For a time after that elf left, Gonzou spent a lot of time deep in thought. I was sure he just felt lonely. Though he didn’t show it on his face, his manner spoke volumes. He was rarely honest with his feelings, but it wasn’t hard to see past the surface to find them either.
But about ten days after he left, whatever sadness Gonzou felt was completely lifted.
“Gonzou! Look!” As I sat on the edge of the pond, I hurriedly called Gonzou from where he was lying on the porch. Concerned by my clearly unsettled voice, Gonzou stepped out into the courtyard. When he looked to where I was pointing, his jaw dropped. I was honestly a bit concerned it might fall off entirely. But that was to be expected. After all, in the light of the moon, we could see the Fusou Tree moving.
The Fusou Tree was the symbol of this kingdom, an enormous tree that reached up past the clouds, far larger than any mountain. But there was more to it than its size. Water flowed from the tree and across the entire island, making it a source of life for everyone living here. Without it, Fusou would be a much more difficult place to live. The people wouldn’t even have the freedom to war with the oni.
The humans in Fusou revered the gods who created them and the ancestors who came before them. We merfolk and the skyfolk had different faiths, but we all held the Fusou Tree in special regard. Even our shared enemy, the oni, seemed to offer up prayers to it.
Anyone who lived here would be shocked to see the Fusou Tree moving. It was likely people would even see it as an expression of the tree’s anger, and so view the event with fear. Even late at night, with nothing but the moonlight to illuminate it, there would be no small number of people watching it as they prayed. If we listened carefully, we could already hear shouts of surprise erupting across Outo.
However, I alone...no, Gonzou and I both knew instantly what had caused this to happen. There could be no other explanation than that elf.
“Ah ha ha ha ha! Unbelievable! That pointy-eared guy must have been a mystic or something. This is amazing!” Gonzou laughed with childlike glee.
I felt very much the same way. There was no doubt the Fusou Tree moving was an event that would shake the entire island, and it would be some time before things calmed down. If the oni experienced a similar level of chaos, the front lines of the war would likely grow quiet for some time. But after having lived with the elf for a time, we knew that he didn’t have a single malicious bone in his body. Rather than awe or fear, we saw the event as one of admiration and wonder.
There was one difference between how Gonzou and I saw this situation, though: what we believed about his true nature. Gonzou had said he must have been “a mystic or something.” That was the greatest praise he knew how to express for a person, but in truth, it was still not enough. That wasn’t his fault, though.
The people who dwelt on land didn’t know this, but there was a legend passed down among the merfolk about how the world had once come to an end. He was no doubt one of those who had been involved in bringing life back to the world afterward. He said he was a high elf, only a little different from the forestfolk we knew about, but I knew that he was one of what our legends called the forefathers, a true one. Rather than the mystics, he was closer in nature to the gods the humans here worshipped.
Long ago, the dragons burned the world to ash. At the time, the merfolk hid in the depths of the sea, and so were spared. That was how we knew of the world’s previous destruction. Most races were reduced to ash, but a few were brought to the world above the clouds for safety. After the dragons returned to their rest, the people like him—the forefathers—brought greenery back to the world, and the people who had been saved returned from the sky back to the surface. They grew and multiplied, creating the world we saw today.
But none of that really mattered now. From the time we first met, I guessed that he was one of the forefathers, and feared that his arrival meant the world—or at least Fusou—was soon to come to an end. But now, I knew there was nothing to fear. I knew now he lived with just as much of a grounded perspective as Gonzou and I.
I suppose saying I was “grounded” might mean something very different, being a merfolk, but what I mean to say is, he saw the world from the same perspective we did. I imagined that was no small source of suffering for him. Powerful beings drew all sorts of things to themselves, willingly or not, like a whirlpool in the deep ocean.
If by some stroke of terrible luck, he decided the kingdom of Fusou needed to be destroyed, I couldn’t help but accept his judgment. I knew that he would have suffered tremendously to come to that conclusion, and there must have been no other solution. If that happened, I wouldn’t flee back to the sea. I would happily accept that judgment right here, together with Gonzou.
“Hey, Mizuyo. This world is really an interesting place, isn’t it? I never expected to get so excited by something at my age.”
I nodded. We watched the tree move together, Gonzou’s face still full of childlike wonder.
When the elf had left, he had given me one of the fruits of life, something said to be a blessing of the forefathers. I didn’t know why. But, if I used it, even in his advanced age, I might be able to give Gonzou a child.
Is that what I should do? Is that what Gonzou wanted? I didn’t know. The idea scared me. But I had hesitated once, and now Gonzou had grown so old. I didn’t want to repeat the same mistake again. I had been given one more miraculous chance, and I didn’t want to let this one slip away.
If someday I would be able to hold a child of my own, I would tell them this story. Of their hero of a father, Gonzou. And of his friend, Acer, the high elf.