Early morning.
The sea breeze, accompanied by the sound of waves, played a gentle, steady tune.
Aoyama sat up from beside the embers of the campfire, stretching his stiff shoulders.
Kasumigaoka’s taste…
He had barely slept last night.
Not because of the environment, but because he’d spent half the night tossing and turning with a certain someone wearing a black lace “stepmother” dress and stockings.
He glanced sideways.
Kasumigaoka Utaha was wrapped in his school jacket, curled up on a bed made of coconut leaves.
Her long, straight black hair was a bit messy, scattered across her face, and her breathing was even and deep.
Aoyama didn’t wake her.
However, when he picked up the thermos and shook it, he found that the mountain spring water inside had run dry.
They had consumed almost all the water they brought.
Now, they needed to find a fresh water source.
Even though we brought a few bottles of mineral water from the boat, we still need to make plans early.
Aoyama screwed the lid back on.
Just as he was thinking about today’s schedule, a rustling sound came from behind him.
“Mmm…
Aoyama-kun…
you woke up so early.” Kasumigaoka Utaha’s voice was thick with the sleepiness of someone who had just woken up.
She propped herself up to sit, the school jacket slipping from her shoulder to reveal the collar of the black lace “stepmother” dress underneath.
Her stockings, wrinkled after a night of activity, had a hole at the left knee.
Aoyama glanced at her and set the thermos aside.
“We’re almost out of water.
We need to head back to the shelter today to refill.” Kasumigaoka Utaha rubbed her eyes, her mind clearing a bit.
“Go back the way we came?” “Yeah.” Aoyama stood up and straightened the clothes piled nearby.
“You should change.
You can’t keep walking through the jungle in that dress.” Kasumigaoka Utaha looked down at herself, a slight smile tugging at her lips.
“Are you complaining that I look too good, Aoyama-kun?” “I’m worried about you getting scratched by branches.” Aoyama’s expression remained impassive as he handed her the ordinary clothes they’d scavenged from the shipwreck yesterday.
“Wear this.
Long sleeves and pants—it’ll be easier to walk in.” Kasumigaoka Utaha took the clothes and unfolded them.
It was a dark gray long-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose-fitting dark pants, along with a pair of shoes that weren’t a perfect fit but were wearable.
She raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, stepping behind a rock to change.
A few minutes later, she emerged.
The long-sleeved shirt was tucked into her waistband, and the pant cuffs were rolled up twice, giving her a much cleaner and more practical look.
The “stepmother” dress, stockings, and school jacket had all been neatly folded and stuffed into her backpack.
“Is this acceptable, Aoyama-kun?” she asked, spinning halfway around in front of him.
“Is this conservative enough?” “Perfect.” “Hmph.” Kasumigaoka Utaha pursed her lips, but a hint of a smile lingered in her eyes.
She didn’t mind this kind of possessiveness—the kind that meant only he could see her like this.
“Let’s go, before the sun gets too hot.” Aoyama shouldered his backpack, which was bristling with weapons.
Rebar, a fire axe, a compound bow, a longsword…
he even had a machete strapped to his waist.
He looked like a walking armory.
He handed the fish crossbow to Kasumigaoka Utaha.
“Take this for self-defense.
It’s compact and efficient—better than a longsword in the woods.” Kasumigaoka Utaha took it, weighing it in her hand.
Though small, the crossbow was solidly built, its string drawn taut.
“Let’s move.” They retraced their steps, pushing through the scrub at the beach’s edge and plunging back into the dense interior of the island.
The sun hadn’t yet reached its zenith.
Light filtered through the canopy in layers, casting dappled shadows on the ground.
The humidity was high, and the air was thick with the scent of humus and damp earth.
“Stay close.” Aoyama led the way, his machete clearing vines and branches with steady, purposeful strides.
Kasumigaoka Utaha followed behind, occasionally glancing back at their trail, her senses on high alert.
After about half an hour of walking, a sudden rustle sounded from the brush ahead.
Aoyama froze, raising his left hand to signal Utaha to stop.
“What is it?” Utaha immediately halted, her grip tightening on the fish crossbow.
They held their breath, listening.
The sounds in the thicket grew more pronounced—the heavy movement of a large creature through the brush, the dry rasp of scales against fallen leaves.
Aoyama slowly switched his machete to his right hand, his voice a low murmur.
“Step back two paces.” Utaha obeyed, retreating as she raised the crossbow, aiming its tip toward the source of the noise.
She remained silent, her gaze locked on the swaying bushes.
Hiss—!
The next second, a dark brown and black python with faint patterns lunged from the brush.
Its body, five or six meters long and thick as a small bowl, bore a raised, triangular head that flicked out a forked tongue.
Startled by their footsteps, it was already in a clear attack posture.
“That’s a huge snake,” Aoyama muttered, his eyes narrowing.
The moment the python lunged with its jaws open, Aoyama’s machete swung down in a powerful diagonal slash, striking precisely just behind its head.
The blade sliced through scales and muscle, meeting almost no resistance.
The python’s body convulsed violently, its tail thrashing against the ground and sending fallen leaves and loose soil flying.
“Got you while you were down.” Aoyama didn’t stop.
He followed up with a second strike, completely severing the snake’s spine.
After a few seconds, the python went limp, only its tail twitching faintly with residual nerve impulses.
Kasumigaoka Utaha lowered the fish crossbow, walked closer to the fallen snake, and then looked at Aoyama.
“…Aoyama-kun, you’re getting more and more impressive.
You didn’t even blink while you were chopping it.” “You get used to it.” Aoyama knelt down and used the tip of his machete to poke the python’s carcass.
Only when he was certain it was completely still did he let his guard down.
He scraped the machete against a nearby tree trunk twice and said, “The skin could be used for a lot of things once dried, but we don’t have time to deal with it now.” The two continued forward.
After another twenty minutes of walking, the light filtering through the trees suddenly brightened, revealing a relatively open slope ahead.
As Aoyama’s gaze swept across the ground, he noticed movement in a nearby thicket.
A grayish-brown wild hare was crouching there, nibbling on blades of grass.
Its ears were standing straight up, clearly alerted to the approaching footsteps.
“Squeak!!” Without hesitation, Aoyama drew the compound bow from his back with a reverse grip, nocked an arrow, drew the string, and aimed.
The sound of the arrow leaving the bow was short and sharp.
Thwip—!
Before the hare could even leap up, it was pinned to the ground by the arrow, struggling twice before going still.
My enhanced body is incredibly useful, Aoyama thought.
Whether it was his reaction speed or his vision, it was like he had a cheat code enabled.
If he got the chance, he’d even try to catch some eagles for food.
Of course, dragonflies—those veterans of the animal kingdom—had what could only be compared to the ‘Byakugan’ from Naruto.
Three hundred and sixty degrees, no blind spots.
They can see everything around them without even turning their heads.
And they can even see ultraviolet light and polarized light that humans can’t perceive?
Unfortunately, he hadn’t seen any dragonflies.
Otherwise, he would have made a point of eating one.
Kasumigaoka Utaha, who had witnessed the entire process from behind, walked over to examine the hare.
“Aoyama-kun, shall we have roasted rabbit for lunch?” “Yeah.” “Too bad we don’t have any chili peppers,” Aoyama said as he walked over and picked up the hare.
“Otherwise, spicy rabbit head would have been great.” He pulled out the arrow, tied the hare’s legs with a thin vine, and hung it from the side of his backpack.
“This one’s a good size.
It’ll be enough for two meals.” These minor incidents didn’t slow their progress.
After another hour of walking, the surrounding vegetation gradually became familiar.
Aoyama recognized the crooked tree ahead; they were already very close to the shelter.
However, as he rounded the crooked tree and the shelter’s entrance came into view, he suddenly stopped.
Kasumigaoka Utaha nearly bumped into his back.
“What’s wrong, Aoyama-kun?” she asked in a low, confused whisper.
Aoyama didn’t answer immediately.
His gaze was fixed on the muddy ground at the shelter’s entrance.
There were clear footprints there—shallow, but with distinct outlines.
They were human.
“There’s someone inside,” Aoyama said, his voice low and steady, yet laced with alertness.
Kasumigaoka Utaha’s expression instantly turned serious.
She pressed herself against his side and followed his gaze, spotting the footprints.
Her finger instinctively rested on the trigger guard of her fish crossbow.
“…” “Stay here.
Don’t make a sound.” Aoyama slowly slid the backpack off his shoulders and set it down in a nearby bush.
He then unslung his compound bow and longsword, keeping only the machete in his hand.
Kasumigaoka Utaha stared at him, her lips pressed thin, but she finally nodded.
“Be careful.” Aoyama said no more, gripping the machete as he moved toward the shelter’s entrance.
His steps were light, each one landing on the firm ground where fallen leaves were sparse, producing almost no sound.
As he neared the cave’s mouth, he pressed himself against the rock wall, holding his breath for a moment.
“…” The interior was silent, save for the faint, barely audible sound of breathing.
Aoyama’s brow furrowed slightly.
He held the machete across his chest and slipped into the shelter.
Light from the entrance spilled in, dispelling the shadows within the cave.
The first thing Aoyama saw was a small figure crouching beside the supplies.
She was so frail she looked as if a gust of wind could blow her away.
Silver-white hair fell in a messy tangle around her face, and a pair of watery blue eyes stared straight at him, wide with terror and wariness.
“Ah…
I—!” She wore a pink outfit, its hem stained with dirt and grass.
Barefoot, she crouched in the corner of the rock wall, clutching a half-eaten piece of dried crocodile meat.
She looked as if she had been startled mid-bite, still holding the meat in her hand, unable to set it down.
Her pupils constricted sharply as she saw the machete in Aoyama’s hand, still stained with python blood.
She shrank further into the corner, her body trembling slightly.
“I…
I didn’t know anyone was here…” Her voice was as thin as a mosquito’s buzz, trembling noticeably.
“I’ll leave…
I’ll leave right now…” Aoyama didn’t move.
His gaze swept over the items in the shelter.
Nearly half of the wild grapes were gone.
Several pieces of dried crocodile meat had been eaten, and nearby lay a peeled wild fruit skin and a few pits.
The food had definitely been eaten.
“…” Seeing him stare at the leftovers, the white-haired girl’s face turned even paler.
She lowered her head in panic, her voice nearly breaking into sobs.
“I-I’m sorry…
I was just so hungry…” “I…
I saw food…
I…” She stammered, her voice growing softer and softer until it was barely a whisper.
Her fingers gripped the half-piece of dried meat tightly, her entire body shaking like a leaf in the wind.