Genma looked up, seeing the post the man meant suddenly obvious, though he couldn't recall it having been there only a moment before. It was a thick, solid, weathered wooden thing, square, perhaps three meters tall, and bearing direction and distance markers with names of various locations. They seemed to be written in a language he was unfamiliar with.
It was a heavy post, leaning at an angle just shy of toppling altogether over. He put some muscle into it and straightened the pole.
Rules. There were rules.
And it wasn't even strange that the man kept calling him 'son' and 'my boy'. He was a youthful-looking but older man of indeterminate age. He was entitled, sort of like a grandfather.