Things didn't get better in the morning. No, in this cursed forest of bad luck, things could only get worse.
"What do you mean our food is gone, Hisaki?! You had one job…" Despite his visible rage, Umezaki's usually loud voice sounded strained and weak. He glared at the group's backpacks.
They were gutted like fish by animal claws, their contents strewn around like entrails. Everything edible inside was gone, even cans, as if animals here knew what they were and how to get them open.
Hisaki gulped. All he could think now—just like during the night, when he couldn't fall asleep even if he tried—was that this could have been him.
Torn apart and left to lie open like a carelessly thrown aside empty bag.
Umezaki didn't have the energy to keep talking. Yoshihito barely woke up at all this morning. In the end, they just drank some water and tried to come up with a plan.
Mostly Hisaki tried. The responsibility was daunting, but he did his best.
Although he wasn't very athletic, he tried to climb a tree to see the way out of the forest—and panicked after climbing only a meter upward. Hisaki barely climbed down, and swore off any further attempts because, "There's no way I can climb high enough to actually see a thing! I will just fall and die! Or find another wasp nest, or a snake, or a badger!"
Yoshihito didn't even point out that badgers didn't live in trees.
'If only I knew where to GO!' Hisaki thought, despondently. 'I could've left Umezaki and Yoshihito there and went to the lighthouse… got the treasure, returned to the car, and got help for them!'
But those were pipe dreams. The forest grew scarier and scarier every hour, and his companions were Hisaki's only comfort.
So together, they stayed where they were and hoped that help would find them sooner than death.
They didn't expect their hopes to be answered as soon as the noon of the same day.
First, Hisaki heard someone's footsteps. He immediately grabbed Umezaki's crowbar, preparing for anything. His companions were sleeping—unconscious—again, and he was on his own, and afraid.
The person who stepped from the forest didn't look dangerous, though.
He was a good decade younger than Hisaki—just a high school student with a painfully average face and placid, dull eyes. His clothes were just as average—jeans, a windbreaker, and a pair of sneakers. A small backpack was hanging from his shoulder.
The only strange part about this guy was a white rat perched on his shoulder.
"Hey, what are you doing here alone? Did you wander off from a school trip or something?" Hisaki asked. "Don't tell me you got lost, too…"
The teen shook his head and glanced at Hisaki's companions. "Not at all. Hm. Are there only three of you?"
He didn't move, act, or speak like teenagers should. He was too calm and too reserved—it was unnerving.
Hisaki frowned, but his desire to get help rendered him blind to the strangeness of the teenager. "Yeah. So, does that mean… Did you come for a treasure, too? Look, we can work together, I don't care that you are young. Clearly you have some luck or other thing to get this far! Just get my buddies to a hospital or something… Get them to the road and call an ambulance or something. Please?"
"Just answer me this first—there are really only three of you? No one left behind?"
"Nah, don't worry. Really! Although I wish there was… But the last buddy of ours dropped out at the last moment!"
"I see," the teenager nodded thoughtfully. "This makes sense. Do you know his home address?"
Hisaki clenched his crowbar tighter. "Wait, why would you need this? You are acting really weird out there… You aren't actually planning on helping us, are you?"
The teenager's eyes fell on Hisaki's improvised weapon and lit up with something appreciative.
The next thing that happened made no sense. The teenager outstretched his hand, and for a moment, Hisaki could've sworn he saw an outline of another arm over his.
Then the crowbar lurched out of his arms and flew right into the teenager's. The kid twirled it in his palm and walked toward Hisaki.
"W-wait, what are—What was that?! Umezaki, Yoshihito, wake up! Wake up!"
Umezaki groaned and tried to get up, but ended up only opening bleary eyes. Yoshihito moaned something through his fever and didn't move at all.
"Stop crying," the teen said, swinging the crowbar.
It landed on the arm Hisaki raised in protection. Something snapped inside—like a Pocky stick. Red-hot pain flashed through the limb, echoing throughout the entire body.
He couldn't obey the order if he tried—Hisaki cried out and fell to his knees, then sobbed in pain as tears trailed down his face. He tried to crawl back, away, AWAY from that person, but didn't make it even a meter.
The crowbar gently tapped his shoulder. The sheer fright was enough that Hisaki flinched and cried out again.
"Well? Do you know this man's home address? Tell me."
"I will! I will! Please! Please!" Hisaki was barely coherent at this point.
'Why can't I just lose consciousness like Yoshihito did?!' he thought.
Hisaki told the teenager with a crowbar the address of his friend, and when the teen asked, the time they last saw each other.
"Please… please, have mercy," Hisaki kept mumbling, not even registering the meaning of his words.
The teenager paused. His face was pensive for a while. Hisaki looked into his eyes without blinking, willing there to appear something… a shred of pity, at least? Something to hope for. Something to GIVE hope.
But then the teenager's eyes turned steely with determination.
"Mercy… say, I have it now. But if I do, would I have the strength to not have it later, when it counts?" he shook his head. "Even if you three look especially pitiful doesn't mean I should care."
And then, a head in a steel helmet covering its eyes appeared out of the teenager's chest. It turned toward Hisaki and grinned.
There was no mercy for the treasure hunters on that day.