The moment Cutie heard the words "fish" and "dinner" in the same breath, he swore his heart just leapt out of his chest and ran for the hills. He stood frozen, eyes wide, like someone had whispered his worst nightmare right into his soul.
In this world, there was one thing he feared above all else—not beasts, not storms, not even angry elders.
Fish.
Those cold, slimy creatures with their unblinking, glassy eyes. The kind that stared at you even in death, like they were silently judging your life choices. Yes. Those fish. The wide-eyed monsters that refused to close their eyes, even when the world was done with them.
Kaya raised a brow, watching him closely. Amused. She held up the fish and tilted her head slightly, a sly smile playing on her lips.
"Why? Is there a problem?"
Cutie flinched, laughing awkwardly as if someone had just asked him to hug a ghost.
"Problem?... No... no problem. P-Problem? What problem? I mean, what problem could I possibly have with f-f-fissshhh..."
His voice cracked on the last word, stretching it like it burned on the way out.
"We... well... just so you know," Cutie began, his words tumbling over each other like they were trying to escape, "they’ve got way too many bones. And they’re thin. It’s not exactly... uh... convenient to eat, yeah."
He stood awkwardly, hands fidgeting at his sides as he avoided looking directly at the fish in Kaya’s hand—like eye contact might bring it back to life.
Kaya didn’t smile this time. She just gave him a blank look, like she was trying to figure out if he was joking or genuinely terrified.
"It’s a fish," she said flatly. "Of course it has fish bones."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned around, bent down, and gently placed the fish on the large leaf he’d spread out earlier. Around it sat a modest collection of wild fruits and vegetables, gathered with much less protest from Cutie than what the fish was currently getting.
Cutie watched her every move like the fish might suddenly launch itself at him.
"Um... you know," he started again, voice a little shaky, "fish bones can get stuck in your throat. Some even say... it can cause death."
Kaya didn’t respond right away. She adjusted a few leaves and finally sat back on her heels, her expression unreadable. Meanwhile, Cutie looked like he was expecting her to throw the fish at him—or worse, ask him to eat it.
He cleared his throat nervously, taking a small step back. "I’m just saying. It’s a serious risk. Very... real danger."
Kaya spoke calmly, though her tone carried a certain edge—serious, almost scolding.
"And what kind of fool dies from this fish?" she asked, eyes narrowing just a touch. "If you just take out the bones properly... or chew it carefully before swallowing, isn’t it easy enough to eat?"
Cutie blinked, lips parting like he was about to defend his honor—but thought better of it.
Kaya didn’t wait for his answer. "Even if a bone does get stuck," she continued, scanning their makeshift camp, "just swallow something soft but firm. Like..."
Her eyes landed on the small pile of gathered fruit. She reached out, picked up a slightly bruised santara—a wild orange—and held it up for him to see.
"This. Just eat it whole," she said matter-of-factly, holding it like a doctor presenting a cure.
Cutie’s eyes widened in horror, his face twisting as if she’d just told him to swallow a stone. "W-whole? The entire thing? Skin and all?!"
Kaya stared at him like a teacher who had finally run out of patience. Her brows twitched, lips pressed into a thin line. The kind of look that said, "Are you seriously this dense?"
"What kind of fool eats oranges with the skin on?" she asked, voice clipped with irritation.
Cutie blinked, pausing like he was genuinely thinking it over. Then, with a slow, almost proud nod, he replied, "Yeah... that makes sense."
Kaya exhaled sharply through her nose, gripping the peeled santara a little tighter. For a second, she looked like she might throw it at his head. Instead, she turned away, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Unbelievable..."
Cutie, oblivious to the storm he narrowly avoided, leaned forward slightly and said in a thoughtful tone, "I mean... I’ve seen someone try it once."
Kaya shot him a look over her shoulder. "Was it you?"
He straightened. "...No?"
She narrowed her eyes.
Cutie coughed and looked away.
.
.
.
Kaya stepped slowly into the shallow river, the water lapping gently against her calves. Her eyes were focused, scanning between the mossy stones and rippling currents, ignoring the chill that bit at her skin.
On the riverbank, Cutie stood awkwardly in his dried, slightly wrinkled clothes he’d tied into some form of makeshift pants. He clutched the fabric nervously as he watched her with a mix of concern and horror.
"Um... are you trying to find more fish?" he asked, voice tight with a strained smile.
He’d already taken two steps back, his eyes flicking around like he was calculating the fastest escape route.
Kaya didn’t answer right away. Her gaze was locked on something below the surface, her hands hovering just above the water. She crouched slightly, balancing on a flat rock, and then—without a word—she plunged her hands in.
There was a splash. A grunt.
Then came a sudden, victorious, "Ah!"
She stood up, water dripping from her sleeves—and in her hands, lifted high like a small trophy, was a large, angry crab. Its legs flailed wildly in every direction, claws snapping with audible clicks.
Cutie froze. His jaw dropped. "That’s... not a fish."
"No," Kaya said, not even looking at him. "But good enough."
The crab waved its claw toward Cutie, as if it too had something to say.
Cutie took two more cautious steps back, eyes wide. "I think it’s staring at me."
Kaya raised an eyebrow and turned the crab ever so slightly in his direction. "Now it is."