I awoke with a start.
A faint beam of moonlight was drifting in through a crack in the curtains. Woolly-headed, I checked my watch and saw that it was the dead of night. Past the easel that stood between our beds, Nito was curled up around her bedding. She must have been up until late, either reading or painting; I didn’t even remember saying good night to her, so I must have gone to sleep first.
I let my head fall, burying my face into the pillow. My eyes were gradually getting lighter, though, and I was already fully awake. I knew I probably wouldn’t be able to sleep again for a while, so I got up. My throat was dry. I took out the canteen in my bag, but its lightness in my hand reminded me that it was completely empty. I’d used all the water to boil the pasta.
Shoes on, my phone and the canteen in each of my hands, I left the room as quietly as possible. The corridor, and the temple as a whole, were bathed in soft moonlight, giving the place a peaceful atmosphere. I used the flashlight on my phone to find my way outside. Once I reached the Kettle, I pulled a water tank down and refilled the canteen before drinking my fill.
I sighed, surveying the quiet streets of the village below. Only the roofs were clearly visible, standing out against the night. The lake glistened in the distance, catching the light of the moon. It wasn’t the blinding radiance I’d seen during the day, but more like the sparkling of sand as you scattered it through the air. Out in the middle of the lake was a dark silhouette, a trail of ripples following it. A small boat, I guessed, floating on the water. I looked bemusedly out at the scene—one that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a hauntingly mysterious painting. The boat was completely stationary in the middle of the lake. Was it the guinea pig?
It wasn’t the maudlin feelings the broccoli had inspired that dragged me along now. Or so I’d like to think. I was wide awake and oddly restless, so I didn’t feel like going back to bed. I’d just seen a convenient distraction that I could use, and it wasn’t a bad excuse for a nighttime drive. I drained my canteen and lit the Kettle’s boiler, then climbed up on the hood and settled in to wait, watching the boat floating on the lake. After about twenty minutes, the Kettle was finally ready. I climbed down, got into the driver’s seat, and drove out of the courtyard surrounding the temple.
The Kettle’s headlights cut a path ahead of me through the dimly lit night. The more overgrown area closer to the lake was pitch black, and it took a fair bit of courage to keep driving through it. If I hadn’t already made the trip once during the day, I might have turned back. I continued along the essentially straight road and then suddenly broke from the trees.
The entertainment district spread out before me, rising abruptly out of the forest. The open ground was lit evenly by the moonlight, exposing full buildings to my gaze. These had all been places of merriment once, hidden away among the trees, almost like a secret base for adults with too much time on their hands. The place felt all too lonely now, though, what with them having fallen to ruin.
I drove past the theater and passed back into the trees. After I’d gone by several residences, the lake appeared off to my left. Its entire surface seemed to gleam in the moonlight. While keeping my eyes on the road, I peered through the trees at the lake as best I could, looking for the boat. Before long, though, I was in a more thickly wooded area and once again couldn’t see much of anything.
Eventually, I saw a light atop a small hill, like someone had bottled the evening sun. It was a lamp, shining from the window of the farthest house—the guinea pig’s house. I drove the Kettle into his driveway and stepped out, my feet crunching on the gravel. Either the trees surrounding me, or the nearby lake, lent a slight chill to the air that brushed against my skin.
I hesitated, considering whether to go into the house or head down to the lake, before eventually heading to the stairs that led down to the shore. The boat had just arrived at the jetty. I used my phone to light up the ground beneath my feet as I picked my way down. The boat had stopped completely, but the small figure sitting in it showed no sign of moving.
Eventually, I got close enough to make out the figure of the guinea pig sitting in the boat in more detail. He was facing me, but looking down, writing something in a small black notebook that lay open on his lap. It didn’t seem like he’d noticed my approach.
“Um,” I said, after much hesitation.
The guinea pig didn’t react at all. I drew in a breath, preparing to speak more clearly this time. As I did so, he pulled the cap off the base of his pen and placed it back over the nib, raising his head.
“What concerns an otherworlder?” he asked.
The breath I’d taken left my mouth as a confused exhalation.
“I’m sorry? What do you mean?” I asked once I’d recovered enough to speak.
He tucked the pen and notebook away in his breast pocket.
“People walking around at night are always those with concerns. Those without any are still abed.”
I wanted to argue the point and talk about how many people went out to convenience stores in the night...but this world didn’t have those stores. Our cultures were different. Here in this world, it was probably a period of history where people didn’t really leave their homes at night. Plus, even as I opened my mouth to argue, I got the feeling he might have had a point about why I was out this late.
“Do you have concerns of your own, then?” I asked.
“When you get to my age, nature starts to call throughout the night as well. Hence, my sleeping hours have shortened.”
The guinea pig rose from the bobbing boat with practiced movements and started to use a rope to moor it in place. Halfway through, he rose and beckoned.
“Want to come with me? I’ll treat you to a cup of tea.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, just set off up the stairs.