Chapter 15: Is Camping Popular These Days?

“… What are you doing?”

“I’m making a cellbin.”

I took a plastic bottle, cut off the top, flipped it upside down, then taped the cut-off body section onto it. Next, I used an awl to poke several holes in the bottom, and finally weighted it with a stone before sinking it into a slow, deep part of the river.

“Is that what you were talking to the park ranger about earlier?”

“Yeah.”

I’d heard somewhere that, depending on the location, making these trap‐‐style fish collectors could be illegal, so I wanted to double-check.

“… I’m bored.”

“Mm‐hm.”

With the awl I’d brought, I bored holes into the plastic water bottle. I gathered the scraps from cutting it into my bag. Then I put a heavier rock inside the bottom half of the bottle, sealed the opening with tape, and—just like that—a one‐way trap was ready. Any small fish that swam inside could get in, but the little “flared edge” of the bottle bottom would keep them from escaping.

It was the sort of craft project a grade‐schooler might do, yet somehow—now that I was an adult—it still felt oddly fun. Probably because we’d reminisced so much the other day, I found myself smiling at memories of playing in rivers as a kid. I scanned the banks until I found a gentle current, kneeling at the water’s edge to set my trap in place.

“Saki—are you listening?”

“Yeah. Just a second.”

Serina tugged at the hem of my shirt, but I kept my gaze on the forest stream, looking for the right spot. When I found a place where the flow was slow enough, I knelt, plunged my right hand into the cold water, and carefully positioned the cellbin.

“Hah…”

As I swung my wet right hand, shivering in the chill, I heard a soft sigh beside me. Serina held out a small towel and began rubbing my hand dry.

“Hey Saki, what did we come here to do again?”

“Camping.”

“Right, camping. Who did you say you were with?”

“… Sorry for ignoring you.”

“… Then as an apology, give me a kiss.”

“Why?”

Before I could finish the question, Serina grabbed my cheek and kissed me. Her tongue immediately slid along my lips, probing for an opening.

“Uhh…”

I pushed her away by her shoulder, but she clutched my waist and pulled me back. Her tongue forced its way inside, dancing around in my mouth until my skin felt like it was on fire by the time she finally pulled back.

“… Shall we go?”

“Yeah…”

Serina’s cheeks were flushed as she spoke, then she spun on her heel and walked ahead. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve, exhaling the flustered heat before following her.

When we returned to the campsite, we saw other campers in outdoor gear and bright, colorful tents scattered around. We passed through a small clearing, nodding at a few pitched tents, and soon spotted the one we’d set up. Because we’d picked a spot a little away from the water source and other campers, it was quiet and peaceful.

I’d always loved this kind of place. As a kid, I’d run through fields and woods—tearing and dirtying my clothes—until my parents scolded me for it. “Wild strawberries were over there,” or “Remember the ruins by the stream?”—the conversation we’d had just the other day played through my mind again.

I lit the burner I’d brought, placed a pot of water on it, and brought it to a boil. I added herbal tea leaves and let them steep, then poured a steaming cup and took a slow sip.

While watching the wisps of steam rise from my mug, I glanced sideways at Serina. Her face looked puckered, like she’d bitten into something sour. Her tight lips looked almost painful.

“What’s wrong?”

“… Who were you thinking about just now?”

My heart skipped a beat. I hadn’t told her I’d met Ogata. I couldn’t exactly admit I’d been thinking about him. I stammered, trying to deflect so I wouldn’t break what we had:

“It’s not anyone in particular… I was just remembering old times.”

“… I see.”

An awkward silence fell, making the air heavy. It felt wrong to be here “camping” if this was how things stayed.

“Let’s build a proper firepit.”

This campsite was one of the rare places these days that still allowed open fires. I could cook on the burner, but I really wanted a campfire if possible.

I turned to Serina and asked if she was okay with it. She nodded, and together we searched for flat stones, arranging them in a U‐shape. One layer of stones wasn’t tall enough, so we stacked a few more until the height was just right.

We gathered dry branches, set a small fire starter beneath them, and by the time the flames caught, dusk had fallen completely.

“Good thing we pre‐cut the ingredients,”
Serina said. She placed a grill rack over the stones and began grilling meat and vegetables. We’d only packed salt—forgetting to bring any sauce—but it turned out that salt alone was more than enough.

We ate until we were completely satisfied, then made non‐caffeinated tea for dessert. Holding my cup, I sat back in my chair and stared up at the sky. More stars shone here than I’d ever seen in the city—tiny points of light twinkling across the dark expanse.

“I’ve had a dream of doing this,”
Serina suddenly began.

Her face was soft, warm in the firelight. “When I was a kid, I was always sickly. I’d run a fever at the smallest thing, so I never went on school trips or after‐school outings. I’ve always dreamed of camping, but there was never anyone to go with. I was kind of resigned to the idea that I’d never do it.”

Hearing her speak so gently, I thought again how glad I was that we’d come.

When the fire died down, darkness swallowed the campsite. We used our phone lights to guide us back into the tent.

Since we’d already laid out our sleeping pads and bags, there was nothing left to do but lie down. Serina slipped inside behind me and zipped the tent shut.

As I crawled into my sleeping bag, I felt something press against my back.

“So… Who was it, exactly?”
I heard from behind me.

“I already said: it’s not about anyone…”

My lips were held captive, and my thoughts slowed to a crawl. With her mouth on mine—nibbling, licking—the ember ignited in me during the day flared back to life. My mind went numb.

I discovered that Serina had crept in next to me in the cramped sleeping bag, leaving me little room to move. Everything felt impossibly tight.

“Look at me, Saki.”

Her eyes flashed with a razor‐sharp intensity, making my entire body tremble for no reason. She kissed me so fervently that it felt like I was being devoured, her hand roaming over every inch of me within reach. I nearly moaned out loud, but forced myself to stay silent.

We were inside a flimsy tent—only a thin layer separated us from the outside world. Her lips grazed my earlobe; her fingers traced my neck.

My body responded, and she pressed me down with her torso to hold me still. Her hand found its way lower, seeking out the one spot I couldn’t resist.

Tension shot through me as I reflexively looped my arm around her back, but she held me firmly and worked her fingers with expert persistence.

I felt my pulse ratchet ever higher, fighting to keep control.

No. This was nothing like anything that had happened before.

My thoughts scrambled as I tried to process everything. Her skin was so soft, her body so light. I could barely breathe with her hair brushing my face. She alternated between pressing me tight and then easing off slightly—over and over. I never thought anyone could be so skilled.

Was it because she was the same gender, or because it was Serina? I didn’t know. I lost the ability to hold back my voice. A low sound slipped out, and instantly she clamped a hand over my mouth to silence me.

I flailed as though drowning, but there was no end in sight.

A drop of sweat fell onto my forehead. When I opened my eyes, I saw Serina’s face—slick with sweat and desire—watching me. I realized she’d been staring at me the whole time.

“Make me one of your choices, Saki.”

Right. She’d known exactly what was going on in my head from the start. We’d let our bodies tie us together, but our hearts weren’t bound—yet.

In her eyes, I saw a desperation, a hunger. Even though it was me being pushed to the brink, she felt the same pressure. Her intensity made my head spin.

Okay. I understand. I understand.

I nodded as best I could and clung to her body. My mind shattered in that moment, and I stifled my emotions.

With my hand finally free, I lifted it to stroke her hair. Her scalp was damp, her back warm. I knew it was a hypocritical gesture—yet I couldn’t help myself.

For a moment, I let myself relish the feel of her hair, then, as if gravity pulled me downward, my consciousness slipped away.