Chapter Text
1.
Running his own apple orchard sounded like a romantic dream, but the reality was anything but easy. Isagi Yoichi, who lived deep in the mountains, knew that better than anyone.
Three years ago, he had left his stable town job behind to take over the orchard from his parents. Since then, the land had doubled in size—and so had the workload. Isagi himself couldn’t quite explain why he’d traded a predictable nine-to-five for a six-to-two life that never really stopped. He was adaptable by nature and rarely complained, but lately, something had begun to weigh on him—
“Ouch!”
A sharp cry cut through the predawn dark, followed by a heavy thud. Isagi snatched up his lantern and basket and hurried forward—only to find Kunigami sprawled on the forest floor, half-buried in soft earth, bright orange hair sticking out like a beacon. Apples lay scattered around him. A thick, sneaky tree root was obviously to blame.
“Kunigami!” Isagi rushed over. “Are you okay?”
“Phew—yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Kunigami said as he pushed himself up, brushing dirt from his hunter’s uniform and spitting out a few apple leaves. “Ground’s soft. No damage done.”
Isagi let out a breath and knelt to help gather the fruit. The harvest that year had been explosive thanks to perfect sun and rain. He needed every last apple in town before dawn, but the workload was crushing. Thank god a certain chivalrous muscle hero had shown up to help. If Kunigami had gotten hurt helping him… Isagi didn’t even want to think about it.
“How many left?” Kunigami asked, already lifting two overflowing baskets into the tot truck.
“This is the last row.” Isagi said, hopping in to count. “The rest I’ll keep for wine and pies. I’ll share some with Bachira and the others too. Seriously, Kunigami—thank you. Without you I’d be drowning in this forest.”
Kunigami cleared his throat, cheeks faintly pink.
“You’re my friend. Of course I’ll help.” He lifted the binoculars mounted on the cart. “Besides, I’m not just here for apples. Villagers have been reporting livestock attacks. I’m patrolling while I’m at it.”
“Wild animals?” Isagi’s eyes widened. “Like… bears?”
“Unlikely. Victims are small—chickens, ducks. Probably wolves, stray dogs, or foxes.” Kunigami scanned the trees. “There’s nothing near your orchard, but you should still be careful.”
“By the way, here's this for you.” Kunigami then handed Isagi two small, heavy boxes. “The Hunter Association sent these. I’ve got plenty—keep them.”
“Thanks.” Isagi said solemnly, tucked them carefully under the driver’s seat.
In the back of the truck, Chigiri and Bachira, from the Candy House, were curled together under Isagi’s red hooded cloak, fast asleep. Kunigami glanced at Bachira—drooling, mumbling—and snorted.
“Are these two actually helping, or just here to cause chaos?”
“Well, Chigiri helped… a little,” Isagi admitted. “Bachira… may have eaten more apples than he picked.”
Kunigami laughed.
“Yeah, that’s our Bachira.”
He climbed into the passenger seat, grabbed an apple, wiped it on his pant leg, and took a huge bite. “But seriously, Isagi. You need to hire help. This isn’t sustainable. You’ll burn out.”
Isagi sighed and started the old truck. “I know. Income’s not enough right now, and everyone’s busy with their own harvest. No temporary workers this season.”
“That’s rough.” Kunigami nodded, reached over and gave his shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “If you ever need help—even just someone to talk to—say the word. I mean it.”
Isagi’s eyes grew soft in the dim glow of the dashboard. “Kunigami…”
“Just… maybe don’t bring those two next time,” Kunigami added with a teasing grin. “You’re already exhausted and somehow still end up babysitting of them.”
Kunigami’s complaints amused Isagi, even easing the fatigue from working late. They talked about the Hunter Association as the truck rumbled down the mountain, the town’s silhouette already glowing faintly in the morning mist.
“I’ll get off here,” Kunigami said at the fork. “Association meeting.”
Isagi stopped. Kunigami jumped out, then paused, eyeing Isagi’s head drooping over the wheel, tifled a huge yawn
“You’ve been up all night. Can you drive? Rest at the association if you need to.”
“I’m okay. I’m in a rush.” Isagi said, forcing a smile, turned down Kunigami's help. He woke Chigiri and Bachira. Chigiri, known for his morning grumpiness, stumbled out grumpily, yawning and scowling at the world. Bachira stood up with bleary eyes, took one wobbly step, and promptly tumbled right out of the truck again, landing in a soft heap. Kunigami sighed, scooped him up over his shoulder like a sleepy kitten, and carried him away.
Isagi watched them go, chest full of quiet fondness. “Kunigami, what a great man…”
Without Kunigami’s steady presence, the road suddenly felt longer and the night heavier. Exhaustion crashed over him like a wave. His fingers tightened on the wheel, nails biting into his palms in a futile attempt to stay awake.
Then—a small dark shadow darted out from the bushes.
He slammed the brakes too late.
Bang!
The impact was soft but sickening.
“No—no no no...”
Heart pounding, Isagi stumbled out of the truck. The headlights cut through the dust and illuminated a tiny, trembling shape curled in the road.
A puppy.
It was impossibly small—no bigger than his palm—its little body shaking as it whimpered. Isagi dropped to his knees, hands trembling as he gently scooped it up. Its fur was soft but dirty, and its right hind leg was bent at a painful angle.
“Oh no… please be okay,” Isagi whispered, voice breaking. He ran careful fingers over the tiny body, terrified of finding blood.
The puppy’s heartbeat was fast but steady. No open wounds. Just that poor twisted leg.
“I’m sorry,” Isagi whispered, voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry…”
The puppy, however, was not feeling forgiving. Despite the injury, it suddenly exploded into a ball of tiny fury—thashing, snarling, and snapping with all its might, brilliant turquoise eyes glaring up at him like he was its worst enemy.
Isagi’s heart melted even as he panicked. “Hey—don’t move so much! You’ll hurt yourself more!”
Desperate, he grabbed the red hooded cloak from the back seat and gently but firmly wrapped the furious little creature into a snug bundle, leaving only its head and injured leg free.
The puppy continued to bare its tiny teeth and growl adorably. Watched the helpless little creatur, Isagi couldn’t help smiling through his guilt, tried to touching its cute little nose—only to nearly get bitten.
“Hey! I’m trying to help you! Why does this keep happening to me?”
Still… this was his fault. No excuses.
He couldn’t afford to be careless now.
With the injured puppy secured, Isagi drove straight into town, the sky just beginning to blush with dawn. The streets were still and quiet. Without hesitation, he stopped in front of a familiar two-story house and knocked—then pounded—on the door.
“Mr.Ego! Mr.Ego! I need your help! Mr.Ego!”
No response.
Isagi hit the door again, harder this time. Moments later, a series of frantic footsteps echoed from inside, and the door was suddenly yanked open—so forcefully it nearly smacked him in the face.
A tall and slender man, standing barefoot in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, glasses crooked, hair a mess, radiating pure exhausted rage, as if Isagi had owed him eight million dollars in unpaid debt.
“DAMN IT—IT'S SIX IN THE MORNING! Isagi Yoichi. This had better be life or death.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ego,” Isagi blurted out, thrusting the bundled puppy forward. “It’s injured. Please—please help me.”
Ego glanced down, then recoiled.
“I’m a former hunter,” he snapped. “Not a veterinarian.”
“But you treated the association’s hunting dogs before!” Isagi grabbed the edge of the door as Ego tried to slam it shut. If he couldn’t cure the puppy, his conscience would bear the guilt..
“Please. If you don’t help, it’ll—”
Defeated by Isagi's round, watery doe eyes, Ego sighed deeply, and finally stepped aside.
“Get in. Put it on the table. I’m coming soon.”
Relief nearly made Isagi collapse.
“Thank you very much!”
Isagi placed the puppy gently. When Ego returned wearing a coat and carrying his medical kit, he worked with surprising gentleness despite his grumbling. After a careful examination he clicked his tongue.
“Tsk. Fracture,” Ego said after a brief examination. “How did this happen?”
“…I was driving,” Isagi admitted, head hanging. “I was too tired. I didn’t see it in time.”
“Hmph. That’s why you look like death. Never tell anyone I taught you to drive.” Ego shot him a sharp glare over the rim of his glasses. “Lucky little thing, it didn't get killed by you.”
Well, it’s his fault. Even when scolded, Isagi could only hunch his shoulders, trembling fingers fidgeting helplessly as he watched his teacher carefully bandage the puppy’s injured leg. The little creature, that had tried to bite him earlier went completely still and obedient under Ego’s calm, authoritative hands.
“All right,” Ego said, “Splint’s on. It will recover in a short while.”
He helped the tiny pup stand. It wobbled adorably on three legs, sniffing the air with cautious curiosity.
“How long…?” Isagi asked quietly.
“A month, maybe less. Puppies recover fast.” Ego pried open the puppy’s mouth and frowned. “Still has baby teeth. Your dog is three months old, at most. Feed it milk and meat.”
“This isn’t my dog,” Isagi said weakly. He had no plans to adopt a dog at the moment.
Ego’s stare sharpened.
“That’s your business. And now—”
He pointed at the clock with a ghastly expression.
“I am going back to sleep! Raise it or dump it in a ravine to starve to death, it's none of my business! FUCK OFF!”
Moments later, Isagi found himself standing outside holding the puppy and staring blankly at the quiet street.
Dump it…?
No. Ego was cruel, but he wasn’t wrong. An injured puppy in the wild would stand little chance—not with predators prowling the looming mountains. And it’s impossible to find its companions, and the Hunter’s Association only wanted trained hounds.
Isagi sighed, cradling the warm little bundle against his chest. The puppy still stared up at him with those vivid emerald eyes, grumpy.
He smiled softly and brushed a thumb over one tiny ear.
“Looks like you’re staying with me for a while, huh? I’ll take good care of you… I promise.”
The puppy responded by gently—almost reluctantly—nibbling on his finger.
By the time Isagi finished delivering the apples and shopping for supplies, exhaustion pressed down on him again. He bought extra smoked meat and bacon without really thinking about it. While he haggled with Barou, the puppy slept soundly wrapped in the red shawl, unmoving except for the rise and fall of its chest.
When he reached home, the day stood poised on the brink of noon. A tidal wave of exhaustion crashed over him. He collapsed into bed and would not stir again until dusk’s embrace.
A faint whimper pulled him from sleep.
Blinking blearily, he spotted the puppy pacing anxiously on the table, clearly wanting to escape but frozen by the height. When it noticed Isagi watching, it let out a small, frustrated sound.
“Aw… too scared to jump?” Isagi chuckled. He still hadn’t forgotten the bite marks on his thumb.
Hunger gnawed at him, so he made a simple dinner—fresh greens from the garden, crispy bacon, and a warm sandwich for himself. The advantage of living alone was that he could cook whatever he wanted. And for the puppy, he warmed a bowl of goat’s milk, stirred in chopped bacon and soft breadcrumbs, and set it down.
The puppy gazed warily at him before tentatively approaching the food bowl...then dove in with shocking enthusiasm. Milk splashed everywhere, coating its little snout and whiskers. It ate so eagerly the bowl slowly scooted across the table. When it was completely empty, the puppy licked it spotless, then looked up at Isagi with its big, hopeful turquoise eyes, tail wagging in frantic little circles.
“…Still hungry?” Isagi asked, already melting.
“Woof!”
“Okay...” Isagi sighed and refilled the bowl—just a little.
After the second helping, the tiny creature finally relaxed its guard, which allowed Isagi to seize the moment and gently stroke its incredibly soft, uniquely dark green fur. Two bowls of goat milk had made the little one’s belly swell noticeably, becoming distended. Fearing the little one might eat itself to death, Isagi dared not allow another morsel.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Isagi set it down on the floor.
Once satisfied, the puppy hopped around on three legs, sniffing every corner of the house: bedroom, kitchen, living room, bathroom. The new resident was busy to explored his surroundings, sniffing intently along the walls, circling the bedroom with curiosity, then wandering into the kitchen to wag his tail excitedly at the smoked meat hanging by the window. Finally, he marked a spot in the bathroom before returning to the living room with satisfaction. There, he circled the fireplace three times before collapsing to sleep.
Isagi felt something warm and protective bloom in his chest.
“…You’re unfairly cute, you know that?” he whispered.
Isagi sat on the floor, chin resting in his hands, watching the sleeping puppy. Unlike normal yellow or white household dogs, this little one has a rare dark green fur. Still a bit dull from its hard life in the mountains, but shimmering like forest shadows in the firelight. Those striking emerald eyes and long, delicate lower lashes made it look almost unfairly beautiful. Wait, do dogs have eyelashes? Isagi wondered. Such beautiful eyes on a puppy seemed like a waste of talent. If they are present in humans, they can easily create a handsome or beautiful individual.
Embarrassed by his own thoughts, Isagi shivered and left the living room.He fetched an old, well-worn sweater from his bedroom, the fabric softened by years of wear and carrying the faint, comforting scent of apples and woodsmoke. With the gentlest hands, he wrapped it snugly around the sleeping puppy, tucking the edges carefully so the little one would stay warm through the chilly mountain night. The puppy let out a tiny, contented sigh in its sleep and nuzzled deeper into the soft folds, its small body relaxing completely.
Later, as the fire crackled low and cast a gentle golden glow across the room, Isagi carried a basket of the ripest apples into his workroom. While the puppy slept peacefully by the fire, breathing soft and steady, Isagi began sorting and preparing the apples for jam and wine. He planed to sell them at the winter market. In this era of soaring prices and stagnant incomes, relying solely on apple sales wouldn't be enough to sustain him. Besides, he had a fierce little green-furred companion now.