Something that was buried forever along with the body. And yet, it returned. Returned together with the dead body, as if agreeing to come on stage of a theatrical circus.
A picture.
A picture of a bygone memory. A picture one wants to get rid of, like a rusty nail in the heart. But memory doesn't ask for permission. It appears when it pleases and refuses to disappear. Although… someone indeed desires that, don't they?
We are merely toys. We play roles. She plays the role of a child who is never satisfied, who wants to play again and again.
The world.
A world that long ago lost its meaning. A world long erased. And with it, the dreams, goals, peaks we never reached. Ironic, right? Even now we are still dragging ourselves for the same blind goals. Blind, like a broken compass. No matter how far you walk, the path to them is not visible.
Everyone fights for something. Everyone considers themselves more right. But in a world where it is not the truth of words that decides, but the truth of strength, genuine truth will never be born. That is the law of the world. No, the law of people. A law they blindly follow their whole lives, until that very life is cut short.
Force makes one obey. Even the strong bow their heads before those who are a head taller. And the weak have no choice but to follow those who are stronger, even if they are wrong. Even if their cruelty is too obvious, and the injustice too sharp.
They simply have nothing to oppose. A law where the truth of fists reigns turns the truth of words into a silent shadow.
And yet. Even being on the side of the strong. No, even the most powerful. My truth turned out to be powerless against fate.
What are you then… who are you? I don't know. But I want to know. I want to see. I want to touch. I want to feel. Is my truth not strong enough to behold you?
Then what is it? Who does it belong to? Whom does it obey? Those who are stronger? Those who stand higher in the hierarchical chain? The higher ones observe the lower ones. Such is the law of all existence.
— Hey, Edogawa, why have you frozen? Out of the blue! — a voice suddenly asked.
— Huh? Oh, sorry, just was thinking about something. Anyway, I'm already so tired from this road that my legs are demanding rest! — Edogawa grabbed his knees with his hands and almost collapsed.
— I agree, the road really isn't easy. But it's all because we had to listen to me, and not to just anyone! Especially that old man, whose appearance screamed "I have only one Monday left to live". What a cretin! — the unknown person said in the same irritable voice. His name is still in shadow. At least a surname, honestly.
— I tried to persuade him, but he apparently values the word of a stranger higher than the word of his closest comrade! — said Edogawa, as if optimistically, although his legs had long been arguing with that tone.
— Ho-ho, Akira-kun, but here I would argue, — a third one intervened in the dialogue. He seemed to stick to Akira like a magnet.
— Don't forget, I was the first to join Yahweh. It was risky, yes. But you joined later. Although, it was I who recruited you to our team. So the title of "closest comrade" rightfully belongs to me. Takasugi Makoto! (The screenwriter and director is also me).
— Hey, you two Akita dogs! Don't you think we should ask Yahweh to set up a camp? Our team, you know, doesn't run on infinite fuel, — said the person on whose forehead was already written: "I want a break."
— Hm, let me think… I think you're right. Looking at the remaining path, yes, it's appropriate. Thanks, Makoto. I'll go tell Yahweh that the weak link can't hold on, — answered Takasugi and almost ran off.
— Hey, Shitsugi! Don't you dare say it was my request! And anyway, what does "weak link" mean? I'm not the only one who's tired. Right, Edogawa? — Makoto looked at the guy in the detective hat. He lowered his head, as if not participating in the conversation at all.
«What cretins. How I can't stand you,» — thought Makoto.
…
Evening. The sun yielded to the pitch-black sky. Team Yahweh set up camp. Everyone dispersed to their spots, but the campfire gathered the main ones. A tattered, crumpled map ended up in Edogawa's hands.
— Any ideas? — Akira began, breaking the forest silence.
— We are currently at an altitude of approximately nine hundred forty-four meters. Mt. Tyeongyang, — explained Takasugi. — Almost reached the summit. If it weren't for someone's recommendation to rest.
He threw a glance. Too direct to go unnoticed. But Yahweh ignored it; the mission was more important to him.
— We stay here for now. We'll continue in the morning. We need to find the one the old man spoke about, — Yahweh said coldly.
— And are you sure he's alive? — asked Makoto. — If he's been there for decades… I doubt the old man didn't make it up. Old age is an unreliable thing.
Silence hung.
— Ai? — Yahweh turned to the girl. — What's with you? You've been silent the whole conversation.
— No… nothing. Just thinking. In our position, we can't trust words alone. Especially those who live far from society.
— There were no other options, we just believed. Because we ourselves didn't know where to go. It's even luck that we met him, — uttered Yahweh.
— True, there was no choice. If he really exists, then we are lucky, — said Takasugi, spreading his arms.
— For now, we should rest. We need strength, good thing we have enough food, — added Edogawa, as if giving himself a plus.
— Joy and pain. The stomach is full, the legs ache. With pluses there's always a minus, with minuses there's always a plus. Alrighty then, I'm off to sleep. Good night everyone! — Takasugi waved his hand.
— You can rest. I will stand guard, — said Yahweh.
— No need, — objected Ai. — You worked the most. Akira and I will stay. Right, Akira?
— Of course. I'm not feeling sleepy, — he confirmed.
Yahweh's face concealed worry. But he agreed. Sleep does not forgive delays.
…
Silence.
The forest lived its own life. Insects tried to say something, but humans are deaf creatures. The campfire crackled, as if also waiting for rain.
Edogawa drew on the ground with a stick. A slope? A map? Or just killing boredom?
Ai sat nearby. Knees under her head.
— Akira, do you think he really exists? Well, that one who lives on the mountain peak. And even if he exists, will he be able to help us?
— Hm… — Akira rubbed his chin.
— I don't know. Even if he exists, we don't know if he will help. And if he doesn't, and the old man was just delirious, then our journey was meaningless from the start. The loss of food is the most obvious loss.
— Do you think we will succeed? — asked Ai, as if afraid to hear the answer.
— You always start such conversations… But I understand. That feeling when you are walking but don't know if it's the right path. Every step is doubt. Every doubt is a question.
He paused.
— But with time I understood, I'm not the only one like that. Yahweh too, he made a choice. But he also stumbles over his choice. Even if he is not sure, how can we be sure? But you know… it doesn't matter. People and gods are inconstant. We do, and then we think how we could have done differently. What's done seems like a mistake, and that makes one anxious. But we must not be prisoners of that. Yahweh understood that.
— Sorry, — he scratched the back of his head. — Got carried away with the answer.
— No. On the contrary. I feel better, — Ai smiled.
…
And as if the whole conversation was a movie, only the frames flickered before their eyes. Two viewers. And a screen.
Again, her. The witch. Her attire is impeccable. Hair golden like sun rays. Eyes full of enthusiasm.
— The clock keeps ticking. And our game too, — the witch said mockingly.