Deadweight

Tanaka Daiki—that was him. He wasn't particularly brilliant, nor the type to overanalyze before acting. His life had always been about quick decisions and facing consequences with little forethought—if any at all.

Everything about his appearance reflected that carelessness: olive-colored eyes that rarely sparkled with ambition, messy brown hair that resisted even the slightest attempt at order, and a build that was utterly… average.

Not thin, not athletic, not strong, not fragile—just unremarkable.

The kind of person you'd forget after passing them on the street. If there was anything remotely special about him, it was his ability to play guitar—but even that was just a hobby, not a passion.

Just another ordinary guy from Japan, anyone would think upon seeing him. And they wouldn't be wrong.

The fact that he'd even stopped to think about leaving the clearing was admirable, given how out of character it was for him.

He trudged through the forest, flinching at every rustle of small animals in the underbrush.

"I'm gonna give myself a heart attack out here…" he muttered, trying to steady his breathing.

"Why did it have to be a forest? Everything's scarier with these noises…"

Every crunch of leaves was a reminder of his vulnerability.

"The worst part isn't the sounds… I don't even have a dagger to defend myself!" he grumbled under his breath, as if something might hear him.

"What am I supposed to do if something—or someone—attacks me?"

As he ventured deeper, a sharp crack echoed ahead. Daiki froze, ducking behind a tree trunk.

Terror locked his muscles as his mind conjured images of a goblin lurking in the shadows.

A goblin… Part of him wanted to believe he could take one. He could win, right? They're… small. But that hope evaporated instantly.

What if I can't? What if it kills me right here?

His heart pounded as footsteps drew closer, pushing him to the edge of panic. He clenched his fist, mustering courage.

If I can't beat it… at least I'll get one good hit in. That should buy me time to run—

CRACK!

Another snap—right in front of him.

On reflex, Daiki lunged forward, eyes squeezed shut, and swung with all his strength.

"DIE—!"

THUD.

Something soft hit the ground. A sharp pain shot through his hand, turning it red instantly.

"Agh! Shit! What the hell was that?!"

Daiki cracked his eyes open, heart racing—but before he could process what he'd hit, a horribly familiar voice reached him.

"Huh? …Wha—? …WHAAAAAT?!"

Daiki's scream of surprise sent nearby birds scattering.

"Arata?! Is that really you? What are you doing here?!"

Seeing his friend almost made him forget the situation. Almost.

"I should be asking you that, dumbass! And why the hell did you punch me?!" groaned the other boy, clutching his nose as blood trickled down.

It was undeniably Miyazaki Arata. That perpetually disheveled black hair. Those sharp blue eyes—usually bright with curiosity and skepticism—now glared at Daiki with pure irritation. His fair skin flushed red, contrasting with the thoughtful expression he always wore when overanalyzing things.

Daiki frowned. Arata always bragged about being smarter and better-looking, but right now, he was neither.

Miyazaki Arata. His best friend. The same guy who'd died alongside him that night.

"Ah! I thought you were a goblin…" Daiki laughed nervously, avoiding eye contact.

"Of course! As usual, you act first and think never, you idiot!"

Arata wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve. A goblin? He seriously thought I was a goblin? This guy's unbelievable…

Daiki scratched his head, sheepish—but relief flooded him. At least he wasn't alone in this nightmare forest.

"Listen, when you throw a punch, you don't just aim at the first thing in front of you. And you never close your eyes! You can't rely on luck like this is some gacha game!"

Daiki scowled, bracing for the lecture. Arata didn't let him interrupt.

"If I had been a goblin, you wouldn't have even grazed me. Who the hell closes their eyes to throw a punch?!"

Arata flailed his arms like he was explaining the most obvious thing in the world.

"You lunged blind. Didn't even check what was there. What, did you expect the goblin to magically stand in the perfect spot? Think they've got RPG-style hitboxes? News flash—they dodge! They counterattack!"

Daiki huffed, crossing his arms, but Arata wasn't done.

"And what if it was a goblin?" he pressed.

"Let me spell it out: it dodges your sloppy punch, stares at you with those beady eyes, and—BAM!—kicks you in the balls or stabs you in the gut! Because guess what? Goblins fight dirty. And there you'd be, writhing on the ground!"

Daiki stared at him, equal parts annoyed and embarrassed.

"Okay, okay, I get it. Not my best move."

"'Not my best move'—" Arata mocked, mimicking his tone.

"No, Daiki, this isn't just a slip-up. We're in an unknown place, surrounded by who-knows-what, and you're out here acting like an NPC with zero INT points!"

"Hey, don't exaggerate," Daiki grumbled, though he knew he'd lost.

Arata sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples like he was solving a complex equation.

"Look, my point is: think before you act. Brute force won't solve everything."

"You can't just swing wildly—even if this is fake, apparently. If we keep this up, we'll die before figuring out where we are."

"Fake?" Daiki blinked.

"Anyway," Arata concluded, ignoring him.

Daiki looked away, uncomfortable.

Great. There it is—his daily 'everything you do is wrong' speech. Haven't heard it in years. And it was self-defense! What did he expect me to do? Put yourself in my shoes!

Arata, seeing him shrink, finally relented.

"Well, we're off to a rocky start. To get out of here, we need to use our heads, not just our fists. You've always been 'act first, think never,' and that's gonna get us killed here. We know nothing about this place."

"This place looks interesting… Maybe it's a lucid dream," Arata murmured.

Daiki eyed him curiously but didn't dwell on it. Typical Arata overcomplicating things.

Arata stood up gingerly, still nursing his nose. A quiet hiss of pain escaped before he took a few steps forward—then paused.

"Hey! You planning to stand there all day? Daylight's not gonna last forever."

"Nah, I'm coming."

Daiki hurried after him, forcing a smile. It was clearly strained—like a mask about to slip.

Awesome. I look like a total moron. What a reunion…!

He swallowed hard and kept walking, determined not to fall behind.