“!”
Hugging him, I land on something sticky, roll a few times, and finally come to a stop.
“Are you okay, Suzume?”
“Souta!”
Still hugging him, I sit up. We’re on top of something that feels like springy ice. The worm’s body had felt like a torrent of jelly before, but it’s firmer here. I can see bubbly particles flowing beneath the translucent surface, like a school of little fish under the ice.
“The surface of the worm is unstable. We should stay here,” Souta says against my chest.
“Okay!”
The worm is rising with us on it. When I look up, I can see the far end beginning to swirl slowly in the evening sky like an enormous whirlpool.
As the invisible worm spreads across the twilit Tokyo sky, people finished with school or work are embracing their freedom and going all over the city. The air is full of their voices and breath, the smell of dinner wafts from restaurants and homes, and colorful lights take the place of the setting sun. As twilight falls, the hustle and bustle swells, as if the city has been repainted in saturated colors.
Nobody notices.
They don’t notice the abnormal shimmer in front of the sinking red sun. They don’t notice the strange hint of a rainbow reflected on the shiny glass windows of skyscrapers, the windshields of cars stuck in traffic, the rims of glasses filled with mineral water, or the surface of the Imperial Palace’s moat as they jog past. They don’t notice the enormous swirling torrent reflected in the eyes of the birds as they gather on rooftops to stare at the sky.
They’re thinking excitedly about their date tonight. About a nice dinner for one. The conversation they’ll have with a friend. The smile of their son or daughter when they pick them up from school.
They’ve nearly forgotten the brief earthquake earlier in the evening. They’ve forgotten the girl who leaped from the bridge. The single loafer that for some reason fell out of the sky a short while later.
But the birds can see it, and so can we. That huge red whirlpool covering the heavens. The way it is sucked upward, like someone has pulled a plug at the top of the sky and the muddy red water is swirling out the drain. The way it grows instead of disappearing. The way it covers the sky like an enormous lid fit snugly over the metropolis.
I hug Souta and run across the top of the whirlpool.
“The worm is covering the sky!” I blurt out. I’m running over the top of it with Souta clasped to my chest. The surface feels like springy asphalt now, solidified into a translucent mass. I can make out a hazy horizon line and, below me, innumerable buildings. The branches of the worm spread over the whole city, each one curled in its own intricate whirlpool. From a distance, they look like countless, glittering red eyes staring blankly down at Tokyo.
“Souta, is this…?”
“Yes. If this falls to the ground, all of Kanto will—”
His voice shakes, and I can’t tell if it’s from anger or fear.
“The only option now is to drive in the Keystone. Where did Daijin go…?!”
I realize we’re running toward the center of the worm with no idea where the cat is. The worm is coiled into a giant disk, its center a red hill. Masses of bubbles flow toward it like schools of fish beneath the surface, as if they are being sucked in. The hill glows faintly against the twilight sky, hiding the setting sun. I run through the beautiful, unsettling landscape like I’m caught in a nightmare.
“Suuuzume!”
Suddenly, I hear a childish voice. I stop and look up toward it. Pink feelers radiate from the hill like slender branches. Daijin is perched on one of them. The branch sways in the wind, and the cat looks down at me with empty yellow eyes.
“When the worm falls, the earth will shake.”
The high, childish voice sounds happy.
“Daijin!” “The Keystone!” Souta and I yell at the same time. Souta jumps out of my arms and runs toward the cat. Suddenly, there’s a creaking sound, and the chair stops moving. Souta topples over with a clunk.
“Souta?” I say, picking him up. “What’s wrong?!” I peer at him. Someone chuckles above me. I look up. The cat’s yellow eyes are even rounder than before.
“A lot of people are about to die.”
“!”
Still holding Souta, I run to the base of the branch.
“Why are you doing this?! Go back to being a Keystone already!” I shout as I run.
“I can’t,” the cat says in a tone that implies I’m stupid for not knowing that already. “Daijin isn’t a Keystone anymore.”
“What?”
The cat jumps off its branch and lands silently on the seat of the chair. It brings its face right up to Souta’s and whispers something brief. I can’t hear what it says.
“You!” I say, lunging to grab Daijin by the scruff of the neck. But the cat lithely jumps off the chair. I squat and try to pin it down, but it slips from my hands. It scampers around me teasingly, just out of reach. It’s no good—I can’t catch it.
“Souta, what do I do…?!” I pant. He doesn’t answer. “Souta?”
“…I’m sorry, Suzume,” he finally says.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats.
Why is he apologizing? It’s strange how slow he’s speaking.
“I finally understand. I didn’t realize… Maybe I was trying not to…”
“Wait a second—”
So cold. My fingers holding him are so cold.
“Now—”
He’s growing colder and colder. A thin film of frost covers the chair’s seat.
“Now I am a Keystone.”
“What…?”
The frost is growing thicker, turning to ice. Souta’s voice sounds flatter to me, like it’s lost its warmth.
“When I was turned into a chair, the mantle of the Keystone shifted to me.”
My mind grasps his meaning before my emotions kick in. But once they do a moment later, I’m a mess. I’m lost. Souta’s face, his backrest, is buried under ice. He lets out a long sigh.
“Ahhh… So this is how it ends. Here of all places…”
“Souta?”
He’s frozen. The light little kiddie chair is now as heavy as stone.
“But I—”
The words are muffled now.
“Because I met you—”
His voice breaks off. At that moment, the thing in my arms stops being a chair. It’s not Souta anymore. I can feel the truth in my fingers. I know it in my body. But my heart refuses to accept it.
“Souta!” I scream.
My heart cries out, I hate this! What used to be a chair is now completely covered in ice and shaped like a sword with a short, pointed tip. I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
“Souta, Souta, Souta, Souta!”
“That isn’t Souta anymore,” Daijin says, prancing over to me.
“Daijin, you—!”
I glare at the cat. Its image blurs and sways. I’m crying; I can feel the tears streaming down my cheeks. The cat looks at my face and says innocently, “You’re not going to stick the Keystone into the worm?”
“I can’t—”
“If you don’t,” Daijin says, perching in front of me, “the worm will fall. The earth will shake.”
That’s when I realize.
“…It’s already starting to fall!”
The worm is collapsing toward the ground under its own weight. Clouds drift slowly past overhead, and I feel a floating sensation in my body.
“Souta!” I scream at what used to be the chair, gathering strength in my hands. “Souta, please! Wake up, Souta!”
“I told you.” Daijin sighs with exasperation, tapping my thigh with its front paw. “That isn’t Souta anymore.”
I can’t take it. I throw out my hand to hit the cat. It dodges nimbly. We’re falling faster now. The floating sensation grows stronger. The wind lifts my hair. The ground is getting closer.
“Souta!” I shout as loud as I can. “What do I do?! Tell me! Souta! Souta!”
“Lots of people will die, you know.” Daijin lolls onto its back, yellow eyes wide-open. “It won’t be long!”
Excitement glitters in its eyes, so empty a moment ago. I hate this. I can’t stand it anymore.
In my mind’s eye, I can see what will happen. The sky is already dark, the stars beginning to twinkle. Down below, people are walking to stations, crossing intersections, boarding trains. Going where each of them needs to go. Eating dinner with someone. Buying something at the convenience store. Sending a text to someone. Walking next to a classmate with nervous anticipation. Walking home hand in hand with their mother, whom they dearly love. Filling their chest with fresh summer air that’s still free of that festering sweetness.
I can see it.
Above their heads, the worm is silently floating like a crown. Like the bloodred flesh of a fruit at the peak of ripeness.
It’s falling. It’s almost there. I can hardly breathe. I can’t stop shaking. I hate it. I hate it.
“I hate this!” I cry out loud. My heart is a mess of confusion. I’m squeezing my eyes shut, but the tears keep falling like the stopper is broken. I raise the Keystone high with both hands and open my eyes; my vision is still blurry. It’s not him anymore. It’s a pointed spear of ice. I slowly close my eyes again and swing it above my head.
“Yaaaaaaah!”
With all the strength left in my body, I thrust the Keystone into the worm.
A blue flash pierces the center of the coil.
The next instant, the worm, big enough to cover all of Kanto, is compressed into a single point and sucked away into the ground. All that remains in the sky is the energy it sucked up from the earth. But a second later that, too, bursts apart and becomes a ripple of air that hangs over the city like an aurora, illuminating the night sky in brilliant color for twenty or thirty seconds. A rainbow shower washes over the rooftops of Tokyo. Everyone is excited, snapping pictures to share as the strange nighttime rainbow brings them a moment of joy.
No one notices the girl drifting down from the sky at the same time. Her limp body rotates slowly, cutting through the wind. Nearby, a kitten is falling, too. As it descends, it sinks its claws into the girl, curling its small body around her head to protect it. They pass below the roofs of the high-rises, and when the ground finally approaches, the kitten’s body swells until it’s even larger than a person, wrapping itself tightly around the girl.
Water splashes high in the air from the dark surface of a pool. They have fallen into a large, old moat, a relic among the tall buildings of Tokyo. The splash reverberates off the high stone walls, surprising the sleeping waterbirds into flight and sending large ripples over the pool’s surface. Eventually, the water stills. No one has noticed, and silence envelops the night once again.