He gritted his teeth, hands snapping for the fallen knife. He stumbled to his feet, showing himself prematurely to his aggressor.
"Who the hell are you?!"
The boy demanded, probably a bit louder than he should've. He bit his tongue; as he's met with silence, the figure just stared at him, assessing him.
What's with this guy?! He's just standing there—!
He could hardly finish the thought; a flash of silver shimmered through the night sky. It whistled by his ear; the boy narrowly stumbled away, watching as it got stuck in a tree.
He took this as his chance, stumbling away with his tail between his legs. His form was horrid, and his knife was just decoration. The cold night breeze did nothing to stop him from breaking into sweat and nerves.
I just need to get away! That's totally doable, right?!
Crap, crap, crap, crap!! This isn't what I wanted! I just wanted a simple life with a cool system or something! This is false advertising!
The figure planted their feet into the tree, tugging the weapon out with relative ease. They darted after the sprinting boy, their feet light against the forest floor. Fugi turned to see the figure chasing after him, narrowly being able to avoid the blade they thrust forward.
He stumbled to regain his footing before pointing his kitchen knife towards them. The figure inched forward, step by step, watching as Fugi crawled back further and further into his corner of the forest. He was bluffing, and it was painfully obvious.
Fugi sprinted into the shrubs, the killer giving chase immediately. The forest only grew thicker around them as they lost sight of each other, but they both knew they were nearby. Fugi stayed as low as possible, pressed against the shrubs. He heaved desperately for air, his hand resting on the speaker of his collar.
This is bad—! He thought to himself, peeking beyond the grass to get at least somewhat of a view of his personal grim reaper.
They can just figure my location out just like that?! Nothing in the rules talked about pinging another player's location through their collar! The only bright side is it means I could do the same—but still, so can he… we have to figure out each other's location with nothing but a simple beep?! This just came down to a game of Minesweeper!
Whoever finds who first gets to survive this round!
His head heated up, his chest tightened to control his breath, and he knew the only way out of this was to drive a knife through their heart or his. The blade shook in his hand, the leather hilt drenched in cold sweat.
BEEP—
Fugi's collar sang; rustling grass followed. They were nearby. His chest only tightened more around his breath. A hesitant, shaky hand reached for his collar.
BEEP—
A distant sound echoed not too far from him. He remained light on his feet, or at least tried to, sticking close to the shrubs and hiding behind a tree. The animals of the forest didn't dare make a sound to interrupt their game. Almost watching as they inevitably kill each other.
I wish I still had my phone right about now—come on, Shoya! Think of anything! ANYTHING AT ALL!! You're a dead man otherwise!
He looked down to his chest, seeing the tie that wrapped haphazardly around his neck. His breath hitched with realization. Quickly he grabbed for his tie, slipping the pointed end through the narrow gap between his neck and the collar. The fabric wrapped around the speaker as he tied the loose end.
The hunter reached up to touch their collar again. Silence. They froze slightly but tried again and again and again, though nothing registered. With a frustrated huff, they made their way out into the open, the darkness their only camouflage.
He's out—! The boy stared at him from his own hiding spot. Slowly shifting in the opposite direction until he was directly behind him. His breath quickened; his head felt as hot as the hilt he clutched for so long.
The minute the killer had their back completely to the pauper, he sprinted, his action a whirlwind of blind rage and courage, a desperate attempt to live.
A dull thud echoed through the forest before the killer could even fathom what happened, a sharp stinging pain piercing their back. Their body grew hot, their brain mistaking the pain for intense warmth.
In a blind retaliation, they swung their dagger behind them, narrowly missing Fugi's head. The boy stumbled, accidentally pulling the blade out of the killer's back.
Blood gushes out of the wound, decorating the forest floor with splatters of crimson.
"Y-you…" They could hardly manage the words; their breath had long left them.
"I—i'm sorry—I—" The pauper's eyes only shrunk in horror as he watched, the tainted blade still trembling in his palm.
"I didn't—You shouldn't have—" He wants to justify his actions, but he couldn't watch as the life left the eyes of his killer.
"I'm sorry—"
"I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so sorry!"
His tainted blade fell to the forest floor; the boy hunched on his hands and knees. He was a smell away from throwing up everything he had. In fact, he wanted to—maybe it'll take this painful feeling from his gut. Maybe he deserves to go hungry and die anyway. At least it'll be on his own terms.