With the footsteps of dawn beginning to approach, a man wearing an eyepatch embroidered with a wing—Asahi Fujinaka—was observing a giant floating sphere made of what looked like water.
He stood in a building with corrugated metal walls and slightly worn iron poles spaced evenly throughout—an abandoned factory that he had remodeled into his personal workshop. LEDs illuminated every millimeter of the chaotic space. Cranes hung from the ceiling, and the outer walls were weathered and rotten, but the machinery looked almost brand new.
There were a lot of things, however, that one would never expect to see in a workshop, including blue mushrooms tall enough to reach the ceiling and a water basin that produced a never-ending sound, as if it were singing.
“What the hell is this place? Did you build it yourself?” asked a man in a large black coat—Pyrovault—as he looked around the workshop’s interior. He rubbed his bald head and turned toward the floating water sphere with interest.
“I found the fetters imposed by Grave Nest much too tight for my tastes,” Asahi Fujinaka said, his eyes not leaving the sphere.
The workshop was built on what had originally been a mine that had been abandoned along with its expansive facilities. Asahi Fujinaka had bought the mine with what amounted to pocket change for him and rebuilt it into a workshop…unbeknownst even to Grave Nest.
“You’ve gone off the rails, man,” Pyrovault complained. “What made you think you could do all this on your own? You didn’t even tell me we’d be running into Noary. I’m perfectly happy to fight, but my superiors weren’t pleased. You’ve also stored a ton of vanits in here without any kind of security to protect them.” Pyrovault hadn’t seen any guards or even any other researchers when he’d explored the facility. No vanit research facility should be left so defenseless. “Our researchers would faint at the sight of this place.”
“I have implemented the bare minimum of measures to ward off any intruders. It is important to me that this facility remains my own little world. Don’t ruin it with the presence of other people,” Asahi Fujinaka said.
Pyrovault sighed and shook his head. He looked at the floating sphere of water.
“Whatever, man. Are you using this giant water ball to make another one of those? I thought you just made them from paper from those trees. Y’know, like how normal paper’s made.”
“That is how I made First and Second. Further research and trials led me to a fuller understanding of their nature and to this more polished method of creation. That is the essence of scientific pursuit,” Asahi Fujinaka responded, before calling out “…Third.”
“Yes!”
Third, who was sitting atop a giant blue mushroom, spun her long white hair like helicopter blades and descended softly to the ground. She then extended a pigtail toward the water sphere, opened out the end like a flower, and pressed it to the sphere, causing ripples to spread across its five-meter diameter.
Pale human arms—or rather, Duplicator Tree branches—and white blocks of wood emerged from her hair and entered the water. In no time at all, the sphere was packed near to capacity with pieces from the five-story-tall Duplicator Tree. With a crunch, the wood was flattened to the width of paper.
Pyrovault looked behind him. Archive was standing quietly next to a blue mushroom; one hand reached out toward the sphere.
The flattened pieces of wood melted into the water and vanished.
“That’s some handy Distortionism you got there, li’l lady. It’s…not magic, right?” Pyrovault asked.
“It’s an ability called Optical Transference—or Hireal—that can influence reality based on what one sees,” Asahi Fujinaka answered instead. “When an object is seen from one perspective, the observer cannot tell if it is a two-dimensional picture or something that actually exists in three dimensions. The observer must see it from another angle to verify which it is. The Archive is doing the opposite. She saw the wood as a flat plane from one angle and forced reality to conform to that observation. It’s essentially her ability to collect concepts in reverse.”
Pyrovault snorted. “Well, that explains things. I guess she used the same ability to throw that net of words at me. She held her string in front of her eyes and imagined an object where her vision was blocked.”
“Exactly,” Asahi Fujinaka agreed.
He laid a hand on the green book he was carrying—Untitled—which opened with a faint green light. Black text leaped off the pages and formed a shape within the water sphere. It took the form of a person, eventually taking on a color like skin and forming clothing.
Pyrovault raised his eyebrows at the sight. The figure was a middle-aged man with an eyepatch. It was clearly…
“What the hell? That’s you.”
“Yes, it is. I learned from Second and Third that a creation cannot maintain its concept unless you define it as a person. But neither using a person as a base nor creating a human-shaped body proved sufficient for accomplishing my goal. Then inspiration struck: I could just use Untitled to produce the ideal material,” Asahi Fujinaka said, stroking Untitled’s spine.
“Is there anything you can’t make with that book? Wait, isn’t it not supposed to be able to eat the characters in your name?” Pyrovault asked.
“I’m not making this from my name. As the book’s owner, I can describe a person’s genetic information and deep-seated psyche and create them with great precision. That’s how I made Hitsugi.”
“Hmm… That wasn’t in your report.” Pyrovault snorted, a frown creasing his brow.
“Surely, I’m allowed to keep a few things to myself? What I am trying to make will justify my methods.”
“Why did you retire anyway, if you were just gonna come back? If you were in your old position, you would’ve been able to do whatever you wanted without going to all this trouble.”
Asahi Fujinaka smiled bitterly. “Now that is a long story.”
It was a surprisingly evasive answer given how readily the man had answered every other question.
Pyrovault raised his eyebrows but didn’t press him further. “Oh yeah? Eh, I’m not that interested anyway.”
Asahi Fujinaka shrugged in response and looked at the two girls, who were currently working. “I’m stepping out for a bit, you two. I’m sorry, but keep working without me,” he said, before exiting the workshop with Pyrovault.
This left Archive and Third alone with the giant mass of water between them. Third looked curiously at the other girl, who was working expressionlessly.
“Hey, we haven’t properly introduced ourselves, have we? I’m Third. You’re basically my older sister, right?” Third gave a smile, looking both embarrassed and excited to call her that. When Archive didn’t respond, Third put her hands on her hips and glared at her. “Come on, don’t ignore me. Surely, you’d rather talk to me than work in silence. That’d be so boring. Let’s chat.”
Archive squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds before speaking. “I was not fated to make small talk at this time.”
“Uh, what? I highly doubt working in dead silence was fated for you, either.” When Archive didn’t answer, Third barreled on. “There’s no way your entire life has been mapped out in perfect detail. Isn’t it boring just doing what your book says?”
“You do not understand how it feels to be unable to do anything but obey a predetermined fate regardless of your own wishes,” retorted Archive.
“That’s kinda why I’m asking,” Third said, undeterred by the other girl’s attitude.
“…”
“Are you saying you don’t like being made to do things against your will? I feel the same way, but…” Third tilted her head in confusion without ceasing her work. “Wait. That’s weird. Papa said you were born to obey your fate and that you’re not supposed to have any problem with that.”
Living beings were a product of their nature. Humans, for example, didn’t give any thought to their breathing or the beating of their heart. Similarly, Archive wasn’t supposed to question following the outline she had been created with. If she was opposed to that, then…
“Does that mean the will of that body’s original owner is still inside you? Now that I think about it, she was super mad at Papa. She was like a totally different person!”
Archive visibly grimaced hearing that, looking like she’d swallowed something bitter.
“But you’re not that person anymore, so you should be able to easily push her desires away,” Third said.
“I will not do that. Not ever.”
“Why not?” Third asked, clearly happy at finally getting a response.
Archive closed her eyes. “Because someone I know misses her. Someone who treats me as a completely different person despite seeing hope in the traces of her that remain. Despite how badly he wants to save her. As long as he lives, I will not erase those traces. No matter how much despair her wishes cause me.”
“Huh?” Third scrunched her face as if confused by what she just heard. “I don’t really get it, but it sounds like you have someone you really care about!”
“…”
“I do too. I love my Papa. He does bad things, but he’s a super good person. He could’ve disposed of me because I didn’t turn out the way he wanted, but he raised me with care instead. He even bought me these clothes because he thought they would look nice on me!”
She grabbed the hem of her dress. The light-orange fabric did not look cheap, and the sunflowers embroidered near the hem suited her cheerful personality.
“He probably just designed you to feel affection for him,” Archive said dryly.
“Oh, wow. Good point. You’re so smart.” Third laughed. “But I’m okay with that. I wouldn’t exist if not for him. And everything I’ve experienced has been so lovely and fun!”
“…”
Her smile was blindingly bright. Was it just a coincidence that Archive happened to avert her eyes at that moment and look up at the water sphere?
“One thing has become apparent,” the blond girl said.
“Yeah? What’s that?” Third asked.