Chapter 7: The Common Tongue and the High Pasture

The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the clearing. The three subordinate warriors immediately formed a protective perimeter around the injured woman, their machetes still drawn, while speaking to her in a rapid, guttural language of sharp consonants and clicking sounds.

Takuya watched them closely. An isolated dialect, he thought. Establishing smooth communication is going to take weeks of immersion.

The largest of the warriors—a man built like a mountain, with broad shoulders and a thick, braided beard—wiped his steel blade on a patch of ferns and turned his intense gaze toward Takuya.

Takuya took a slow breath, his political instincts kicking in. How do you greet an unknown civilization? A bow might be seen as submission. Raised hands might be interpreted as a threat. He needed a gesture that conveyed equality and peaceful intent.

Stepping forward, Takuya maintained steady eye contact. He extended his right hand, keeping his palm open and empty.

The large warrior looked at the hand, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he reached out and gripped Takuya’s forearm in a warrior’s clasp. Takuya adapted instantly, gripping the man’s leather-clad forearm in return. A firm, solid hold.

Without breaking eye contact, Takuya used his free hand to gesture toward Kaguya, then pointed to the bleeding woman, mimicking the motion of binding a wound. We can help her. Let my brother heal her.

The warrior’s eyes shifted to Kaguya, taking in the clean, confident stance of the surgeon. The large man gave a single, gruff nod and stepped aside.

“Communication established,” Takuya muttered to Kaguya. “You’re up.”

Kaguya didn’t waste a second. He knelt beside the woman, his eyes immediately assessing the trauma. “Deep laceration to the anterior deltoid and clavicular region. Heavy arterial hemorrhaging,” Kaguya narrated his findings out loud, a habit from his operating room days.

He looked at Takuya and Inori. “A tourniquet is useless here. You cannot apply a tourniquet to a junctional hemorrhage at the shoulder joint; there’s no limb to compress against the bone. I need to pack the wound directly to create hemostasis, then apply a heavy pressure dressing. I need cloth. Clean cloth, right now.”

Inori immediately reached for the hem of his ruined shirt, but before he could tear it, a large, calloused hand reached into Kaguya’s field of vision, offering a thick, relatively clean roll of woven linen.

“Here, you can use mine,” a deep voice said.

“Oh, excellent tensile strength. Thank you,” Kaguya replied casually, taking the linen and immediately packing it deep into the wound to apply direct pressure to the severed artery.

Takuya and Inori froze. They slowly turned their heads, their jaws slightly slack, staring at the large warrior standing beside them.

“Huh?!” Inori blurted out.

The big warrior crossed his muscular arms, raising an eyebrow. “What now?”

“You understand us?!” Takuya practically shouted, his diplomatic composure shattering for a fraction of a second.

“You can use our language?!” Inori echoed, pushing his glasses up his nose in sheer disbelief.

The warrior let out a booming laugh that shook his broad chest. “Of course I can speak the common tongue. Why wouldn’t I?”

Takuya blinked, trying to reset his brain. “We apologize for our rudeness. We were just… completely surprised. We assumed you couldn’t speak our language based on the conversation you were having with the injured woman.”

“Ah, no worries,” the warrior smiled, gesturing to the woman on the ground, whose bleeding was already slowing under Kaguya’s expert hands. “She comes from a very secluded tribe deep in the Great Jungle. Her village was wiped out by a swarm of monsters a year ago. She and two others are the only survivors we found. The other two learned the common tongue quickly, but she struggles with it. So, we had her friends teach us a few phrases of her native dialect to keep her calm.”

A common tongue, Takuya thought, a massive wave of relief washing over him. The sociological implications were staggering. If there was a standardized language across this continent, it meant trade, diplomacy, and shared history existed.

“I see,” Takuya quickly regained his composure, slipping back into his element. “Please forgive my late introduction. My name is Takuya. This is Inori, and the one currently saving your friend is Kaguya. We are brothers.”

The warrior tapped his chest with a heavy fist. “My name is Lacy. I’m the leader of this hunting party.” He gestured to the other three warriors who were keeping watch. “And judging by your strange, thin clothes and complete lack of armor, I can guess you aren’t from around here. Where exactly did you come from?”

Takuya and Inori locked eyes for a fraction of a second. A silent agreement passed between them. The truth—that they crashed a car into a glowing machine in Tokyo and teleported across the universe—would get them labeled as lunatics or dangerous sorcerers.

Takuya put on a perfectly practiced expression of grim sorrow. “We… aren’t entirely sure, Lacy.”

Lacy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We believe we were involved in a terrible accident,” Takuya lied smoothly, weaving a believable narrative. “We aren’t from this region. We can’t remember exactly what happened. When we finally opened our eyes, we were already lost deep in the canopy jungle to the north. The only things we clearly remember are our names and the fact that we are brothers. We’ve been wandering in the jungle for days, barely surviving. Stumbling into your group was an absolute miracle.”

Lacy looked at their ruined, dirt-stained modern suits, their crude bamboo spears, and the sheer exhaustion on their faces. The lie was entirely plausible.

“Memory loss from a head strike is common enough,” Lacy sighed, his tone softening with sympathy. “It’s alright. You survived the deep canopy, which is a feat in itself. And it seems your brother has finished the treatment.”

Kaguya secured the final knot on the pressure dressing, wiping his bloody hands on the grass. “The hemorrhage is contained. She is stabilized, but she cannot walk. She needs a sterile environment to prevent infection.”

Lacy nodded gratefully. “We will carry her back to our high pasture for proper healing.” He looked at the three brothers, his expression turning serious. “So, what are you going to do now? The wolves you saw were just a scouting pack. When the rest of the pack realizes their Alpha is dead, they will track the scent back to this clearing. It is not safe for you to stay here.”

“Can we accompany you?” Inori asked practically.

Lacy shook his head. “I am sorry, Inori. Our high pasture is hidden for a reason. Taking outsiders—even ones who saved our lives—breaks our oldest laws. For security reasons, I cannot bring you there.”

Takuya nodded, fully understanding the politics of a nomadic tribe protecting its borders. “We respect your laws, Lacy. Knowing each other’s names does not entitle us to bypass your security. However, if that is the case… could we request an escort? Just point us toward the nearest town or human settlement. It would mean everything if you could travel with us until we find a safe place to establish ourselves.”

Lacy rubbed his bearded chin, looking at his three warriors. He spoke to them briefly in the common tongue, their voices low. After a few moments, Lacy turned back, a determined look in his eyes.

“You used that dead beast to distract the Alpha, saving my men,” Lacy said. “To return the gesture of saving our lives, I will personally stay with you and guide you until we reach the borders of a civilized settlement. My men will take the woman back to the pasture.”

Takuya extended his hand again, gripping Lacy’s rough, calloused palm. “Thank you so much for your help, Lacy.” Takuya allowed a genuine smile to break across his face.

They were finally leaving the wilds behind.

“Let me demonstrate the most efficient method to transport her,” Kaguya interrupted, stepping over to the remaining warriors. “It’s called a pack-strap carry. It distributes her weight across your core rather than your arms, allowing you to move faster through the brush.”

As Kaguya clinically instructed the rugged warriors on modern rescue carries, Takuya stepped back, his mind already racing ahead.

Everything was about to change. The survival phase was ending; the societal phase was beginning. He was excited to see the architecture, the economy, and the political structure of this world. But a cold knot of worry remained in his chest.

We have no currency, no status, and we look like aliens, Takuya muttered internally. We don’t know how the local humans will react to us. We need to secure suitable clothes to blend in immediately. There is so much to do. He watched the warriors hoist the injured woman flawlessly using Kaguya’s method. They were walking into a new society blind, but for the first time since waking up under the alien stars, Takuya felt like he finally had a board to play his pieces on.