AN: Look who's back after not updating for...an entire month?! It's been that long already?

Well, better late than never, right? I had meant to get this finished and posted earlier, but alas, life decided to keep me preoccupied. Plus, this chapter is significantly longer than the others, so it took longer to write.

In any event, please enjoy!

Whimpering, Korosensei gingerly nursed the tender welts that dotted his fair skin, sniffling to himself as he did so.

"I'm never letting those kids play with anti-sensei BB guns again!" he resolved, still sore where Karasuma had shot him up with the supposedly harmless BB's.

He threw a piteous glance over the crackling fire and toward Karasuma, who sat opposite him, seeming lost in thought.

Korosensei couldn't really blame Karasuma for his strong reaction earlier, nor for the pensive attitude that he had adopted. Korosensei's own mind was whirling with possibilities, trying to work out just how something like this had happened. Even after nearly a day to think on it, the answer still eluded him.

As of yet, he couldn't even tell if the antimatter had been completely stripped from him or if it was still inside him somewhere, somehow nullified and lying dormant.

However, he was sure of one thing. The solution to the mystery was undoubtedly lurking in the hot spring he had visited. Something about the spring had caused him to change back, or more specifically, something in the water.

He'd have to make a point to go and investigate the scene.

For now, though, he had a rather uncooperative Karasuma to deal with.

Korosensei couldn't deny that this whole nightmare was the result of his own misdemeanors, and of course he felt endlessly guilty, and accordingly, he had profusely apologized to Karasuma.

Even so, regardless of how many times Korosensei had bowed his head and begged the man for forgiveness, Karasuma had kept his responses clipped and professional, and most of all, unaccepting. It seemed the whole "forgive and forget" philosophy was lost on the man.

After all, it wasn't as if Korosensei had wanted to get them both trapped on some island in the middle of nowhere. If anything, he wanted to be here even less than Karasuma did! He only had a year to teach Class 3-E; he didn't have a moment to spare! He certainly didn't have time to reenact the Lord of the Flies on some island!

Honestly, Karasuma acted as if he was always the only one inconvenienced.

Well, that wasn't to say that Karasuma's distaste toward him wasn't warranted (it usually was), but it would be nice if he could, at least for once, be a little more understanding. It certainly wouldn't hurt for Karasuma to trust him a little more.

That was when Korosensei came to a decision: if Karasuma insisted upon acting all bristly and unforgiving, he would have to prove to him just how professional he could be. His octopus form may have had many flaws that led to some unfortunate occurrences, but now he was back to his skillful, assassin self. Any attempts to win over the man that may have went awry before would certainly succeed now.

After all, he had already messed up big-time. What else could possibly go wrong?

Across from Korosensei, Karasuma sat with his arms folded, regarding the human form of his rather unconventional coworker from across the crackling fire situated between them. The octopus-turned-man had tailored his robes to fit his new form, and in addition, he had made for himself a temporary pair of shoes.

Seeing his target like this was so bizarre and absolutely uncanny. For the octopus to be, well, anything but an octopus…Karasuma still couldn't get over it. The two were obviously one in the same, as made obvious by their identical ability to muck up everything, but when he was sitting quietly at the fire, a serious and very human expression on his face, so different from his goofy octopus grin, it almost felt to Karasuma as if he was in the presence of a completely different person.

In light of the circumstances, continuing to call his target "octopus" felt wrong somehow, but almost anything was better than calling him by the ridiculous name his students had given him. So, octopus it was.

With the dawn sunlight glancing off their hunched forms, Karasuma's mind turned back to what the octopus had told him in the early hours of the morning. Following his fury-fueled chase the previous evening, after they had both found themselves back at the campfire, the octopus had lethargically relayed to him the more detailed version of events, explaining in-depth his puzzling transformation in the hot spring, as well as what led to it.

Needless to say, Karasuma was significantly less grateful for that bowl of ramen, now that he knew just what it had caused.

While Karasuma's anger hadn't quite subsided, it had mostly been replaced by the professional mindset that the dire situation called for. He furrowed his brow in thought. Somehow, his target had fallen into a hot spring, and somehow, that had stripped him of his octopus appearance. His conclusion had been the same as the octopus's, that the cause of the transformation was undeniably rooted in the water. Perhaps some strange chemical exclusive to these regions was infused in the steamy pool.

They would have to investigate the scene, of course, but if the root of the issue was truly a chemical that the octopus couldn't even detect when he had been submerged in it, then it was unlikely that they would discover it now.

And if they couldn't discover the cause of the transformation, then how on Earth were they supposed to reverse it?

Although, Karasuma couldn't help but wonder: would it really be better for his target to turn back into an octopus? In his octopus form, what with his unparalleled speed and ridiculous abilities, not even the most skilled assassins could lay so much as a finger on him. In his human form, however, he was significantly more vulnerable. This might be the best chance Karasuma would ever have to assassinate his target.

But then again, this was the octopus's true form as the world's best assassin, the God of Death. Perhaps it was wiser to assume that he was just as deadly this way.

"Octopus," Karasuma began.

Korosensei started to attention.

"Since it looks like we're going to be here awhile, we need to set up a more permanent camp."

Korosensei nodded eagerly in agreement. A bit too eagerly, Karasuma observed.

Suspicious.

"I also plan on revisiting the site of the crash, to gather more supplies," Karasuma elaborated. "What's more…that spring that you fell into. We need to investigate it as soon as possible, before any evidence fades."

"And then, hopefully, we'll find some clue of how I became like this, and hopefully, figure out what we can do to change me back," Korosensei finished. "Trust me, Karasuma-sensei, I'm already one step ahead of you."

Karasuma nodded warily, but was ultimately glad he had been spared the explaining.

With a flourish, Korosensei stood, his robes flapping in the ocean breeze. He stretched. "Now that the sun's risen, why don't we get started? I'm eager to investigate the spring, and I could use a new set of clothes from the plane."

Karasuma got to his feet and stretched as well. He considered the fire, whether to leave it burning as a signal to aircraft and ships, or to douse it and prevent the possibility of setting the entire island ablaze, since neither of them would be around to supervise it. This time he delegated to put it out, deciding that safe was better than sorry. While the same argument could be applied to the signal fire, they hadn't secured any materials that would create the thick, black smoke that would be more noticeable to rescuers.

Besides, he had a better, safer idea for until they could gather those smoke-inducing materials.

"Hey, octopus," Karasuma called as he prodded the fire to make sure it was dead. "I have a job for you." A job this easy, he figured, even his target could complete successfully.

His target, who had wandered a short way down the beach, turned back toward him, instantly attentive.

"I need you to write a giant 'SOS' in the sand over there," he called. "Make it big."

Korosensei gave him a thumbs-up and began dragging his foot through the white sand. Before long, the larger-than-life letters were gouged there, reaching out from the beach and towards the possibility of rescue.

When that was done and the fire was dead as could be, the two men entered the forest, hoping beyond hope that their trek would yield results.

Karasuma didn't need to be told that they were nearing the spring. The air itself, gradually becoming thicker and thicker with steam, was a dead giveaway.

After popping through a tightly-knitted copse of trees and brush, the pool came into sight, it's rocky sides slick and the water within them calm but hot, if the excessive steam rising from it was any indication.

"So, this is the spot?" Karasuma asked.

"Yes."

Karasuma surveyed the scene once more before coming to a decision. "I'll take this direction," he finally said, gesturing to the right.

"Guess I'll go left, then," Korosensei said, heading off in the opposite direction.

Karasuma quickly found that he had to watch his step. The rocks were incredibly slick, and intruding vines snaked as near as they dared to the edge of the pool. Though he hated to admit it, he was starting to see how his target had so easily fallen in.

The spring wasn't actually that big, he found, maybe the size of a large family pool. He knelt to further examine it. Though it was hard to tell with the moisture in the air obstructing his vision, the rock at the side of the pool didn't seem especially unique. It was just volcanic rock, which was a great deal less suspicious than sedimentary, which could include any number of strange and unheard of sediments that might affect the octopus' appearance. Still, he found a small piece that had broken free of a larger one and pocketed it to examine later in the sunlight.

As he did so, he noticed the small green plant growing nearby, right at the pool's edge. It struck him immediately as odd, that a plant could survive in these conditions. It looked like it was drawing its water directly from the spring. Coming closer, he fingered the herb's delicate leaves, marveling that such a fragile-looking plant could actually be so hardy.

This must be the plant that the octopus was trying to get, he realized. He recognized the familiar scent from the ramen his target had prepared for him.

Suddenly, without warning, he felt danger. It was as if watchful eyes were upon him. A sinister bloodlust bore into his exposed back, and shaken, Karasuma whipped around to face the deep foliage behind him.

And just as suddenly, that feeling of being watched was abruptly cut off. It was as if the unnerving gaze had sensed Karasuma's own upon it, and had withdrawn silently into the jungle.

It was so quick, Karasuma wondered if he was going insane. Being stranded on a small island with only a living, breathing, walking disaster of an octopus could surely do that to a person.

Warily forcing his attention away from the jungle, he inspected the water. The heat made the water cloudy, but aside from that it looked clean. Dipping a finger in, he tasted it. As he thought, it was freshwater, meaning it truly was a spring.

However, he tasted something else in the water, something that wasn't salt but had an equally distinctive taste. He dipped his finger once again and, once again, tasted the water. Just to be sure.

Once again, the taste was there. It was unmistakable.

Taking his canteen, he dumped its contents before lowering it into the hot spring to fill it with the scalding water. He could always get another one off the plane. Once he was in the sunlight and the clear air again, he would need to look more closely at the water sample.

Tucking the warm canteen away, his eyes raked over the scene one last time before he went on his way to find his target.

As it turned out, Korosensei had had no more luck than Karasuma when it came to their investigation of the spring. Though their souls were crushed, both still clung to the possibility of the rock and water samples revealing something they couldn't see before.

While examining the samples, mapping out the island, and building a shelter were indeed priorities, the two first made their way toward the site of the decimated plane, or at least, the half that Karasuma had arrived in. It was at that end of the plane where all the luggage was. They were in dire need of supplies, supplies that would have to be retrieved from their luggage before anything else.

As before, Karasuma seldom needed to use his machete to hack down any obstructions, instead opting to navigate the jungle with parkour alone. His target, he found, was equally capable, for he easily kept stride with Karasuma throughout the course of their journey.

Karasuma supposed he really shouldn't have been surprised by that.

Their arrival at the crash site was heralded by an uncanny silence. Karasuma briefly wondered where the squawking of birds and the chattering of insects could be, but brushed the thought aside upon arriving at the ruined plane's entrance.

Karasuma ducked into the shade of the fuselage's interior, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny for lurking dangers. His target followed close on his heels, similarly alert, and the only sound was the crunching of their feet on the wreckage strewn about the floor—or rather, the ceiling, seeing as the plane was upside down and the floor now loomed above them.

Karasuma, after confirming that no animals had claimed the spot for themselves, proceeded to search around for his rather bland suitcase, as well as his similarly dull briefcase. It didn't take long for him to locate both pieces of luggage, their dark, shapely forms resting haphazardly against the walls of the plane.

On the other hand, Korosensei's bag, a backpack of sorts, had stuck out like a sore thumb, instantly visible the moment they entered the plane. It's practically shapeless form, full of misshapen bulges that defined the multitude of contents within, was unnaturally large to begin with. The conspicuous color, a cheerful orange, made it impossible to miss. Honestly, Karasuma mused. I wouldn't be surprised if that overstuffed bag was what brought us down. It probably put us well over the weight limit.

Karasuma unzipped his suitcase and unbuckled the briefcase, inspecting the contents within. The papers and articles of clothing were tousled slightly, obviously jostled during the crash, but the contents were more or less in perfect order. Much to his relief, he found a spare canteen there. He had never been more pleased with himself for being prepared. Picking up the metal canteen, which had a crossbody strap on it, he lifted it over his head and positioned it so that the canteen rested near his hip. Considering how his other canteen housed the sample from the spring, he would be sure to fill this new one with drinking water as soon as possible.

Also locating a small, canvas knapsack, he filled it only with essentials: two alternate pairs of clothes, some paper and writing utensils, and his atlas. He wouldn't be able to carry the suitcase around, so it was best to just leave it. He could always come back.

A few feet away he spotted a black phone, its screen cracked and dark. Not just any cellphone, he quickly realized. His cellphone. He had had it on his person while the plane was in the air, but it must have fallen during the crash. Karasuma made his way over and turned it on, though the chances of there being a signal out wherever the hell they were was slim indeed. When he saw the zero bars of signal, he only sighed, refusing to allow himself disappointment. He had expected as much, after all.

Closing the phone, Karasuma glanced wearily over his shoulder toward his target, the source of a racket behind him, a growing clamor that he could no longer ignore. The insistent sound of objects clanging and clashing against one another as they were pushed aside or thrown to the ground was deafening in the confined space.

"Could you keep it down?" Karasuma demanded, just as a frying pan was dropped to the ground, the loud clang reverberating around the chamber.

His target didn't hear.

After having gleefully rushed to his gargantuan bag, his target had thrown open the main compartment and was rooting around inside for whatever he was looking for. Only, to do so, he had to climb atop the pack, since it was designed for a 9-foot octopus, not a lean man who couldn't possibly be an inch over 6 feet. Although, in Karasuma's professional opinion, the pack was much too large for even a 9-foot-tall being; it was more suited to a 20-foot being, more like.

"Could you keep it down?" Karasuma repeated, louder and more testily this time.

The clamor ceased, if only momentarily. "S-sorry," his target said sheepishly. "The clothes are at the bottom of the bag, and I have to empty everything else out to get there."

"Just be more quiet about it," Karasuma grumbled, walking toward the mountain of objects that had been emptied from the massive bag's depths. A compass sat on top, and Karasuma immediately pocketed it. Actually, Karasuma admitted, there were quite a few useful things in the pile, now that he looked. Strewn among the excess of textbooks and useless memorabilia sat cooking ware, towels, and a first-aid kit, just to name a few things.

Karasuma never thought he'd see the day that he would actually appreciate the octopus' packing paranoia. But then again, he never thought he'd be stranded on an island with his gear-grinding assassination target, just the two of them, with no help in sight. It seemed life was full of surprises.

"Make sure you bring some of this stuff," Karasuma called up to his target, who was still perched atop his super-sized travel bag.

Karasuma's only answer was a beach towel to the face.

Irritably marching outside with his bag in hand, Karasuma squinted against the intense sunlight. If his shadow was any indication, it was almost noon.

After finding a secluded spot to change clothes, now wearing a more comfortable set he might've used for training, he sat in the shadow cast by the plane wreckage and withdrew an atlas and some plain sheets of paper, along with a pen.

Now that he was outside the plane, he flipped his cell phone open again to re-check his signal, on the off chance that being in the plane had affected the signal reading. However, he didn't expect to find any good news. His expectations were not betrayed. Seeing as the device was as good as useless for now, he turned it off to conserve battery.

Turning his attention once more to the atlas and the papers, he withdrew the compass from his pocket and flipped to the "Pacific Islands" section of the atlas.

This atlas, however, was no standard atlas, like the kind one might find in a grade school, the kind that show only major islands or island chains. No, this one had been issued by a reputable cartographer, and Karasuma had always kept it around so that he would know exactly where he was in the world, coordinate for coordinate. In the "Pacific Islands" section, each island, no matter how small, was marked, so that the usually very blue-looking Pacific on the average map was now crowded with dots and names. To give room to list all these islands, the Pacific Ocean had been divided into sections, each section holding a system of islands that received its own page spread in the atlas. Even though it was the most detailed map money could buy, sailors and nautical authorities alike cautioned that not every island was listed, as the Pacific was indeed monstrously vast, and there were indeed islands everywhere, islands that were infinitesimally small and difficult to mark.

He scanned the area he believed they had been near when the plane had gone down, and he carefully scrutinized all the islands nearby, excluding ones that were bunched closely together with others and ones that seemed much too big. Unfortunately, that didn't narrow his choices much.

Exasperated, he snapped the atlas shut…only to see his target's face not a foot from his own. He nearly jumped.

"Aw, don't throw in the towel yet," the octopus encouraged. "I'm sure we could've figured out our position if we'd looked a bit longer."

Karasuma didn't appreciate the whole towel comment, seeing how the very commenter had thrown a towel (albeit unintentionally) in his face not long before. "What the hell are you wearing?" Karasuma finally demanded, after his brain had processed his target's bizarre attire.

Korosensei drew back, hurt. "It seemed appropriate," he pouted. "I actually brought it along for you, in case you wanted to relax where we were going. I figured you would only bring boring clothes."

The octopus was wearing a bright, fuchsia pink Hawaiian shirt, the white flowers on it glaring in the tropical sunlight. In a show of a complete lack of style, he still wore his crescent moon tie, though it now hung loosely tied in the collar of his vibrant shirt. On his head was a floppy fishing hat that only barely shielded his face from sunlight, and the tan beach shorts he wore seemed to match the hat in color. Instead of sandals, as would seem fitting considering the rest of his attire, he sported a pair of yellow and white tennis shoes.

The sick irony of wearing the clothes of a vacationing tourist in Hawaii while they were fighting for their lives on this much less hospitable island was not appreciated. There were a million questions on Karasuma's mind, but all he could manage was, "But why the tie?" He tried not to scrunch his nose in disgust.

Korosensei's expression was bright. "What do you mean? This tie goes with every outfit!"

Karasuma resisted the urge to massage his temples. Whatever convoluted reasoning had led the octopus to that conclusion, he'd just leave him to it.

Karasuma looked at the plane's shadow, which was still short and dark against the brightly lit ground. It couldn't be long until it began to lengthen with the lowering afternoon sun. "We should go," Karasuma said, regathering his things and stashing them in his knapsack.

"Already?" Korosensei asked, but an icy glare from Karasuma put his protests to rest. "I'll…go gather my stuff," Korosensei agreed, dashing back to the plane to retrieve his bag.

Karsuma sighed and shook his head. He was just making to get to his feet when, without warning, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He recognized the feeling. Just as suddenly as before, the feeling of being watched had returned. From the forest, maybe ten feet to his side.

When Karasuma whipped his head around to catch the offender, just as before, the unnerving sensation immediately ceased. Without so much as a rustling of leaves, it just…

Vanished.

Karsuma refused to relax, and as he stood there gazing into the dark abyss of trees, a deep uneasiness gripped him. Maybe he wasn't going insane.

With an urgency to his step and his guard up, Karasuma made his way over to the wheels of the plane, which were lying a ways away from the body in a clump of brush. Taking his knife, he immediately set upon them, tearing free the rubber and dropping it into his sack.

When his target returned to his side, a large shadow fell over him. Assuming a cloud had merely slid over the sun, he didn't even look up from his task.

"What's…that…for?" Korosensei managed amid ragged panting.

"Burning rubber creates black smoke," Karasuma supplied. "This will make our signal fires more obvious."

"Good…idea!" the octopus grunted. "That's…Karasuma-sensei…for you!"

Karasuma looked up slowly from the now-sliced wheels, a strip of rubber still in his hand. The octopus was acting suspicious again. "What are you doing this tim—" Karasuma stopped mid-sentence. He was caught somewhere between disbelief and irritation. "What. The heck. Is that?"

"What's…what?" Korosensei managed, sweat running down his neck. As if he didn't know.

"You're not bringing that whole thing, are you?" Karasuma asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was hoping against hope that his target would say "no," but deep down he already knew what his answer would be.

"What? This…bag?"

"Yes, the bag!" Karasuma practically hissed.

The octopus was wearing the oversized backpack from before, and in doing so, evidently defying the laws of nature. The pack towered over him, overflowing with supplies. For crying out loud, the thing was so huge, it blocked out the sun! His lean frame, dwarfed by the monstrous bag, looked on the verge of collapse under its pressure.

"I'm…bringing…some…of the…stuff…just…like…you…asked!" A triumphant smile graced his face.

It would be short-lived.

"Some of the stuff?" Karasuma said incredulously. "Did you mean all of it?"

"No…I…just…packed…essentials," Korosensei assured him.

"You're going to carry that back to camp?"

"Yes!" However, despite his optimistic words, with him panting like a whipped workhorse, his voice strained, it didn't sound the least bit convincing.

Karasuma screwed his eyes shut and massaged his temples for what felt like the hundredth time since their estrangement from civilization. Despite his efforts to quell the anger, it still boiled up inside him.

"Let me see it," Karasuma gritted out, gesturing to the ground with his index finger.

His apparently delirious colleague, with much effort, managed to shake his head. "This…is fine…Karasuma…sensei! I…can…carry it…just…fine!"

Karasuma wasn't going to deny that the octopus, now with human limitations, somehow shouldering such a weight and walking out here with it was a miracle in itself. Similarly, though, he couldn't deny that such a cumbersome burden would no doubt be the death of him. Of both of them, for that matter.

And he couldn't have that, now could he?

"Let me see the bag," Karasuma repeated, a vein bulging in his temple. He jabbed his index finger testily in the ground's direction.

"No!" his target stubbornly insisted, turning back in the direction of the camp and taking a few small, laboring steps toward the far-off destination.

"You'll get left behind," Karasuma warned.

"I won't…I…refuse…to be…a burden!"

"Too late," Karasuma muttered, springing up to a low-hanging branch. He was going to leave, really.

His target only continued his labored march.

"I'm leaving," Karasuma declared, already eying the higher branches and calculating his route.

His target lifted a shaky hand. "I'll…catch…up."

Could he really leave him? Karasuma looked down upon the foolish man below, who hobbled ungracefully towards the thick jungle. That foolhardy attitude of his was hard to stand before, but now, even in such trying circumstances, even though he was no longer an eternally-grinning octopus, to think that he still acted this way…

Karasuma honestly didn't know what he had expected.

His anger flaring, he left, swiftly leaping from tree to tree, vine to vine, never once pausing to look over his shoulder. Before long the canopy of leaves blocked out the light, and what little of it remained was stained an earthy green. Slowing, Karasuma finally stopped when he located the stream. Hopping down and rolling to the ground, he made his way to the stream's edge, withdrawing his new canteen and filling it with water.

As the water sloshed in the canteen, Karasuma was left to his own thoughts. Perhaps he should wait for his target to catch up to him?

Karasuma looked uneasily back the way he had come. Thick, winding roots and downed vines made it near impossible to traverse the forest at ground level. The only option was to go via the canopy, leaping from branch to high branch using parkour, a task that would doubtless be impossible for someone carrying a gargantuan bag such as the one the octopus was toting.

He was tempted to leave him behind anyway. Let him figure out himself that he would have to ditch some supplies to have any hope of getting back to camp.

But a gnawing concern continued to chip away at his resolve. He remembered the mysterious, menacing gazes from earlier, and how they had both peered from the jungle's depths…this jungle's depths.

Karasuma shook his head to clear it. This was ridiculous! His target was more than capable of handling himself. He was the God of Death for crying out loud.

Why did he care? It would be better for everyone if that stupid octopus got himself killed here. Mission complete.

But then Karasuma would have no hope of getting back to Japan.

That's ludicrous! The logical part of him argued. We would survive much better on our own anyway. Government agents will locate us eventually. We don't need an octopus to fly us home. Besides, there's no guarantee that he will even turn back into an octopus at all.

All the same…maybe I'll just wait for him a bit, Karasuma decided, settling on a compromise to stay his conflicting emotions.

A bit, however, turned into a while, and Karasuma soon found himself seated beside the softly gurgling stream as the day wore on. Precious daylight was quickly passing him by.

He shouldn't be taking this long, Karasuma thought, an unmistakable concern gripping him, even if he told himself it was merely irritation.

Getting slowly to his feet, Karasuma quickly hopped among the tree branches and made his way back to where he'd come from. The eerily silent forest made him hyperaware of every sound he made, every crunch of bark and rustle of leaves underfoot. He tried to limit his noise, but the quietness that pervaded the area was so complete, it made sounds as small as sighs sound like hurricanes.

Karasuma hadn't given it much thought before, but the silence was unnatural. Despite the absence of sound, his soldier's sense told him he was somehow not alone. Karasuma didn't like it.

The silence was so complete, in fact, that Karasuma heard the pitiful cries of his target from nearly a mile away. He quickened his pace, expecting to find the man captured by elusive natives, pinned to the floor by his pack, or even stuck between two trees, the girth of the pack trapping him there, unable to escape.

Instead, he found him in a most unexpected place: a ditch. A deep, square ditch.

"Help!" Korosensei called, his voice hoarse from yelling. He wasn't far from where Karasuma had left him, so he had probably been calling out for almost the entirety of Karasuma's absence. "Karasuma-sensei!"

Karasuma had been able to follow the tired screams straight to his colleague. Leaping down from the canopy and rolling skillfully to break the fall, he landed mere feet before his target.

It was quite the entrance, if he did say so himself.

"Karasuma-sensei!"

Karasuma regarded his coworker, who was presently beaming at him with frustrated tears in his eyes. He looked all right, bar the fact that he was tucked snugly into the ditch, backpack and all, with only his head and the upper few feet of his bag visible above it.

Whatever worry Karasuma had felt before was quickly forgotten upon seeing his target intact. It didn't take long for anger to replace it.

"I knew you would come back for me, Karasuma-sensei!" Korosensei sniffed, the tears flowing freely now.

Karasuma dismissed his sentiments with a huff, moving forward to inspect the pit his target had so perfectly fallen into. As his target continued to blabber, Karasuma knelt to examine the ditch's edge. Grasses and vines were strewn about, and a lattice of lines were impressed into the bare earth around it. To top things off, the ditch was hewn in such a way as to have perfectly modulated, straight borders. Definitely not the work of Mother Nature.

If Karasuma didn't know any better, he'd say it was a hunting trap.

"How did you get in here?" Karasuma demanded, standing back up and looking down on the scene.

Korosensei chuckled embarrassedly. "Funny story," he began idly, until Karasuma sent him a glare."O-ok, ok. W-well, I was walking, and then I just…wasn't walking. All of a sudden there was no ground and before I knew it I was here."

Karsuma frowned. "How did you miss a huge hole like this?"

"It was covered with grasses," he said, looked thoughtful for a second, and then added, "branches too. I heard them snap when I fell."

Karasuma wrinkled his nose. "And you're supposed to be the God of Death?"

Korosensei pouted, indignant. "I have a weakness for pitfalls! Besides," he muttered, "I was kind of preoccupied with the bag, you know."

Karasuma released a long-suffering sigh. This was going to be a lot of work. "I think I'm going to have to dig you out. You're stuck in there pretty tight." His frown deepened, the deep lines engraved in his forehead coming out. "I don't have a shovel, though. The pan we used before is back at the front half of the plane."

Korosensei's face lit up. "Oh, I have a shovel!"

"What?"

"It's in my bag!"

Karasuma slapped a hand to his forehead. Of course it was.

He walked around his target, to the bag that was, for the most part, largely above ground, towering over his target's head. As Karasuma stood facing it, he found that the top of the bag was nearly head-level with him. Reaching out to unzip it, he quickly began to empty its contents, throwing them haphazardly behind him, to which his target, alarmed, would protest that he should be gentler with the junk.

Ignoring those pleas, he continued to root through the bag until he was practically diving inside it. It was near the middle that he finally found the shovel.

He wasted no time in getting to work with it, chipping away at the pit's earthen borders until there was a good foot on all sides of the octopus down to his forearms.

Throwing the shovel down, Karasuma wiped the sweat from his brow and took a swig from his canteen, surveying his work. His target looked longingly up at his canteen with big, round puppy eyes.

"I'll get you out of there soon enough," Karasuma dismissed him, not at all affected by the needy gaze upon him. Dogs were one thing, but octopus men were quite another.

Finally capping his drink, Karasuma drew his forearm across his mouth and pushed up his already rolled sleeves. "Relax your arms," he commanded.

Confusion clouded his target's eyes. "Relax them?" he questioned.

Before Karasuma could elaborate on his instructions, he had already made his way behind the octopus, fitted his hands into his armpits, and with an almighty heave, pulled him free from the pitfall trap.

The octopus yelped at the suddenness of it all, and looked back incredulously and very shaken at his savior, once he had been set on solid ground.

"You could have warned me first!"

Karasuma ignored him.

Korosensei quickly set to regathering his possessions and stuffing them back in his supersized bag, but Karasuma quickly put a stop to his actions.

"You are not bringing all this back with us," Karasuma ordered. He found a small knapsack that he had excavated from the depths of the larger bag, and dropped it at his feet. "Use this."

Korosensei attempted to protest but was shushed by his coworker.

"Essentials. Only."

"But—"

"Do I have to do it for you?"

Korosensei bit his lip with uncertainty.

Aggravated, Karasuma shot him a severe glare that was not to be disobeyed, and his target shook his head meekly and quickly resumed his task, this time packing more conservatively.

Meanwhile, while the octopus was busy, Karasuma inspected the pitfall. The grasses and branches, now broken, that the octopus had spoken of were sitting at the bottom.

So there were people here. Or at least, there had been. The grasses and twigs looked aged, but not ancient. Karasuma suspected that the trap had been lying there for a good year or two. Karasuma looked around him for any other signs of humanity, but saw only pure, unadulterated nature.

Karasuma remembered the eyes he had felt on him earlier. Perhaps those had belonged to people still living on this island. If so, there couldn't be many of them. Still, it would be wise of he and his target to watch themselves.

His target soon joined him in squatting at the pit's edge. "Looks old," he said. "The people who made it might not be here anymore. This island is small, after all."

"But they might still be here," Karasuma said, eyes never leaving the pit's base.

There was a pause.

"They might."

Their thinking was interrupted by the growling of Korosensei's stomach, and he smiled sheepishly. "Guess it's time for lunch."

"A pretty late lunch," Karasuma remarked.

His target shrugged.

Another minute passed uneventfully. Then, with a sigh, Karasuma stood. "Some food would be good. We'll gather some on our way back to camp. If we're efficient, we should have enough time to create a shelter before sunset."

Korosensei nodded and joined him in standing, both turning toward the direction of their camp.

"Hey, Karasuma-sensei," his target began, an impish grin on his face. "Even though you said all those mean things about my pack, you ended up needing the shovel I brought." He sniggered. "Aren't you going to thank me?"

Karasuma turned on him. "The only reason we needed the shovel in the first place was because that ridiculous pack of yours got you stuck in a pitfall!"

"That's not the point," his target attempted to explain. "It's about always being prepared."

"We just wasted hours on your 'being prepared'," Karasuma rebutted, leaping up into the trees, his target following close behind.

"In your eyes, maybe."

Karasuma felt his anger spiking again. "Care to repeat that, octopus?" A vein bulged. Why was his target so intent upon always trying his patience?

All the way back to camp they bickered, a very real knife sometimes thrusting itself in Korosensei's direction, glinting in the flashes of sunlight that poked through the canopy. Laughing egotistically, the former assassin avoided it every time, and Karasuma just knew that if his target still possessed his octopus form, he would most certainly be sporting his smug set of green stripes.

AN: I have an important announcement to make:

This story will be going on hiatus.

But before you freak out: Please don't despair! I'll be back in mid- to late December. My life at present is simply too busy for me to continue writing quality content for this story.

I want to thank all of those wonderful souls who have read, followed, favorited, and especially reviewed this story. I never thought anyone would like this random idea of mine, so seeing that even one person has liked this has motivated me to write more than I thought possible.

Really guys, thank you.

Now, some reviews have expressed concern over whether or not I will be continuing this story. Allow me to allay your fears.

This story will absolutely be continuing until its conclusion. I have every chapter of this story outlined in excruciating detail, so now all that remains is to write it all out. Above all, writing this story has been very entertaining, and I have no intention of giving up that experience. Even if updates are few and far-apart, please bear with me.

Until next time! See you all in December!