Four hogs. Yuto counted them without meaning to, the way you count things when the number is bad news. They had arranged themselves in a loose semicircle around him and Shiny, and they were staring with the particular kind of intent that left very little room for interpretation.

He glanced at the bag slung over Shiny’s shoulder. The heads were in there. The hogs knew.

What an inconvenience.

Enhanced smell, probably. Yuto had just enough time to wonder whether grief-rage made wild hogs harder to fight or merely more annoying about it, when Shiny stepped forward, raised one hand dramatically toward the beasts, and opened his mouth.

"You vile creatures!" he announced, with genuine passion. "You will die by my sword, just like your fallen comrades!"

Yuto went very still.

Was that, had he just, they were already surrounded, the hogs were already angry, and Shiny had decided that what this moment needed was a speech.

He didn’t have time to finish the thought. Killing intent surged from all four hogs at once, thick and hot, and then they shrieked and charged.

Oh crap.

Two of them peeled off toward Shiny. Which left the other two with nowhere to be except directly in front of Yuto, closing the distance fast, snorting, squealing, their little eyes bright with fury.

Double crap, Yuto thought, and then stopped thinking and started moving.

He had never been in a fight before. He had hoped his first one might ease him in gently, a hare, maybe, or a small fox. Something manageable. Two mad hogs charging at full speed was not what he’d had in mind.

The first one was nearly on him. Yuto threw himself sideways and felt the tusk shear through the air exactly where his stomach had been a half-second earlier.

Oh gods. That was close.

He was still in the air when he realized the second hog hadn’t stopped. He was going to land in exactly the wrong position, and it knew it, and it was already adjusting its angle. Yuto wrenched himself left with everything he had.

The tusk caught his side.

Not deep, a graze, the blade of it rather than the point, but it was enough. He hit the ground hard, tailbone first, and pain arrived from several directions at the same time. His side stung sharply. His entire lower back screamed at him. He lay there for one full second and allowed himself to feel all of it.

Then the hogs turned around and he got back up.

He raised his sword and tried to look like someone who had a plan. His side was already starting to throb. He ignored it.

Think, he told himself. Actually think.

Running to Shiny was the obvious move. Let the summon handle all four, stand back, collect the soul cores afterward. It was not only the safest option, it was probably the most efficient one. Shiny would kill them eventually, no question.

But Yuto had decided something between hitting the ground and standing back up. If every hard fight ended with him hiding behind Shiny, he might get stronger in rank, but not in any way that actually mattered. Skill came from doing stupid things enough times that they stopped being stupid.

He would fight the hogs himself.

Head-on was suicidal. But they were angry, and angry things were simple, and simple things had patterns. They had momentum. They ran in straight lines. They didn’t think.

A plan formed. He decided it was probably going to hurt, and accepted this.

Then he ran.

He went flat out, knowing full well they were right behind him, the sound of them filling the woods, hooves and squealing and the crashing of undergrowth. He picked his tree ahead of time and kept his eyes on it and told himself to trust the timing.

At the last possible second, he stepped aside.

The first hog had no answer for this. It slammed into the trunk with a crack loud enough to hear across the clearing. The second one managed to wrench itself sideways at the last instant and went crashing off into the bushes instead.

Yuto, you absolute genius.

He didn’t let himself enjoy it for long. He rushed the stunned hog and drove his sword into it.

The blade bounced off.

He stared at his sword. Then at the hog, which was beginning to recover. The skin was just — it was too thick, the angle was wrong, and his arms weren’t strong enough to punch through with a simple thrust.

What the hell.

He made a decision that part of him already regretted and leapt onto the hog.

It was not graceful. The hog immediately went berserk beneath him, thrashing and twisting, and Yuto wrapped his legs around it and held on and tried to find the throat. Every time he got close, the animal wrenched away. He stabbed twice and hit nothing useful. His grip was slipping. The hog’s hide was rough against his arms.

He found the throat.

He drove the sword in.

The hog’s reaction was immediate and violent , it shrieked and bucked and nearly threw him but Yuto locked his knees and pushed the blade deeper and held on with the grim stubbornness of someone who had nothing left to fall back on.

Die, he thought at it, with some feeling. You wretched hog. Die.

The struggling slowed. Then stopped. The hog went limp underneath him, and Yuto sat on top of it breathing hard while the notification appeared in his vision.

[Wild Hog slain.]

[+1 Soul Core]

He had just decided to feel good about this when two more notifications followed in quick succession.

[Wild Hog slain.]

[+1 Soul Core]

[Wild Hog slain.]

[+1 Soul Core]

Shiny had finished his own hogs, apparently.

Took you long enough, Yuto thought, and immediately felt guilty about it.

He was pushing himself to his feet when the bushes behind him exploded outward and the fourth hog came through at full speed, head down, aimed directly at him. Yuto’s body had already used up most of its emergency responses and had very little left to offer.

Shiny stepped in front of him.

The fight was brief. Shiny moved with a quiet efficiency that was very different from the passionate sword-proclamations of earlier, and after a short and violent exchange, the hog was dead.

[Wild Hog slain.]

[+1 Soul Core]

Yuto slowly lowered himself to his knees on the forest floor. He stayed there for a moment with his eyes closed, just breathing, while the adrenaline finished its business and left him with a throbbing side, a bruised tailbone, and a deep appreciation for the ground.

Then he let out a long, low groan of relief.

Four soul cores. Alive. Counts as a win.