Sugimoto crouched low, his breath fogging in the cold Hokkaido air. His hand rested on the barrel of his Arisaka rifle, eyes narrowed as he scanned the snow-covered landscape ahead. The wind howled through the trees, carrying with it the distant scent of pine and wet earth. The scars on his face, the ones that stretched across like a jagged "sa" hieroglyph, twitched slightly as he adjusted his military cap.
"Dammit... it's too quiet," he muttered under his breath, glancing to his side where Asirpa stood, her sharp blue eyes focused and unwavering. She was clutching her bow, ready for anything. Despite her young age, she was far more adept at surviving in this wilderness than he could ever hope to be.
Asirpa didn't respond immediately, her lips pressed into a thin line as she surveyed the area with the same intensity. Her breath puffed out in small clouds, and her fur cloak shielded her from the biting wind. After a long pause, she finally spoke in a low voice.
"There's something wrong. The animals... they've all gone silent.'
Sugimoto's grip tightened on the rifle. That wasn't a good sign. When the animals went quiet, it usually meant something big was nearby—something dangerous. Maybe a bear. Maybe worse.
The snow crunched under Sugimoto's boots as he stood up, scanning the horizon once more. The weight of his weapons felt reassuring against his body—the rifle slung over his shoulder, the revolver tucked into his belt. But it wasn't just the weapons that made him feel secure. It was the thought that no matter what came at them, he was Sugimoto the Immortal. He'd survived worse.
"Oi, Shiraishi!" Sugimoto barked over his shoulder as he spotted their slippery companion lagging behind, hands tucked deep into his coat pockets like he was on a leisurely stroll.
Shiraishi jolted upright at the sound of Sugimoto's voice, nearly tripping over himself in the process. "Ah! Y-Yeah! I'm here! What's up?"
Sugimoto sighed, exasperated by how utterly useless Shiraishi seemed sometimes. "Stay alert! Something's off around here."
Shiraishi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his breath coming out in nervous bursts. "You don't gotta tell me twice, Sugimoto! I can feel it too! It's like... the air's heavier, ya know?"
Asirpa shot Shiraishi a sharp glance, unimpressed. "If you weren't so busy daydreaming about brothels, maybe you’d notice sooner," she quipped, her voice cold but teasing.
Shiraishi winced, giving her a sheepish grin. "C'mon, Asirpa-chan! No need to be so harsh. I'm just... uh... keeping morale up, right?"
Sugimoto grunted. "Enough. Focus."
The group moved forward again, the tension palpable in the air as they trudged through the snow. Every step felt heavier than the last, the silence pressing in on them from all sides. Sugimoto's mind raced through possibilities—another bear? Or maybe one of Tsurumi's men? Hell, with their luck, it could be both.
Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the trees.
Sugimoto spun around, rifle raised in an instant, his finger hovering over the trigger. Asirpa had already crouched low, her bow drawn and ready to release an arrow at a moment's notice. Shiraishi, on the other hand, had thrown himself into a nearby snowbank with a yelp.
"Shit!" Sugimoto hissed under his breath, scanning the treeline for any movement. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline flooding his veins.
