Surviving

The quiet of the forest was unsettling, almost unnatural, as if something—or someone—was watching me from the shadows. Every sound felt amplified in the stillness of the night. The snapping of twigs, the rustling of leaves, even the faint whisper of the wind sent a chill through my body that had nothing to do with the cold. It was the type of silence that made you hyper-aware of everything around you, making it impossible to relax.

I tried to close my eyes, to let the crackling of the fire and the gentle rush of the river lull me back to sleep, but it wasn't happening. My body was exhausted—the brutal training with Yujiro earlier, setting up a shelter, the constant mental strain of survival—but my mind refused to shut down. Every time I drifted close to sleep, another sound would jolt me awake, my instincts kicking in, reminding me that this wasn't a safe place. I was alone, vulnerable, and out here in the wilderness, that could get me killed.

This wasn't like the camping trips I used to take in my previous life. Back then, I had equipment, proper shelter, and good food. There had been campfires with friends, laughter, and the comfort of knowing there were others nearby. I used to go fishing with my father and grandfather—it had been one of my favorite hobbies, a way to disconnect from the monotony of daily life. The feeling of casting a line into the water, the anticipation of a catch, the simplicity of it all… But I couldn't afford to think like that now.

There was no luxury here. No peace. This wasn't some weekend escape into nature. This was survival, and the only way I'd make it through was if I kept my mind sharp and my instincts sharper.

I sat up, staring into the dying embers of the fire. It was still dark—probably a few hours before dawn—but I couldn't sleep anymore. The forest was too alive, too dangerous. And the hunger gnawing at my stomach wasn't going to let me rest either. I needed food, and not just plants. I needed protein to keep my body strong, especially with the way Yuujiro was pushing me. Without it, I'd burn out fast.

I knew what I had to do. I couldn't just sit here waiting for the sun to rise. I needed to act. My mind drifted back to the survival books I'd read and the lessons from Izou Motobe about making traps. Traps could give me a way to catch small animals, maybe even something large enough to provide a decent amount of food. I had to use every skill I had, every piece of knowledge I'd accumulated, to survive this place. This wasn't just about brute strength. This was about outsmarting the wilderness.

I got up, shaking off the cold stiffness in my muscles, and began gathering materials. I would need thin branches, vines, anything that could be used to fashion a snare or a trap. As I worked, my mind continued to wander—thinking about how different this was from my old life. How simple things had been back then, when my biggest concern was how long it would take to catch a fish or where we'd set up camp. Now, everything was a matter of life or death.

I found a clearing nearby, an area that looked like a good place to set up a few simple snares. It wasn't far from my camp, but far enough that I wouldn't attract predators to my shelter if something did get caught in the traps. Using the knowledge Motobe had taught me, I began fashioning simple traps—loops of vine carefully positioned to snap around the legs of anything unlucky enough to wander into them. It wasn't perfect, and I didn't have the tools I'd usually use for something like this, but it would have to do.

Fishing crossed my mind as well. The river was my best bet for fresh food, but I didn't have a line or bait. I'd have to get creative. Maybe I could make a net—weave together vines and branches into something that could catch fish. It wasn't impossible, but it would take time, and right now, the traps were my priority. I'd work on the net once the sun was up.

Norway… This place still reminded me of Norway, with its fjords and dense forests. But there were no obvious sources of plant-based protein here, nothing I could forage that would be enough to sustain me. Mushrooms, sure, and maybe some fruits or berries, but it wasn't going to be enough. My body craved something more substantial. Seeds, maybe? But I hadn't found any yet, and for now, it was too dark to go looking.

Once the traps were set, I returned to my camp. The fire had dwindled to embers, but I threw a few more branches onto it, stoking the flames until they roared back to life. The warmth was comforting, even if the hunger wasn't. I sat by the fire, staring out into the darkness, waiting for the night to pass.

The forest was still alive with sounds—rustling leaves, the occasional snap of a twig, the distant call of an animal I couldn't identify. But I wasn't afraid. This was just part of it. This was how the wild worked. I just had to be smarter than whatever was out there.

Today would be a new day. Later, I'd check the traps, maybe start on the net for fishing, and if luck was on my side, I'd have something to eat by the end of it. Survival wasn't guaranteed, but I knew one thing for sure—I couldn't afford to let fear or hunger cloud my judgment. I had to stay sharp, to keep my mind focused on the tasks ahead. Out here, where nature ruled, nothing was promised. It was a harsh world, but it was simple in its honesty: adapt or die.

I sat there, watching the embers of the fire as the first light of dawn filtered through the trees. Despite everything, I felt a strange sense of calm. The wilderness, with all its dangers and challenges, was pure. It didn't care who you were, where you came from, or what you had done before. There was a certain clarity to it—survival was the only thing that mattered. No expectations beyond that. I could respect that. Out here, the rules were simple. Stay alive.

But just as the beautiful morning sun began to rise, spilling its golden light over the forest, that moment of calm was shattered. My father, Yuujiro, appeared suddenly, his presence as overwhelming as ever. His arrival wasn't unexpected—I knew this peace wouldn't last—but there was still a sinking feeling in my stomach as he approached.

Another day of training had begun.

There would be no mercy, no breaks for foraging food, no time to catch my breath. His style was relentless, pushing me to my limits, and beyond. My body was already aching from yesterday, but that didn't matter to him. To Yuujiro, pain was part of the process. There was no stopping, no resting. It was survival, but of a different kind. I wasn't just fighting the wilderness—I was fighting him, and I had to be ready for anything.

As we began, my thoughts briefly wandered to my traps. Maybe one had caught something. If I was lucky, a rabbit or even a deer could have wandered into them, and I'd have food to last a few days. Of course, without a freezer or salt to preserve it, I couldn't make it last much longer. Wishful thinking, really. I'd be lucky to get a small animal, maybe something just enough to keep me going for another day.

But just as I lost myself in those thoughts, a hard fist slammed into my face, sending me reeling. Yuujiro didn't hesitate to strike, his expression a cold reminder that there was no room for distraction. The blow landed squarely, sharp and unforgiving. My vision blurred for a moment, but I forced myself back into focus.

This wasn't the time to daydream. He wasn't going to stop because I was hungry or because I had other things on my mind. Focus, Baki.

The training continued, brutal and relentless, as it always was. My body screamed in protest with every punch, every block, every kick. But I kept pushing forward. I had no other choice. My survival depended on it—both out here in the wild and in facing my father. The training wasn't just physical; it was mental. Yuujiro was testing my endurance, my focus, my will to keep going when everything in me wanted to stop.

By the time we finished, the sun was sinking lower in the sky, and my entire body felt like one massive bruise. I was bruised, battered, and exhausted, but there was no time to rest. The day was already slipping away, and I needed to finish the net for fishing before nightfall.

Food was still a priority, and my stomach growled in protest as I worked, weaving together the vines and branches I had gathered. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. Maybe I'd get lucky and catch something—a cod or a coalfish, maybe. The thought of fresh fish made my mouth water, but I knew better than to count on it. Luck hasn't exactly been on my side lately.

After I finished the net, I went to check the traps. One had been triggered, but there was nothing caught inside. The animal had likely slipped through, or the trap hadn't been strong enough to hold it. I'd have to make them tougher next time. Every mistake was a lesson, and out here, learning quickly was the difference between eating and starving.

With the last light of the day fading, I set the net out in the river. The water flows steadily, the current gentle but constant, and I anchored the net as best as I could. Fishing at night wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing. If I was lucky, the net would catch something by morning.

As the sky darkened, and the forest around me grew quiet, I returned to the fire. The cold was already creeping back in, and I threw a few more branches onto the flames, watching as they crackled and sparked, the warmth slowly spreading.

My body ached, my stomach was still empty, and the weight of the day's training lingered in my bones, but I knew I couldn't afford to stop. Survival wasn't easy. Yuujiro made sure of that. Every day was a test, and every test was a chance to prove I could handle whatever was thrown my way.

Tomorrow, I'll check the traps again. I'd see if the net had caught anything. I'll keep pushing forward. For now it's time to sleep.