“Next, gear check.”
“One tennis racket, three tennis balls, and the weighted sandbags on my wrists and ankles are still there.”
In order to keep up with those monster-tier athletes’ physical conditioning, Natsuka had never let up on training over the past few years.
And it was precisely because of that he’d managed to grow somewhat close with [Shadow] in the group.
That guy had once, in all seriousness, given him an appraisal.
Something along the lines of, “You have already shed the rank of background-mob extra and earned the qualification to have other people remember your name.”
Every time Natsuka thought of that line, he got fired up.
This old man is the protagonist to begin with, okay!?
“Pity that, unlike that guy, I don’t have any cure-all utility item like a crowbar on me…”
He patted himself down from head to toe.
Apart from the practical supplies he’d just inventoried, the only thing left was a schoolbag containing a spare set of athletic wear.
Inside it, there wasn’t so much as a single book.
That was only natural.
On any given day, Natsuka was either busy chasing the mysterious or busy running around dragging people into the group — when did he ever have time to settle down and actually study?
Having gotten a second life, in the very beginning he hadn’t been without thoughts of going the route of writing light novels, making cash by plagiarism, and securing early financial freedom.
But later on, once his money situation had stabilized a bit, what he ended up studying the most was, after all, the things he was really interested in.
Like chasing the Unseen Horizon.
Or, say, researching which kind of plot development looked most like an omen of transmigration.
Besides, when proper people went to school, weren’t they all in the habit of just dumping their books into their school desks?
“For the time being, this is about all I’ve got that can be of use.”
Natsuka re-sorted everything by category and packed it neatly away.
The phone he placed in the most accessible spot.
At a critical moment, this thing might just be usable as a “bomb.”
Even if not as a weapon, just by virtue of being a piece of modern technology alone, it could very well let him earn his first pot of gold in this world.
“Next, find a way to get out of this forest first.”
“I have a feeling this place isn’t quite right.”
Natsuka raised his head and gave the surroundings a careful sweep.
The wind passed through between the trees, rustling the leaves with a soft sound — a sound that, despite not being loud at all, still made his skin crawl a little.
Reflexively, he tightened his grip on the tennis racket in his hand.
This racket was roughly eighty centimeters long; once the racket face was held out, it could just about cover his chest and the better part of his head.
Truth be told — offense and defense in one — it could just barely pass as a weapon.
Once he had pressed down the earlier wave of excitement and unease over “I’ve transmigrated again,” Natsuka took a glance at the direction of the sun, picked a rough route, and started moving.
He’d been an athlete to begin with.
No matter how complex the forest terrain, he adapted to it much faster than any ordinary person could.
Stepping over twigs and leaves, scrambling up dirt slopes, vaulting over scattered rocks — his movements quickly fell into a smooth rhythm.
Even so, he walked through the forest for a full two hours, the sun starting to sink toward the west, and the scenery around him was still about the same.
Trees were still one tree after another.
Grass was still one patch joined to the next.
There was simply no end in sight.
“This forest, it’s way too huge, isn’t it…”
Natsuka came to a stop, wiped the sweat from his forehead, his breathing slightly ragged.
As the dusk gradually pressed down, in a spot close to a river he discovered a tree hollow that could just about serve as a hiding place, and so he immediately decided to call it a day here.
“A forest at night is bound to be more dangerous than during the day.”
“Even if I’ve had a bit of wilderness survival training before, I can’t afford to be careless.”
“Not to mention that I haven’t even figured out which world this is yet — who the hell knows what’ll come crawling out at night.”
“I might just have to brace myself to live in this forest for the long haul.”
The inside of the tree hollow wasn’t exactly large, but a single person could just barely curl up inside.
Natsuka pulled out the dry grass and a few edible wild fruits he’d been picking up along the way, and set them down by his feet.
Seeing the instant noodles still lying safe and sound inside his backpack, he felt his heart ease a bit.
“The temperature swing between day and night is a bit much.”
“Looks like tonight I’ll need to deal with warmth and a fire source first.”
On this point, however, he wasn’t all that panicked.
There were plenty of dry branches and withered leaves to be found nearby.
Natsuka quickly gathered up a small pile of firewood, and laid out the dry grass.
After that, he gripped his racket, took a few steps back to put some distance between himself and the pile, and with his hand behind his back fished out a tennis ball.
He gave the ball a light toss up into the air.
His body followed it up into a leap.
His arms surged with force, the motion as fluid as instinct.
“Hah!”
The racket sliced out with vicious force.
The high-speed spinning tennis ball was barely visible as more than a blur — with a sharp whoosh it pierced straight into the pile of dry grass.
The friction generated by that ultra-high spin rate took effect in an instant.
Very quickly, thin tendrils of white smoke began to curl up out of the dry grass.
Seizing the moment the tennis ball bounced back up, Natsuka immediately threw himself forward and started blowing fiercely at the smoking spot.
He had also taken the trouble earlier to stuff in a bit of easy-to-ignite plant fiber.
After a few breaths, a small tongue of flame at last wobbled its way out, trembling.
The moment that orange-red firelight flared up, the surroundings warmed up considerably.
“Though it’s not yet at the level of those ridiculous murder-tennis serves…”
“But using it just to start a fire, by this world’s standards, seems to count as pretty ordinary.”
Halfway through saying that, he himself fell silent.
“Ordinary my ass!”
“What normal human being can start a fire by playing tennis!”
Whatever the case, he had fire, and he had water — for the night, his most basic problems were, at least for the moment, kept in check.