A day later
My whole body was tense, and my eyes narrowed as if I had become a predator during the hunt of its prey. Only I was looking with only one eye.
I held my breath and pushed away any thoughts that could interfere with me.
A little to the left. A little higher. Yeah, right there—
BANG.
The shot echoed through the trees. Birds scattered. Somewhere in the distance, a squirrel probably had a heart attack.
Hana, standing beside me, didn't even try to hide her smirk. "Are you sure you closed the right eye?"
I kept my poker face. "Yeah. The one you told me to."
This morning, I'd dragged myself into the forest for some fun. And by fun, I mean convincing Hana to let me try shooting. The weather was nice. The vibes were good. I had super vision and a super brain. This should've been easy.
After all, the creator of Jujutsu Kaisen once said: No matter what Satoru does, he can do it.
Apparently, that didn't apply to me.
I lowered the gun and looked at the still whole bottle standing on the pole of a fallen tree.
Hana crossed her arms. "Three misses. Can't blame bad luck anymore."
I squinted at the gun. "I'm pretty sure the sight's crooked."
Hana crossed her arms, giving me the look—the one that said, "Say another dumb thing, and I'll make sure this gun becomes a permanent part of your skull."
"You think the sight is crooked?" she repeated, her voice dangerously calm.
I held my ground. "Obviously. There's no way I could miss three times in a row unless something was fundamentally wrong with the weapon."
Hana quickly reached for the gun. I instinctively took a step back, because, you know, self-preservation.
Before I could protest, she snatched it from my hands, aimed without hesitation, and—
BANG.
The bottle exploded into glass dust.
She lowered the gun, turned to me, and raised an eyebrow. "Crooked, huh?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "…It probably fixed itself just now."
Hana exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose like I was actively lowering her lifespan. "Yeah. Sure. The gun developed self-repairing technology in the last three seconds."
"Glad we're on the same page," I said, nodding.
She just shook her head and sat down on a nearby log. "So what are you gonna do now?"
I blinked. "You mean… after I leave the island?"
"Yeah. You're not from here. And you obviously don't plan on settling down." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "So what's next for the dumbest writer?"
"I am…" I wanted to defend myself, but the question itself made me think about it every time. I thought about it already.
The thing is, I didn't have an answer.
The future was a swirling, chaotic mess that I was barely keeping up with. I had goals, sure—get stronger, survive, maybe avoid becoming a slave for those royalty bastards. But beyond that?
I shrugged. "Dunno. Just living with the flow for now."
Hana snorted. "That doesn't sound like a plan."
"That's because it isn't." I stretched my arms. "What about you?"
She hesitated. "I'm not sure."
I waited. She didn't elaborate.
I tilted my head. "Not sure, as in, haven't thought about it? Or not sure, as in, thought about it too much?"
A small smirk. "Since when are you a therapist?"
"Since never," I shot back.
She sighed, looking down at her hands. "I'd like to design complex things, like technology, you know? Make something real. Something important."
"Sounds like you'd need to leave the island for that," I pointed out.
She nodded, but there was hesitation. "Yeah… and that's the problem."
I frowned. "Why?"
She leaned back, stretching her arms over her head. "Because that means leaving my dad. My friends. Everything I know." She stood and her gaze looked somewhere far away "Well, I also want to help them, if I can find out how to do those cannon balls, and I can make them, then I can be sure that nothing will happen to them"
I watched her for a moment, then exhaled. "Then come with me. "
She gave a short, sharp laugh. "I can't."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
"Colt won't let me."
I frowned. "You're not wearing any shackles."
"That's not the point," she muttered, shaking her head. "He's always been strict. Ever since I was a kid, he's forbidden me from going into the ocean. No idea why, but I think that is because of something with my father."
"Well," I said, crossing my arms, "what difference does it make? You go there, maybe you find some materials, books, blueprints—maybe you get inspired and make something even better than those cannonballs. Then you come back. Simple."
She didn't respond.
I could see the war in her eyes. Still, she didn't argue.
I took that as progress.
I turned to leave. "Alright, I'll let the old man know you're coming with me, then—"
"NO!"
Hana shot up so fast I thought she might tackle me.
"Don't—don't tell him," she said, exasperated. "Not yet."
I smirked. "So you're coming?"
She exhaled, rubbing her temples like she was regretting everything. "Yeah. But Colt can't know until the last possible second."
"He won't," I turned toward the village and added, "And we will sail in two hours."
But honestly, it's hard for me to resist doing something to make this old asshole angry.