GB 2

There were villagers gathered in a circle, led by the chief and the vice-leader. The chief was chewing on a plant known to relax the nerves when chewed, making one feel languid.

The captain, with a long scar on his cheek and roughly tied silver-white hair, glanced at Number 8 before turning his head away.

“You’re late.”

“Ah… well…”

“No excuses needed. Go sit down.”

As Number 8 sat down at the edge of the circle with Number 3, the vice-leader snapped his fingers.

“Now! Let’s show today’s spoils!”

As the vice-leader shouted in a very happy and proud voice, the scouts who had gone out with him began to bring in boxes. They were treasures for the adults.

When they turned the boxes upside down and shook them, bullets, handguns, and assault rifles spilled out, a few of each. It wasn’t a large quantity, but it was enough to make the vice-leader proud, given how difficult these items were to obtain.

Next, canned food and frozen bread also poured out.

Number 3 and Number 8’s eyes widened. Just looking at it made their stomachs growl. Number 3 was already licking his lips repeatedly, his eyes shining.

“Today is a festival,” the vice-leader said with a grin, boastfully.

The chief, who was beside him whittling wood with a notched knife, sternly added, “Don’t get too carried away. We set sail just before dawn.”

Number 3’s eyes shone even brighter.

All children aspired to board the ship.

Except for Number 8.

It was a secret, but in truth, Number 8 was a little, just a tiny bit, really just a teeny-tiny bit afraid of large machines. He preferred swimming in the sea with his own body rather than riding on them. Number 3 found this very pathetic about Number 8.

“It’s so great to go outside. Haven’t you heard the adults? They say there are many things we’ve never seen on the island. It’s a completely different world!”

A different world…. Number 8, who had lived only on this island since the moment his memories began, didn’t need a different world. To Number 8, who was so ignorant of the outside world that he didn’t even know how much was missing from the island, the island was a pretty good home as it was.

Even if the adults were often scary, and he was frequently hungry and occasionally got hit, how could he not like this place where he had somewhere to sleep, could wake up every day, and go swimming? For kids, there weren’t many options beyond liking the only world they knew.

Regardless, Number 3 had dreamy eyes as he dreamed of his upcoming first voyage.

In the meantime, the spoils were passed around the circle.

After all the canned food went to the adults, there was almost nothing left for the children. However, the vice-leader’s assistant clicked his tongue when he saw Number 3, Number 8, Number 14 who was still crawling, and Number 16 who had just started toddling, and then took something out from inside his clothes.

“You eat this.”

One can of food, self-made baked bread, bananas, and grilled fish.

Number 8 watched as Number 3 eagerly took the can tossed by the aide, then pulled out the knife he’d been given as a pre-departure gift and clumsily opened it. At the same time, he tore the bread into small pieces, pretending to eat while actually stuffing them into his pocket.

It took some time to open the can, as it didn’t seem to open easily. Meanwhile, Number 8 sliced the banana and deboned the fish, wrapping it in the bread before slipping it back into his pocket. The pocket grew heavy, but his stomach felt hollow. Number 8, hungry, licked his lips.

After finally managing to open the can, they found some liquid inside that sloshed like the sea, along with round, unidentified chunks that were probably some kind of fruit.

“Wow!” Number 3 exclaimed.

“I’ve eaten this before! It’s peaches!”

“Peaches?”

Number 8 asked, tilting his head.

“It’s really delicious. It’s very soft and squishy. Here, this one’s mine first.”

There were four pieces of fruit inside. Number 3 took two for himself and gave one to Number 8. The remaining one was cut into small pieces and given to Numbers 14 and 16. The children who couldn’t even speak yet sat down heavily and ate noisily, getting their hands very dirty.

Fruit in water? Number 8 poked the flesh of the fruit with a puzzled expression. It was firm and springy. He had never seen anything like it before.

But watching Number 3 devour one in an instant and carefully cut the other into small pieces, he too took a small bite.

The flavor exploded in his mouth, as if something had burst open. His mouth watered instantly, and his hands and lips became sticky. Number 8 hurriedly devoured the entire piece of fruit, forgetting completely about his plan to save some for his find.

By the time he came to his senses, Number 3 was already gulping down the water that had been in the can. Number 8 looked at his empty, sticky hands in bewilderment.

Number 3, glancing at Number 8, offered him the fruit juice sloshing at the bottom of the can.

“You can have this.”

“What about Numbers 14 and 16?”

“They can’t pull their own weight yet.”

Number 3 said coldly.

You had to earn your share to be able to eat and rest.

That was the simple rule and the only law of this island.

Number 8 thanked him and carefully tilted his head to drink the juice. He even sucked on the opening, regretting how quickly it was gone.

Once again, it was a taste that made his eyes close and a smile form involuntarily.

At that moment, someone approached and hit Number 8 on the head.

“Number 8, you didn’t bring anything today.”

It was Salmo, who had earned his name after being allowed to sail.

Despite his best efforts, he had barely started growing a beard, but his face still couldn’t hide his youthful appearance with acne. He used to be Number 2.

Salmo snatched the can from Number 8’s hand. Number 8 immediately looked upset and made a distressed sound.

“This brat. Not even grateful for being fed.”

Salmo sneered and slapped Number 8’s cheek. Number 8, used to it, simply turned his head back to its original position.

“Hey, Number 3. Don’t be too nice to him. If you keep letting him off easy, you’ll be in trouble too, you know.”

At those words, Number 3 quickly nodded.

There was no resentment. It was expected. He would have reacted the same way if he were Number 3.

“Now, kids, go inside and sleep.”

No one paid attention to Salmo’s actions. Instead, the chief just waved his hand as if annoyed.

When the leader spoke, Number 3 started to get up, gathering his belongings. “You stay seated,” he was stopped. Number 3 smiled broadly and moved closer to the fire, while Number 8 skillfully took care of Numbers 14 and 16, guiding them into the shelter.

The inside of the quarters, with several hammocks hanging, was humid. Number 8 laid the children down where flying insects were constantly buzzing around and lit some leaves that gave off an acrid scent to drive away the bugs.

Then, peeking through the door gap at the increasingly rowdy gathering of adults around the fire, he quietly slipped out. Crawling flat on his stomach, he slowly dragged the peach can left on the ground. Then, before the adults could discover him, he quickly escaped.

No one paid attention to Number 8, who was still just a child.

* * *

Despite the pitch-black night, Number 8 skillfully made his way through the bushes as if it were daylight. His arms and legs itched where bugs had bitten him, but as long as it wasn’t a venomous snake, it was manageable. Scratching his arms, he returned to the cave, where he found a man lying on the ground, panting and sweating.

The man’s deeply flushed face seemed to be due to fever. At this rate, he might die. Number 8 became upset at the thought that the first living thing he had picked up might become dead again.

Number 8 took out all the food from his pockets and went outside to gather some medicinal herbs. He chewed them and spat them out, intending to put them between the bread, but upon seeing the man’s lips dry and white, he put them in the can instead.

“Try this. It’s really delicious.”

Number 8 brought the can to the man’s mouth, swallowing his saliva regretfully.

He lifted the man’s head onto his lap and urged, “Quickly, quickly.” The reason he kept urging, even knowing the man couldn’t hear, was because he feared he might drink it all himself, unable to forget the sweet taste.

Fortunately, the man who had been responding to the sweet scent drank all the sweet liquid left in the can as soon as it touched his lips. Having also fed him herbs that could reduce fever and infection, if luck was on their side, he might survive.

If only he could be lucky.

Number 8 glumly laid the man back down and sat next to him, hugging his knees.

Number 3 would probably fall asleep right away, too excited from eating the food given by the adults to notice his absence. Even if he got caught later, he could make an excuse that he went to catch night fish because he felt sorry for returning empty-handed. If he got hit a little and apologized, wouldn’t they let him off?

“Don’t die,” Number 8 whispered.

“You can’t die.”

Number 8 pulled over the man’s clothes, which still had the buttons intact, and covered him with them.

“You have such pretty buttons… it’d be a waste if you died.”

Following his earlier tough threats of k1lling the man if he died, now he was gently coaxing. His voice was already full of affection. Perhaps the fact that the man was now “his” had made him more generous.

Even though he had given him all of the precious sweet juice he had been saving, the man still didn’t respond.

After staring at the man for a long time, Number 8 started nodding off and eventually dropped his face onto his raised knees.