Spirits were low the following morning, a byproduct of what happened between Takagi and me. In spite of that, we efficiently packed the camp and marched ever onward.
As usual, Takahashi appeared with ashen hands. Considering that he used it as soap, it was clear what he had been doing.
We walked for hours and hours. From the crack of dawn to the late afternoon, we slogged forward. During that time, Takagi, albeit slightly, returned to his old self.
It looked like my confrontation with him yesterday helped, though not in the way I'd hoped. He was pulled out of his shell, but at the cost of his view of me. He was always rude, but now he saw me with genuine disdain. I became a lightning rod to absorb all of his negative emotions.
'I guess it doesn't matter. So long as he doesn't get us killed,' I sighed.