunities.