Coco shook his head slowly. “Right now, the only thing I can think of is limiting the ambush team to one or two people at most, to give the perimeter team a better chance of finding the darkpherrets in the first place... But I’d imagine Char could tell us just how risky that would be. Char, do you have any suggestions?” he asked, staring at her intently.
Char—whose face was now a vibrant shade of red, for some reason—pointedly looked away, nervously tapping her index fingers together.
Fey snorted. “Now’s not the time to get embarrassed just because Coco’s making eyes at you, Char. If you’ve got an idea, spit it out!”
After a few false starts, Char was finally able to stammer out a reply. “Well... Actually, my family has something like, um, a secret technique... We call it simian screaming. You guys know about the holy ashmonkeys, right? And how most monsters can’t stand the sound of their cry? Simian screaming kinda mimics it. Back home, we use it to provoke the darkpherrets and draw them out of hiding, so even though we’ll be hunting at night, I think we should be fine...”
“Wow, I’ve never heard of a technique like that,” Al said, flashing her one of his usual carefree grins. “Well, what does it sound like?”
Char shook her head furiously. “N-N-Not here! I ca-ca-can’t use it here! It puts a lot of strain on the vocal cords, so we need to save it for when we actually need it! And more importantly, simian screaming provokes a lot of other species of monsters too, which is why I didn’t mention it earlier. If I do use it, it’s going to make things a lot more dangerous for everyone...”
Al shrugged. “I’m sure we can handle— Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing his side where Fey had just elbowed him.
“We can’t ever be entirely sure, Al—especially not when it comes to a poorly disguised military exercise like this,” Fey said, unusually calm. “It’s up to the leader to consider both the risks and the rewards, and decide on our course of action. Our job is to trust in that decision, and carry it out to the best of our ability. Isn’t that right, Char? People who’ll one day be responsible for the lives of others—people like you and me... We can’t run away from the decisions we have to make, can we?” Fey’s voice was still calm, but her gaze—piercing and dangerous—was anything but.
Char flinched, unable to tear her own eyes away from Fey’s rigid stare. She was timid and anxious by nature, but she’d also deliberately wielded that nature like a shield, using it to evade the responsibilities she’d been nominated to assume. Fey had seen right through her, however, and clearly had no intention of letting her get away with it any longer. Char scanned the faces of her classmates nervously. Everyone’s eyes were fixed firmly on her and her alone, brimming with an unwavering confidence Char had never felt.
“Holy...” Coco muttered, breaking the tense silence. He frowned, his gaze drifting toward the ground as though lost in thought. “Ashmonkeys... Screaming?” Suddenly, he lifted his head once more. “That’s amazing! Are there really ashmonkeys in the Harlonbay Domain?! How long has your family used that technique for?! What does the screaming sound like?!” Coco—now so close to Char that she could feel his breath—asked excitedly, grabbing her hand. Naturally, Char froze, her face even redder than before.
Jewel, unwilling to risk Char’s potential combustion, interjected at that point. “The only remaining ashmonkeys are those raised in protected forests in the Sterite Theocracy, Coco. As wild monsters, they’re considered to be extinct. If there were ashmonkeys roaming around the Harlonbay Domain, don’t you think we would have heard about it? Every hunter in Yugria would have converged on the area.” She smiled bemusedly. “And Coco... If you don’t let go of Char’s hand soon, we actually will run out of time.”
Coco, seemingly only now realizing that he had, in fact, been holding Char’s hand, let go as though he’d been zapped by lightning.
Jewel smirked. “Now, to return to the matter at hand—what’s your decision, Char? Will we rely on this technique of yours while accepting the risks it carries, or proceed with the initial plan and risk running out of time? Either way, you need to choose, or we may as well turn back now.”
Char glanced at Coco nervously. To her surprise, his gaze—which for the past six months had always been directed anywhere but at Char herself—was now fixed firmly on her, making her heart skip a beat. Unable to look away, she instead closed her eyes tightly—and then, shaking her head, slowly opened them once more. “I just didn’t want you to see me using it, Coco...” She sighed. “Stella? When I scream, it’ll aggravate most of the monsters in the area. If we’re unlucky, it could even cause a stampede. As far as you know, are there likely to be any monsters in the area we won’t be able to handle by ourselves if that does happen?”
Stella cocked her head. “Sixty kilometers southeast of here, was it? Hmm... There’s nothing coming to mind. Nothing I’ve heard of, at least. I can’t make any guarantees though, given that we did end up bumping into a vulpyne during the first scenario.”
Char nodded. “Thank you. Okay, I’ve made up my mind. We’ll have three perimeter teams, with Coco, Stella, and Dan as the leaders. Splitting up will make it more dangerous, but I...” She smiled. “I know I can trust in how strong you all are.”
It wasn’t until after she’d assigned the rest of the group to either the ambush team or one of the three perimeter teams that everyone realized something: Char hadn’t mentioned her own name at all.
“What about you, Char?” Al asked curiously.
“I’ll work alone,” she answered, seemingly unworried, “and try to cover as much ground as possible. That will give us the best chance at completing this scenario.”
Moving through the marshland at night was dangerous enough. To do it alone was to flirt with death. But after seeing the sheer confidence in Char’s eyes, her classmates simply nodded.