บท 11: Life or Death
We were now in the helicopter, heading toward the forest, the steady hum of the rotor blades vibrating through the cabin. The roar of the engines drowned out most sounds, but in the moments of relative quiet, I could hear the occasional murmur of conversation from Gerry Strydum, who was at the controls. Gerry had been a constant presence in my life ever since this intense training had begun. He wasn't like my father or my mother. There was something calmer, almost gentle, about him, though I knew he wasn't soft. He had a certain toughness—a resilience that came from years of combat experience alongside Yuujiro. But unlike my father, he wasn't cold.
Gerry Strydum cared. At least, I could tell he cared about me in some way. Maybe it wasn't obvious at first, but in the quiet moments when we had conversations, I could see it in his eyes. Concern. He never said much about it, but there were times when I caught him watching me, his expression filled with something close to sympathy—something I hadn't seen from many people in my life. I could tell he felt sorry for me sometimes. Maybe he understood what I was going through better than I thought.
Compared to everyone else in my life, he was different. My masters had been strict and brutal in their training, but they taught me. My father? He was an unstoppable force, someone I had to survive. But Gerry? He was… kind, in his own way. The only person who didn't seem to expect anything from me beyond surviving. Maybe that's why I respected him.
As the helicopter approached the drop point, I saw Strydum glance over his shoulder at me, his eyes searching mine for a moment before giving a small nod. I wondered what he thought about all of this—about dropping a kid into the wilderness with nothing but a parachute and a vague promise of "training." But he didn't say anything. He rarely did when my father was around.
Instead, it was Yuujiro's voice that cut through the rumble of the helicopter, cold and commanding. "Get ready," he said, as he tossed a parachute harness at me with no explanation on how to use it. Just like that, I was expected to figure it out. No instructions. No guidance. That was Yuujiro's way—throw you into the deep end and see if you sink or swim.
Before I could even fully strap myself in, I felt a shove—and suddenly, I was falling. Yuujiro had pushed me out of the helicopter without a word, and I was tumbling through the air, the ground rushing up toward me at an alarming speed.
Panic hit me hard. I had no idea how to operate the parachute. My hands fumbled with the straps as I plummeted through the sky, my heart racing, my breath coming in short, frantic bursts. I could feel the panic clawing at the edges of my mind, threatening to take over. Was this it? Was I about to die because I didn't know how to pull a parachute cord?
No. I couldn't die like this. Not after everything I had been through.
I forced myself to focus, ignoring the wind howling in my ears and the ground that seemed to be getting closer with every passing second. My fingers scrambled for the straps, pulling on anything I could get my hands on. And then, finally—the chute deployed. The sudden jolt nearly knocked the breath out of me, but it worked. The canopy caught the air, slowing my descent just in time.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. That was close. Too close.
As the ground rushed up to meet me, I managed a somewhat controlled landing—though not as graceful as I would have liked. My feet hit the ground, and I stumbled forward, barely managing to stay upright. I made it. I wasn't dead, which felt like a victory in itself.
Before I had a chance to catch my breath, I heard a thud beside me, the ground shaking slightly from the impact. I turned, and there was Yuujiro, standing tall and completely unfazed. He had jumped out of the helicopter without a parachute—and landed perfectly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
He looked at me, a faint smirk playing at the edges of his lips. "You didn't die. How nice," he said with mock amusement, as if my survival was merely a curiosity to him.
I wanted to say something, maybe something sarcastic, but the words wouldn't come. My heart was still racing, and my body still ached from the adrenaline of the fall. He didn't care. Not about my panic, not about the fact that I had almost died figuring out the parachute. He just wanted to see if I would survive, as always.
I glanced back up at the sky, at the helicopter disappearing into the distance, and for a moment, I wondered what Strydum thought. Did he feel guilty, watching me get thrown into this situation? I doubted he had much of a say in it. Yuujiro was Yuujiro. But even so, I liked to think that Gerry Strydum, in his own quiet way, cared enough to worry.
And now, standing in this unfamiliar forest with nothing but my instincts, I knew this was only the beginning. Surviving the fall was just the first test. The real challenge was still ahead.
I took a moment to scan my surroundings. The forest was beautiful, almost breathtaking in its natural grandeur. The towering trees, the rugged cliffs in the distance, and the narrow waterways cutting through the landscape—it reminded me of Norway, a place I had visited in my previous life. Fjords stretched out like nature's artwork, their deep blue waters contrasting with the lush greenery that surrounded me. But I didn't have time to appreciate the view. I knew better. This wasn't a vacation. This was survival.
My father's voice cut through the stillness, cold and sharp as always. "Now the training will begin. After that, set up camp and maybe get some food for yourself."
Of course, I thought, a twinge of sarcasm flashing through my mind. He didn't give me any time to adjust to the new environment. No break, no preparation. That wasn't Yuujiro's way. He was already sizing me up, looking for weaknesses. And he didn't waste a second.
I saw his attack coming—barely. His hand swung toward me with brutal speed, and I dodged, knowing instinctively that this wasn't some light sparring match. He wasn't holding back. I barely managed to avoid the first swing, but the second came faster, more powerful. The ground beneath me seemed to shake as his foot connected with my side, sending me crashing to the dirt. Pain shot through my ribs, but I forced myself to get up, knowing that staying down was not an option.
I managed to dodge a few more strikes, but I couldn't keep it up. The onslaught was relentless. Every time I thought I'd found an opening, Yuujiro would be there, waiting, his attacks coming faster and harder. It wasn't just physical. It was mental warfare. He was testing my instincts, forcing me to think on my feet, to react without hesitation.
By the time he was done, I was on the ground, bruised, bloodied, and gasping for air. My entire body ached, muscles trembling from the strain. The sun was beginning to set, and the first chill of the evening air was creeping in. Night was coming, and with it, the cold. The winter season wasn't far off, and the temperature was already dropping. I could feel it biting at my skin.
I had nothing with me—no supplies, no clothing beyond the thin layer I wore. Yuujiro hadn't allowed me to bring anything. No tools, no extra clothes. He wanted me to survive with only my hands, my mind, and my instincts. And then, as if the brutal training session wasn't enough, Yuujiro disappeared. He left without a word, vanishing into the forest, leaving me alone to fend for myself.
He was probably heading back to some mansion nearby, where he'd enjoy warmth and comfort. Living in nature was beneath him. I had no illusions about that. For him, this was all just a game—a test to see if I could survive the elements and the dangers lurking in the wilderness. But for me? This was life or death.
I forced myself to my feet, wincing as the bruises and cuts throbbed with each movement. The cold was setting in fast. I couldn't stay here, lying on the ground. If I didn't move, if I didn't do something soon, the cold would kill me faster than any wild animal could. I had to survive.
The first thing I needed was shelter and fire. Somewhere to sleep, somewhere protected from the wind and the cold. My body was still screaming in pain, but I had to push through it. I scanned the area, looking for anything I could use. There were plenty of trees, thick and sturdy. Maybe I could build something—a lean-to, or at least a shelter to keep the wind off me. I'd read enough survival books in my downtime to know the basics.
I started gathering wood, fallen branches that could serve as the framework for a shelter. It wasn't much, but it would have to do for now. As I worked, my thoughts wandered back to what lay ahead. Yuujiro would be back. He always was. Even if he wasn't physically here, I could feel his presence, like a storm waiting to strike again. The training wouldn't stop. The forest was just the setting. The real battle was surviving him.
As I piled the branches together, my stomach growled. Food. I needed food, too. I didn't know how long I would be out here—days, weeks, months? But food was a necessity. Hunting would be a challenge, especially with no tools or weapons. But I wasn't helpless. I had been a chef in my previous life. I knew how to find edible plants, how to make something out of almost nothing. It was a skill I had relied on back then, and now, it might just save my life.
The forest around me was quiet, almost too quiet. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping in. Was I really alone? Or were there other dangers lurking in the trees, watching me, waiting for the right moment to strike? Mutant beasts, or whatever other creatures might be out here, could show up at any time. But I pushed those thoughts aside. I couldn't afford to panic. I had to stay focused.
I found a small clearing near the base of a large tree, its massive trunk offering a natural windbreak. It wasn't much protection, but it was better than being out in the open. The cold was already creeping in, and I knew it would only get worse as night fell. I gathered what I could—branches, leaves, anything to prop against the tree and create a barrier between me and the elements. My makeshift shelter was crude, little more than a lean-to of broken branches and foliage, but it would have to do.
Survival wasn't about comfort—it was about getting through each moment, each hour, each night. I didn't have the luxury of worrying about how comfortable I was. All I needed was to make it through until morning, and then I could worry about improving my situation. One step at a time.
Once the shelter was set, I turned my attention to the next priority—fire. Without warmth, the cold would kill me long before the hunger set in. I gathered some dry leaves, twigs, and small branches, using the knowledge I had gained from all those survival books. I struck a spark with a small rock, and after a few tense moments, the fire caught. I carefully nurtured it until the flames grew steady, their warmth licking at my face and providing a much-needed sense of relief.
The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the ground, and I could already feel the warmth seeping into my chilled skin. The orange glow bathed the clearing in a soft light, pushing back the darkness that had begun to settle around me. It wasn't much, but for tonight, it was enough. I would survive the night, and that was all that mattered.
As the last light of day faded completely, the forest around me transformed. The shadows lengthened, the sounds of rustling leaves and distant creatures filled the air. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional crack of a branch or the distant call of some nocturnal animal. The forest, which had seemed almost peaceful in the daylight, now felt different—dangerous, alive.
I sat by my shelter, staring into the flickering flames, my mind turning over the events of the day. This was only the beginning. The real challenge lay ahead, and it wasn't just the cold or the hunger that I had to face. It was the isolation. The silence. The knowledge that I was completely on my own. There would be no help, no rescue. If I didn't keep my wits about me, the wilderness would swallow me whole. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew Yuujiro would be watching. He wouldn't let me die, not like this i hope, but he would let me struggle. He would let me suffer just enough to see what I was made of.
I wasn't going to let it break me. Not the cold, not the hunger, not even the crushing loneliness that was beginning to settle in my bones. I had come too far already, survived too much to let something like this be my end. This wasn't just about surviving the night. It was about proving to myself that I could handle whatever came my way.
The fire crackled as I tossed another branch into the flames, watching the sparks rise and disappear into the dark sky. Tomorrow, I would hunt. I would find food, build something stronger than this flimsy shelter. I'd fortify my position, make it something that could truly protect me from the elements and whatever dangers lurked in the forest. Tomorrow, I would adapt.
But for now, I let myself rest. Not too much—just enough to regain my strength. My muscles ached, my body still raw from the training session earlier. The bruises throbbed, and my skin stung from the cold air, but I couldn't focus on the pain. It was part of the process. I was learning to endure. I was learning to survive.
I stared out into the forest, the darkness seeming to press in from all sides. It felt like the wilderness was watching, waiting to test me. And I was ready. I had survived the drop, the training, the pain, and I would survive this too. Because I had no other choice.
Tomorrow, I would face whatever came my way.
And somehow, I would survive.
But that survival wasn't going to be easy. I woke up in the middle of the night, shivering, the cold air biting at my skin. The fire had gone out, leaving nothing but faint embers glowing dimly in the darkness. The warmth was gone, and the chill had settled deep into my bones. My body ached—not just from the bruises and beatings, but from the cold, the hunger, and the exhaustion that had been gnawing at me since the moment I landed here.
I felt thirsty. My mouth was dry, and my stomach growled with an emptiness that was becoming too familiar. I needed water, I needed food, and most importantly, I needed rest. But there was no time to complain about it. Survival didn't care about how tired I was.
I forced myself to sit up, pulling the few remaining branches closer to me. My hands fumbled with the fire, trying to rekindle it. The night was still, silent, the sounds of the forest around me barely audible over the cold wind. My fingers worked quickly, trying to ignite the small pile of twigs and leaves, and after a few minutes, the flames finally caught again, flickering to life and pushing back the shadows.
The warmth returned, but only barely. It wasn't enough to drive away the cold entirely, but it was better than nothing. I sat by the fire for a moment, staring into the flames, letting the heat slowly seep back into my body. I knew I couldn't stay here for long. Thirst and hunger were clawing at me, demanding attention.
I pushed myself to my feet, every muscle in my body protesting the movement. I was sore, stiff from the hours of lying on the hard ground, but I couldn't let that stop me. I had read about dehydration—how it could creep up on you without warning, how it could kill you just as easily as the cold if you didn't stay vigilant.
There was a river nearby. I had seen it earlier before the sun had set, its waters clear and fast-moving. Getting there was easy enough, even in the dead of night. The forest was eerily quiet, and the moonlight filtered through the canopy of trees, casting long, shifting shadows that made the entire landscape feel strange and foreign.
I knelt by the riverbank, cupping my hands and drinking deeply from the cold, crisp water. It tasted fresh, clean—nothing like the chlorinated tap water from my previous life. The water soothed my dry throat, but it did nothing to ease the gnawing hunger in my stomach.
Food. I needed food, and not just the leaves and mushrooms I had seen earlier. Those were fine for staving off hunger for a few hours, but I needed protein—something that could give me the strength to survive not just tonight, but the days ahead. The training my father was putting me through demanded more from my body than a few plants could provide.
I scanned the area, hoping to find something—anything—that would offer more sustenance. But the night was dark, and I was too tired to go hunting. There were no animals nearby, at least none that I could catch without weapons or traps. I had seen mushrooms growing near the trees, but they were small, barely enough to satisfy a rabbit, let alone someone like me.
I gathered a few of the edible plants I recognized and ate them slowly, chewing on the bitter leaves and mushrooms as I sat by the river. It wasn't enough. I could feel it. My body needed more, especially after the brutal training I had endured earlier. The beatings, the running, the constant pressure—it was pushing me to the edge. My muscles were screaming for protein, for something that could help them recover, but the forest wasn't offering much.
I considered fishing, but I had no gear. No tools. No bait. The river might hold fish, but without the right equipment, it would be a wasted effort. I was stuck. Too tired to hunt, too weak to forage properly, and the night was closing in around me.
The hunger gnawed at me, but I pushed it aside. I would have to make do. There wasn't much else I could do in the middle of the night. I had no choice but to accept the discomfort, to let the hunger sit with me for now.
I gathered a few more branches for the fire before making my way back to the shelter. It wasn't much, but at least it kept the wind at bay. I piled the branches on the flames, watching as the fire crackled to life once more, casting dancing shadows around me. The warmth was a temporary reprieve from the cold, and I huddled closer to it, my body desperate for heat.
But despite the fire, despite the brief drink of water, I was still tired. The kind of exhaustion that went beyond physical. It crept into my bones, into my mind, making it hard to stay alert. I couldn't stay awake. Not now. Not like this. I needed rest, even if only for a few more hours.
I lay back down on the hard ground, pulling my arms around myself for warmth. The fire flickered beside me, and the cold wind whistled through the trees, but sleep was already pulling me under.
Tomorrow, I told myself. Tomorrow, I would find food. Tomorrow, I would build a better shelter, something that could actually keep me safe. Tomorrow, I would keep pushing forward.
The hunger, the cold, the loneliness—I wasn't going to let it break me. I had come too far to let it. This forest, this training, this constant battle for survival—it wasn't going to win. I would find a way. I would survive.
I closed my eyes, letting the crackling of the fire and the gentle rush of the river lull me back to sleep. The night would be long, but I would get through it. Somehow.
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