Whoops. I lied! I'm actually a nervous, stomach twisted wreck again. Last night, as I tossed and turned onto my 39th sharp pebble of the night, the stabbing pain made me realize that if this is a place magically constructed from mine or Shiori's memories, then there's a good chance I'll have to meet my memories.
I mean, I guess that's the whole point of this homecoming. Reclaiming memory, or identity, or my name, or whatever. Which is all great and wonderful, but when every experience in the magical tower tells you that your amnesiac past was so dire it was worth sinking it to the bottom of a magical ocean,
I'd be more than happy to leave it forgotten forever, but when I even intimated that Shiori's cheeks were already pre-emptively puffing up.
"Do we really have to do this?" I ask, rocking back and forth on my heels listlessly as I watch the fire's embers die down. Gotta make sure it's out fully before pouring water over it.
"Of course we do," Shiori replies with her know-it-all voice. "It could still be smoldering underneath there."
I already knew that. That's not what I meant. I already knew that, Shiori. But whatever. Glancing at her, I notice something surprising. But wonderful.
"Are you... shorter than me right now?" I ask.
"...Perhaps a little bit. Why?" Shiori replies.
"Nothing. I just like seeing you as a tiny pygmy in gothy clothing."
Now her cheeks are really puffing up. But she doesn't say anything, and just keeps petting Yorick's head, shivering all the while. This morning's a good kind of crispy, and rather sunny despite being cold. It's less dismal than usual, some part of me seems to say, as if my nagging memories are also smoldering beneath the surface.
"Alright," I say, pouring the fire out finally. "I think we're ready to go. Finally."
I, of course, at a towering 150 or so centimeters (with some rounding) am prepared to take on a leadership role. Someone has to.
Both of us are sticky, tired, and gross. Haggard would be a kind statement. I lead the way, faintly aware that I don't really know where we're headed, but looking back every so often to take cues from Shiori. If it were really up to me to choose our destination, I'd want to go nap somewhere soft and warm. Is that an option? Last night was the first time I was literally able to sleep since the literal start of my remembered existence.
And it sucked.
Murders and magic and memories seem so unimportant next to exhaustion. Or hunger. Or the aching feeling all through my my back and my frickin' ribs.
Tired or not, into the woods we go, up the slope, from dry and loose sand dunes to patchy grass and splotting dabs of trees; trees which let the sunlight break through their orange, yellow, and green crowns.
Splotchy's the best word for it all. Seriously. Everything's in a two tone war. The sand is giving way to grass. The verdant evergreens are fighting a losing battle against the increasingly anxious colors of the deciduous trees. And that beaming sun's making an admirable breech through the shadows.
At the same time, creeks and streams run downhill all over the area like they own the place, with our only way through sometimes being big rocks of semi-convenient placement. Clearly human hands had intervened to try and keep future feet from getting wet. But it was a futile effort. There's too many intersections, too many streams of precocious height, and too many babbling brooks arguing and running amok.
It's like the whole area can't help but express itself in conflict. It's unsettling and beautiful and new and familiar all at the same time. There's something there, tugging at the reaches of my memory. Like it's about to pull me in... but not quite. It's the feeling of teething, except it's my baby teeth growing back.
Speaking of babies, I can't help but notice Shiori's... currently not great with physical exertion. Hugging Yorick to herself like a teddy bear, she's got eyes like daffodils wet with morning dew, and she's breathing like she just ran a whole frickin' marathon. Jeeze.
"Stop...please, a m-moment..." Shiori's body slumps so hard I worry she's about to fall over. And she sort of, er, does, languidly drooping against a tree trunk, head nestled in a crevice like it's the only thing holding her up.
I guess I can't be too harsh here. Uphill serpentine paths with downhill serpentine streams. It takes a big toll on these small bodies. Or at least it should.I must have been some kind of athletic child prodigy, the way I'm breezing through.
"You look so smug right now. Even I'm getting annoyed!" Shiori mutters.
"S-smug? You're imagining things." Oops. Is there a smirk on my face I need to wipe off? Time to deflect. "Why the heck are we kids, anyway?"
As I say this, I can't help but notice how much bigger Yorick looks now that we're so small. Or is he actually bigger? Like to match our younger personality's, he's also been resized -- like a stuffed animal. His inky body's taken on this fringed, soft-spiky look that I can only guess is trying to cheer Shiori on. He always looks frazzled, but I think he feels guilty that Shiori has to carry him and his heftier self.
"Oh Yorick, there's no need to feel bad." I wonder what those inky tassels feel like... I reach out to pet him, but Shiori not-so-subtly pulls away. As if she really just needed to start pacing right that moment.
Can I be real for a second? I'm pretty sure she just doesn't want to share. I just want to pet him.
"Could be — I think it's because some Constructs make your physical embodiment match your mindset," she finally says, again deftly yet supposedly unintentionally pulling Yorick away from my grasp. "That must be happening to us?"
"...So, we're both just immature mental ten year olds in arrested development. Like, noticeably less mature. Like, I feel like maybe one of us is being really childish right this very moment?"
"Mmm, maybe? I bet coming back here's caused a regress," she says, hugging Yorick tightly, obliviously, almost petulantly. That last bit might be bias.
But there's a bigger issue right now. The whole mental regress thing feels like it could be a major obstacle. Especially if...
"Um, are we gonna run into people? What happens if we do run into people?" I ask, feeling a weird nervous tingle run through my fiddling hands.
People being townspeople. People from our past. People I can't even remember.
"I'm not sure. I still haven't figured out the logic of this Construct. Is it digging from your memories? Both of our memories? I didn't... expect to come back here. I need time to think." Her voice comes out soft and pensive. Almost plaintive.
Who can blame her? With what little memories I have, I can guess Sussurokawa was probably some stuck-up, podunk town, where every resident had a mean old provincial outlook. My chest tightens just thinking about it.
"So, should we avoid them?" I ask.
"No. They might be able to help... And they should be easy enough to manage, 'cause I bet they'll act like NPCs. They might even be able to help us find your name, and the places it would be hidden..." she ponders, clicking her tongue all the while. "Like your diary. One of the NPCs might know where to find it."
"I'm not sure how you're so sure I kept a diary," I grumble, though I don't know exactly what an NPC is. Though I can guess? And why would they know where it is? How bad at keeping secrets would I be if every Joe Schmoe in town knew where I kept it?
"Of course you kept a diary," Shiori frowns. "You were just that kind of girl."
"Was I now?" I mutter. Feels awfully strange... no, maybe just awful, having my own personality explained to me. A flutter in my belly. A tingling in my limbs. And this feeling like there's way too much spit in my mouth. "How far are we, anyway?"
Shiori wracked her brain. "Ummm, I think we're really close. We're gonna get up to the cliff right across from the lighthouse. Then... your house is close to that. It's always been suuuper high on the hill."
Lighthouse. For a moment, everything goes white in my vision. Somewhere far away I hear something shrill, that screaming sun... The word sets off all kinds of reactions. Physiological and psychological. The alarms are bleating in my head. It's the last place I want to go. It's the place I need to be.
And sure enough, before long, just like Shiori said it comes streaking into view like a giant traffic cone.
It's... kind of ugly?
You know, it makes sense that a lighthouse would be white and orange, and wayyyyy too rusty. But somehow I imagined something grander. It wouldn't be pristine or anything. Just scarier looking? But there it is, standing stark against the sky like something a soccer mom tips over with her van.
And for the moment, those alarms quiet down. Shiori, meanwhile, is stopping and staring at it with an expression I can't read. Shiori of all people, with an expression of utter complexity, throwing off every read I thought I had on her. It's a pained expression, sure. But... isn't it... a little too nostalgic?
Shouldn't she hate this place?
I can hear the screaming townspeople. I can see the mob. It's a flash, but I know something happened.
And yet here she is, staring away with the softest look, lightly dabbing her eyes with one hand while her opposite arm dangles pseudo-teddy-bear Yorick.
"I- I studied at a place called The Lighthouse, you know. Instead of The Clocktower. It's for us reneg...reneging..." Shiori stumbles.
"Renegade?" I suggest.
"Renegade! Right, right. Renegade magi. We're renegades because we aren't so renegade. Crazy and dangerous. That's normal for a magus. We're the ones with softer and whimsyish admon...admonitions."
"Aspirations? Ambitions?"
"Admonitions!" Shiori scowls and doubles down, apparently starting to get annoyed at my corrections. "But lighthouses have a special meaning for magi. The light at the top of a lighthouse... for so many, it's a symbol of The Origin. The Root. It's the light of truth."
"Wait. Then isn't it weird that the place you studied is called The Lighthouse? If you're the ones with the small-time ambitions, feels like you should be called ... The Lightbulb."
Uh oh. She looks mad. That might be a step too far. With how small our bodies are, it's kinda obvious when we start shaking with rage. Apparently.
"That's because magi are stupid. They don't even know how lighthouses work, "she mutters flatly, and brushes on past. "The Root unroots people. Ironically. Magi get so obsessed with it that entire liners...line...lineages chase after it. Sometimes families go on for centuries. And sometimes... they just go nuts. It's not unlike lighthouse madness. Eep!"
By now we're both sitting and staring. Feet dangling a little precariously off the cliff, and Shiori just heard a rock fall down and started hugging Yorick tighter. Thinking twice, she makes sure to set him a little behind us 'cause she doesn't wanna drop him.
"Centuries and centuries of these decrepit men and women chasing after it... And no one's found it. I doubt it even exists," I snort.
"Of course it exists," Shiori says chidingly, her tone surprisingly measured like I'm the child here. "Even if you forget who your parents are. It's not as if you came out of nowh-- oh u-um, well t-they just know logically, alright?"
Her face is completely red while she's tripping over her own faux pas. I don't really care that she said it. And it's cute to see her fluster. But... I do get a little depressed remembering it. Or not remembering, actually. Who I am. Why I'm here. Who my parents would be. I just try to sit and contemplate it. She's been rambling all the while to try and move past it.
"S, so! There was this one crazy family, right? Or they weren't that crazy. But they try to reach The Root by breeding someone really beautiful. As beautiful as possible," Shiori bloviates. "So beautiful it's absolutely transcendent."
"And how would that possibly work?" I ask.
"It's the closest anyone's ever gotten. We only ever get glimpses from when things are max. It's about superness," Shiori says.
"Superlativeness," I say.
"Superness," she hmphs. "So, every generation. They're breeding a new princess. They call her the Princess of Gold. Each one is more beautiful than the last. They're being controlled down to their genetics. Maybe their soul. One of them was even supposed to look just like Helen of Troy! But then! Do you know what happened then?!"
"They started getting uglier?"
"No! No... it's... sadder than that," she pauses. "They started experiencing reversal...A total reversal of spirit. Of will and soul."
"Reversal?"
"Right. Reversal. It's an occupational hazard for magi. Oh, how do I describe it? Imagine if... all your life, you spent every day climbing a ladder up and up, forever! And you've always been doing it, your whole lineage has always been doing it, and it's all you've ever knwon. And you've been told since you popped out of the womb that everything you ever wanted is at the top. So you climb... and climb... and climb."
Shiori pantomimes Yorick climbing up an invisible ladder, while his tendrils seem to turn into cute little arms.
"But then, one day --" Shiori continues, and has Yorick stare down at the rocks and crashing waves till he's shivering in fright, "-- one day you look down."
Now the two of us are looking at the hypothetical splatter point. She shudders. I think I shudder a bit, too.
"And then," Shiori continues. "You just think... I want to jump. You've been climbing your whole life. But you can't get it out of your head! You try to shake it off. You try to keep climbing but it's not the same anymore. And every so often you look down and... all you can think of is that brief moment of flight. Like that's what you did all this climbing for."
"Alright," I say softly. "What does jumping mean here?"
"It means! They cut her head off!" Shiori grabs Yorick and holds him up like he's a decapitated head instead of a little ball of slime, and he does this cute glowering thing like he's scary, and all his tendrils stand up like fur on an angry cat. "Or I mean! Her brother did! He cut up her limbs, and arranged them on this bed with sheets of pure white, um, until they got stained red of course. And! It was like an art piece! It was like he was an expiring artist, expiring for something unconventional, and so he deconstructed her! It was literal deconstruction!"
Absolutely breathless, with delivery so on point that I can tell she's said this one a bunch. Though her morbid fascination seems to be giving way to trembling as she thinks about the story again. Maybe that's what's fun about it. It's like a housewife so hooked on true crime, she made the grocery store parking lot scary.
Or maybe make a big 'ole traffic cone scary.
"And we're supposed to read ALL of that? From this lighthouse?" I ask. "Just how's that supposed to work? Lighthouses save people."
"Well, yeah! Duh! But you know... if you're a ship in the fog looking for a safe port clear of rocks, you're not supposed to go towards the lighthouse. Because that's..."
Oh.
Because that's where the rocks are.