Kisho started his "journey" again.
To be honest, it felt a bit unfair to others. Only after seeing that boy eat the biscuit and remain fine for quite a while did Kisho eat the other compressed biscuit.
It was expired, and extremely dry. Chewing it felt like eating sand, yet the taste was unexpectedly acceptable—just that… after finishing it, he became even thirstier.
But Kisho was not particularly worried. His gaze shifted to his own hand. Since Noah Barton's "Nen" could be transformed into "fire," then "water" should also be possible… right?
It was just that the air here was terrifyingly dry. If he wanted to find "water," he would have to go to "District Twelve."
District Twelve was not far. Thinking about it now, after he ran out of that gang of bandits' lair, he had probably headed south. Not long after, he fainted and was discovered by people from District Five, who brought him to the "slaughterhouse." After that, he should have gone east toward a settlement. After entering the settlement, he followed that boy and ran in the opposite direction for an hour, arriving at the garbage mountain in the far west—District Nine.
If he wanted to head to District Twelve now, he just needed to keep going south—after passing through District Eight, he would reach District Twelve.
Besides finding water and trying to see if he could condense "water," Kisho had another purpose for going to District Twelve: to verify whether the information that boy told him was true. If it was true, then after surviving for half a year, he would have to find a way to leave Meteor City.
This hellish place—he truly did not want to stay here for even a single day.
...
After using Nen to increase his speed, Kisho ran until the sun was about to set, arriving before a trench more than five meters wide, over ten meters deep, and with no visible end.
On the other side of the trench, garbage was piled just as high as mountains. Beneath the garbage mountain, the gravel had been stained pitch-black by waste.
Barrels containing chemical waste could not withstand exposure to wind and sun, cracking open. Untreated waste—left unprocessed because no one wanted to spend money—was poured directly onto the ground. Enormous discarded machines were simply thrown down from above, parts and uncleared waste scattered everywhere, covered in grime. Just one look at their colors made one think of lethal toxins.
"This is the 'quarantine zone,' right?" Kisho half-crouched, staring at the gravel on the other side of the trench, blackened by leaking chemical waste.
"If they didn't set up a quarantine zone under these conditions, the toxins in the soil would spread over here too. And there's radioactive material and radiation as well…"
Kisho suddenly did not really want to cross over.
...
Kisho wrapped himself airtight with "Ten," then tore open the packaging of the compressed biscuit he had just eaten and put it over his face—whether it worked or not was unknown, but it was mainly for psychological comfort.
He found a slightly cleaner spot, backed up several meters, took a running start, and leaped across, landing on the soil of District Twelve. Then he headed toward the location of the small river the boy had pointed out to him.
After walking for about another hour, the sun had completely set, and night had fallen.
He saw what he was looking for, but he could not feel happy at all.
"This… can this even be called a 'river'?"
It was a "river" that had already dried up. Saying it was dried up was not quite right either—although in some places the riverbed was exposed, in others there was still a shallow layer of pitch-black water. It trickled forward weakly, then seeped into the mud at the end.
Kisho sat on the ground, staring at that "river," and fell into deep thought.
To be honest, he still could not understand why a place like "Meteor City" existed.
The people here could only obtain the necessities of life by "picking up garbage." If they failed to find any, they would go hungry. Even children barely in their teens were no exception.
People outside did not treat those here as living human beings at all. Deadly garbage that was never processed was dumped here without the slightest concern.
Even this river—the only river in the desert—had been turned into this state by outsiders…
Kisho could not understand it.
Those in high positions did whatever they pleased, while those at the bottom struggled in a hell where the boundary between hell and the human world was blurred.
Kisho gave a bitter smile and said:
"I can't understand it. Maybe it's not that I'm wrong, but that this world is."
He stood up and slowly approached the small river.
Although it was polluted, even from that shallow layer of water, Kisho could feel a thin trace of water vapor.
He stood by the riverbank, raised his hand, closed his eyes, and activated his Nen ability.
He did not know how many times he tried, or how long it took, but when Kisho opened his eyes, pure and crystalline water slowly gathered along with his Nen, forming a ribbon of water that converged at his fingertips.
"Ah—"
He gulped down the water he had created himself in one mouthful.
Perhaps it was just an illusion caused by having gone too long without drinking water, but Kisho actually sensed a hint of sweetness.
The clear water eased the burning sensation in his mouth and throat, and even made his spirit feel refreshed.
"I've come back to life…"
Before he could properly savor the feeling of long-awaited rain after a drought, every hair on Kisho's body suddenly stood on end.
Only after that did he hear the gunshot—"Bang—".
The night was dark, moonless, and windless.
At the instant the gunshot rang out, Kisho himself had not even reacted yet when his body suddenly lunged forward, throwing him flat onto the ground.
The bullet grazed past his cheek and shot into the mud with a "puff—".
Mud splattered everywhere.