After a long struggle with the boat's controls, I finally managed to reach land. I thought I had been heading straight for the shore, but I must have drifted considerably; it took much longer than planned. Regardless, I was relieved to make landfall before the fuel ran out. I abandoned the boat on the beach.
I was wearing a faded, dusty sweater and scarf, stiff trousers, and boots with holes in them. Everything was oversized and difficult to move in. Since I still had my insect body hidden under my clothes, my back was awkwardly bulged, but with my long hair and the scarf, it didn't stand out too much.
These clothes were part of the supplies stored in the mountain hut. 'The thought of wearing clothes that Mock once wore gives me a bit of resistance, but things are just things.' I decided to treat them as spoils of war and use them without hesitation. It was a bit sad that these clothes were all I had to show for everything I went through, though...
The weather was mostly cloudy, with occasional snow. The snow didn't fall for long, but because the sun never came out and the temperature stayed low, the accumulation didn't melt. After walking through the deserted wilderness for a while, I came upon a road. The traffic was sparse, but there were cars driving by.
At first, walking near the road was terrifying. Thoughts of Mock and Pejjo kept surfacing in my mind. 'In my current form, I should look like nothing more than a human child, but I don't know how far my common sense will carry me.' I feared that people might suddenly attack me, just like those I encountered on that island. I moved along the direction of the road, trying to stay out of sight as much as possible.
However, my anxieties were unfounded. Realizing that staying hidden would be no different from my time on the island, I summoned my courage and stepped into a town I found further down the road. The people living there were just ordinary humans, exactly as I remembered. They didn't use any mysterious powers; they were perfectly normal people.
In fact, hiding suspiciously made me stand out more, so I began to walk through the town with confidence. Even so, perhaps because I was looking around at everything with such curiosity, people often spoke to me. I couldn't answer them very well, but no one gave me an unpleasant look.
The real trouble started when I ran into people walking their dogs. For some reason, every dog would wag its tail and sprint toward me at full speed, dragging their owners along by the leash. They seemed so fond of me that I couldn't bring myself to treat them harshly, but it was a struggle to get away. Large dogs were particularly troublesome. They were strong and tried to lick my face all over. It turned into a situation that looked like I was wrestling with them.
I heard the cheerful voices of children. Peeking toward the sound, I saw a group of boys, appearing to be in elementary or middle school, gathered in a vacant lot to play. My body didn't look much different in age from theirs. I wasn't sure if I could call them my peers, but I was curious about what kind of games children of that age played.
It seemed they were having a snowball fight. They weren't just throwing snowballs randomly; they were fighting in a match format between two teams under clear rules. A court was set up, and they had even built snow barriers to block incoming snowballs. It felt more like a proper sport than just a children's game. It was surprisingly engaging to watch, so I stayed to observe for a while.
"Oh, what's the matter? What are you doing in a place like this?"
As I was secretly watching the match from behind a building, someone spoke to me from behind. Startled, I turned around to see a middle-aged woman carrying shopping bags.
"Are you being left out? Oh, how terrible. Leave it to me."
Without waiting for my reply, she grabbed my hand and led me toward the boys in the vacant lot.
"Listen, you boys! You have to play together nicely! Let this child join your group!"
With that, the woman walked away. The children, who had been playing happily until then, were all left stunned by the sudden intrusion. The match was interrupted, and the atmosphere became awkward.
"You... do you want to join the snowball fight?"
One of the boys, who looked like a team leader, asked me. Of course, I intended to decline. They were playing a structured match as experienced players of this sport. It wouldn't be fun for an outside amateur to jump in.
Yet, contrary to that thought, I couldn't immediately refuse the invitation to join. 'Could it be that I actually want to play with them?' Even though these were my own feelings, I couldn't provide a clear answer.
"Well, which is it?"
Seeing the leader's slightly irritated attitude, I found myself nodding my head.
"Have you ever played a match before?"
I shook my head.
"...You know the rules, right?"
When I shook my head again, he let out a visible sigh.
"Alright. For now, you can join our team."
"Wait, seriously? That's a girl!"
"Don't be like that. You're a sub for the first set. Watch closely and learn how to move. Horace, teach her the rules."
"Eh!? Me...?"
I was welcomed as a substitute. It seemed each team could have up to seven players per match. There were several other subs besides me, acting as referees or making snowballs for the next match. The boy named Horace was one of them.
Apparently, you aren't allowed to make or resupply snowballs during the match itself. Each team is limited to 90 balls per set. One set lasts three minutes, and the first team to win two sets wins the match. 90 balls are thrown away in the blink of an eye, so they never seem to have enough no matter how many they make. I helped Horace make snowballs while he explained the rules.
Horace drew a diagram of the court on the ground to explain.
[ILLUSTRATION]
Any player hit by a snowball must leave the court. By reducing the enemy's numbers this way, the team that eliminates everyone wins. Alternatively, you can win by capturing the flag at the back of the enemy's territory even without total elimination. If time runs out, the team with more remaining players wins.
By the time I joined, the match had entered the second set. Our team had taken the first set, so winning this one would secure the victory. If the enemy team won, the match would proceed to a third set.
I felt like the players were more tense than in the previous match. Despite being in the middle of a game, many of them kept glancing over at me. 'Are they really that bothered by the presence of an outsider?' Perhaps because he was looking away, one of our team's players got hit and was eliminated.
"Ah, man, what are you doing? Well, I guess I understand the feeling..."
In the end, we lost that set. Next was finally my turn. I was nervous, but I believed I had the rules firmly etched into my mind. Under a pleasant sense of tension, the whole team lined up at the back line of the court. The number assigned to my bib was '6', and my position was 'Backs'.
The court is divided into friendly and enemy territories, with the boundary called the 'Center Line'. There is another line behind each side called the 'Back Line'. At the start of the match, 90 snowballs are placed behind this back line in a snow wall called the 'Chateau'.
You don't start the match already holding snowballs. The strategy of how to resupply balls becomes crucial. This resupply task is entrusted to three players in the 'Backs' role.
Out of the seven players, those with bibs numbered 1 through 4 are 'Forwards'. They hide behind several snow walls called 'Shelters' placed on the court, dodging enemy attacks while aiming for the back of the opponent's court.
Securing the forward shelters to penetrate enemy territory ahead of the opponent is the key to victory. Pushing the front line—where the ranges of both sides collide—as far into the opponent's side as possible is where the Forwards show their skill.
However, you can't just attack forward recklessly. Moving from a rear shelter to a forward shelter creates a large opening, and as the front line advances, it moves further away from the Chateau, making resupply difficult. If you accidentally lose players, you'll be hit by the opponent's counterattack.
Victory is impossible without coordination between Forwards and Backs. One shouldn't underestimate it as just a snowball fight; it requires highly advanced tactics. The instruction given to me before the match was, "Just do whatever." It seemed they didn't count on me as a viable combat force from the start.
At the same time as the starting whistle blew, everyone on the team sprinted to their positions. First, nothing can start until the Backs bring out the balls. Since there is a rule that Forwards cannot go behind the Back Line, the resupply must be done by the Backs.
The two other Backs besides me began grabbing balls with practiced hands. If the initial resupply is done quickly from the even start of the match, the front line can be suppressed that much sooner, so this is where the Backs have to push themselves. Since resupply can be done without interference from the enemy team, it's vital to carry as many balls as possible, as quickly as possible.
The three of us scrambled for snowballs like housewives at a bargain sale, but perhaps because I applied too much strength, the balls I gripped crumbled away. I panicked.
While I was struggling, the other two finished their collection and took off. If you take too many, it takes time; if you prioritize speed, the number of balls you can carry decreases. That balance must be judged based on the battle situation. In my haste, I even crushed the snowballs I was cradling in my arms. I panicked even more.
Then, I had an epiphany. 'Trying to hold them with my hands is the mistake.' I rolled up my sweater to create a pocket and stuffed the snowballs inside. This way they wouldn't break, and I could carry a lot. Though I was behind the other Backs, I finally started running toward the Shelter.
"Pfft—!? Front! I can see your front!"
Every single teammate was looking at me. Among them, two Forwards who had stood up in front of the Shelter were staring so hard that they were hit in the back of the head by snowballs and called out.
Tweet!
"Foul! Foul!"
Horace, acting as referee, ran over with a red face. Apparently, trying to carry snowballs using my sweater was against the rules. Thinking about it calmly, it was natural for it to be a foul since I used a "tool." I lacked composure.
Normally I would have been called out and ejected, but because it was a beginner's mistake, I got off with a merciful single warning. However, the elimination of the two Forwards was not overturned.
"That shouldn't count! I mean, you can't help but look! You have to look at something like that!"
"No, I can't even defend that... that's 'out' in so many ways."
"Weren't you guys looking too!?"