The ships ran aground on a stretch of pale sand wrapped in low, drifting mist, jungle rising dense and dark just beyond the tree line.
Strange fruits hung heavy and faintly luminous from branches overhead, and somewhere deep in the canopy, something large enough to matter let out a long, distant roar that made more than a few first-years freeze mid-step off the gangway.
Yuji hit the sand first, cracking his knuckles, thunder sparking faint and eager around his fists.
“Now it’s time,” he said, more to himself than anyone.
“I’m going to find that Nagi boy and show him exactly who he’s dealing with.”
Mikey turned toward him, wind stirring lazily around his shoulders, his usual ease replaced by something flatter.
“What are you talking about? We’re here to survive. Not hunt each other down.”
Yuji kept walking like he hadn’t heard him.
“Time to go find him.”
Mikey stepped directly into his path.
“Just so we’re clear,” he said, voice even but carrying real weight now, “I’m the strongest person in this group, which makes me the one calling the decisions. Not you. Chasing after someone for a grudge doesn’t make you stronger — it makes you stupid. I didn’t earn AA rank hunting down first-years who annoyed me.”
Beside him, Kei’s voice slid in cool and unhurried.
“He’s right. You’re a first-year. Learn from people who’ve actually survived this island before. Focus on staying alive.”
“Come on, but—” Yuji started.
“But nothing.” Mikey cut him off without raising his voice, which somehow landed harder than if he had.
“Right now, you’re the weakest person on this beach. Doesn’t matter whose bloodline you carry. This is embarrassing. I expected more out of you.”
Yuji’s jaw tightened, thunder guttering out at his fingertips.
He didn’t argue further.
He just glared, and let it go — for now.
Further down the beach, Nagi’s group had gathered near the tree line, mist still curling low around their ankles.
“Wow — nice to meet you, Princess! Your Highness!” Gota’s voice cracked slightly on the honorific, nerves and excitement tangled together.
Kakame bowed a shade deeper.
“Your Highness. Truly an honor.”
Nagi stood a few steps back, unmoved, waiting to see how the moment resolved itself.
Nicolle laughed, easy and unbothered by the formality.
“Please — just Nicolle. We’re a group now, all four of us. Let’s actually work together instead of bowing at each other.”
The group moved to the jungle’s edge and got to work without much further ceremony.
Gota hauled branches with the kind of effortless strength that made heavy things look like nothing.
Kakame sent thin shadow tendrils slipping ahead through the underbrush, scouting the immediate area for anything with teeth.
Nagi knelt near the frame of a half-built shelter, tying vines into place with quiet, practiced patience.
Nicolle wandered over and crouched beside him, watching his hands work for a moment before speaking.
“Nagi, right? That’s your name?”
He glanced up.
“Huh? Uh — yeah.”
She tilted her head, studying him with open curiosity.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
“I talk.” A vine pulled taut under his hands.
“If there’s something worth saying.”
That got a real laugh out of her — small, genuine.
“Fair enough. So — want to be friends? Since we’re stuck on this island together, might as well make it fun where we can.”
Nagi considered that for exactly as long as it took him to tie off the next knot.
“Sure. No problem, Princess.”
“Just Nicolle,” she reminded him, smiling.
He nodded once, and after a beat, asked, mostly out of the same easy curiosity she’d shown him, “What’s your magic, anyway?”
“Mine? Not much, honestly. I can shape ice if there’s water nearby.” She hesitated, something a little more careful entering her voice.
“And there’s this holy power in me too. If I’m holding a holy sword, it—”
“Stop.” The word came out faster than Nagi meant it to, sharp enough to surprise even him.
Something in his chest had drawn tight the instant she said the word *holy* — a pressure behind his eyes, brief and unpleasant, gone almost as fast as it arrived, like a held breath he hadn’t realized he was holding until it let go.
“Don’t — I don’t need to hear about the holy stuff. I think I’m better off not knowing.”
Nicolle blinked at him, caught off guard.
“Oh. Okay… is it really that serious a thing?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He kept his voice calm, steady, like the last ten seconds hadn’t happened at all.
“Let’s just focus on the shelter and finding food before it gets dark. That’s the mission.”
She studied him a moment longer, curiosity not quite satisfied, before letting it drop and reaching for a nearby vine to help.
By the time the light started turning gold through the canopy, the two groups had drifted well apart — Yuji’s crew moving deeper into the jungle with tension still simmering just under the surface, Mikey’s calm authority the only thing keeping it from boiling over.
On the beach, Nagi’s group had a shelter frame standing and a small pile of fruit Nicolle had deemed probably safe, the four of them settling into something that almost resembled teamwork.
Nagi tied off the last vine and sat back, wiping his hands on his pants, already half-forgetting the strange, sharp discomfort that had moved through him at a single word.
He didn’t notice that his hands, for just a moment while he’d said *stop*, had been trembling slightly — not from fear, and not from exertion, but from something underneath both that hadn’t yet found a name it was willing to answer to.
*End of Chapter 13*