“Miroku-bosatsu. Ever since ancient times, they’ve said that spirit dwells in all things. Even if Fuuka was a sheath created for Sora, Sora has loved him as a brother for twelve hundred years. Surely life has been breathed into him by now?” Tamuramaro asked in an unusually tense voice.
“Yes, that’s not impossible, I’d say. A spirit dwells in all things in the universe.”
“Then doesn’t that mean Fuuka has turned into a human being?”
Even Tamuramaro was holding his breath. Sora realized his intent: He was imploring Miroku-bosatsu, who had the power to touch everything in the universe, to endow Fuuka with a human life.
“…Please. Please turn Fuuka into a human,” Sora begged Miroku-bosatsu.
“I wanna eat ramen,” Fuuka blurted out.
“When a heart is bent on an excessive belief in justice, it mostly creates more troubles,” said Miroku-bosatsu.
Sora could understand what that meant now. In history, and in the present world, rulers and leaders who killed multitudes likely never thought they were doing something wrong. If anything, it was because they believed they were right that they could enact such atrocities.
“However, there are rare cases in which it does come to some good. This boy did some wonders for you. You had someone to love, someone small to protect. Your father made a good sheath.”
Miroku-bosatsu didn’t tell him openly that his father was Aterui.
“But he couldn’t seal you completely. Things like this never can be, you know. There’s still something left.”
Sora wanted to think that he’d set down his burden. But perhaps the fact that Fuuka moved by impulse meant it would never be completely gone—the fire burned too fiercely.
“Never mind. You can’t snuff out a fire that ferocious. You did well, toiling for twelve hundred years, but it’s not something you can extinguish completely. If I take this boy with me, the one who has accepted this fire inside him, you’ll be able to return to the path of a human being again.”
“The path…of a human?”
Sora had journeyed for so long that, for a moment, he lost sight of what that path was in the first place.
“Isn’t that what you’re starting to wish for now? To grow old like everyone else, to live together with the people around you—and someday die. That path,” Miroku-bosatsu explained, making the shape of their fingers even rounder.
“What happens if I ask you not to take away my little brother?”
“Well, that’s not up to me anymore. Can you rejoin human time? Can this boy become a human? That’s got nothing to do with me, so you better deal with it yourselves.”
“Please don’t take Fuuka away.”
Now that Sora had learned of another path, he had no doubt about which one to take.
“Sora…” Fuuka stared at Sora in surprise.
“So you’ll choose a more difficult path?” asked Miroku-bosatsu.
“Yes.”
The difficulty of the path was nothing to Sora. Fuuka was his own little brother.
“It’s funny…” Miroku-bosatsu smiled, pensive and amused. “I sent you off on your journey because your fateful burden could’ve turned either way. You know how you could see me that day? It’s because there was a little bit of uncertainty in you. Besides, you tried to kill yourself when you saw the mound of corpses.”
Sora also remembered vividly how he had tried to take his life and Fuuka’s at Awata-guchi. Perhaps Fuuka still carried that thought as a painful memory even more than Sora did.
“You had the capacity to become a dictator or a king who ruled over the world with a good government. But you chose the life of a normal person. Is it that good, this life?”
“Yes.” A thin smile finally crept onto Sora’s lips.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Huh…? Miroku-bosatsu!”
By the time Sora called out their name, Miroku-bosatsu had vanished into thin air.
Fuuka, who should have been standing next to him, had also disappeared from view. Sora’s heart stopped, and his legs quivered.
“Coo.”
He heard a soft coo. On the wharf, now completely back to reality, there stood a white dog, wagging his tail and looking as though being a dog was the best he could do.
“Fuuka.” As his strength left him, Sora dropped to his knees and flung himself around Fuuka’s neck. “Fuuka.”
When he thought Fuuka was gone, his heart had actually stopped. Dog or human, it didn’t matter anymore—Sora was content just to have Fuuka with him.
“Coo,” Fuuka murmured softly, snuggling his cheek against Sora’s.
“Hey, did Miroku-bosatsu forget about me?” Tamuramaro realized with a little gasp. Surely he was the one who should’ve been taken along to the Pure Land after laboring hard for 1,200 years.
Without uttering a word, Sora stretched out his hand and gripped the hem of Tamuramaro’s pants. Tamuramaro could sense the young man’s desperation and let out a helpless sigh.
“…Well, that’s true. Maybe you’re still a bit shaky.”
“I’ve only just learned how much I don’t understand, you know,” Sora muttered through his teeth, although it vexed him to admit it.
“And there’s so much ramen out there that I haven’t eaten yet.” Tamuramaro laughed as an excuse.
“I guess we have to walk home.”
They had been left behind in the middle of the night at the Aomi Container Terminal, and they couldn’t take any public transport because Fuuka was a dog and they didn’t have a carrier case. Tamuramaro couldn’t think of any other way.
“Let’s go, Fuuka.” Sora let go of Fuuka and looked into his blue eyes. “You too, Tamuramaro,” he said, rising to his feet.
The three of them started walking toward the lights.
Sora took his first step with a firm stride. He would walk a completely different path from now on. There were no signposts. Until now, he had believed that if he kept working hard, someday he would live in human time, and Fuuka would become a human being.
“You better deal with it yourselves.”
Sora looked at Fuuka, then at Tamuramaro.
The streetlights that had appeared artificial on their way here gave off a warm glow in his eyes now.