Aochi
“Should we… stop going outside the ship from now on?”
I asked the Harvester after Oze staggered out of the dining hall.
“No. Against the birds, running back inside the ship is effective. But against a god’s trap, it means nothing. Even if you hide in a closet, it’ll come after you.”
That’s pure horror. Gods are nothing but deranged killers.
Since I can’t see the dead, I couldn’t really feel Kaori-san being eaten by fish, and instead I only felt guilty watching Oze’s exhaustion.
Oomi told me she liked me.
If I were Oze—if someone precious to me were swallowed by some grotesque fish monster—how would I feel then?
And revenge wasn’t possible; she vanished like fireworks—really scattering blossoms into the night sky.
At least I want to protect Mamoru-kun day and night, but I can’t see him.
“Then all that’s left is to face them head on.”
“Aochi-san, please show some restraint. No rampaging.”
Oomi chided me.
“Well, take a little rest. I’ll make you some warm milk. Bring Oze, Silent-chan, and Ululu too. No need to get worked up—by the time we finish drinking, the next trap of the gods will come to us on its own.”
While Oomi went to fetch the others, I watched the Harvester bustling about like a mother, warming milk in a pot, adding sugar to Oze’s and Mamoru-kun’s, and even honey to Ululu’s.
His attentiveness was far too fine, especially for someone so massive.
“What? If you’re just going to watch, then help. Carry these out as they’re ready.”
“Drink this and I’ll fall asleep for sure. …You drink the blood of gods, but you don’t turn cruel like he is.”
The Harvester smiled with that calm profile I liked.
“I must be troublesome for the gods to handle.”
♢♢
When everyone sat at the table—Mamoru-kun apparently next to me—I felt relieved somehow. I almost wanted to invite Rhone here too, irritating as he is. He must be uneasy alone. Despite his frivolous looks, our Harvester says he’s serious, so at least he must be worried about his own passengers, Silent-chan and Ululu.
“It’s sweet… and delicious.”
Oze spoke without raising his lashes.
“Ulururunnn.”
Ululu’s expression seemed ready to sprout heart marks around his face.
“It’s a nostalgic taste. Mamoru-kun says, ‘Oji-chan, it’s yummy.’ Oh—translation for you, Aochi-san.”
I coughed once to clear my throat and asked the others,
“What kind of trap do you think is next? We should be ready.”
Oomi answered first.
“Maybe this time something like a sunfish will come, to eat our happy memories.”
Oze slowly lifted his lips from the cup.
“That simple? Maybe another kind of animal will attack. Like a lion or a bear—something you’d expect to attack.”
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Animal series, huh? Normally I’d tease him for that, but he looked so weak I stayed quiet out of pity.
“Ulururururu.”
Is he guessing too? I had no idea.
“The fog is getting thicker. Maybe it’s already begun.”
“Silent-chan! You really could speak?!”
What a great voice, like a rock singer. If I’d been born with a voice like that, I’d talk far more than I do now.
She glared at me with those big eyes, and I shut my mouth at once.
“I told you she had spoken, didn’t I? The fog is thick indeed. Something must be starting. Since staying inside the ship is pointless, shall we try going out?”
Oomi drained his milk with a gulp.
♢♢
By the time we stepped outside, the fog had grown even denser.
I could barely make out the deck of the other ship. Honestly, I was straining to see if Rhone might be there. If he was, I’d call him over.
This time, even the Harvester was with us. “I’d hoped to summon the Watcher Bird and talk to it directly, but it looks like it won’t make it,” he said, exaggerating a slump of his shoulders.
It must have been about the negotiations with the god. He’d said the Watcher Bird would mediate for us, but I doubted the rules would change so easily.
The fog thickened, like the milk the Harvester had served, and without a word, we all began to hold hands.
The Harvester, me, Oomi, Oze, Mamoru-kun, Silent-chan, and Ululu stood in line, gazing ahead at the slowly advancing ship.
The odd mint scent left behind by the flying fish earlier was gone now.
I squeezed the Harvester’s and Oomi’s hands tight.
If the Harvester really liked teasing people, I half-expected him to crush my hand with ridiculous strength. But he only returned a gentle, enveloping grip. That alone almost made me fall for him.
While I stared absentmindedly at our joined hands, Oomi tugged me forward.
Uh oh—did he get fed up with me?
“Don’t you see something in the fog?”
“Huh…? That’s…”
Even Oze’s voice, coming from the silhouette beside me, sounded stunned.
The fog swallowed our faces, hiding every expression.
“Where? Is it a god?”
I peered into the fog. If anything suspicious appeared, I’d hit it without hesitation. Maybe even take it hostage.
“On the sea.”
“Hm?”
Something was taking shape in the mist. That’s… that’s the drawing I made when I won the flowerbed design contest in the park. I remembered it clearly. Summer of sixth grade—sports I was good at, but the arts I was hopeless. For the first time, I won an award. In that design, a great white bird flying in the pale morning sky—it was projected now across the fog’s curtain.
And there I was, right in front of it, smiling shyly. Deep inside, drunk on the possibility within myself.
The bird I’d drawn in the background stretched its wings and took flight. Just like I’d wished, back when sketching the draft in my notebook—powerful, graceful wingbeats. It wove through the shifting fog curtain and disappeared.
I almost reached for it, but both my hands were bound in theirs. Frustrating. Painful. The emotion soaking in was close to love—like droplets spilling into my heart.
Huh? In the same direction the bird had flown, another scene emerged in the fog.
…That park again? Yes. The very one I always stopped by on my way home from school. No mistake. There I was, alone, sitting on one of the two swings. The time was between dusk and night. Which meant—
There he was. My best friend. He stopped my swing, handed me a soda, and sat on the swing beside me. Since him, I’ve made friends, but never another best friend. I wonder how he’s doing now. More than that, what were we even talking about that day, looking so happy?
If I could have a wish granted, I’d want a best friend again. My foot stepped forward.
Again—the Harvester’s arm yanked me back firmly. Ah… so this too was the gods’ trap.
One after another, the fog showed me memories from when I was most myself. Fading, then reappearing elsewhere, until the fog was overflowing with nostalgia.
How long did I gaze? The fog seemed to be thinning, and anxiety welled up.
Don’t vanish yet—! No, I can’t. This is a trap meant to erase me with the fog itself. Torn between those two urges, I clenched my eyes shut, trying to shake the memories off.
After some time, I felt the heaviness lift from outside my eyelids. Hesitantly, I opened them.
“You did well. You almost fell into the sea, chasing what couldn’t be grasped. But you endured.”
The Harvester’s gentle voice came from above my head.
Oomi’s hand trembled in my right hand.
“…What did you see?”
Still gazing at the thinning fog over the sea, Oomi spoke.
“Just… my childhood. Ordinary days spent with family.”
“What about you, Oze?”
I asked Oze, who looked conflicted beyond Oomi.
“I saw… college days, and scenes from when I started working.”
His tone was oddly curt. He must have seen something he didn’t want to share.
I wanted to hear Silent-chan’s voice.
“What about you, Silent-chan? For me, it was memories with my best friend in upper elementary school—”
Too late, I regretted starting with myself. Silent-chan had just lost her best friend.
And Oze—I was thoughtless. He’d just watched his first love, an older woman, devoured by fish. If he’d seen her in the fog, of course he’d wear that expression.
“I… with my best friend—”
“Sorry. You don’t need to.”
I cut Silent-chan off, trying to cover the awkwardness. I turned toward Ululu.
“Ulururun, ulururun.”
“You must be bored, huh? You’re too new-born to have memories to show.”
“Urun…”
Surprisingly downcast, Ululu was so cute it soothed me.
“Hey, don’t mope. Next world, we’ll make lots of memories together.”
“What about you, Mamoru-kun?”
At Oomi’s question, I stiffened. Not because I’d ignored him, but because… I couldn’t see him.
Oomi nodded gravely.
“What is it? What did he say?”
“Mamoru-kun… he said he saw himself, back in elementary school—playing with you, Aochi-san.”