Chapter 35

Under Yoshimura Yu's command, Squad Seven made a spectacularly bad call.

"Don't worry about me! Go after him—he has to be nearby!"

Yu's left leg was wedged between two slabs of rock; the trap was crude and nasty—a sheet of turf laid over a fissure in the hillside. One careless step and the whole hillside swallowed you.

If they'd been seasoned detectives, Yu's order might have sounded decisive: waste no precious minutes on the immobile, catch the fugitive first, circle back later.

Trouble was, the three cadets still on their feet were raw rookies who hadn't even graduated.

They exchanged blank stares. Hidenori decided to stick to the original route toward the "sighting point," and the trio skirted the fissure at a brisk trot, stubborn as honey-badgers with helmets.

Instructor Shirata hesitated, then followed. There were no large predators in these hills; leaving a stuck cadet alone shouldn't end in disaster—probably.

Yu cursed Fushimi Shika under his breath. He stood in the funnel-shaped crevasse, staring up at the mouth above, thick weeds blotting out the sky. Footsteps faded, swallowed soon by birdsong.

Minutes crawled. Helplessness crept in like damp. At first it was only a prickle of unease, but the longer he waited, the narrower the walls seemed to press, until breathing itself became work.

"Well, well. If it isn't our Class Leader—what're you doing down there all alone?"

A familiar voice drifted from the rim.

Yu tilted his head; no silhouette. He recognized Shika instantly and opened his mouth to yell for help, but Shika spoke first, conversational:

"Scream and I'll piss straight into your mouth."

"...Huh?"

Yu was sure he'd misheard.

Shika, perched at the lip of the crack, unscrewed his canteen cap with deliberate calm. "Hand over the map, or the watering begins."

"Wait, Fushimi, this is just the graduation exam! You're a cop-in-training—how can you even—"

Before Yu could finish, Shika tipped the canteen. A thin silver stream arced down, pattering off stone and uniform.

"Aaa—! You're actually—!"

Yu thrashed, twisting away from the falling line. He yanked the folded map from his belt and thrust it upward. "Stop! Take it!"

Shika plucked the map, unfolded it, and nodded to himself. Sure enough, the sheet marked his drop-off—the so-called "sighting point." Fifty-two cadets scouring a hill barely seventeen square kilometers, and they'd even sketched the probable search grid. Target practice, not hide-and-seek.

Even if he reached the finish line using that map, Instructor Shirata would invent another reason to fail him.

"Compass too," Shika said, tucking the map away.

Yu's mind raced; clearly Shika had drawn different gear. "What compass? They didn't issue me one."

"Then how were you reading a map?" Shika countered.

"Basic fieldcraft—navigate by the stars. Part of the test, right?" Yu stalled, praying the others would double back.

Stars, in broad daylight. Shika's expression didn't shift. He opened a packet of compressed biscuits, soaked them, and shaped the mush into a neat oval. "Suit yourself. Suddenly I really need to take a dump."

"What—hold on—listen—"

"Can't hold it. Perfect hole right here. Waste not, want not."

Seeing Shika reach for his belt, Yu snapped. "You drop your pants and I'll fire a flare right up your steel backside!"

"Oh? You still have the gun?"

Shika decided Instructor Shirata was truly heartless. He lobbed the biscuit blob; it splattered beside Yu, drawing a howl of disgust: "You animal—did you just scoop that with your—"

"Next load's runnier," Shika warned, tearing open another packet.

Yu surrendered the compass, then—numb—flung out the flare gun, desperate for five minutes of silence.

Shika inspected it: a single red cartridge inside.

Yu explained that firing the flare meant "suspect sighted—request backup." Anyone who saw it would converge. He'd planned a small lie, but Shika saw through it instantly. Even after Yu came clean, Shika upended the second helping of biscuit slop.

"GYAAAAH—!"

Wind whistled across the ridge. Minamoto Tamako halted, ears pricked. "I think I just heard the Class Leader scream."

"Probably imagination," the Girl with Braided Pigtails muttered, glancing at Hidenori. "Did you hear anything?"

"Nope," he answered, bewildered.

They'd circled the sighting point and found no trace of Shika, so they turned back to rescue Yu. Halfway there, a crimson glare split the sky—a flare hung overhead, drifting down like a malevolent star.

"Someone's spotted Fushimi!" Tamako exclaimed, re-energized for a heartbeat—then her legs gave out. She collapsed, lungs burning.

They split up: Tamako stayed to recover; the other two sprinted toward the flare.

Watching Instructor Shirata's silhouette vanish into the pines, Tamako's heart sank. Falling behind first meant automatic point loss...maybe he'd already written her off.

She flopped across a boulder like discarded laundry, the cowlick on her head wilting. Cheek squished against her forearm, she wallowed in despair.

Finished...

My showdown with Fushimi-kun ended before it began? Unforgivable! If only I'd run extra laps every night... waaah...

After ten minutes of sulking, her internal battery crawled back to 5%. She slapped her cheeks. "Not yet! Come on, Tamako! You're not alone—you're carrying Kawai's share too!"

Limbs trembling, she grabbed a sturdy branch for a crutch and limped into the forest.

Twenty minutes of uphill hobbling later she spotted figures: two or three dozen cadets clustered in a hollow, murmuring in a tight ring.

"No way... they caught Fushimi already?"

Her stomach lurched; she forced herself faster.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.