Jiro stumbled on a root and fell, scraping his hands on a fragment of rock. Ahead of him, Aya was climbing steadily up the mountain trail, heading towards the waterfall.

“Aya,” said Jiro, running on his flip-flops to keep up. “Shouldn’t we meet up with Kaori and Yui? It will be dark in a few hours.”

Aya grabbed onto the branch of a tree and pulled herself over a ledge. There was a trail, but it was overgrown with summer weeds and parts of it had collapsed from disuse. “The waterfall isn’t far. And I want to find the Hinomaru as soon as possible.”

Jiro sighed. Jeans and flip-flops were not ideal for this kind of excursion. But he wasn’t about to leave Aya alone to face whatever lay ahead. Some locals had told them the waterfall was not far, just about an hour’s hike up the trail.

“Even if your boat is out here,” said Jiro, “How are we going to carry it back?” Something crunched beneath Jiro’s feet. He let out a little yelp.

Aya laughed. “They’re just chicken bones, Jiro.”

Below his feet, strewn all around a little clearing, were bones of all kinds: legs, wings, breast cartilage. Here and there lay bits of white fluff and feathers.

“This is an awful lot of chicken to bring on a hike,” he said. He looked around. They were surrounded by tall cedar trees. He wondered if there were bears in these woods.

Aya shrugged. “Maybe there were an awful lot of hungry hikers. But who cares? Come on, we don’t have much time.” Aya continued on before Jiro could protest.

“Boy is it hot.” Aya stopped and stripped off her spaghetti top.

“Aya …” Jiro trailed off. What was the point? Aya was Aya. “Is that why you don’t have tan lines?” he said.

“Gotta get sun when I can.” She mopped up the sweat off her body. Then she held the top out to him. “Want a sniff?”

“Only if you want our walking speed to be impeded even more.

Aya grinned. “You’re getting cheeky, Jiro. Looks like Yuto rubbed off on you.” She put the top back on. “Fine. I’ll keep myself covered. Come on, let’s hurry.”

They went on for some time, winding up the trail. Jiro was soon out of breath and his shirt was soaked but he did what he could to keep up with Aya. Soon, they could hear rushing water.

The waterfall was not nearly as magnificent as Jiro had imagined. Water fell from a ledge a few meters high. It was not the roaring waterfall Jiro had imagined but rather a modest trickle that fed into a rocky stream below. Aya took off her sneakers and let the cool water flow over her toes. Jiro sat down beside her and tried to catch his breath.

“See anything?” Aya asked, splashing some water on her face. The water trickled down and soaked her breasts. Jiro could see the nipples through the fabric.

Jiro looked around. Other than the stream, the scenery was much the same as before. Tall cedar trees, weeds, shrubbery. No sound but that of running water.

“That’s strange …” said Jiro.

“Hm?”

“The only sound I hear is water.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Have you heard any birds?

Aya paused. “I wasn’t paying attention. But now that you mention it … I don’t hear anything.”

Jiro looked around. Was it common for a forest to be completely free of sounds? He scanned the stream bed area. Yuto’s friend Kazu had been playing hide and seek around this place. But where was the boat he had mentioned? There was nothing but trees, shrubs, weeds, and water. Had the information been false?

They got up and started walking circles around the streambed, looking for any clues. It was growing dark: soon the sun would be slipping under the horizon. If they failed to find the boat, they would have to hike down and try again the next day.

“Hey Jiro! Over here.” Aya had crossed the river and was waving from a shrub-enclosed area a bit farther along. Jiro waded across the stream and joined her.

“Look,” said Aya, pulling apart a thick bunch of weeds. The weeds and shrubs had hidden a clearing at the foot of the ledge. The soil in the clearing was damp from the waterfall’s mist. Here and there laid dried-out weeds: someone had torn them out from the earth.

“Wait …” said Jiro. “These ridges in the soil … could these be …” It had taken him a moment to notice, but, there was a line in the soil that ran around the edge of the clearing, as if somebody had traced an outline in the dirt with a stick.

Aya followed the line. “There’s no doubt,” she said. “This is an imprint of the Hinomaru. I know the size of my boat any day. It must have been lying here upside down.” She scratched her head. “But where is it now?”

Suddenly, there came a giant cracking sound, like the explosion of a firecracker, from the ledge above. Jiro looked up in time to see a giant cedar begin to tumble toward them. He grabbed the fabric of Aya’s spaghetti top and pulled her back, out of the way of the falling tree.

The tree fell with a great thud and snapped from the impact, sending up patches of wet mud and strands of dead weed. They were dirty and surprised, but otherwise safe.

“Aya are you o—”

Aya grabbed Jiro’s shirt with both hands and threw him into the grass. The shock of the landing knocked the air out of his lungs. Suddenly, Aya let out a piercing scream. Jiro scrambled to his feet, just in time to see a giant hand reach past and grab Aya, lifting her into the air.

Standing in the clearing was a giantess. She stood as tall as the waterfall and was dressed in a makeshift loincloth. A similar cut of fabric was wrapped around her chest, hiding her giant breasts. She was otherwise naked, and her seaweed-colored hair, wet and shiny, came down below her waist, nearly reaching her knees.

Aya let out another scream and kicked her legs. The giantess had her squeezed in her fist. She brought Aya up to her face … and spat, covering Aya with a thick film of saliva. She let out one last scream and then fell limp.

Aya, no! Jiro knew he had to do something. But what? Near him, he saw a fallen branch. He snatched it. The giantess was attempting to climb back up the ledge to the area above the waterfall. Jiro ran after her, splashing through the stream, his flip-flops forgotten. Little stones cut at his feet. He had to stop her. Leaving things to instinct, Jiro weaved and dodged over rocks and roots, until he was before the giant woman’s foot. Then, gripping the branch in both lands like a baseball bat, he swung with all his might.

CRACK!

The impact ran up Jiro’s arms and numbed his hands, making him drop the stick. He fell backward, butt striking the rocks of the stream painfully.

Above him, the giantess paused. She put her foot back down, nearly crushing Jiro. She turned and bet down to squint at him. For a moment there was silence. Then the giantess spoke:

“Hey,” said the giantess. “You hurt me. It’s not nice to hurt.”