Chapter 116
Chapter 116
Extra Chapter Part 1, The Daidai God
Part 1, The Daidai God
I wrote this as thanks for the FA video I received from Tooru Haruse. It's amazing, so please check it out.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?si=n5UThxhtsJeREjYQ&v=kaq3DIIQq8g&feature=youtu.be
This is a story about Uyuu and Kirima from Part 2. It takes place shortly after God of Vestiges.
***
The tracks visible from the deserted station by the sea were dusted with red rust, perhaps from the sea breeze, and it looked like someone had just jumped in front of a train—there seemed to be bloodstains left behind.
If I told Kirima, he'd kick me in the shin again, so I kept quiet.
I looked up at Kirima's profile. He always had a surly face like he'd just witnessed a murder, but today it was even worse.
"You look really down, Kirima. Not that I've ever seen you looking cheerful."
"There's no such expression as 'looking cheerful.'"
Kirima sighed and rubbed the deep wrinkles between his brows.
"I'm not good with the sea. Sorry, I let personal feelings interfere with work."
"I don't mind, but that's unexpected."
"What is?"
"You've got the face of a seafaring man."
"...Is that so?"
I thought he'd be exasperated again, but Kirima just shook his head with a gloomy expression.
His sunburned face was darker than the rust on the tracks, blending into the seaside town. I vaguely knew why he hated the sea. Kirima was born in a fishing village and hated his hometown.
I couldn't bring myself to say I envied him for having a hometown so deeply rooted in him that he could hate it.
I deliberately irritated Kirima with pointless chatter to push out his gloom.
As we left the station, we saw a quiet road lined with stone breakwaters and old houses scarred like someone had pressed a moss-covered knife against the walls.
It was a typical seaside countryside scene, but something strange was hanging on the barnacle-covered, damp breakwater.
It was a dirty banner, like the ones you'd see at a sports festival.
"A village where everyone lives out their natural lifespan..."
That's exactly what it said.
"Kirima, what the hell is that?"
"It was in the report, wasn't it? You didn't read it, did you?"
"I read it, but I didn't get it."
"...Reading it is progress."
Kirima nodded as if convincing himself.
"This village literally prides itself on every resident living out their natural lifespan. In short, no accidental or disease-related deaths. They live until they die of old age."
"Is that even possible?"
"I checked the records. At least for the past thirty years, there's been no accidents in the village, and no record of anyone dying of illness."
"That's creepy..."
"Yeah, accidents aside, you can't exactly prevent illness."
"What if, when someone gets sick, they just move their residency to the neighboring village?"
"That's a scammer's kind of loophole. You think the neighboring village would accept that?"
I shrugged.
"So, it's another Territorial Divine Offenses case?"
"Let's hope not. Let's begin the investigation."
I followed behind Kirima, who had quickened his pace. The banner, stiff with salt, swayed awkwardly in the sea-scented wind.
The sun, burning the back of my neck, had climbed to the zenith.
A rusty bus stop sign, a tin waiting room, a red mailbox poking through the overgrown grass, and the boundary line between sea and sky cut by power lines.
It looked like a quintessential image of summer in Japan.
I had come to realize that even seemingly peaceful villages like this one hid terrible secrets. If I'd come with my idiotic friends, I might never have noticed.
The clear sky looked dim, like a photo negative had been placed over it. The world had always been like this, even before I realized. The only thing that changed was how I saw it.
Kirima didn't even loosen his tie as he walked, occasionally wiping the sweat dripping down his shirt collar.
At the top of the stone steps, a group of elderly people, presumably residents, had gathered.
A wrinkled old woman in a light purple kimono, an old man in a tank top showing off his sagging flesh. Every one of them was elderly.
This must be what happens in a village where no one dies except from old age.
They were gathered in front of a stone-built old well.
"A well-side gathering, huh."
When I muttered that, Kirima nodded seriously and approached the old folks.
"Excuse me, may I ask what you're doing?"
The elderly turned around at Kirima's voice. One of the old women dropped a summer orange wrapped in her apron.
Kirima frowned suspiciously. He didn't realize that his large frame was casting a dark shadow over the elderly.
If someone glared at you like they were here for a drug bust, you'd be scared even if you had nothing to hide.
I stepped in between Kirima and the elderly.
"Sorry, I was waiting for the bus and saw everyone gathered, so I got curious what was going on."
I deliberately stretched out the end of my sentence to sound as dumb as possible.
The elderly finally softened their expressions.
"It's not like we're doing anything in particular, but yes. Maybe a little prayer."
"At the well, not the shrine?"
Kirima still spoke like he was interrogating. The old woman smiled gently.
"Yes, yes. Our god isn't the kind you enshrine somewhere. It's more like they're everywhere, always watching over us."
"Sounds like a roadside deity."
An old man next to her chimed in.
The old woman pointed at the moss-covered well.
"We toss in a summer orange, praying for another safe day."
"A summer orange?"
"Originally, it was a custom to toss in a daidai during New Year's, but doing it only once a year felt lacking. So now we toss one in every day while reporting what happened. Doesn't matter if it's a summer orange or a ponkan, anything similar works."
I whispered to Kirima.
"Is that really a tradition?"
"Apparently, in some regions. There's a custom where the year's first man draws water from the well at New Year's, and as an offering, tosses in a daidai fruit."
"Huh, why's that?"
"Because 'daidai' symbolizes prosperity across generations, so it was considered a good omen among merchant families. Technically, any round fruit will do."
"So it's like tossing in a ball for a New Year's gift."
"This isn't a comedy skit."
The old man chuckled. Seems like he'd already let his guard down. The tank-top old man handed me a summer orange.
"Wanna give it a try?"
"Feels like a waste. You can eat this, you know."
"We've got plenty at home. Have some after we're done. They're sweet and juicy."
As I held the yellow peel of the summer orange, a citrus scent burst from under my nails. The clear juice caught the light like glitter.
Urged on, I peered into the well. From the dim bottom came a faint scent of seawater. When I strained my ears, I could hear the sound of water lapping, like holding a shell to your ear.
I opened my hand holding the summer orange. It sliced through the wind and dropped.
Just before the orange hit the water, a white hand suddenly reached up from the bottom of the well's round opening.
I jumped back instinctively. There was no sound of the orange hitting the water.
Peeking in cautiously, I saw something squirming in the darkness. A humanoid figure draped in white. Its head was long like a peanut, and its long beard trailed across the water's surface. It looked like a bald old man.
The old man gripped the summer orange and stopped moving right beneath me. Don't look. Don't look this way. I found myself wishing that instinctively.
Against my will, the old man slowly turned his slick head. Two golden eyes, like the peel of the summer orange, looked up at me. They were clouded eyes.
I stumbled backward, grabbing onto the edge of the well and collapsing.
"Uyuu, are you okay?!"
Kirima shook my shoulder. The surrounding elderly looked at me with concern.
"Yeah, I just looked down too fast and got dizzy..."
That was the best excuse I could come up with.
"Oh dear, how awful. I'll bring you some water."
"Why don't you sit and rest for a bit?"
The elderly began to scatter and walk away.
Kirima's hand gently touched my back, and his furrowed voice echoed.
"......Did you see something?"
"Inside the well... there was an old man who looked like a sage..."
Kirima glared at the well made of stacked round stones. As I sat there, a faint sound of waves poured down onto my head.