“Woo-hoo! It’s not embarrassing getting called out by you, Tadeshina! It’s the best!”
“Ahh, it’s so pretty!” Asumi’s eyes sparkled like a starry night sky. “The colors are amazing! Red and blue and green and white!”
“Was the Aurora Light Show always this extravagant?” Moena seemed to be cold, because she hooked her right arm around Asumi’s left and clung tightly to her as they walked. “I kind of remember it being kind of lackluster…”
“I looked into it a bit, and they apparently add a few more light sculptures each year,” Yukisada said. According to him, a few years previously, an up-and-coming sculptor had created a limited-time monument using lights. Since then, young artists and local sculptors had started displaying their various light sculptures, which were shown a lot on social media and received positive reviews.
When they finally arrived at the Greenbelt, they were greeted by a shining gate. The entire Greenbelt district appeared to be faintly floating, illuminated by the blue lights. The venue for the Aurora Light Show would be in front of them once they passed that gate of light.
“I’m going inside…”
Sousei lost his words. He had done a job in the Greenbelt area during the Aurora Light Show before. At that time, he had seen the venue from the outside, and he remembered thinking that it was incredibly bright. That was the extent of it. However, going inside the venue was like stepping into a whole different world. There were no other lights inside except the ones used in the show. Normally the plaza could be used freely by the public and had a decent amount of outdoor lighting, but it was currently turned off. The LED lights weren’t strong enough to illuminate their surroundings, so Sousei and his friends couldn’t see the ground under their feet very clearly. Despite the abundance of different-colored lights, it was dark.
Flowers of light were blooming all around them.
Some were in the shape of giant teddy bears.
Using some kind of device, the fountain in the plaza wasn’t spouting water, but lights.
With the lawn as the canvas, lights had been used to draw both still and moving images.
In a corner referred to as the Aurora Zoo, lions, tigers, giraffes, elephants, and other animals were depicted three-dimensionally.
While all the wonderful designs had been elaborately thought out, the crown jewel was the symbol of the Aurora Light Show—the Tower of Light.
Although it was called a “tower,” it seemed to be modeled after the world tree, which held up the heavens and connected it to the underworld. Or perhaps the huge tree was the world itself. It didn’t exist in reality, of course—only as a concept in myths.
The Tower of Light was sixty-five feet high and shaped like a giant umbrella. It somewhat resembled a Christmas tree, but instead of decorating a fir tree, the lights were installed over a metal frame that had been constructed specifically for the event, giving it a completely different look.
When they went underneath the umbrella of the Tower of Light, Sousei and his friends were shown an illusion of being showered by countless stars. Part of the light show wasn’t fixed in place but was constantly swaying, which made a huge impact. Although they couldn’t see them, there seemed to be wind chimes hung high above them, making tinkling sounds. If they had been told that it was the sounds of falling stars, they probably would have accepted it without question.
Asumi jumped up and reached out with her hands.
“It seems like you can touch them, but you can’t!”
“It really does!” Moena stood on her tiptoes and extended her hands directly above her.
Iori opened her mouth a little and gazed at the sparkling Tower of Light.
Wakkuu wasn’t looking up, but to the side, single-mindedly watching Iori.
“Ananieya,” Yukisada mumbled next to Sousei.
“Huh?” Sousei cocked his head, and Yukisada gave a slight shrug and smiled.
“It means something like, ‘how beautiful.’”
“…Huh?”
“It’s a phrase from old Japanese.”
“Did you learn it from classical literature?”
“I wonder.”
“What does that mean?” Sousei laughed. Yukisada was making a strange face, and Sousei couldn’t tell if he was joking.
Kuchina was standing a little apart from everyone else, looking up at the cascading lights. Even though she was standing apart from them, she was only about six feet away, so she didn’t give off the impression that she was standing alone. She pushed her scarf down to her chin and tilted her head left and right, blinking. She appeared to be curious about the illusion created by the miraculous light show and was trying to uncover the source of the mystery.
An innocent expression was spread across her face. She waved her gloved left hand in front of her eyes. Perhaps she had hoped the gesture would allow her to see what was invisible and solve the mystery. Or maybe she didn’t have a real reason.
“Miss Hitsujimoto,” Sousei called out to her, but Kuchina didn’t turn to look at him—because she was already looking at him.
“I…”
There she was, surrounded by the starry glow. She slowly looked around at the sea of countless lights, trying to etch every single one into her heart. It probably wasn’t just the dazzling scenery, but everything that was there in that moment.
“I’ll remember this sight for the rest of my life.”
“Me too,” Sousei said, nodding.
For some reason, Ukihiko’s face came to mind.
Ukihiko had died in that darkness, by Sousei’s own hand. Before he died, he’d lost an arm, both of his ears had been cut off, and his left eyeball had been scooped out. But that wasn’t the version of Ukihiko that appeared in Sousei’s mind. For some reason, Sousei saw Ukihiko from when he hadn’t been hurt by anyone and was healthy and full of life.
Ukihiko really should have survived. Back then, he should have killed Sousei instead of making Sousei kill him. Ukihiko had been seriously injured and on the brink of death, but that didn’t matter. If he had killed Sousei, the matter would have been solved. Afterward, dying once would have healed all his wounds, and he would have just lost a single life.
Sousei Takarai felt that his lives were not his own. They should have belonged to Ukihiko. Sousei was wrongfully using them to live. He wanted to return them to Ukihiko someday. But he had no idea how to do that.
He had always felt like he owed Ukihiko an apology.
A failure of a human like Sousei shouldn’t have survived.
But, Ukihiko, I…
He had met her and encountered a sight he’d remember for the rest of his life.
In this moment, a thought went through his mind:
I’m glad. I really am glad I survived in your place. Though I can’t ask you to forgive me…
People could come and go through the Tower of Light as they pleased, and since it was the symbol of the Aurora Light Show, more and more people were flocking to see it.
“Oh yeah. Hey, everyone, why don’t we take a photo together?!” Asumi called out, waving the hand that was holding her phone.
Sousei met Kuchina’s gaze, and she started walking. It seemed she was consenting to being in the photo. That was slightly unexpected.
It was then that Sousei saw something over her shoulder—or rather, someone. That hairstyle—a mushroom haircut. They were standing nearby, wearing an oversized down jacket. Kuchina had her back to them. They were only about five yards away.
How had that person gotten so close without Sousei noticing? The down jacket had a hood. Perhaps they’d entered the area under the Tower of Light with the hood up, and it was only when they’d put it down that Sousei had noticed that distinctive haircut. It wasn’t just the hair; Sousei remembered the face, too.
“Kinoshita…,” Sousei muttered, causing Kuchina to stop in her tracks. But how?
It was Riamu Kinoshita. He had been one of a pair of boy-girl fraternal twins. Sousei had shot down Riamu, then been attacked by the sister; Kuchina had saved him from her. The brother’s corpse had never been found, but he’d definitely died. Sousei knew that. He could feel it whenever he took a life.
Kinoshita was expressionless. He didn’t say anything. Silently, he took three long strides forward, simultaneously unfastening his down jacket with his left hand. He was holding what looked like a short pole in his right hand. Surely it wasn’t some kind of weapon. But that wasn’t all.
Under his down jacket, Kinoshita had a number of strange objects attached to his body. There were several vertical cylinders attached in a row across his abdomen, with a cord coming out of them connected to some kind of device. The digital display on the device showed a sequence of numbers in red. There were four digits. A four-digit number? No—there was a colon dividing them. It read 00:04. Was it a time? A second later, it changed to 00:03. Not three minutes, then.
Three seconds remaining.