GLAM REAPER X HEIAN ERA KITTEN

A new beginning.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting an amber glow over the glistening waters as a small boat approached the shores of an unfamiliar island. Glam Reaper stood at the edge of the deck, her black hair rippling in the breeze, her wide eyes scanning the horizon. The island was dense with jungle, its towering trees swaying gently in the evening wind. Excitement buzzed in her chest, mixing with a tinge of nervousness. This was it—the infamous Outlaster competition. Only one person would survive the challenges, and she was ready to give it everything she had. Beside her, Kitten lounged on the side of the boat, arms crossed and a smug grin on his face. (Like this 😼) His fur bounced slightly as the boat cut through the waves, and his sharp eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and anticipation. He noticed Glam Reaper's focused expression and couldn't resist.

'"Glam?" Kitten's deep, clean voice made Glam jolt back to reality. Glam turned her head towards the animal. At a glance, it was clear that Kitten had that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes, his lips curled into a playful smirk. Despite his nickname and unpredictable personality, there was something about him that always seemed both dangerous and oddly comforting—like a wild animal you couldn't help but be drawn to.

"You zoned out on me," he added, his voice softer now but still carrying that teasing edge. "Daydreaming already about winning this thing?"

'"Please, you know nothing about me." Glam shot back, her voice steady yet laced with a challenge. She crossed her arms, her dark hair swaying in the breeze as she stared him down.

Kitten raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Oh, I know enough. You've got that whole 'nice girl' act down, but I bet there's more to you than meets the eye."

Glam rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "You really think you've got me figured out already?"

He shrugged casually, leaning in just slightly. "Let's just say I'm good at reading people. And you—" he paused, his tone dropping a notch, "—you're not as predictable as you seem."

Glam met his gaze, her smile fading into something more serious. "Good. Keep thinking that."

The boat reached its destination, its hull scraping softly against the shore as it came to a stop. Glam Reaper steadied herself and stood, her black boots sinking slightly into the sand as she stepped off. The warm sun beamed down, but the tension in the air felt much colder.

Kitten followed behind her, hopping off the boat with his usual swagger. "Well, here we are. No turning back now," he said, his eyes flicking across the unfamiliar island landscape.

Glam exhaled slowly, taking in the dense jungle ahead of them, its mysteries hidden beneath thick canopies of leaves. "Looks like it's about to get real," she muttered, her voice carrying the weight of anticipation.

Kitten stretched lazily. "Real fun, you mean. Let's see who cracks first."

Glam shot him a look. "Don't get too comfortable. This is where things get serious."

Before they both knew it, it was already time for the first team competition: "Dig It." The rules had been explained quickly, but the stakes were clear—win, or risk an early vote-off. Glam Reaper and Kitten found themselves standing among their teammates, watching as the other team sized them up from across the muddy field.

"Alright, listen up," Jeff, the game master, voice echoed across the island. "In 'Dig It,' each team must earn four points by digging through piles of dirt to find hidden bags. Two players from each team will compete per round. Find the bag, run it back to the white mat, and score. But be careful—the other team can dive to steal the bag, or you can pass it to a teammate. Ready yourselves!"