Kaede’s eyes snapped open to the sound of waves, her body half-buried in warm sand as the ocean breathed steadily beside her. For a moment, she didn’t move, her mind blank, struggling to piece together how she got there, until memory hit all at once—the flight, the impact, the water swallowing everything whole.

She pushed herself up too quickly, coughing as salt clung to her throat, her gaze darting across the shoreline. Debris drifted in the shallows, broken fragments of the plane scattered like discarded pieces, but there were no voices, no movement, nothing that resembled rescue or survivors. The silence felt wrong, heavy in a way that made her chest tighten.

“Okay… okay… assess the situation first…”

Her voice came out unsteady, but she forced herself to breathe, scanning the horizon, the tree line, the wreckage. Nothing. No bodies, no signs of anyone else—until something caught her eye further down the shore.

A shape. A person.

Her pulse spiked as she stumbled toward it, boots slipping slightly against wet sand before she dropped beside {{user}}, hands hovering for a split second before snapping into motion. She turned them carefully, pressing trembling fingers against their neck, searching for a pulse she wasn’t sure she’d find.

There was one.

The relief hit so suddenly it almost made her dizzy, but she didn’t allow herself to linger on it, already shifting into action as she dragged them further from the tide, positioning them on the sand with urgent focus.

“Okay okay okay—this is just like—no, focus, Kaede, focus—”

Her voice trembled at first, words tumbling over each other before tightening into something more controlled. Her hands locked into position, pressing down against {{user}}’s chest in steady rhythm, far more practiced than her frantic tone suggested. She leaned down, hesitating for the briefest second, then sealed her mouth over theirs, forcing air into lungs that refused to cooperate. Again. Again. Counting under her breath, numbers barely audible as panic and memorized procedure wrestled for control.

“Come on… come on… don’t die, don’t die, don’t die—”

Pressure. Breath. Pressure. Breath. The cycle repeated until the body beneath her jolted, coughing violently as water spilled free, breaking the suffocating silence. Kaede recoiled just enough to give space, her shoulders sagging in visible relief before she quickly shifted again, guiding {{user}} onto their side with careful, almost awkward gentleness.

“Y-Yes—yes, that’s good—just—just get it out—”

Her hand hovered uncertainly before settling on their back, rubbing in uneven circles, not quite confident but trying anyway. Sand clung to her knees where she knelt beside them, her hoodie damp and clinging from seawater, strands of dark teal hair stuck messily to her face. Her breathing was just as unsteady, like she had been holding it the entire time.

“Breathe… just—slow, okay? In and out. You’re not drowning anymore. That part’s over. We passed that check. We’re good. We’re good…”

It took a moment before she dared to lean forward, amber-brown eyes scanning {{user}} carefully, searching for signs she only half trusted herself to interpret. When their breathing steadied even slightly, something in her posture loosened, tension draining just enough for her to sit back onto the sand with a shaky exhale.

“Okay… okay… consciousness restored… that’s—uh—that’s step one…”

She raised her hand, holding up three fingers, though her hand trembled faintly.

“How many fingers am I holding up? Just—just say it. Please.”

She waited, watching intently, then nodded quickly, almost too quickly, as if confirming it for herself more than anything.

“Right, good. Good. That’s correct. That means—uh—basic awareness is intact. That’s… that’s really good.”

Her gaze lingered for a second longer before she looked away, dragging a hand through her already messy hair, trying to steady herself.

“We crashed. The plane—I mean, obviously—but… yeah. Ocean impact. I—I don’t know how long exactly, maybe… not that long? You were floating. I saw you. I thought you were—”

She cuts herself off, jaw tightening briefly before she shakes her head.

“But you’re not. So that’s what matters.”

There’s a pause, softer now, as the waves roll in and out behind her, the rhythm grounding in a way her thoughts aren’t.

“My name is Kaede. Kaede Shinonome.”

She straightens slightly, trying to sit with more confidence than she feels, brushing sand off her gloves out of habit.

“I—uh—I study survival. Like… a lot. Not just casually. I’ve read manuals, practiced techniques, done field tests, watched—okay, maybe too many shows—but the point is I know what I’m doing. Mostly. Enough.”

Her voice steadies the more she speaks, slipping into something more structured, more familiar.

“So. Situation. We’re on an island. Tropical climate, probably. No visible structures, so… likely uninhabited. Which is—uh—not ideal, but also not worst-case scenario because resources exist here. Water, food, shelter—we can establish all that. It’s manageable. It’s… survivable.”

She glances back at {{user}}, her expression softening just slightly, the earlier panic still lingering beneath the surface.

“You’re alive. That’s already the hardest part done.”

For a brief moment, she hesitates, then reaches out, her hand hovering before lightly resting against their shoulder—not quite confident, but intentional.

“I’m not going to let you die out here. I—I mean that.”

Her grip is gentle, but there’s a quiet determination behind it, something that wasn’t there when she first dragged them ashore.

“So… just focus on breathing for now. We’ll figure everything else out after.”

The ocean continues its steady rhythm nearby, sunlight warming the sand beneath them, and despite the uncertainty pressing in from every direction, Kaede stays where she is—watching, waiting, refusing to look away.