As Evan glides through the river, he takes a deep breath and dunks his head under, sucking up the cool water before gargling it loudly. The sound echoes across the surface before he spits it out in a frothy burst, his sad excuse for modern hygiene. No toothbrush, no soap, just river water and wishful thinking.
As he floats on his back, staring up at the endless sky, a thought creeps in. How long has it been since he arrived here? It feels like forever, like he's lived a whole lifetime in this strange world. And yet, at the same time, it can't have been that long, right? A week? Maybe more?
He mentally retraces his steps, counting the days.
Day 1: His arrival, lost, disoriented, and completely stripped of everything. No clothing, no shoes, and, strangely enough, no more lycanthropy. A clean slate in an unfamiliar time. Maybe even an entirely different world.
Day 2: Capture. The shock of seeing ancient Filipinos. Though, technically, shouldn't they have their own tribal names? I should ask them that. Still, he's pretty sure this is Luzon, considering he understands their Tagalog.
Day 3: …Weaving? Right, that was the day he sat awkwardly with the women, fumbling with fibers and trying not to be the target of their relentless gossip.
Day 4: More weaving. And playing with the village kids, which oddly felt like one of those college outreach programs.
Day 5: Even more weaving, though mercifully interrupted by a storm. A reminder that despite being completely out of time, he was still home. Huh. Three days of weaving? No wonder Timbina was so impatient with him.
Day 6: The ocean trip, aka the day his worst fears decided to manifest. Sharks. In the open ocean. Absolutely terrifying.
Day 7: The day he somehow ended up with land and slaves. Guess he owes youtube shorts some thanks.
And then came the past two days, Day 8 and 9, which had been surprisingly peaceful. No one breathing down his neck, well, except Binalig, but at least it wasn't under threat of a guard. He spent the days training with the bow, settling into what almost felt like a normal routine. Almost.
Almost a week and a half. Time was slipping through his fingers faster than he realized.
What exactly was he supposed to do here?
So far, luck had been on his side. Saving the datu's daughter, completely by accident, had somehow earned him land and freedom. And honestly, fulfilling the tributes didn't seem that difficult. With time, he'd probably gain more wealth, more status. Then what? Would he eventually be promoted to Datu? Given his own village?
…Or would he have to marry Alunay?
That thought made him pause.
On one hand, she was undeniably pretty, any guy here would be lucky to marry her. A classic Latina.
But on the other hand… he was still technically 32 years old. The idea of marrying a teenager didn't sit right with him.
Then again, wouldn't that kind of modern stigma fade over time? If he stayed here long enough, maybe his mindset would shift. Maybe then, he could reconsider.
But on the other other hand… did he even want to?
Love had stopped being a priority for him long ago. He had given up on it, on relationships, on thinking too far ahead. Back in his old life, his future in that dead-end marketing job had been so bleak that he simply chose not to dwell on it.
Besides, deep down, he had always believed he was too ugly, too mediocre to ever deserve love. Not in a self-pitying way, just a quiet, resigned acceptance. Some people were just meant to be alone, right? He had made peace with that a long time ago.
His lycanthropy had actually made that easier. The affliction had been so overwhelming, so all-consuming, that it left little room for anything else. Every day had been about managing the beast inside him. There hadn't been time for romance, for dreams, for anything beyond survival.
And as he waded out of the river, water streaming down his skin, he realized something unsettling, he doesn't know how to plan for the future.
For so long, he had avoided it, brushed it aside like an annoying thought that didn't deserve space in his mind. But now? Now the question lingered, nagging at him.
What was he supposed to do with his life here?
After breakfast, he returned to his usual spot and dropped a little offering to the jungle cat. He slips on his abaca arm bracer before nocking an arrow. The familiar twang of the bowstring filled the air as he loosed a shot at the tree.
The tree was already riddled with marks from his practice sessions. The last time he got a closer look, he noticed tiny holes scattered across the bark.
Am I killing the tree by shooting it full of holes?
Probably not, his arrows missed more often than they hit. The poor thing was still standing, which was more than he could say for his accuracy.
He nocked another arrow, eyeing the previous shot. A little too far to the right. Adjusting his aim slightly left, he took a breath, steadied his grip, and let loose.
Thwack.
Finally, a bullseye.
A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips, but his success was still inconsistent. Some arrows still stubbornly refused to hit anything, missing the tree entirely like promo flyers drifting past uninterested mallgoers.
As he reached for another arrow, his gaze drifted toward the fields, where Binalig and Hunyak were kneeling, hands busy digging and burying something in the soil.
Hmm. Makes sense. They probably had rituals to ensure the fields were properly tilled. Though, wasn't that usually a babaylan's job? They're not babaylans in secret or babaylans-in-training right?
After loosing a few more arrows, landing at least one more bullseye, Evan saw Hunyak turn her attention to preparing food. He took it as the perfect excuse to rest his weary arms.
He set the bow down near the hut's door and, stretching his shoulders, asked, "Are you guys babaylans? Or maybe training to be babaylans?"
Hunyak shot him a confused look. "No, we have no connection to the spirits. Why do you ask?"
Evan let out an awkward laugh. "Oh, uh, I just saw you guys praying and then burying something. Thought it was a ritual."
Hunyak chuckled. "Oh, no, no. We were just blessing the land, as our ancestors did before us. Binalig and I had our monthly visit last night, so we buried our bloody abaca pads."
Evan froze. Oh. Right. Human women menstruate.
But… abaca fibers? Wouldn't that be, like, scratchy as hell?
He curiously asked, "Isn't that uncomfortable?"
She shook her head. "No, no. Timbina soaks it in water and pounds it until it's soft."
Then, she handed him a piece of the cloth.
As he ran his fingers over it, he was surprised. It wasn't what he expected, soft, but not in the fluffy way of cotton. It had a smooth yet fibrous texture. Durable, but with just enough give to be comfortable.
"This is definitely better than rocks. Why aren't you guys using this to wipe your butts?" he blurted out.
Hunyak gave him a bewildered look. "What do you mean, rocks?"
He stared at her. "You know… when you're done shitting at the shit cliff, rocks to wipe your ass?"
She looked even more confused. "Why rocks? Water and your fingers work well enough, no?"
His brain short-circuited.
Wait. Wait.
Fudge.
Punay messed with me.
His whole body tensed as the horrifying realization sank in.
You mean I could have been washing my ass normally this whole time?! I've been carefully picking out the smoothest rocks like some kind of primitive idiot, trying not to scrape my ass raw, when all this time, I could have just used water?!
A deep, soul-crushing regret settled in his chest.
He had been living a lie.
Their lunch consisted mostly of Binalig laughing her ass off between bites.
She nearly choked on her food, wiping at her teary eyes. "Rocks?! You–" She sucked in a breath between cackles, smacking the ground. "You've been rubbing your ass with rocks this whole time? No wonder you walk funny sometimes!"
Evan watched her, the way she doubled over with laughter, the way she could barely breathe from how hard she was laughing at his expense. And oddly enough, he didn't mind. It was nice seeing her like this, carefree, unguarded.
Hunyak, sitting nearby, wasn't laughing as loudly, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. She wasn't mocking him, she was just enjoying the rare sight of Binalig completely losing it.
Binalig wiped a tear from her eye, shaking her head. "Oh, Punay, you are a genius." She turned her gaze to Evan, smirking. "And you" she pointed an accusatory finger at him "you didn't even think to bring a pot of water with you?"
Evan groaned, rubbing his temples. "Okay, okay, maybe I should've questioned it, but come on, I was new here! Punay was so scary that I just obeyed what she told me to do."
Binalig scoffed, waving off his excuse. "Please, Punay is a weak little chick. She used to cower behind me whenever we go hunting."
Hunyak, still chewing on a piece of roasted fish, finally spoke up. "Wait, wait, wait. So back in your village, how do you clean yourselves?"
He hesitated. "Well... we had soft paper, but that's kinda wasteful. So, a lot of people actually just use water and soap. You know, like normal, civilized people." He glared at Binalig, who was still giggling into her hands.
Hunyak frowned, tilting her head. "Paper? Soap? Are you an encanto, Iban?"
He let out a small sigh. "Aso is fine. And no, I'm not a nature spirit. I'm just weird."
Binalig snorted. "You got that right."
After lunch, Evan took a much-needed walk to the shit cliff, now armed with the knowledge that he could actually wash his ass properly. As he squatted, staring out at the endless stretch of jungle below, he sighed in relief.
"God, this is so much better."
No more rocks. No more gritting his teeth and praying to whatever deity existed in this time period that he wouldn't scrape himself raw. Just cool water, the way it was meant to be.
He finished up, shaking his head at himself. All that suffering, all because he was too obedient to question an old woman's nonsense.
"Damn you, Punay."
By the time he returned to his training spot, the jungle cat was already lounging nearby, watching him with its unblinking golden eyes. His food offerings seemed to be working. The creature no longer ran at the first sign of movement, and today, it didn't even flinch when he approached.
Evan picked up his bow, sliding his abaca bracer into place. Rolling his shoulders, he stretched his arms, easing the stiffness from a morning spent doing... other business. With a deep breath, he nocked an arrow, fingers settling into a grip that was starting to feel less awkward.
He had made progress over the past few days, though "progress" mostly meant missing less often. The poor tree in front of him had taken the brunt of his learning curve, its bark scarred with past failures. But hey, at least his muscles were finally starting to show signs of improvement. Small victories.
He took a deep breath, adjusted his stance, and loosed the arrow.
Thwack.
Not quite a bullseye, but close.
Encouraged, he nocked another arrow, this time adjusting his grip just slightly, focusing on how the string felt under his fingers. He drew back, held his breath, then released.
Thwack.
A little closer.
A small, satisfied grin tugged at his lips. It was a slow process, but he could feel himself improving. Maybe, if he stuck with it long enough, he wouldn't be completely useless in a real fight.
Movement in his peripheral made him glance to the side. The cat was still there, stretched out lazily on the ground, its tail flicking every now and then. It looked… comfortable. At ease.
"Huh," he muttered. "Guess you're sticking around longer today."
The cat flicked an ear but didn't move. That was good, right? A sign of trust?
Encouraged, he retrieved another arrow and lined up his shot, carefully adjusting his stance. He drew back, made a slight correction, then released the string with a sharp thwack.
Not a bullseye, but at least it was inside the circle. Good enough. He was about to prepare for another shot when he noticed the cat shifting closer.
'Hope it doesn't attack me or anything. Pretty sure bites and scratches are lethal here.'