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But for some reason, I always end up taking the hit. There's no way I'd know why.

"If there's something weird, should we just go home today?"

As a prelude to her reply, sis-punch flew at my cheek. Wincing, I put a hand to my mouth and pondered how to get this kid, whose actions spoke louder than words, to go home quietly.
If my sister got hurt or died, Mom would be sad.
Cowardly, I know.
Not that I really know.
It's not like I care.
Because it's not like I really knew if she'd actually be sad.

"If we go home like this,"
My sister grabbed me by the scruff of my neck, her words tumbling out with a sense of urgency, like she was egging me on, rattling them off.
But then she paused, her mouth fumbling for words.
The knife gripped in her hand was poised as if it could stab my neck at any moment.
Just five more centimeters.
"............It's boring, and pointless."
Her momentum deflated, my sister explained her reason in a small voice. It seemed like there was more to it, but there was no need for me to confirm.

"............Maybe so," I thought. The onigiri would be dismantled, returning to the rice cooker as plain salted rice.
There was nothing to do even if I went home, and besides, the "probably even weirder thing" at home called Dad was a person with a strong will, spoke clearly, and also doubled as "dangerous."
Ah, so it's less painful here than at home, I found myself thinking, discovering an escape route.

"For now, let's go take a look at that weird thing."
With those words, the one who calmed down the most wasn't my sister, but me.
Just like always, *not thinking about anything, huh,* and the stiffness in my shoulders eased. Giving up, I lost my strength.
Because I don't think about anything, I act.
And only after I'm done acting and have nothing left to do, do I finally start to think about something.

To head deeper into the mountains, we had no choice but to use animal trails. Since it was my first time entering the mountains, I had no option but to let my sister lead and guide the way, but after walking for just three minutes, I started to wonder if what she was indicating was even a path at all.

My sister climbed robustly up a path so steep that if I didn't grab onto the awkwardly growing trees on the slanted slope with both hands, I felt like I'd roll straight backward. It wasn't that she had a lot of stamina; rather, her movements showed she knew the knack of climbing, things like that. More efficient than me.

"...Ah." After climbing about halfway up, I instinctively looked back down. I forgot to lock my bike. What if it gets stolen? The time it takes to go back and forth on this mountain will more than double... But, on second thought, if there's no bike, there's no reason for me to escort my sister, huh. Besides, we're on a mountain where no one comes, so there's probably no one to steal it. And if no one's here, then if, for example, my sister and I died in these mountains, it would likely take a considerably long time for us to be found—I even speculated that far. I'm not worried about that at all.

I won't remain in the aftermath of my own death. So, there's no need to think about it.

The shadows of the trees growing freely all around were like scattered summer retreats. Since the sun was still at an angle, the leafy curtain neatly blocked the sunlight, making it dim. There wasn't even any sunlight filtering through the trees.

I wonder if my sister goes back and forth in places like this, devoid of light, to catch animals.

Just before the number of trees I'd grabbed reached ten, the struggle against gravity finally lessened, and the pathless path became just an open field. While my sister slightly shook her head, confirming her position or something, I came up beside her.

"That way," she said, looking up at my face and pointing. My sister, who could play "map games" on a mountain without traffic lights or police boxes, was a source of pride for me, so I really wanted to bury her under the ground.
・That's a lie, you know.
Now, back then, and even much later.

Even after my slightly dazed daydream ended, my sister was still staring at me. "What is it?" I tilted my head and asked. In a word, she replied, "Unreliable. And, it's close."

"Haaah... yeah." She's the one with the weapon, after all. If my weapons were Heart! Courage! Friendship! I wonder if I could live each day with a bit more baseless confidence.

Back then, lies were merely sarcasm directed at my grandfather's son; I didn't yet know how to use them for attack.

Because I lacked experience interacting with people. After this, the introverted boy would be curled up even further inward, and once the entire underside of his heart was exposed, it would spread out in all directions with a 'baaa~'. Something like, you know, an amoeba washed ashore, or a deep-sea fish, oozing out like that, *nubeeetto*.

Putting that aside, as I started walking after my sister, I noticed something. She was dragging her foot. Her right foot, the one caught in the wheel. Sweat on her forehead. And wrinkles between her brows, naturally. That's my sister for you.

"Does your foot hurt?"
"Not really," she said, deliberately kicking my knee with that very foot. Then, she wiped the sweat from her forehead with a towel (my shirt). Well, it doesn't seem like she's unable to move, so I guess it's fine. I'll be taking her home by bike on the way back anyway.

Perhaps because I pointed out her foot, my sister started striding forward with big steps. I could tell she was trying to show she was fine, but since she was using the bat like a cane, it might actually be having the opposite effect. Also, I wondered if it was okay for her to walk like that while wearing a skirt, and I worried unnecessarily about whether my sister could ever become a proper lady in the future. Little li-ie, fou-und one.

My sister and I moved through the gaps between the rows of trees, sometimes bumping our shoulders as if sticking to them. It somehow felt like a normal mountain climb, but the "weird thing" is a living creature, right? If so, it could have moved from the place where my sister found it,

Just as I thought that, my sister pulled my hand and crouched down into the tall grass. My bent right arm slammed onto the ground, making the back of my shoulder ache, but then my head was pushed further into the grass, leaving no time to even wince. And there was no way a tear-streaked face would ever make an appearance, at least not for me.

In a small, yet hard, pebble-like voice, my sister announced the discovery of "it." She pinched my hair, making me lift my lowered face just a little. My gaze was drawn to the gap between two trees.

The "weird thing" was, just as my sister had described, raising both its hands.
Shaggy. Bigger than my or my sister's mother. Right now, it was about to extinguish the gleam at its feet.
CLANG, the sound of metal piercing the ground echoed.

The shaggy part was its hair. My sister's mother isn't that tall, so it being "big" was also true, and as for killing animals, well, my sister does that too.
In other words, the "weird thing" was a human. And a very obvious one at that. Not some "Mr. So-and-so of the Forest," but just a human committing a massacre with a shovel, so I felt relieved. Humans are afraid of things they don't understand or can't communicate with. But if the other party is human, there's nothing that can't be understood. Though I might not be able to accept it.

The "weird thing" was a man, a local high schooler, a college student...? Anyway, he looked quite large. His features weren't particularly strange, his eyes weren't odd, and his skin wasn't pale and "sickly" looking. He had the kind of commonplace expression you'd expect to pass by on the street if your older brother ordered you to go buy a book, and he was staring at the shovel stuck in the ground at his feet.

He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and jeans, an outfit more suited for town than the mountains. His hair, which looked like it had been left untended, was messy and longer than that of an average woman.
But in complete contrast to that unkempt hair, his back was perfectly straight.
His breathing seemed rough and unsettled. He was probably tired from using the shovel and climbing the mountain. He had a slender build that, at a glance, didn't look like he had much stamina.

The legs of the stray dog lying at the feet of that "weird thing" were all still flailing. It was like an overturned turtle from a story, its legs unable to perform their function.
Again, the shovel was lifted by the "weird thing's" hand. After taking a deep breath, the metal tip descended upon some part of the stray dog.
A blow stronger than my sister's, yet clumsy. The stray dog, too, was writhing in what looked like extreme agony.
Perhaps the hand that struck had gone numb; the "weird thing" temporarily let go of the shovel and rubbed its hands together.

"Earlier, it was probably that rabbit," my sister whispered, her voice softer than rustling leaves, and tugged my ear.
The corpse of a rabbit, connected by the skin of its neck remaining on the protruding pink insides, was tied to the "weird thing's" waist with a string.
Like a child carrying a stuffed rabbit by its ears.
Swaying with the "weird thing's" movements, and lured by the swaying, blood dripped, dripped, flowing down like sobs.

"I wonder what he plans to do with that rabbit. Eat it."
"You think so?"
"No way. You can't eat it like that, all full of blood. ...You were the one who suggested that."

My whisper, "Maybe it's fashion, then?" was drowned out by the cries of the stray dog and the shovel. The stray dog foamed at the mouth, twitching vigorously as if freshly caught. "Like a fish," my sister next to me also muttered, so it seemed we had the same thought. The "weird thing" was also breathing heavily, shoulders heaving, and irritably pushed its hair back. The sight was like the anguish of a novelist who had passed midnight and hit their deadline. ...Hmm? I feel like I just used a really weird expression... Nah, it's just my imagination.

"If he kills that dog too, I wonder if he'll wear it on his hip. Tasteless."
"I don't know. Worker ant, hurry up and do something."
"Do something...?"
"He doesn't leave the meat he kills behind, so there's none for me. If that's the case, there's no point in coming here."
My sister, with a harsh look in her eyes, fumed at her prey being snatched away. *No, but, hey. Whoa there, whoa there.* Even if she tells me to take down someone playing animal control, that's just impossible. Because our weight classes are different. The fact that lies and reason don't work on her, like my being super flyweight, is a source of trouble for my sister. Huh, the "source of pride" has changed breeds. *Successful evil crossbreed!*—Back then, I wouldn't have lamented in such a roundabout way; I think I just honestly stammered, "Ah... um..."

Even I have to admit, I used to be quite pure and useless back then, I reflect deeply. Well, that's a lie, though.

It was hard to keep meeting my sister's eyes, so I had no choice but to observe the "weird thing."

"......Damn things, settling in wherever they please. Listen up, if you really want to live in human society, you need proper permission, okay? You animals, if no one needs you, you're just meat, or else a nuisance. Know your place and live, got it? ...Hmm, are you listening? Are your nerves even working?"

Muttering in a voice that sounded cracked, perhaps due to the volume, the "weird thing" lecturing something non-human left the shovel stuck in the ground and grabbed both of the dying stray dog's front paws, pulling them in opposite directions. Was it trying to split its crotch, or was it meddlesomely helping with flexibility exercises? Either way, it didn't seem like someone you could reason with. No, wait, that applies to my dear sister over here too. Arbitrarily doing things while ignoring territory negotiations or the landowner's opinion... I hesitated, shrinking back.

Perhaps protesting its treatment, the stray dog started yelping again, "kyan kyan."
In response, the "weird thing" had a cool, exasperated expression. As if not enjoying anything, nor having any particular inclination, just maintaining a normal flow of events.
Its upper and lower lips vibrated slightly. It probably told the stray dog, "You're noisy."

"Tha-at's why I said, don't bark. Without permission. Ahh, this is also a nuisance at night, you know."
The "weird thing" dropped the stray dog to the ground and stomped hard on its abdomen. Then it pulled out the shovel and forcibly shoved it into the mouth of the stray dog, which was struggling to breathe. The shovel was quite wide, so, of course,
*Squelch, squelch, rip.*
Huh?
"Gah!"

The stray dog, thoroughly toyed with and drained of stamina, could only suffer quietly. I naturally clenched my right fist. My nails dug sharply into my palm.
My sister, too, grimaced slightly. That expression wasn't because she was conveniently forgetting her own actions.
It's because my sister isn't interested in killing animals. Only in eating them. So, if cat, mole, or crayfish meat were lined up in the supermarket, my sister wouldn't kill anything, and I wouldn't have to work up a good sweat pedaling my bike. ...Hmm, at first glance it seems all good, but it's hampered by the major problem of sales, so the hard part is not being able to expect anything from supermarkets.

We minorities mustn't seek efficiency.
That applies not just to hobbies, but to our way of life, to all such things.
If you can't be a model human being, then no matter how inconvenient this beautiful world feels, you have no choice but to endure and live. Because society calls those who can't endure "criminals." End of story. Well then, shall we run for it?

That "weird thing" is dangerous. It has the same kind of aura as the "dangerous one" closest to me. If it discovers us, it's likely to see us not as humans, but as toys.
This time, I pulled my sister's ear to get her attention. My sister's sharp, narrow gaze pierced through me.

"When that thing finishes killing the stray dog and goes somewhere, let's go back down. There's nothing I can do."
"Then, I'll do it."

My sister put a knee down and started to stand up. I hurriedly tried to stop her and grabbed her wrist. Annoyed, my sister brushed my hand away—
But in that sister's left hand, a fruit knife that good children shouldn't use was gripped. I think even she herself had momentarily forgotten.
The cutter and the cut. Perhaps because both were unaware, my hand was sliced open cleanly and decisively. A stark red line was drawn from the center of my palm to just below my wrist.

"Oh, my." Even I couldn't remain detached from this, so I tried widening my eyes or rolling them around. But my attention was more focused on the "weird thing" than on the blood that was about to gush from the gaping wound. It was still just a colorful display, no sound yet. But if this continued, it would be bad.

"Ah..." I think that was the second time I'd seen my sister gasp.
The first time was when Mom, without holding back, slapped my sister hard across the face.

My sister knelt in the grass. Since she wasn't being careful, the grass rustled pleasantly. *Rustle, rustle,* so noisy. *Ah, well, we're caught now,* resignation settled heavily in my chest like a paperweight. Her personality, which comes out in such sudden moments, isn't that of a bad kid, I found myself admiring, choosing to ignore the atmosphere of the situation.

And so, we were found. From the other's perspective, they were found by us.
Our eyes met. It seemed like at first, it thought we were other animals. Then came understanding, and a smile. Our turn had come.

The stray dog, promised a near future of dying and rotting, was tossed aside, and the "weird thing" howled. "Whoa-oa, too-oo ma-any ba-ad ki-ids!"
A howl that sounded like Japanese was emitted from the "weird thing." It was striking some weird pose too. Ignoring all that, I shook my hand, from which the bleeding had become serious, grabbed my sister's nearby hand, and started running.

"Your injury! And the bat is still there!" my sister threw out something like a complaint, but her words were easily left behind as we sped off, so I mentally waved them goodbye and considered them ignored. Anyway, we had to run. Run and buy time, and in that time, we had to think of how to respond if we were caught.

Because I knew there was no way we could outrun it. So, I had to think.

An unfamiliar path where I had to be careful not to trip over protruding tree roots or tall grass. Judging by its tired appearance, the pursuer shouldn't be used to mountain paths either, but there was no way we could win a game of tag where we were outmatched in stride, stamina, and everything else. Imagining the distance rapidly closing made my eyes feel like they were about to freeze white with cold sweat. But, here, a little bit of luck—
"Nwah!" An astonished voice came from behind, so I looked back while running.

It seemed my sister's bat, left behind in the grass, had become an unexpected trap. Tripped, the "pursuer" went flying. The right foot that tripped on the bat kicked high into the air, and it fell flat on the ground. The rabbit attached to its waist also drew a crescent line, jerked up and down with the "pursuer." And with the impact of the "pursuer" falling, the skin of its neck tore. The rabbit was free. And now, it was the skin of our necks that was hanging by a thread.

Also, I take back what I said before; there's probably about twenty meters between us, so if we play our cards right, we might have a chance to escape.

"The path, to the bike! Guide me!" Clinging to a faint hope, I yelled at my sister. Using my mountain-savvy sister as a compass and map, even if we fell or tumbled, if we could just reach the bike by the shortest route.

But, whenever I make calculations like that, the premise usually gets crushed right away. This time was no exception,
"Injury! Injury!" My sister, grabbed by my hand that was bleeding endlessly, drip, drip, pota, pota, and literally feeling it on her skin, was somehow much more distraught than I expected.
No good, the navigator is out of order. Both me, and my sister.

Having no choice, I faced forward and started running haphazardly.
When you always rely on others, you get this kind of payback, I learned firsthand!

I probably thought it was about thirty minutes, but I don't think we'd even run for three.
At that point, sweat was getting into my eyes, and I was absorbed in just breathing. Something like parallel lines ran through my extremely restricted vision, and it became unclear whether I was climbing or descending.
Even without having my mouth split by a shovel or anything, it was open so wide my jaw felt like it would dislocate.
The sound of my breathing, my footsteps, all harsh and desperate. A blindfolded boar would have a bit more stamina, so it'd be fine, but...

My right palm, soaked with blood to the point where no spot was dry, slipped, and my connection with my sister broke. With that momentum, my sister pitched forward. Using that as an excuse, I stopped running and rushed over to my sister with faltering steps. Since it didn't look like she could get up right away, I also sat down on the spot.
When I patted the back of my sister, who had propped herself up a little and was coughing, tears overflowed from her eyes.

"Idiot. Run... more slowly."
Mere coughs or tears wouldn't interrupt my sister's cursing. She spat out the tears that flowed into her mouth, which made her breathing irregular, and she choked again. A vicious cycle. My sister tried to cover her mouth to break it, and then she noticed.
Her right hand, completely stained with my blood, and the knife gripped so tightly in her left hand, it looked like it would cut off circulation.

My sister, noticing that blood was still dripping from the knife, instantly threw it away on the spot. Though she was probably more used to mountain walking than I was, her face was pale as if from lack of oxygen, especially under her eyes.
Weirdo. Usually, she kills so much, getting covered in blood or making things bloody.
Besides, that blood wasn't from the knife bleeding; it was just a bit of mine on it. To throw it away for something like that is such a waste, since that's about the only weapon we have.

"We have to stop the bleeding, worker ant, but..."
As she said that, my sister reached out both her hands, which I gently pushed away.
"Mm, this is fine for now," I said, wrapping my left hand around the wound and clenching it. Tightening only the lower part of my hand, leaving the upper part where the blood flows from a little looser and open... that should do it.

And then, more importantly than that, I need to know the situation.
I can't see him for now, but that's no reason to feel relieved.
To me, the surrounding scenery doesn't look much different from the patch of grass we were hiding in earlier. But my sister, now a little calmer, might be able to grasp it.
"Do you know where we are?"

Even while talking, I let my attention wander, listening for the sound of footsteps parting the grass.
At times like this, not having much concentration is actually convenient for multitasking.
For a short while, my sister fixed her gaze on my wound, but eventually, she shook her head and began the task of checking our surroundings. She shook her head several times, stopped to think, then shook it again. After repeating this a few times, this time her head was shaken sideways with a different meaning.

"Unless I check for myself, and walk, I won't know."
My sister, breathing with her shoulders, conveyed the facts with desperate observation. Perhaps because of that, I felt like the sound of footsteps was approaching from a short distance away, and I naturally stood up with more force.
Because I had a feeling the "dangerous one" wouldn't stop being the "pursuer."

"Alright. Then let's move to a place where you might recognize something. Let's go."
Speaking quickly, I took my sister's hand and pulled her. Because I felt that if I didn't take her, she would stay squatting there forever.
The moment I tried to run, my sister fell again. I was about to say, "What are you doing?" but seeing my sister dragging her right foot, trying to continue with an innocent face, everything, including my own steps, came to a halt. Crouching down to check, her right foot, the one caught in the wheel, was swollen up as if a snake had taken up residence inside it.

"Can't run?" I looked up and asked my sister.
"I can run, I'm fine," my sister said, stubbornly shaking her head. *Ah, so it's impossible, huh,* I feigned ignorance at her obvious contrariness, and lost the strength to curl my toes.
So, why is it that every time I suggest something, I'm saddled with failure like this before we even begin?

Try hard. Try hard, hold on. But she absolutely couldn't stand up as she was, fell on her butt, and choked violently.
What to do—I couldn't think about the next step. My head felt like it was scorched, hot and not working properly. Wanting to get some fresh air, I looked up at the sky and took a deep breath.

The autumn sky was high and clear, unsuited to the smell of mud.
What am I even doing? A question that only arises from exhaustion swayed my consciousness.

This time, my sister pulled my hand. With the hand painted red.
"Hurry up and go, worker ant."
"Yeah..." *Alright, alright.*

First, umm. I think he'll be here soon.
*I forgot to pick up the knife,* I reached for the ground. Gripped it, tightly.
I really want to tie it with a towel or something so it doesn't come off.
Next, I let go of my sister's hand, positioned myself at an angle where the "pursuer" was likely to come from, and stood in a place where I could shield my sister. That's about all I can do right now, I guess.
Ah, and maybe I should wipe the blood off the knife. It seems like it might get in the way when stabbing, somehow.

My sister, who had been watching this series of actions, uncharacteristically flustered, let out a bitter complaint to me.
"Idiot, onii, worker... You've never even used a knife like that..."
"Sure I have. I've cut cucumbers in home ec class, at least. This is a relative of that, right?"
"Stay seated." I said it a little firmly, silencing her.

Preparations finished, and after about the time it takes for a deep breath in radio calisthenics, the hand of pursuit extended. "Oh, there you are, there you are."
Dragging the bat that had tripped him along the ground, with the shovel slung over his shoulder, the "one who had been chasing us" slowly appeared.

And now, a commercial break.

Of course, today I'm gonna introduce our town! We're in the mountains now, but there's not much difference from the town, so it's totally not a problem. The one doing the introduction is, of course, me, a fourth-grader currently in the middle of wandering and being protected at the Great Nature Child Center. Err, the best thing about this town (mountain) is, without a doubt, its nature. There's so much nature that there are even places where it's a bit doubtful if people live there; it's covered in the colors of plants, trees, and soil.
And so, I can't find anyone to interview on the mountaintop.

...Hmm, end of my "see-through" evasion. Shall I gather up the scattered reality into one bundle and have it sit beside me?

So, the present. Since we're off the path, naturally, not a single soul is to be seen. The air is too fresh. Animals here and there.
It's like me. When you stray from the path of man, the only ones who pass nearby are weird people.

・Munch, munch. The wiener sausage is tasty.
It became a hassle, so let's pretend the local introduction just now didn't happen and move on to the topic of the bento.

Today, what I was made to bring was a bento made by my aunt. Inside the two-tiered bento box, frozen foods made up seventy percent, packed tightly and various things mixed together, the colors mostly yellow and brown. The bottom tier was, as expected, white rice, also packed tightly.
Of course, I have no complaints. On the contrary, I properly thanked her about twice and accepted it.
Because this was the first bento someone had ever made for me.
I wonder if I should have been more moved or something, I thought, eating leisurely.
Being in the silence of the mountains and the wind that had grown colder, it started to feel like an act other than eating a meal.