Shin Sekai yori

Late at night, after all has become quiet, sitting deep in a chair, I close my eyes and see things. What comes to mind, as though stamped by a seal, is always the same scene.

In the darkness of the hall, a flame blazes in the back atop a ceremonial podium. From the ground at its base comes the resonant chanting of a Mantra. As though joining in accompaniment, the orange colored flame crackles.

The questions "Why that journey? Why that scene?" have become a curiosity to me.

I was 12 years old as of that night, and 23 years have already pa.s.sed. In that interval, truly extraordinary events have occurred. As have incidents unimaginably dreadful and sorrowful. The things I had come to believe by then, all of them, from the very foundations should have been overturned.

However, even now the first things that come into my head, for whatever reason, are the events of that evening. Was the hypnotic suggestion I was given really so powerful? Occasionally, to this very day, I feel as though I still have not cut myself free from the brainwashing.

More recently, I"ve come to want to record the details regarding a series of incidents, for which a small reason exists. 10 years have pa.s.sed since that day when so many things were returned to ash. In the 10 years since then, nothing of significance has happened. However, with the huge pile of pending problems resolved, and the new order[1] on track and beginning to operate, ironically, doubts about the future have begun to sprout.

Upon finding the time for this question, I studied the history of the past in attempting to solve this difficult problem, but have been made to see it in a new light; those called humans have been said to be creatures that, no matter how many tears must be swallowed for a lesson to be learned, forget it as soon as they have pa.s.sed down the throat.

Of course, not one person could possibly put the thoughts of that day into words, and there is no way the vow to never again allow such a tragedy to occur could be forgotten. That is what I wish to believe.

However, should it be that some day, in the distant future, when people"s memories have come to be faded, might our foolishness cause us to step in the same rut once again? Fears such as these are a thing I am unable to cast aside.

For that reason, I suddenly resolved to take up the pen, and begin writing the draft of this memorandum but, along the way, time and again I found myself in a state of perplexity. Here and there, my memory seems to have become full of holes, and I could not remember the facts about important details.

I wanted to confirm my memory of how many people were involved at that time, but the missing pieces of a persons memory apparently become supplemented by fabrications. I was surprised at the fact that, frequently, memories of common experiences come to contradict each other.

For example, the reason we were able to discover the FalseMinoshiro[2] at Mt. Tsukuba was that, just before, my eyes were hurting, so I was wearing red colored sungla.s.ses. That fact is something I remember clearly even now, but Satoru somehow, with great confidence, affirms that I was not wearing anything of the sort. On the contrary, Satoru even implied that the discovery of the FalseMinoshiro at that time was his own achievement. Of course, such a stupid idea could not possibly be true.

I became somewhat obstinate and through examination of what comes to mind when a sleeping human is interviewed, inconsistent points have been compared. By this process, inexorably, the truth became apparent. There was not one person whose memory was twisted and bent to see them self in an unfavorable way.

With an anxious laugh, I record in this notebook a new discovery concerning human foolishness but, suddenly, I realize that I have no basis by which to a.s.sume that I myself am exempt from this rule. I have no doubt that, if seen from an outside perspective, I would seem to be rewriting my memories for my own convenience.

As such, this memorandum is absolutely my one-sided interpretation, and I want to note that it might well be a story distorted for the sake of my own self-justification. Above all, it can be said that our actions later became the impetus for the loss of so enormous a number of lives and therefore, to me, even unconsciously, the motivation to do that should exist.

Although, somehow, by digging up my memories, and facing my own heart sincerely, I intend to depict the details of the incidents as faithfully as possible. I think that by mimicking the story telling techniques of ancient times, I might be able to recreate what they felt, what they were thinking, back at that time, even if only slightly.

To keep this ma.n.u.script from decaying, I am using paper purported to last 1000 years, and ink meant never to fade as I write this. Once completed, without showing it to anyone (Possibly, I may show it to Satoru, in order to ask his opinion), I will place it in a time capsule and bury it deep under the ground.

Just before that, I will produce two additional volumes, and plan to leave behind only these three. Supposing that, in the future, the old regime or something like it is restored, and a society likely to implement the censorship of every book were to return, the existence of this memorandum must be kept secret if at all possible. The existence of three books, again under the a.s.sumption of such circ.u.mstances, is barely anything at all.

In short, this memorandum, a long letter addressed to my brethren 1000 years from now, should make evident, at the time that you are able to read this, whether we have changed to any significant degree, and begun walking down a new path.

It seems I haven’t introduced myself yet. My name is Saki Watanabe. I was born on December 10 of the year 210, in the town of Kamisu 66.

Just before I was born, bamboo plants that are said to flower only once in 100 years bloomed simultaneously. I think that not one drop of rain fell for three months, then snow fell in midsummer. Each and every kind of abnormal weather was a frequent occurrence. Furthermore, on the evening of December 10, I heard heaven and earth were shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by lightning, as many people witnessed a golden scaled dragon floating amidst a gap in the clouds. .....and, the above, amongst other such things, is completely devoid of truth.

210 was an extremely ordinary year in which I, along with another child born in Kamisu 66 that year, were quite ordinary babies.

But, with regard to my mother, things were quite unusual. At the time she became pregnant with me, mother was nearing the end of her thirties, and seems to have been disappointed at not having had any children. During our era, the late thirties was considered quite old to have a child.

Furthermore, my Mother, Mizuho Watanabe, held the important position Librarian. Not only did the future of the town depend on my mother"s decisions, but, depending on the situation, there was the possibility that many lives could be lost. To devote attention to important prenatal care, while every day continuing to bear such pressure, went far beyond the troubles of an ordinary woman.

Around the same time, my Father, Takashi Sugiura, was the mayor of Kamisu 66. And as such, my Father also had a job that kept him very busy. But, at the time I was born, the job of Librarian carried with it a degree of responsibility so large that it was beyond comparison with that of Mayor. Of course, that is true even now, but probably not to the extent that it was in those days.

In the middle of a meeting to determine the cla.s.sification of newly excavated books, Mother was. .h.i.t by strong labor pains. More than a week earlier than the expected day, her water broke suddenly and she was immediately carried to a s.p.a.ce at the town"s maternity hospital. The time that I let out my first cry was a mere 10 minutes after that event. However, because my neck had unluckily become entangled in the umbilical chord, my face was completely purple, and it seems I was unable to make much of a sound. The midwife was a young person doing the job for the first time and nearly fell into a panic. Luckily, the umbilical chord was easily untangled. I gradually filled my lungs with the air of this world, and energetically let forth my first cry.

Two weeks after that, at the same hospital & nursery, another girl was born. Her name was Maria Akizuki, and we later became close friends. Maria was a premature breech baby and also, like me, the umbilical chord became tangled around her neck. But the circ.u.mstances were much more serious than with me. It was said that at the time she was born, she almost died of asphyxiation.

From her experience of the time with me, it seems the midwife was able to handle the situation calmly. It was said that if she had been even a little bit slower in untangling the umbilical, the child would certainly have died. At the time that I first heard this story, I remember feeling great joy at the fact that I had indirectly saved the life of my good friend. Now however, every time I remember that event, my feelings about it are more complicated. Perhaps, if Maria had never been born into this world, it seems likely that so very many people might not have lost their lives.....

Back to the original story. I lived a happy childhood, in a hometown that embraced nature to the fullest. The city of Kamisu 66 consists of seven townships scattered about in an area 50 kilometers across. Dividing the city and the outside world is the Holy Barrier. In the world 1000 years from now, the Holy Barrier itself may no longer exist, but for the time being I will leave the explanation at this; It consisted of a great many Paper Charms hung from a Sacred Rope encircling the city. It was meant to keep bad things outside from flowing into the city and formed a hard limit at its edge.

That they must absolutely never go outside the Holy Barrier was strictly drilled into children"s minds. They were told that everywhere in the outside world is prowling with various monsters and evil spirits, and that a child going outside alone would quickly be met by the eyes of something terrifying.

"But, what kinds of things out there are so frightening?"

I remember asking of my father one day. I think I was probably six or seven years old. It may be that I was still learning to speak properly at the time.

"There are various things."

Father replied as he raised his face from some doc.u.ments. He brought his hand to his long chin, and turned towards me with a loving look. Those gentle light brown eyes, even now remain burned into my memory. Father never once looked at me with an overly stern expression in his eyes. Just once did he yell at me loudly, and that was because I had been carelessly looking away while walking through a field and, had he not warned me that instant, would have fallen into a large open hole in front of me.

"Hey, don"t you already know Saki? The stories about BakeNezumi[3] and TricksterCats and BalloonDogs?"

"Mother said that those kinds of things are just stories everyone talks about that don"t really exist."

"The others aside, BakeNezumi are perfectly real." Said Father casually, shocking me greatly.

"No way."

"I"m not lying. During the construction just recently in this very town, many BakeNezumi were made to come help."

"But I"ve never seen one before."

"It was done in such a way as not to be seen by the eyes of children."

Father did not talk about the reason behind this, but my guess as to why children were not allowed to see those things called BakeNezumi is, perhaps, simply because of their ugliness.

"But, if they listen to what humans say, are they really that frightening?"

Father placed the doc.u.ments he was looking over on top of the table, and held his right hand above his head. While reciting a charm in a low voice within his mouth, the fine fibers of the paper noisily changed, and as though revealing writing made in invisible ink, a complex figure emerged. It was the signature indicating that something had been approved by the Mayor.

"Saki, do you know the word "menjuuf.u.kuhai"?"[4]

I quietly shook my head no.

"It means to give the appearance of obedience, while deep down thinking something very different."

"Something different?"

"To deceive ones companions, while scheming to betray them."

My mouth fell agape.

"There"s no person like that."

"That"s right. A person would absolutely never betray another person"s trust that way. However, the BakeNezumi are completely different from people."

For the first time, I became a little frightened.

"The BakeNezumi worship those humans who possess Jyuryoku[5] as G.o.ds, and as such show unconditional obedience. But, with regard to children who do not yet have Jyuryoku, it is unknown what kind of reaction they would have. Therefore, the meeting of children and BakeNezumi, must be avoided when at all possible."

".....But if they are being made to work, they must be coming into the town, right?"

"At those times, without fail, some adult is there to supervise them."

Father placed the doc.u.ments in the box and, once again, softly held his hand up over his head. The box and lid snapped together in an instant and became a solid chunk of lacquered wood with a hollow interior. At the time that Jyuryoku is focused the kind of image one holds is unknown to other people. Because of this, the opening of such a letterbox lid without breaking it is difficult for people other than my father.

"In any case, going outside of the Holy Barrier is absolutely forbidden. A powerful force is stretched along the Holy Barrier, making the inside of it safe. However, if one takes even a single step outside, they are beyond the protection of anyone’s Jyuryoku."

"But, the BakeNezumi....."

"It"s not just the BakeNezumi. At school, didn"t you also learn about Fiends[6] and Karmic Demons[7]?"

I unintentionally gasped.

While we were still very young, we were made to study and repeatedly listen to stories about Fiends and Karmic Demons. So much so that they became something deeply ingrained in the subconscious. What we learned about them in school was no more than the children’s version, but even that scared us enough to cause nightmares.

"Outside the Holy Barrier, Fiends and Karmic Demons..... really exist?"

"Yes"

In order to ease my terror, Father smiled softly.

"But those are old stories, they aren"t still....."

"It is certainly true that not one has appeared in the last 150 years. But there remains a small chance they’re still out there."

"Wouldn"t it be terrible if Saki, like the boy who went out to pick herbs, were to suddenly be confronted by a Fiend?"

I nodded silently.

From here, I will present a summary of the story of the Fiend and the story of the Karmic Demon. However, not the fairytales intended for children, but the complete versions that everyone studies after completing grade school.

Story of the Fiend[6]

The following took place 150 years ago. There was once a boy who went to the mountains to collect herbs. He became so engrossed in his task that before he knew it, he found himself before the Sacred Rope of the Holy Barrier. The herbs on the inside had been all but picked clean but, from a casual glance, he could see that there were still many herbs remaining just outside the Barrier.

Since long before, the adults had drilled into him that he must absolutely never go outside of the Holy Barrier. And that if it were absolutely necessary to leave, without fail, he must always be accompanied by an adult.

However, there were no adults nearby. The boy became puzzled and thought, "it should be okay if I only go a little bit past." The point to which he went was only a stone"s throw away form the Barrier. "It should be fine if I go quickly, grab the herbs, and hurry back." The boy thought as he pa.s.sed under the Sacred Rope. The paper charms swayed, making a rustling sound.

At this time, he experienced a very unpleasant feeling. As he violated the orders of the adults, he felt an anxiety unlike anything he had ever experienced before. "It"s nothing" he forcefully admonished himself as he approached the herbs. As he did so, he saw a Fiend approaching from afar.

The Fiend"s height and build were about the same as the boy, but its appearance was a dreadful thing to behold. Swirling about it like a fiery halo, was an aura of hatred burning all that it touched. Nearby plants exploded into flames, disintegrating entirely as the Fiend pa.s.sed through them.

The boy turned completely white and, restraining himself from letting out a cry, softly backed away. If he could get back under the Sacred Rope and inside the Holy Barrier, the Fiend should be unable to see him. But at that moment, from under the boys foot came the sound of a dead branch being broken.

The Fiend turned its expressionless face. As though it had finally found a target for its hatred, it fixed its gaze in the boy"s direction.

As the boy pa.s.sed under the Sacred Rope, he began running as fast as he could. Once he re-entered the Holy Barrier, all should have been well again. However, looking back over his shoulder, he saw none other than the Fiend, somehow having penetrated the Sacred Barrier as well!

At this point, the boy thought that he had just done something irreparable. He had let a Fiend inside of the Holy Barrier. The boy began crying as he ran along the mountain path. The Fiend persistently followed him.

The boy, running along the path of the Sacred Rope, turned towards a river valley in the opposite direction of the village. Looking back, the face of the Fiend still following him was hidden from sight amidst the bushes. He could only see the faint shape of a smile, by the light of those two glowing eyes.

The Fiend was allowing him to lead it to the village. This could not be allowed to happen. If he returned to the village like this, with the Fiend still in tow, it might well wipe out everyone there.

As he pa.s.sed through the last of the bushes, before his eyes was a sheer cliff. From the bottom of the deep ravine, the rumbling sound of flowing water reverberated. A single, brand new suspension bridge hung across the ravine.

The boy did not cross the bridge, instead turning to run upstream along the edge of the cliff. Following him, the Fiend came to the foot of the bridge, and once again caught sight of the boy. The boy did nothing but run.

A short while later, another suspension bridge came into view in front of them. As they approached, the cloudy sky cast a black shadow across the worn out bridge that had obviously been exposed to many years of wind and rain. It swayed ominously as though beckoning.

Given the shape this bridge was in, it would not be unexpected were it to collapse at any moment. Not one villager had crossed it for more than 10 years, and the boy remembered them often admonishing that one must never cross it. The boy carefully began crossing the bridge.

The heavily loaded ropes made a strained and hateful sound. The planks at his feet were mostly rotted and looked as though they might crumble to pieces at any moment. At the time he reached the middle of the bridge, it suddenly began bending severely. Looking back, he could see the Fiend starting to cross the bridge. As the Fiend approached, the swaying of the bridge became steadily greater.

For an instant, the boy became mesmerized as he glanced down at the bottom of the ravine. As he raised his head, he saw that the Fiend had already reached a point just a short distance away.

As the boy saw that abominable face clearly for the first time, he pulled out the scythe he had been concealing and in a single stroke cut one of the ropes supporting the bridge. The suspension bridge floor flipped vertically, the boy nearly slipped off, but somehow managed to hang onto the final rope.

Had the Fiend fallen off? But when the boy looked, somehow it, too, had managed to cling to the last rope. The Fiend slowly turned its dreadful gaze towards him.

The scythe tumbled to the bottom of the ravine. There was no longer a way to cut the last rope/vine. "What should I do." The boy thought in despair, and prayed to heaven. "I don"t care if you take my life." "But please, don"t allow the Fiend to reach the village."

Was the boys wish heard all the way in heaven? Or was it simply that the dilapidated bridge"s final supporting rope was unable to bear so much weight any longer. With a snap the bridge was severed, and fell towards the seemingly bottomless ravine. Neither the boy nor the Fiend was ever seen again.

Since then, to this day, not one Fiend has appeared again.

There are several moral lessons that this story is intended to teach. For small children, the lesson that one must never go outside of the Holy Barrier is certainly easy to understand. For somewhat older children, to consider the good of the town before oneself, and perhaps to comprehend the spirit of self sacrifice.

However, the fact is, that the true purpose is something that only a child of some wisdom would realize. Indeed, who on earth would think that the real goal of this story is to convince one of the true existence of Fiends?!

Story of the Karmic Demon[7]

The following took place 80 years ago. There was a lone boy who lived in a village. He was a very intelligent child, but he had just one fault. As he grew older, that fault gradually became clear for everyone to see. The boy became overly proud of his own intelligence, treating everyone and everything else as though somewhat stupid.

On the surface, he put forth the pretense of listening well to what was taught by the villagers and in school, but some important lessons never reached his heart. The boy laughed at the foolishness of the adults. He came to be such that he would laugh derisively at even the ethics of this world.

Arrogance sows the seeds of Karma.

The boy gradually drifted apart from his old circle of friends. Isolation came to be his only friend, his only companion.

Isolation becomes the seedbed of Karma.

The boy, who had become completely alone, often became lost in thought. Eventually, he came to consider things that should not be considered, to doubt things that should not be doubted.

Dark thoughts ceaselessly nourish the growth of Karma.

Over time, without his conscious knowledge, the boy"s Karma piled up. Gradually, the boy changed. He became something inhuman, a Karmic Demon.

Before anyone knew it, the village had become deserted, its people terrified of the Karmic Demon. The Karmic Demon lived within the forest and at some point, without its realizing, the form of every living thing had vanished from the forest. As the Karmic Demon walked, the plants around it twisted, changing into forms unimaginably strange, sometimes rotting alive.

Food that the Karmic Demon touched turned to deadly poison in an instant. The Karmic Demon walked aimlessly through a bizarre forest of death.

The Karmic Demon gradually came to realize that it was something that must not be allowed to exist in this world.

The Karmic Demon emerged from the gloomy forest. As it did so, what appeared before its eyes engulfed it in shining light. It had reached a deep lake that existed amongst the mountain recesses.

The Karmic Demon waded into the lake, while thinking "shouldn"t this pure water be able to wash away all of my Karma?"

However, the water surrounding the Karmic Demon rapidly changed to a sickly black color. Even the water of the lake had been changed into poison.

A Karmic Demon is a thing that must not be allowed to exist in this world. Upon finally accepting this, the Karmic Demon quietly vanished into the depths of the lake.

The moral of this story is probably much more clear and simple than that of the Fiends Story. However, there was of course no way for us to understand its true meaning back then. The day when, amidst endless sorrow and despair, our eyes would behold the true form of a Karmic Demon had not yet.....

Somehow, as I continue putting pen to paper, various thoughts come all at once, pushing each other aside in a way I can barely seem to control. I shall return to discussing my childhood.

It seems that earlier I mentioned how Kamisu 66 is composed of seven village districts. The town"s administrative body was concentrated at the center, in the Chinowa village on the eastern bank of the Tone river. North of that, the Matsukaze village contains many large residences scattered throughout the forest. In the open coastland to the East is the village of Shirasuna. Neighboring Chinowa to the south was the village of Mizuguruma. In the northwest with an excellent view along the western bank of the Tone river is Miharashi. Lined up along the paddy fields South of there is the village of Kogane. On the westernmost side of town was the village of Kunugibayashi.

My parents lived in the village of Mizuguruma.[8] This name might require a bit of explanation. In Kamisu 66, the Tone River is finely divided into dozens of waterways that stretch around in every direction and the people move about riding boats on these waterways. In spite of this, through constant effort, the water in the waterways is kept pure enough that it is safe to wash ones face with, though I would be a bit hesitant to drink it.

Brilliant scarlet and white carp swam in the waters just in front of my home. The village came to be called Mizuguruma because of the many waterwheels that once spun there. There were waterwheels in other villages as well, but in Mizuguruma a particularly large number of them were all set in a line, making for quite a spectacle. Top driven, reverse wheel, bottom driven, core driven.....[9] Are the types of waterwheels that I can remember. It is quite possible that there were more. Almost every waterwheel was used for rice husking and wheat grinding duty, releasing humans from tasks too dull to devote conscious effort to.

In each village, there was only a single power generation waterwheel, inside of which an especially large metallic vane was attached. From these our precious electric power was obtained, allowing broadcasts to flow from the loudspeakers on the top of each village"s public hall. The use of electric power for purposes other than this was strictly forbidden according to the ethics regulations.

Every day, just before sunset, from the loudspeaker the same melody played. Its t.i.tle was "the road home", and it was one part of some symphony written long ago by a composer with the strange name of Dvorak. The lyrics we learned at school went something like this.[10]

遠き山に日は落ちて_______The sun setting behind distant mountains,
星は空をちりばめぬ_______the sky becoming studded with stars,
きょうのわざを　なしおえて__todays work being all complete,
心軽くやすらえば_________if with a light heart able to rest
風はすずしこのタベ________wind refreshingly this "tabe"
いざや楽しまどいせん______and now a pleasant illusion is not,
まどいせん______________an illusion is not.
やみにもえしかがり火は____The shining fire burning in the darkness,
ほのお今は静まりぬ_______the flames do not now subside,
眠れやすくいこえよと ______Sleep easily pa.s.s through and,
さそうごとく消え行けば______if like invited vanishes,
やすきみ手に守られて______protected by your gentle hand,
いざや楽し夢を見ん________and now a pleasant dream is not,
夢を見ん________________a dream is not.

It was a general rule that, when ‘The Way Home’ plays, all the children playing outside were supposed to head home. As a result, whenever I remember this tune, the scenery of my home in the evening comes to mind as though from a conditioned response. The look of the streets at dusk. Pine trees casting long shadows on the sandy soil. The water-filled fields reflecting the dark grey sky like dozens of mirrors. A swarm of red dragonflies. However, whatever else might be said, the most impressive thing was the view at sunset seen from atop the hills.

--
"It"s time to go home" said someone. Listening carefully, it was true that a faint melody could be heard carried on the wind. "In that case, it"s a draw." Satoru having said this, children began coming out of their hiding places and a.s.sembling in twos and threes.

All of us were about eight years old. We had been playing a large scale game of ‘Jintori’ non-stop since morning. The game is like an extended s...o...b..ll fight in midwinter, everyone splits into two teams that try to capture each other"s base. The game ends when one team manages to take the flag raised at the other team"s base. On this day, my team had barely been holding off a loss as a result of a mistake in the early stages of the game.

“That’s no fair. A little longer and we"d have won.” Said Maria with a sour look on her face. She must have been the most fair-skinned person on earth, with bright irises of a water-like color. But more than anything else, she was strikingly conspicuous for the color that emanated from her fire-like red hair.

"You guys should surrender."

"That’s right. Since we were so close to winning." Said Ryo as though being pulled along by Maria. From this time onward, Maria began to demonstrate a Queen-like att.i.tude.

"Why should we have to surrender?” I sullenly responded.

"Because our side is obviously winning." Said Ryo, wearily repeating the same claim.

"But, no one has taken our flag yet." I saw someone in Satorus direction say.

"So it"s a draw." Satoru declared in a dignified manner.

"Satoru is on our team right? Why are you helping the other side?" Maria snapped at Satoru.

"Because, that"s what the rules say, there"s no helping it. Time is up at sunset."

"But the Sun still hasn"t set yet."

"Don"t twist the little details. Isn’t that only because we"re on top of a hill?" I dared to oppose Maria in an admonishing tone. We always got along as the best of friends, but at times like these, Maria could be truly irritating.

"Hey, we should be going already" Reiko said sounding worried. "When we hear "The Road Home" playing, we"re supposed to return right away."

"That"s why the other side should just surrender." Said Ryo, repeating Maria’s words again.

"Stop making such a fuss. Hey, ref!" Satoru called to Shun, acting as though Burning Karma.[11] Shun was standing a little ways off from everyone else, gazing at the scenery from the top of the hill, his bulldog Subaru sitting idly by his side.

"What?" After a moment he looked back.

"Don"t "what" me! Say it properly as the Ref! That it"s a draw."

"That"s right. Today it"s a draw." Having said that, Shun again turned his eyes to the scenery.

"We have to get going already." Saying that, Reiko and the others headed down the hill in succession, having to pick up rides on boats heading towards their respective villages.

"Wait up! It"s still not over yet."

"I’m leaving. Because, if we stay out too long, TricksterCats will come out." Maria and the others had very dissatisfied looks on their faces, but bit by bit the game came to an end.

"Saki. We should go too." I heard Satoru say, but headed in Shun"s direction.

"Aren"t you leaving?"

"Yeah, I"m leaving." While saying this, Shun remained transfixed, as though he could not separate his eyes from the scenery.

"What are you looking at?"

"Heeey. Lets go." Satoru said impatiently from behind us. Shun silently pointed at the scenery.

"Over there. Can you see it?"

"See What?" What Shun pointed at was an area between the rice fields and the forest, near Kogane village.

"That, the Minoshiro."

From a very young age, we were taught to treat our eyes as something precious above all else, that eyesight was a blessing given to everyone. At that time, I was able to distinguish the white shadow of a thing moving slowly across the causeway, despite it being several hundred meters away in a shadowed area at nightfall.

"You"re right."

"What is it? A Minoshiro isn"t anything special." Satoru’s voice, normally calm and composed, was for some reason filled with sullenness.

However, I did not move. I did not want to move. The Minoshiro creeped along the causeway in a snail-like way, traversing the gra.s.sland and vanishing into the forest. In that period, while my eyes were following the Minoshiro, my thoughts turned towards Shun standing next to me.

Back then, I still did not understand the nature of the sentiment that existed within me. However, just standing with Shun gazing at the scene of the village dyed in twilight, fond but painful feelings grew within my heart.

If by some chance, this is just another scene fabricated by my memory. A dramaticization mixed together from a few similar episodes, and sprinkled with the spice called sentimentality…..

Even if that were the case, to me, this scene now has a special significance. It is my final memory of living in a perfect, unsullied world. Of a time when everything was right and just, allowing me to move forward, facing the future without a shred of anxiety.

And those early memories now seem to have the splendor of a place still in twilight. As though before long, everything would be swallowed up within the endless void of sorrow.