Leaving Kikyo Kushida's corpse behind, Kiyotaka Ayanokoji and Suzune Horikita advanced deeper into the forest.

The night on the uninhabited island maintained its unfathomable darkness. The gunfire that had echoed earlier was now scattered in the distance, and the only sounds around them were the rustling of trees and the occasional snap of a branch underfoot. But quiet did not mean safe. If anything, these moments of silence were more dangerous. Someone could be hiding. Someone could be watching. Such imaginings steadily frayed the nerves.

Horikita was conscious of the bandage wrapped around her left arm. The pain was dull but unmistakably present. The bleeding had stopped. Yet every significant movement sent a hot, throbbing ache through her. It wasn't enough to render her incapable of combat. But it was clear she was not at full strength.

"Can you walk?"

Ayanokoji, walking ahead, spoke without turning around.

"No problem."

"People with no problem don't phrase it that way."

"You have enough composure to nitpick my words."

"If I don't have composure, I die."

It was a flat reply. Horikita had to admit it was the truth. This man was unnervingly stable in extreme situations. Despite Kushida's wild gunfire, being shot herself, and watching someone die right in front of her, Ayanokoji's breathing and stride were barely disturbed. It wasn't normal. She had known for some time that he was no ordinary person.

He had shown glimpses of it during exams and physical confrontations, and in situations like the uninhabited island test and the sports festival, his judgment clearly deviated from the class average. But the Kiyotaka Ayanokoji before her now was different again. He was no longer in the category of a merely excellent student. He seemed like a person engineered from the start to adapt to situations where death was ever-present.

"...You."

Horikita spoke as she walked.

"Back there, when you shot Kushida-san... you didn't hesitate."

"No reason to."

"She was a classmate."

"So what?"

The answer came so instantly that Horikita was momentarily speechless. Ayanokoji continued, looking only ahead.

"Same school, same class, a familiar face. Those factors are low priority in this exam. The person in front of you had a gun and was trying to kill you. In that case, there's no choice but to shoot."

"There might have been room for persuasion."

"There wasn't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"You can tell by looking at her eyes."

Ayanokoji's voice held no emotion.

"She had lost normal judgment. People like that justify themselves right up until they die. In the few seconds spent trying to persuade her, I would have been killed."

Horikita started to argue, then stopped. There was coldness in Ayanokoji's words. But recalling her exchange with Kushida, she couldn't entirely deny it. By then, Kushida had already left the realm of negotiation. It would have been difficult to simultaneously save her and ensure her own survival. That was precisely why it was so unpleasant. The more rational Ayanokoji's judgment, the more her own naivety was thrown into relief.

"...Did you know it would come to this from the start?"

"To some extent."

"To some extent?"

"That this exam wasn't normal, that the organizers were serious—that became clear the moment twenty people were shot in the warehouse."

"That's not what I mean."

Horikita stared at Ayanokoji's back.

"I mean the nature of this exam. There's someone behind this who would orchestrate something like this—didn't you anticipate it?"

Silence. The wind rustled the leaves. Ayanokoji walked a few more steps before finally speaking.

"There's no need to answer that question."

"Not that you can't answer?"

"Either way."

It was a response bordering on refusal. But Horikita didn't press further. Right now, Ayanokoji wasn't someone to confront about hidden truths. At least until she survived this island, she should only extract usable information.

"What do you plan to do now?"

"First, get through the night."

"That's it?"

"It's enough."

"I'm asking about your strategy for survival."

Ayanokoji slowed his pace slightly.

"Rendezvous with potential allies."

"Who do you have in mind?"

"Sudo."

Horikita narrowed her eyes slightly at the name.

"...Sudo-kun?"

"High physical ability. In terms of raw power, he's among the top on this island."

"I have concerns about his mental state."

"He's better than before."

"I acknowledge that, but."

"Also."

Ayanokoji said.

"He's highly likely to follow your orders."

Horikita drew a short breath. Ayanokoji was strangely merciless in such matters. He calmly factored not only his own abilities but also others' emotions and relationships into his calculations.

"...You intend to use him?"

"I use what can be used."

"You really are—"

"I won't stop you if you want to spout pretty words."

Ayanokoji stated flatly.

"But in that case, you'll die first."

That ended the conversation. Horikita pressed her lips together. There was irritation. But she knew that arguing for the sake of arguing was pointless. Ayanokoji's manner was cold, but at least in this situation, there was almost no room to lean on sentiment.

Eventually, the two found a small wooden hut. It was probably a simple shelter marked on the map. The outer walls were old, and the windows were half grimy. But it wasn't completely ruined, and it had a roof. It was sufficient just to get through the night.

Ayanokoji immediately checked the surroundings. Footprints. Signs of entry and exit. Presence.

"For now, there's little sign of it being used."

"Is it really safe?"

"No place is safe."

He opened the door. Inside was dark and smelled of damp wood. There was only a board serving as a desk and something like a simple bench. It wasn't a place suited for lodging, but it was far better than spending the night defenseless in the forest.

"We'll rest here for a few hours."

Ayanokoji said.

"There's no way I can sleep."

"Even if you can't sleep, close your eyes. Your cognitive ability will decline."

Horikita sat down, leaning against the wall. The extreme tension had made it hard to notice her fatigue, but once she stopped moving, her body felt suddenly heavy. The pain in her left arm, exposed to the cold air, throbbed with increased presence.

Ayanokoji sat near the entrance and placed his revolver within reach. He apparently had no intention of sleeping fully. He maintained a posture ready to react at any moment.

"Shouldn't we take turns keeping watch?"

"I'll watch first. You rest."

"That's rather one-sided."

"No reason to push an injured person."

"Are you treating me as a liability?"

"I am."

The answer was immediate. So utterly without hesitation that Horikita was speechless. She should have been angry, yet for some reason, she found it faintly amusing.

"...I see."

"It's a fact."

"I won't deny it."

It was frustrating, but it was true that she wasn't at her best right now. If an enemy came, there would be many situations where she'd have to rely on Ayanokoji's judgment. Acknowledging that reality was separate from her pride.

Silence continued for a while. Gunfire sounded in the distance. Farther away, she thought she heard someone's brief cry. The island's night wasn't over. Even as they lay low in the hut, someone was killing someone, and someone else was fleeing in terror.

"Ayanokoji-kun."

"What."

"Do you think... after this exam ends, you'll be able to return to your old life?"

The moment she asked, she thought it was a strange question. It wasn't something to think about now. Yet on this island where people kept dying, she felt she would suffocate if she didn't speak of the future.

Ayanokoji lowered his gaze slightly.

"I probably won't."

"...I see."

"Neither will you."

Horikita cast her eyes down. He was right. What she had seen today. What she had heard. The fear she had felt. The moment she gripped the knife and seriously tried to stab Kushida. All of it proved she could never go back to who she was before. School life. Class competition. Aiming for Class A, growth, cooperation. Until just days ago, they had been living within that abnormal yet still peaceful realm of competition. But now it was different. On this island, what lay beyond victory or defeat wasn't points or evaluation, but life and death itself.

"...I'll sleep."

"Do that."

Horikita closed her eyes, still leaning against the wall. She thought there was no way she could sleep. But perhaps her body was honest. Dragged down by tension and fatigue, her consciousness gradually sank. The last thing she saw was Ayanokoji's profile, motionless near the entrance. Even in the darkness, that man alone seemed to retain his outline with a strange clarity.

* * *

The next morning.

When she opened her eyes, Horikita didn't know where she was for a moment. The smell of damp wood. Cold air. Hard wall. And the pain in her left arm. Reality returned quickly.

"Awake?"

Ayanokoji's voice. He was already standing. He had moved near the door, perhaps checking the outside.

"What time is it?"

"I don't know exactly, but it's morning. The sun's up."

Horikita slowly sat up. Her whole body felt heavy. Even though she should have recovered somewhat from sleeping a little, the mental exhaustion outweighed it. She was hungry. No appetite, but hunger was there. A contradictory sensation.

Ayanokoji tossed her the supply bag.

"Eat."

Inside were coppepan and water.

"In this situation, you can actually eat."

"If I don't eat, I can't move."

Ayanokoji was already eating his portion. He wasn't savoring it. It was more like he was processing necessary nutrition.

Horikita opened the bread package. She thought it wouldn't go down. But as she forced herself to chew, bite after bite, she realized her body needed it. She washed it down with water. She could barely taste it.

"Any announcement about forbidden zones yet?"

"I haven't heard one. But it should come soon."

"We move before our range of action is restricted, then."

"Yeah."