20. Searching for Kana
The blast—no, a tempest would be a better word for its ferocity—finally began to subside, as if an eternity had been carved into seven equal parts.
Even so, after five minutes, it hadn't completely settled. My outdated visual sensors could only just make out my surroundings, barely enough to take stock of the situation.
"Kana!"
I raised my voice, shielding my face with both hands to protect my visual sensors.
Amid the gusts of cobalt-colored heavy metal sand whipped up by the storm, I guarded my eyes and managed to take a step forward. Walking against the tempest was grueling, but I couldn't just stand there helplessly like a newborn, waiting for something to happen.
I had to move, or nothing would begin. So, without a clear direction, I started walking aimlessly, shifting my position to refresh the data in my field of vision.
"Kana… Answer me."
Anxiety tightened my chest.
I genuinely wanted to see Kana—well, maybe half of me did. But the deeper reason was the fear that if I didn't lay eyes on her soon, my heart would slip back into that "sleep mode" state.
Back to that lethargic existence, holed up in my old house, discharging endlessly through what felt like an eternity.
"No way…"
I gritted my teeth.
"I don't want to go back to sleep mode."
I threw words into the void, toward a Kana whose whereabouts were unknown, as if muttering to myself.
"You're the one who gave me a reason to move, Kana. Take responsibility for that. Planting a purpose in me and then disappearing on your own—that's the worst."
Of course, there was no reply.
Another seventh of eternity passed, and the storm finally calmed to a point that could be called "clear," both physically and psychologically. I could see far into the distance, and the state of the battle—or rather, its outcome—was finally discernible.
The first thing I checked for, naturally, was the spider. Kana's whereabouts were still completely unknown. With empty anticipation spinning in my mind, I prioritized confirming the tangible presence of the giant spider.
The spider's countless legs were now bundled into a single mass, contracted tightly.
I didn't know why it had ended up like that, but the shock of intense pain likely caused its muscles to seize. The bundle of silver metal legs, intertwined like copper wires embedded in an optical fiber cable, formed a regular spiral pattern.
At its center, the spider stood silently in the vacuum deep sea, its form as mystical and majestic as a sacred tree that had lived for centuries.
Shifting my gaze to the cockpit, I saw the figure clad in that spacesuit. It was like a hollow in a tree where a small animal, like a squirrel stashing acorns, might make its home.
There, at the center, "that guy" sat regally.
But there was no trace of the composure it had during the fight.
It hung limply on the cockpit's edge, like a worn-out pillowcase draped over a clothesline on a calm, sunlit day.
Its spacesuit was half-charred, severely damaged, exposing the upper body. Like the skin peeled from my hands, its metallic torso was laid bare. The metal gleamed with a dazzling golden shine, hinting that it had once been an expensive android, crafted for a wealthy owner.
But no matter how luxurious its make, the helmet still stubbornly covered its head, and in the end, I couldn't see its face.
Curiosity stirred—no, an impulse to catch a glimpse of its face surged within me.
I considered climbing to the cockpit, peeling off the helmet like I was climbing a tree.
The thought crossed my mind, but now wasn't the time.
"Kana!"
Anxiety gripped my chest again, and I tore my gaze from the helmeted figure in the cockpit, focusing all my senses on finding Kana.
I broke into a run again.
The spider's threat was gone.
It was a relief to be able to run freely across the vibrant wilderness of the vacuum deep sea.
But the aftermath of the explosion had plunged the surroundings into further chaos, with debris and wreckage scattered everywhere.
Kana was probably buried somewhere in it. Finding her would be like searching for a needle in a desert—a daunting, mind-numbing task.
It might take a third of eternity.
Bracing myself for that immense challenge, I kept searching for Kana.
"Kana, I won't forgive you."
If I found her, I absolutely wouldn't let her off.
I'd punish her.
How dare a possession make its master suffer like this?
To me, still bound by the notion that possessions exist to bear the burdens of their masters, this situation was infuriatingly troublesome and utterly exasperating.
I rebooted full-sprint mode.
Twice as fast as when I ran with Kana, I darted back and forth, kicking up lunar sand and leaping over crater debris, moving frenetically.
But Kana was nowhere to be found.
No matter how much I shouted her name, there was no response.
Then, it hit me.
What if Kana had been caught in that explosion and shattered to pieces?
But I quickly dismissed the thought. Even the lunar rover wreckage closest to the explosion's epicenter—where the spider had curled up like a tree—wasn't pulverized. They remained in their original broken forms, marked only by smoldering traces.
In other words, that dazzling, firework-like explosion likely wasn't as destructive as it appeared. Kana was a latest-model android. Her durability should be exceptional, so I believed she was surely unharmed.
So, I shifted my perspective.
It occurred to me suddenly, but until now, I'd been looking for Kana only on the ground, the floor of the vacuum deep sea. I'd assumed she was lying there, like the countless other lunar rovers, collapsed on the surface.
But that might not be the case.
Even now, with the spider dead and everything over, the countless cotton candy-like structures the spider had created still hung in the air, enduring the explosion's shock, swaying leisurely as if nothing had happened.
I shifted my gaze from the ground to the sky.
Looking up, I saw that the pink cotton candy hadn't entirely escaped the explosion's effects. Covered in cobalt dust, it had taken on a deep violet hue, a mix of pink and cobalt.
Its appearance, now even more seductive and sweet, almost made me mutter "delicious."
I scolded myself for wasting three seconds on such a ridiculous thought.
Shaking my head to clear the distraction, I looked again at the violet cotton candy cluster.
Carefully adjusting the focal length of my visual sensors, I zoomed in to peer inside. The cotton candy threads were thin, almost transparent up close, revealing their depths. But their sweet, secretive allure made me feel as if I were peeking into someone's forbidden memories, both embarrassing and irresistible.
The contents were almost 99 percent lunar rover wreckage.
Engine parts were especially common.
Perhaps those were the "tastiest" parts for the spider.
As I pondered this, I imagined giving some to the small fishing girl at the crater's edge, picturing her pale blue eyes lighting up.
But I shook off the distraction and continued observing.
And then, I found her.
Kana was at the farthest edge of the vacuum deep sea, near the spider's tree.
She floated quietly, like a cotton cloud drifting on the wind.
The cotton candy enveloping her retained a faint trace of its original vivid pink, and she lay curled up, sleeping peacefully, like a chrysalis on the verge of rebirth.
Innocent, like a larva yet to sense the cold of the vacuum.