Something that had been buried forever along with the body. And yet it returned. Returned with the dead body, as if agreeing to step onto the stage of this theatrical circus.
A scene.
A scene from a past memory. A scene you'd want to rid yourself of, like a rusty nail in the heart. But memory doesn't ask permission. It appears when it feels like it and refuses to vanish. Though... someone really wants this, don't they?
We're just toys. We play roles. She plays the role of a child who never has enough, who wants to play again and again.
World.
A world long stripped of meaning. A world long erased, and with it — dreams, goals, peaks we never reached. Ironic, isn't it? Even now, we're still dragging ourselves for the same blind goals. Blind, like a broken compass. No matter how far you walk, the way to them isn't visible.
Everyone fights for something. Each considers themselves righter, but in a world where truth isn't decided by words but by strength, real truth is never born. That's the law of the world. No, the law of people — a law they blindly follow their whole lives until that life ends.
Strength forces obedience. Even the strong bow their heads to those a head taller. And the weak are left only to follow the stronger, even if they're wrong. Even if their cruelty is too obvious, their injustice too sharp.
They simply have nothing to counter with. A law where the truth of fists reigns turns the truth of words into a silent shadow.
And yet, even on the side of the strong... No, even as the most powerful, my truth proved powerless against fate.
So what are you... who are you? I don't know, but I want to know. Want to see, want to touch, want to feel. Isn't my truth strong enough to behold you?
Then what is this? Who does it belong to? Who does it obey? Those who are stronger? Those higher in the hierarchical chain? The higher watch the lower. That's the law of all existence.
"Hey, Edogawa, why'd you freeze up? On flat ground!" a voice suddenly asked.
"Huh? Oh, sorry, just lost in thought about something. Anyway, I'm so tired of this road that my legs are demanding a break!" Edogawa grabbed his knees with his hands and nearly collapsed.
"I agree, the road really isn't easy. But all this because someone should've listened to me, not just anyone! Especially that old man whose look screamed: 'I've got one Monday left to live.' What an idiot!" the unknown man said in the same hot-tempered voice. His name still in the shadows, at least a last name, honestly.
"I tried to convince him, but apparently he values a stranger's word more than his closest comrade's!" Edogawa said, as if optimistically, though his legs had long been arguing with that tone.
"Ho-ho, Akira-kun, now there I'd argue," a third one cut into the conversation. He stuck 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 was the one who brought you onto our team. So the title of 'closest comrade' is rightfully mine. Takasugi Makoto! (Scriptwriter and director too.)"
"Hey, you two Akita Inus! Don't you think it's time to ask Yahweh to set up camp? Our team, you know, doesn't run on infinite fuel," said the man whose forehead already read: "I want a break."
"Hm, let me think... Yeah, you're right. Looking at the path left — yes, makes sense. Thanks, Makoto, I'll go tell Yahweh the weak link can't hold out," Takasugi replied and nearly ran off.
"Hey, Shit-sugi! Dare say it's my request! And what does 'weak link' even mean? I'm not the only one tired, right, Edogawa?" Makoto glanced at the guy in the detective hat. He lowered his head, as if he wasn't part of the conversation at all.
What idiots. How I can't stand you! Makoto thought.
...
Night.
The sun gave way to pitch-black sky. Yahweh's team set up camp. Everyone scattered to their spots, but the fire gathered the main ones. The map — tattered, crumpled, was in Edogawa's hands.
"Any ideas?" Akira started, breaking the forest's silence.
"We're currently at about nine hundred forty-four meters. Mount Thén Yang," Takasugi explained. "Almost at the summit, if not for someone's suggestion to rest."
He shot a glance, too direct to go unnoticed. But Yahweh ignored it. The mission mattered more to him.
"We stay here for now. Continue in the morning, need to find the one the old man mentioned," Yahweh said coldly.
"You sure he's alive?" Makoto asked. "If he's been there for decades... I doubt it. The old man didn't make it up? Old age is unreliable."
Silence hung.
"Ai?" Yahweh turned to the girl. "What's with you? You've been quiet the whole talk."
"No... nothing, just thinking. In our position, we can't trust words alone. Especially from someone living far from society."
"There were no other options, we just believed. Because we didn't know where to go ourselves. It's even luck we met him," Yahweh said.
"True, no choice. If he really exists, we're lucky," Takasugi said, waving his arms.
"For now, rest. We need strength, good that food's enough," Edogawa added, as if giving himself a plus.
"Joy and pain. Belly full, legs ache. Pluses always come with minuses, minuses with pluses. Alright, I'm off to sleep. Good night, everyone!" Takasugi waved and ran off.
"You can rest. I'll keep watch," Yahweh said.
"No need," Ai objected. "You worked the most, Akira and I will stay. Right, Akira?"
"Of course, sleep's not pulling me," he confirmed.
Yahweh's face hid worry, but he agreed. Sleep doesn't forgive delays.
...
Silence.
The forest lived its life. Insects tried to say something, but humans are deaf creatures. The fire crackled, as if waiting for rain too.
Edogawa drew with a stick on the ground. A slope? A map? Or just killing boredom? Ai sat nearby, knees under her head.
"Akira, do you think he really exists? That one living on the mountaintop. And even if he does, can he help us?"
"Hm..." Akira rubbed his chin.
"I don't know. Even if he exists, we don't know if he'll help. And if he's not, and the old man was just rambling, then our path was pointless from the start. Wasted food — the most obvious loss."
"You think we'll make it?" Ai asked, as if afraid of the answer.
"You always start these talks... but I get it. That feeling when you walk but don't know if it's the right path. Every step — doubt, every doubt — a question."
He paused.
"But over time I realized: I'm not the only one. Yahweh too. He chose, but stumbles over his choice. Even if he's not sure, how can we be? But you know... it doesn't matter. People and gods — are inconstant. We act, then think how it could've been different. What's done seems a mistake, and it makes you anxious. But we shouldn't be prisoners of that. Yahweh got it."
"Sorry," he scratched the back of his head. "Got carried away with the answer."
"No, on the contrary. It made me feel better," Ai smiled.
...
And as if the whole conversation was a movie, frames just flashing before the eyes. Two spectators and a screen.
There she was again — the witch. Outfit impeccable, hair golden like sun rays. Eyes full of enthusiasm.
"The clock keeps ticking, and so does our game," the witch said mockingly.