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Whatever berries were left would find themselves stuffed in Junichiro's jacket pocket as he prepared to move on ahead towards the direction of the waterfall. The familiar feeling of the pot lid was comforting to a degree, the mere act of lifting it reminding the young man of a happier time when he was a mere youth. The pleasant feeling of sharing a hot pot with loved ones. With Kaoru. Junichiro clutched the pot lid tightly as if it were his conviction in a tangible form. He would resolve to live, to power through whatever ill-fortuned situation he found himself in until he reached civilization once more.

It'd also probably help if his clothes didn't smell like piss.

Junichiro marched towards the waterfall, clutching the pot lid in front of him like some sort of makeshift shield in one hand, and his false firearm in the other. He looked ridiculous, really, like some sort of child playing pretend with cutlery and toys. Still, the false sense of safety his ensemble entailed was enough for him to continue forward.