Something that was buried forever along with the body. And yet it returned. Returned along with the dead body, as if agreeing to come out onto the stage of a theatrical circus.
A picture.
A picture of a bygone memory. A picture you want to get rid of, like a rusty nail in the heart. But memory doesn't ask permission. It appears when it pleases, and refuses to disappear. Though... someone really does want that, don't they?
We're merely toys. We play roles. She plays the role of a child who's never satisfied, who wants to play again and again.
The world.
A world that lost meaning long ago. A world long erased, and with it — dreams, goals, peaks we never reached. Ironic, right? Even now we're still dragging ourselves toward those same blind goals. Blind as a broken compass. No matter how much you walk — the road to them isn't visible.
Everyone fights for something. Each considers themselves more right, but in a world where it's not the truth of words that decides, but the truth of force, real truth will never be born. This is the law of the world. No, the law of people — a law they blindly follow all their lives, until that very life is cut short.
Force makes them obey. Even the strong bow their heads before those who are a head taller. And the weak are left only to follow those who are stronger, even if they're wrong. Even if their cruelty is too obvious, and their injustice too sharp.
They simply have nothing to oppose. A law where the truth of fists reigns turns the truth of words into a voiceless shadow.
And yet, even being on the side of the strong... No, even the most powerful, my truth proved 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 this? To whom does this belong? To whom does it submit? To those who are stronger? To those who stand higher in the hierarchical chain? The higher observe the lower. Such is the law of all existence.
"Hey, Edogawa, why are you frozen? On level ground!" a voice suddenly asked.
"Ah? Oh, sorry, just thinking about something. Though, I'm already so tired from this road that my legs demand rest!" Edogawa grabbed his knees with his hands and nearly collapsed.
"I agree, the road really isn't easy. But all this is because you should've listened to me, not just anyone! Especially that old man, whose appearance screamed: 'I have one Monday left to live.' What an idiot!" said an unknown person in the same hot-tempered voice. His name is still in shadow. At least a surname, honestly.
"I tried to convince him, but he, apparently, values a stranger's word higher than the word of his closest comrade!" Edogawa said, seemingly optimistically, though his legs had long been arguing with this tone.
"Ho-ho, Akira-kun, but here I'd argue," a third intervened in the dialogue. He clung to Akira like a magnet. "Don't forget, I was the first to join Yahweh. It was risky, yes. But then you joined too. Though... I'm the one who brought you to our team. So the title of 'closest comrade' is rightfully mine. Takasugi Makoto! (Screenwriter and director are also me.)"
"Hey, two Akita inus! Don't you think we should ask Yahweh to arrange lodging? Our team, you know, doesn't run on infinite fuel," said a person whose forehead already read: "I want to rest."
"Hmm, let me think... I think you're right. Looking at the remaining path — yes, appropriate. Thanks, Makoto, I'll go tell Yahweh that the weak link can't hold out," Takasugi answered and nearly ran off.
"Hey, Shitsugi! Don't you dare say it's my request! And anyway, what do you mean 'weak link'? I'm not the only one who's tired, right, Edogawa?" Makoto glanced at the guy in the detective hat. He lowered his head, as if not participating in the conversation at all.
'What idiots. How I can't stand you!' Makoto thought.
...
Night.
The sun yielded to the pitch-black sky. Yahweh's team made camp. Everyone scattered to their places, but the bonfire gathered the main ones. The map — tattered, crumpled, ended up in Edogawa's hands.
"Any ideas?" Akira began, breaking the forest's silence.
"Right now we're at approximately nine hundred forty-four meters. Mount Thaenyan," Takasugi explained. "Almost reached the peak, if not for someone's recommendation to rest."
He threw a glance, too direct to remain unnoticed. But Yahweh ignored it. For him, the mission was more important.
"We're staying here for now. In the morning we'll continue the path, we need to find the one the old man spoke of," Yahweh said coldly.
"Are you sure he's alive?" Makoto asked. "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 wrong? 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 only believed. Because we ourselves didn't know where to go. It's even lucky that we met him," Yahweh said.
"True, there was no choice. If he really exists, then we're fortunate," Takasugi said, waving his arms.
"For now, we should rest. We need strength, it's good that there's enough food," Edogawa added, as if giving himself a plus.
"Both joy and pain. Stomach is full, legs hurt. With pluses there's always a minus, with minuses there's always a plus. Alrighty, I'm going to sleep. Good night everyone!" Takasugi waved and ran off.
"You can rest. I'll stay on watch," Yahweh said.
"No need," Ai objected. "You worked more than anyone, Akira and I will stay. Right, Akira?"
"Of course, I'm not sleepy," he confirmed.
Yahweh's face hid concern, but he agreed. Sleep doesn't forgive delays.
...
Silence.
The forest lived its own life. Insects tried to say something, but humans are deaf creatures. The bonfire crackled, as if also waiting for rain.
Edogawa drew with a stick on the ground. The slope? A map? Or just killing boredom? Ai sat nearby, knees under her head.
"Akira, do you think he really exists? Well, the very one who lives at the mountain peak. And even if he does, will he be able to help us?"
"Hmm..." Akira rubbed his chin.
"I don't know. Even if he exists, we don't know if he'll help. And if he doesn't exist, and the old man is just delirious, then our path was meaningless from the start. Loss of food is the most obvious loss."
"Do you think we'll succeed?" Ai asked, as if afraid to hear the answer.
"You always start such conversations... but I understand. This feeling, when you're walking but don't know if it's the right path. Every step is doubt, every doubt is a question."
He paused.
"But over time I understood: I'm not the only one like this. Yahweh too. He chose, but also stumbles over his choice. Even if he's not sure, how can we be sure? But you know... it doesn't matter. People and gods are inconstant. We do, and then think how we could've done differently. What's done seems like a mistake, and it's unsettling. But we shouldn't be prisoners of this. Yahweh understood this."
"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 film, only frames flickered before the eyes. Two viewers and a screen.
Again she — the witch. The outfit is impeccable, hair golden like sunbeams. Eyes with enthusiasm.
"The clock keeps ticking, and so does our game," the witch said mockingly.