Tabi ni Deyou:Wings

(40% translated)

The boy looked up at the heavy, dark clouds in the sky.

Only some moments ago, it was still a clear blue sky, but then it slowly got caught up by clouds from behind and turned overcast. The speed of this happening could be called lightning-fast and the blue color that was there before was beyond imagination now, that one couldn't even tell anymore where the sun was.

Unaffected by this, the green that was surrounding them hadn't changed. From time to time they came by some farms that had been crushed by the snowfall last winter, but none of those could serve them as a rain shelter.

"...oh well. Looks like there's going to be a shower. I just hope we're out of here until then..."

"Don't worry! People always told me that I'm beloved by the sun."

"Too bad. I was always called the 'rain bringer'. Guess why."

"Uh-oh-"

The girl giggled while turning around. The clouds that had been gradually gaining thickness as time went by looked as though they would start pouring their contents over them at any moment.

What's so bad about getting a little wet, some may wonder. But that is a sentiment limited to those who have hot coffee and a dry towel waiting for them at home.

They required fuel to warm themselves up, they had to ignite their fires on their own and they had to dry their wet clothes immediately. They would be in big trouble should they catch a cold. Even if it doesn't lead to the worst case scenario, the two run the risk of starving to death if they are forced to stay at one place for several days.

"If things don't change, we're both going to catch a cold. Who would be the carer in that case?"

"Usually I think it's those who don't have enough power left to care for someone else that are cared for."

"It's a duel about who's recovered first, then!"

"I wonder... according to my personal prediction, you win that duel, but I'm the one who laughs best."

"...what do you mean by that?"

"Well, I can already see how you'll fall sick again after overhastily claiming the victory by reporting that you've 'recovered'. Without any foundation, of course."

"........."

He had hit the bull's eye. The girl used to be stubborn and overhasty from time to time. Indeed, the situation he described was definitely possible.

"And then I'll eat the melon all on my own! After all, it would hurt your stomach, wouldn't it?"

"You won't! We're eating that melon only after splitting it in a grand pinata contest! Got me?!"

The large melon they had received from the director was, just as he had estimated, almost ripe, giving off a nice sound when knocking on it. While the boy was simply waiting for the ideal time to eat it, the girl had apparently already decided how to eat the melon. The execution of a melon-splitting event had been scheduled - without taking his opinion into consideration.

"I admit your plan sounds great to me... but you realize that we don't have a bat?"

"Uhm... then how about this?" said the girl and kicked Cubby's muffler briefly.

"Don't even think about it! It's going to break if you do that."

Well, actually, Cubby wouldn't break yet just by removing its muffler, but he willfully kept silent about this. For one thing, he had not in the least the intention to hit the road with the roaring sound of a biker gang, and for another thing, destroying his dear vehicle, the Super Cub, just for a melon after getting it finally repaired some days ago seemed way too cruel to him.

"Mh, can't be helped. In that case we'll just have to look out for a fitting bat somewhere on the ground."

"There's no need to insist on splitting it with a bat, though. I mean, it's not like we couldn't get it cut somehow with a knife."

However, his idea had no chances of getting adopted to begin with. The preparation of the melon had already been set to splitting it with a bat in her head. And he had no rights to make any changes to this.

"Ah, a place where there is water would be great, too. I want to eat it cold."

The girl, who had as expected completely ignored his opinion, patted the melon on the backside rack.

The boy fully agreed with her about the fact that such a large melon would develop its true deliciousness only when solemnly split. It would be a waste to make it just a dessert. As in regards of this, both of them were of the same mind.

It's just that the boy couldn't be as optimistic as the girl was.

Leaving aside the bat, it seemed improbable to him that they would find a place with cold water so easily. Of course, a streamlet would do the job, but one had to consider the current look of the sky. It was way too dangerous to be around a river.

He didn't tell her, though, as he didn't see a need to damp her spirits.

Thereafter, the two travelers and their Super Cub just kept moving on for a while and drove past the occasionally appearing intersections at full speed without paying the least attention to the traffic lights.

The reason for this was the weather of course. It had kept getting worse, making the clouds even thicker than they had been before: even though it had only just been noon, it was already as dark as in the evening, and once in a while they could even spot a thunderbolt flashing up between the clouds, which looked like tightly compressed dust balls. From that sight they could easily judge that there wasn't much distance to the thunder-storm.

Then, when it became past four. Far ahead of the unchangingly dead-straight road, they discovered something.

"What's that? Doesn't that look like a warehouse or something?"

"No idea... I can't tell from this distance."

Somewhere ahead of their road, which cut through green scenery, there was an unpaved branch road that diverged at right angle. And further ahead, he could see something like a warehouse made of galvanized sheet iron that was completely corroded by rust.

With his bare eyes, he could naturally not see as much as the girl with binoculars, but what they saw should have been about the same from such a distance.

Also, being able to see something with just the eyes meant that it would only take a few minutes to arrive there on Cubby's wheels. Since there wasn't any other junction until there anyway, they decided to approach the building for the time being.

A few minutes later.

Along with a protesting cry of Cubby's break, they came to a halt and had their heavy load make the front suspension sink in deeply. From the engine fumed a steam-like heat, which could probably be attributed to the boy quite stepping on the gas.

The warehouse in question was in a much better shape than they had expected from the distance; it was indeed consumed by rust, but there were no holes to be seen in the walls and roof.

The girl got off the tandem and the boy parked the Super Cub under a roof that was situated at an unloading area.

It had still not started to rain, so they had somehow managed not to become like drowned rats.

"Whew, thank God we made it in time," said the girl relievedly.

"Yeah. It's not raining yet, but I suppose we're going to be fine here."

He looked up at the warehouse behind him.

The sheet iron building, which stood solely and surrounded by endless green, was actually not that big. In terms of size and shape it was comparable with a small sports hall.

At the front was a metal sliding door through which quite large objects could be transported, but like the building itself it was corroded by rust. From the look of it, this place hadn't been maintained very frequently. It would have been to be expected that there was at least a sign of the responsible company or something, but since there wasn't even something of that kind, it seemed like this storehouse was not in use at the moment.

After he had shut down the engine and taken off his helmet, a large truck besides the house caught his eye.

In contrast to the from-top-to-bottom dilapidated storehouse that almost seemed to crumble down to iron-oxidic powder any second, the truck was loaded with a shining silver container and parked alongside the building. It was clearly too new to suit this place and stopped under a overhanging roof, hidden from the road.

"...There's a truck. Looks like we may be able to get hold of fuel."

"Why don't you just snatch the whole truck? A journey with air-conditioning is waiting for us!"

"No way. Or do you think I own a truck license?" said the boy with a wry smile and put down the kickstand after moving the motorcycle a little more towards storehouse, so that it wouldn't get hit by the rain. Of course he didn't forget to carefully make sure of the balance because of their delicate luggage.

"Who cares about a license? We haven't happened upon one uniformed officer, not even a police car, during our journey yet. Besides, neither of us has a motorcycle license and still we're riding a Super Cub."

"What I mean is that I have no clue how to drive it! That thing's not like a moped where you can help yourself by deriving from your experience with bicycles. How do you expect me to drive a 4-tonner truck when I haven't even sneaked a peek at a driver's seat of one in my life?"

"Then have somebody who knows teach you," said she a little dauntedly.

The boy shrugged, "Sure, when there is somebody like that."

"There is!" she declared and got him eying her. A demand for foundation was writ large in his face.

"For one thing, footprints. Look," said the girl, pointing at the tracks at her feet. Dry footprints that looked different from their sneakers' were scattered all over the ground.

"Judging from the size it's a man. He seems to wear sports shoes, so he may even be about our age. Taking the level of dryness into consideration, I would assume these footprints were made during the rain about two weeks ago."

"...In short, someone has been here recently and might still be?"

"Exactly! How's that? That's what I call 'reasoning'."

She gave herself airs, putting her hands on her hips, whereas the boy just breathed out a sigh.

"...If he were as old as us, he couldn't possibly know how to drive a truck, could he?"

"..."

The girl froze in the posture she had taken.

"Either way, if those footprints belong to a grown-up with that knowledge, do you think he would readily leave the truck to us?"

She was at a complete loss of words.

Even the girl was aware of how fatal it was to lose one's vehicle in the middle of this savage --- no, I mean "vast" land.

Of course she was! There was no way of forgetting the trouble they'd had with Cubby's engine some days ago.

"Well, if we're lucky we can at best get some fuel from him. But I suppose trucks of this kind are diesel-engined, so is there even gas?"

"......"

Her mouth was still closed. Apparently, she wasn't too happy about her conclusion being spoiled.

He turned away from his sullen partner and opened the mouth widely to get a loud voice from it.

"Hellooooo? Is there anyoone?"

There was no answer. Still, the walls were made of sheet metal, so his voice should have passed through them.

"Shall we just enter the house for now, before it starts to rain? Besides, we may find a rod of some sort which we can use for splitting the melon."

A high creak resounded as the blockade of the metal door was being broken.

They went for the large entrance that was designed to transport things through it. It was a pain to open the door with his bare hands, but the ordinary entrance on the side was sealed with wire wrapped around the knob and the rear entrance was locked. Consequently, this was the only way inside. Of course they could just have broken a window and entered from there, but they decided against it, for this would go too far.

They didn't know whether that sealed door was the deed of "the inhabitant", but judging from the red rust all over the wire, it hadn't been opened for months.

The same, however, applied to the sliding door. This became evident when rust started falling down from the top rail while it was being opened by the boy's frantic use of both his hands and feet.

Hence, it didn't seem to be used either. The owner must have been taking the rear entrance.

"Heere... we go...!"

Along with a noise, red rust rained down on his head.

He somehow succeeded in opening the door by squashing his shoulder and legs in between. It seems like using force can go well, too, once in a while.

"Well well... Hellooo? Is there anyoone?"

The girl hopped into the warehouse without even trying to understand the hardships he just went through. Concerning him, he was stretching his legs on the ground and breathing exhaustedly. The icing on the cake was the rust that was all over him.

From what they could see, there were no leaks through which the rain could enter and it seemed stable enough to withstand the storm. The temperature was rather cool, too, making it "comfortable" overall - if it were just for those aspects! However, due to the horrible moldy stench and the dark and gloomy air, they could not call it that at all.

Seen from outside, it had seemed like a simple barrack made of sheeted metal, but this was not exactly the case. While the ground really was left bare, heat insulating material had been used for the ceiling and there were also fluorescent lamps, though turned off. There was even some weak air-conditioning for work purposes.

At any rate, it was a thousand times better than camping outside. Hence, they set this warehouse as the day's camping ground.

While dusting the rust sticked to his hands, the boy took a look around.

"This building isn't used as a warehouse, as it seems."

"What do you mean?"

While untying her hair - she used a hair tie because her hair would get in the way otherwise - she turned towards the boy.

"Can you see any commodities? Even just traces? All that's here is this..."

What he was talking of were the rather unfamiliar things that could be seen there. For one thing there were hand-made metal holding devices. On some desks, workbenches apparently, there were tools, much much better than the ones in his own possession, and various strangely-shaped utensils and measuring instruments.

As a whole, they looked as though they served one certain purpose.

Right, it was like...

"...A garage?"

"Yeah. I think those tools are for maintaining or assembling something."

All of the tools were directed towards the holding devices installed in the center and seemed to cohere. He didn't know what was to be fixated on those stands, but he sensed that this place must have been for a lot of people to work on one thing.

"Who's there?"

The two were startled by a sudden voice and hurriedly turned their gazes towards the other end of the warehouse, just to have their hearts miss a beat yet again.

"Tz...! How dare you open the door and nestle in here, damn couple... What are you doing in my house?"

He was about in the middle of his twenties. His clothing consisted of simple slacks and a T-shirt, and while his body couldn't quite be called an Adonis body, it was one of a sportsman.

Just.

Just, what shocked them more than anything was his face.

Pure white it was. The decolorization the director had suffered stood no comparison with it. What could be seen of his skin was completely white as if he was part of a black-and-white photograph.

No, since there was shadowing, pure white might not be fully correct. He lacked color so much that it seemed as if he had been cut out and replaced by monochrome film.

"What? Is a visage like mine that unusual?"

"...Quite so. It is the first time I see someone that has progressed this far..."

"I'm no attraction. Get lost if there's nothing you want from me."

"Oh, actually there is. It looks like it's going to rain and our motorcycle will not get us far. Please let us spend only a night here. Furthermore, may we borrow a rod or something that is suited for splitting a melon?"

The man raised an eyebrow.

"......A rod?"

"Yes. We have received an extra-large melon from a kind person whom we met underway, but we had trouble finding a tool to cut it. So why don't use the opportunity and have some fun splitting it, we thought. However, we lacked an appropriate rod in our luggage" told the girl fluently with a perfect ingratiating smile and for a few moments the man just kept suspiciously gazing at her.

"...Help yourself and use what you want. But hands off the stuff I'm using!" said he, when he had finally given up, and left them, going towards a cot that was installed at the back of the room. Apparently, he used a corner of the warehouse, which he had divided from the rest, as some sort of nap area.

The girl breathed out lightly and turned around.

"Heard him, boy? Let's accept his good will and go searching for a rod as part of a nice break."

"Y-Yeah..."

He joined the search with a light dread of her forcing smile that would not let him refuse.

After all, one ought not to defy her at the wrong time.

For starters, the two went to a line of racks, which were stocked with tools and stuff, and started looking for a tool that fit their needs.

"Boy? How about this?"

"You intend to split a melon with a spanner? ...well, leaving aside the idea, that length won't work out. Too short."

"How's this then?"

"A hammer, huh... it'll turn into mush!"

"Mmmhh... then it must be this."

"What on earth do you plan on doing with that wire stripper?"

The boy was a little stunned at the girl who randomly showed him what was in reach.

But he noticed that the tools here, too, were a little strange.

There were all kinds and sorts of them, but they all were rather small. There he thought he could find bolts and nuts in many different diameters, but even the largest sized were much smaller than the usual standard.

The man had sat down on a pipe chair and was watching them through his dull eyes bustle about searching.

"...hmph. A trip in twos, giving a shit about school? You kids must be full of yourselves, huh?"

The girl did not overhear the mumbling voice behind her.

Without stopping her fumbling hands, she ventured a counterattack with a small voice.

"Oh? I think that's still a good deal better than being a drunkard who's legless already in the daytime."

The air tensioned. He had heard her for certain.

"......as if a little brat like you could understand me..."

"Oh, but I believe I can understand part of a tiny little bit of you!"

She swiftly stood up and turned towards him - and threw something so fast it couldn't be traced by the eyes.

The object that landed before his feet with its pages fluttering open was without a doubt her student notebook, which she always carried around with her.

"Take a good look at that student card."

"......what's the point..."

The man picked it up grudgingly but frowned when he saw the open page - as though he was looking at something that made no sense.

Her photograph that was attached to the student card had already faded so much that one could hardly tell whether there was anything at all.

Her name and student number had been lost entirely, which indicated that quite some time had passed since she started "vanishing".

The man rounded his eyes slightly.

"My symptoms haven't progressed as much as yours, but before long they will! Well, it's just a matter of sooner and later if you ask me?" boasted she for some reason, which made him give her a slightly queer look, though he averted his eyes right after it.

"...hmph. It really is just a tiny bit..."

"Wha...!"

To stop her from countering, he tossed her the student card and turned from them.

"......You'd better eat that melon quickly and get out of here."

Leaving behind only these words, he stood up, moved the partitioning and disrupted their field of vision.

✱

Their search proved to be much harder than they had expected; the clock showed seven in the evening at the time when they left the warehouse because they had given up searching inside.

It was still not raining, but since there was no sunlight, it was so dark outside that one couldn't do without a flashlight.

"Man!! What an insolent old drunkard!"

"Isn't calling him an 'old drunkard' a little cruel if you consider his age?"

"What? You're on the side of that old drunkard?"

The boy smiled wryly, watching her kick one of the H-shaped posts of the warehouse to vent her irritation.

"Say what you want, but... we're having him help us out by lending us a rod after all."

"And there's no sign of that rod! That's why I told you to pull that thing off and use that."

"But that 'thing' is the drainage pipe of the air conditioner. He's going to be troubled if we just pull that off!"

"Why should we care?"

"We should!" laughed the boy and took two flashlights out of the bag attached to the Super Cub. One of them he handed over to her.

"How's our watermelon doing?" he muttered and tapped with a finger on the watermelon, which made a dull, well-sounding sound. It was just the right ripeness. It could be said without a doubt that today and tomorrow were the best days to eat it. Otherwise it would get overripe. If they didn't find anything until then, they would have to split it with their hands.

Suddenly the boy recalled the truck that was parked by the warehouse.

He paused to think for a moment and pulled up the zipper of the bag.

"So in the end, what should we do now?"

"Mh... how about taking a look in that truck?"

"Truck? Aah, that one outside?"

"Probably, it's still loaded with things," stated he - seeming quite sure, to the amazement of the girl who followed him while cocking her head.

After they had headed to the truck and had closed the rusted metal door, the partitioning of the nap corner moved slightly.

As it was clearly too dark, the boy turned on his flashlight.

Looked at from far away it had just given him the impression of a normal truck, but it was larger than expected when they got nearer.

The shining silver container looked quite unnatural compared with the deterioration of the warehouse. Another sign that the truck hadn't been in actual use around here here was that its tires weren't very dirty.

"Looks like it's a rental truck. See the mark on the license plate?" pointed the girl out. (TN: most rental cars in Japan have a わ-car-number)

"Mh, did that man rent it? I wonder why."

"Well, for transporting something. Most likely. But the rental period has expired if you ask me. He's a criminal."

They examined it briefly, walking around the vehicle, and found out that at least the container was not locked.

While they didn't know what was inside, they could presume it. After all, this was a loaded rental truck parked beside a warehouse designated to put something together.

"...So... in here is what belongs into the warehouse?"

"I think so. If it's not in the warehouse, it must be in here," explained he and grabbed the door handle casually.

He jumped on the step and pulled the handle as hard as he could, whereupon the double doors opened along with a small creak.

The boy almost fell down because he had used too much power, but somehow he managed to keep his balance by grabbing the door bar.

"......huh? What is this?"

"...this must be..."

The boy was bereft of speech. Strictly speaking not because it ran afoul of his expectations, but rather because what he saw there exceeded them.

The two ascended the container as if they were allured in.

The cold light of his flashlight shone into the container and was reflected by translucent film on a long board. Although the volume of the frame, which was made of a snow white material, was extremely small, its length filled out the entire space of the container of a 4-tonner truck.

In the harmonic play of darkness and light, the very precisely-made yet simple film and those artistic curves looked graceful.

"......don't touch that."

They immediately turned around and spotted the man from earlier.

The girl was a little disappointed because she had been wary of another rant from him like when they first met. She hopped down the load-carrying platform, but for some reason the boy remained there.

The man turned straight towards him and darted him a drunk and shady glance.

"...you know what that is?"

"Yes. It's a human-powered aircraft. One for long distances at that," answered he promptly, making the man shut his mouth.

Right. That board-like, extremely long object was a main wing of a HPA. The transparency was a result of a thin polymer film that was affixed to its framework in order to decrease the weight.

The frame was supposed to be black since FRP is employed, but this one was white.

"...right. It was supposed to challenge the figure-eight flight at the Strait of Dover."

"That's amazing!"

The boy turned again towards the interior.

An ordinary human-powered aircraft is said to have a total width of around 30 meters, but of these wings only one was already next to 20 meters. It was no doubt a large long-distance plane.

"...So the warehouse is used to put this together...," said the girl and breathed out, now that it finally sunk in, before she walked away from the truck. Something, however, seemed to bother her, so she stopped. "...Uh? Why would you put it together at such a remote place? You can't be planning to fly all the way from Japan to England, right?"

"For a test flight. The Strait of Dover is situated between the frontiers of England and France, so it's a pain just to get a flight permission. I'm not so stupid as to go for the main event straight away," answered he while scratching his head listlessly.

"...Why on earth is it still in parts then?"

"...that's because all my colleagues vanished on the very day we hauled it here," whispered he, leaving her speechless. "Halfway through the project, it broke out in all members. Almost everyone of us quit his job, since most had one, and continued to work on the project while living from retirement money. Well, but in the end we only barely managed to get the parts done...," answered he indifferently, whereas the girl had averted her eyes unconsciously. "I'm the last one who caught it and the final one left. And even I have gone this low... Hey, brat. Won't you get out there now?"

The boy, however, showed no sign of alighting.

"...won't you fly it?"

Almost like looking down on him, he looked down at the man from the platform.

"It's not 'I won't', it's 'I can't'. There's no way I could put this together alone. To begin with, that's none of your business."

The boy let out a rather stressed sigh and,

"Alright, then let's take this to pieces and use it for our watermelon."

He proposed something outrageous.

"Hah?!"

The first one to doubt his sanity along with an outcry was the girl.

"Have you even listened to what he just said?! Boy! This is a valuable aircraft! Arisen from the collaborative work of that drunkard and his colleagues, you know?!"

"But isn't it mere trash if nobody's going to fly it?"

The girl could virtually feel the wrath burning in the man by her side. She gulped and took a step back.

"Brat... do you even know how many hardships we went through to construct this...!"

"I don't! But I can guess. Making something amazing like this without any sponsors must have been unbelievably difficult."

"Then don't..."

The boy cut him short: "But you're not going to fly it, are you? You told us yourself that we may take anything you don't use. And you don't use this, right?"

The man kept silent.

"Making junk out of it or leaving the parts there untouched is exactly the same in terms that your hardships are being rendered futile! If you're going to let it rot here anyway, we rather make good use of it with our watermelon."

"......Don't talk nonsense!"

Surprised by his roar, the girl took another step backwards. Despite her motto being "Quarrel? Hell yeah! GOGOGO!", she was not good with provocations that were logical.

The boy might have been much better than her in getting the opponent where it hurts.

"Nonsense? Really? I think it's easily more nonsensical to let it ferment in the truck forever. We're not talking about wine, after all."

He flashed a fiendish smile whereas the man, in contrast, contorted his face.

"...then... what am I supposed to do?!"

"Well, let's see... wouldn't it be best to use it for what it's originally been made for?"

"...what...?"

"Let's fly it!"

The man's jaw dropped---the girl besides him made a half-surprised, half-baffled face, too.

The provocative tone disappeared suddenly from the boy's voice and he continued smiling as if he were talking to a good friend: "You need help to put it together, right? You're not alone now! There are three in total."

The man relaxed his clenched fist and turned his gaze towards the aircraft in the container.

"......You're telling me to fly this all alone, though all my colleagues have vanished...?" whispered he.

The boy smiled wryly, "Well, of course. It's designed for only one pilot anyway. Aren't you forgetting that you yourself belong to those 'colleagues' as well?"

"......It's too late to go to Dover anymore. There's no point in flying it, you know...?"

"Mh, let's see... the speed at which the vanishment progresses varies from person to person... but you are clearly in its terminal stage. Added to that, it should be quite hard to make your way to Dover even with a good deal of luck at the current state of things in the world."

"We have gone this far... because we wanted to break the world record of traversing Dover... flying here won't leave any record... even if it would, as soon as I vanished, the record would vanish along with me for certain..."

He seemed to be rather speaking to himself than to the boy.

"I guess so. But there's no need to abandon your plans for tomorrow because you might die the day after tomorrow, is there? Let's do the test flight, just as planned!"

"Even though there's not going to be a main flight?"

"Yes. It's a thousand times better than to abandon it altogether."

The boy hopped down the platform and stood beside the girl.

"...what profit do you take from it...?"

"Let's see... in return for our support, please share some of your fuel and food with us," answered the boy without thinking long - to the surprise of the man.

"...I see, you're not doing it for free."

Then, for the first time, he flashed a smile.

He merely moved his facial muscles slightly, so it was even unclear whether one could call it a smile, but it was the first one they saw of him since they had met.

✱

"Looks like you just got us some hard work without my consent, huh?"

"I'm so—... I'm sorry!"

He had prepared himself for some pokes in the side, but that turned out to be a complete underestimation. The girl slid her right arm under his and pressed　hard against his ribs.

"Now listen up. Unlike you, airplanes aren't a hobby of mine, hence I do not know how to put those things together. Understand?"

"W-Well, I don't know eithe... OUCHOUCHOUCHOUCH!!"

"I'm not saying that I'm not interested, you know?"

The boy was at once released from the infernal agonies. While he was falling into a fit of coughing, she whispered next to him with a smile, "Now that's something... an airplane..."

The two of them went to their bike and started to prepare the things they would need for cooking and sleeping. Since they had used up a lot of time for searching a rod, they were a little late.

Fortunately, the roaring thunderstorm had removed itself a bit and it wasn't raining just now. The noisy chorus by the insects that lurked in the meadows around the warehouse had apparently been called off tonight; they all held their breath.

"You had me quite surprised there, girl. So you are interested in airplanes?"

"Well, as much as others. I've only been on one once before, when I went on a trip."

"The school excursion?"

"Nah. A family trip. To a southern island."

"I see... how was it?"

It wasn't clear whether he asked for her impressions of the southern paradise or the flight, but the girl considered he meant the latter.

"Oh well... I couldn't even see the outside because I was seated right in the middle row! On top of that, there were passengers who were frightened of flying. You can imagine what a commotion it was."

"Aah... tough luck. Too bad for the opportunity."

"Yeah, exactly. I don't want to sound rude, but thanks to one passenger who wouldn't stop screaming, I rather was composed throughout the flight!" she said with a lopsided smile and pulled out a rolled-up blanket.

"Though I feel kind of sorry for that person for having to fly in spite of his fears."

"True."

A smile escaped her lips when she unintentionally recalled the now faint yet comical scene of that day.

I wonder...

Are there still people on that island?

Are the cheerful people and the gorgeous casino girls still safe and sound?

"Sorry for disturbing while you're rapt in thought, but you won't even get around to worrying about aviophobia when you board that plane."

They spun around upon hearing a voice behind them.

"After all, oneself produces the kinetic energy. If you don't pedal for your life before shitting your pants, you'll really crash."

It took them a few seconds to realize that it was the man from earlier.

His wildly grown beard was cleanly shaved and the outworn T-shirt had been replaced by a new one. Even his haircut, which was short to begin with, looked neat now that he had apparently combed it.

To them he looked at least four to five years younger than before. Now he may actually be worthy of the title "Aniki".

"Oh, you're more handsome than I thought."

"...I'm not so bold as to get on our plane with that shabby look, you know."

"Handsome" was actually referring to his natural features, but the man had apparently taken it as comment on his well-groomed appearance. Well, but nobody wants to say a compliment twice. All the more if one means it.

The girl deliberately didn't say anything, pulled out the boy's share of blankets and tucked all of them under her arm.

"So, what's the matter?" asked the boy. With a smile, of course, showing nothing of the biting attitude he had taken earlier.

The man, however, was rather flustered by that smile and averted his eyes while scratching his head. "...while the contract's only for a test flight, you have still become members of the team. It would be a bother if you caught a cold by sleeping on the bare ground. There are some cots inside, use those."

They grasped the meaning of his whisper as slowly as a fluorescent lamp would come on.

"Eh, for real?! But there's still one left for you, I hope, boss?!"

"Boss?" he wrinkled his brow a little upon seeing the bursting joy of the girl.

"You said we're a team, right? There's only one way to call the leader of a team!"

"No, I think that's just your prejudice..."

However, the boy's opinion was scrapped.

"'Boss' is fine. We have to decide on some name anyway."

"Then at least take something like 'chief' or 'leader'..."

"No. Sounds too intellectual."

She basically claimed that he did not look intelligent.

In the end, all other opinions were ignored and the man's nickname was more-or-less forcefully set to "boss". In this respect, she didn't have the right to criticize the boy for arbitrarily choosing their travel route. Which he did not say of course. The boy was smart.

"...Aah, and you can do some light cooking. There's a small kitchen in the annex."

"Alright, boy! Leave the dinner to me!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yup. Prepare our beds in the meanwhile!"

The strangely energetic girl chucked the blankets to him and sped to the back of the warehouse.

She was probably just delighted with the opportunity to sleep in a real bed again. And if he was honest, he shared her view.

"...Say..."

The boy turned around. Boss, still looking in the direction the girl disappeared, continued, "Since she suffers from «it», I guess you do, too?"

"Yes. Still in the initial stage, but my name has already been «lost». I guess my photograph is going to become unidentifiable, too, in the near future," he said unaffectedly.

It took a while until he got a reply.

"...What do you want? For what sake did you come here to the back of beyond?"

His question was drowned by the sound of the night while making small ripples in the meadows around them that were veiled in darkness.

"......I want to travel to the end of the world, together with her."

It sounded like a pipe dream indeed. However, what he said was by no means out of place and, above all, he was serious.

"...What are you going to do if you reach there?"

"I'll figure that out on the way! ...But well, perhaps I'll go on a round-the-world trip or so and demonstrate the excellency of Super Cubs to the world?"

"Sounds like fun."

A wry smile escaped his lips, which was however not a sardonic, but an honest one. The boy's confidence was clearly unfounded, but it brimmed with a strong will.

It did not matter whether it was feasible or not, for that was not the point of his dream to begin with. But the boss had the feeling that it would surely be a lot of fun, more than any game or work there was.

He had become unable to follow them suit.

However, he had his own objective.

He turned and headed again towards the warehouse.

"Okay, for today get something to eat and have some rest. We'll begin work tomorrow. We'll take half the day to put it together, so the flight will be the day after tomorrow."

"We're going to be busy, aren't we? ...Ah, right! Do you have some water here that I could use for keeping our melon cool?"

"There's a water tank that contains some purified water. Well, it isn't exactly icy water, but it'll do the job."

"That's great. ...Ah, but we didn't found a rod."

"Mh...... How about this?"

He pointed at the drainage pipe that was connected to the air conditioner at the ceiling—the pipe, which the girl had suggested to use earlier. However.

"Won't the cooling be broken if we take that?"

"Hah? The only current we have comes from the dynamo! Only an idiot would turn on air conditioning. What a waste," he spilled, put one foot on the wall and tore out the pipe at once.

A few corroded screws flew off with a small creak, and the next moment a metal pipe was laid into the boy's hands. It was a bit longer than a meter, which was a truly ideal length.

"...somehow I have mixed feelings about this..."

His monologue remained unheard.

Surrounding the fire they had made from scrap wood in the center of the warehouse, the three opened a meeting while taking a meal. Unfortunately, their boss' provisions may have differed in quantity from their own, but certainly not in quality: today's menu was canned hardtacks.

"Tch. That's what you meant by 'provisions'? I was already expecting a delicious dinner..."

"It's not like this is all I have, but the other stuff is still packaged. Can't "

"What about these hardtacks, then?"

The cans was imprinted with an English text and the corresponding Japanese translation. Moreover, it was marked as UN supply.

"The towns in these quarters were already deserted before we came here. Well, while bringing the parts, we, well, payed them a short visit," he explained and made quotation marks with his fingers.

Perhaps, that man was better natured than they had thought.

"What's wrong?" boss asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah, nothing, never mind."

They smiled wryly at him and continued their meal.

Shoplifting was a crime of course, but they didn't have the right to blame him for it. Breaking into forlorn shops to collect the abandoned goods had become to a everyday occurrence, for one could not survive in this world otherwise.

"By the way, what work does putting the plane together incorporate in specific?" asked the girl, upon which their boss set his can aside.

"...Let's see... First we have to assemble the main components. Then comes the bonding of the movable parts as well as their regulation. Finally, we'll do a test drive and naturally the test flight. We should be fine since we have the manual, but it will take the whole next day."

"Do we need any special skills?"

"Not for the assembling stage in general. But there are some things that require experience, so you'll mainly take care of the odd jobs."

"Can I get on it, too?"

"No. It's my plane," he refused her request almost like a child, which caused the girl to puff her cheeks.

"Miser. Then give us your truck!"

"Can't do that either."

"Why not?"

"There's no fuel because I wasn't able to refill the tank in the nearby village. Apart from that, I've used quite a lot of fuel for small things such as making fire, so you'd run out of gas before reaching the next town," he explained casually.

"Y-You idiot!" she roared, "What happened to our enjoyable trip—roof, sleeping place and air conditioning included?! We have even less reason now to help you!"

"I for one like our Super Cub..."

"Boy, SHUT UP!"

The boy, who had even lost his right to speak at last, was forced to focus on his meal—which, however, was easier said than done. Their boss and the girl were busy stealing the can from each other.

"I will keep my promise of giving you fuel! There's still plenty of gasoline from the dynamo. At the very least, you should reach the next town."

"What about provisions?"

"There are still quite a few cans left. You can appreciate preserved food more, right?"

"Hm... it's a fair trade then, then...?"

The boy suddenly stood up.

"Oh, where are you going?"

"I don't want to expose our luggage to the rain, so I'm bringing it inside. I'll also do a check, since we've been quite hard on Cubby today!"

"Mh, got it. Don't get caught by the chupacabras!"

"As if they'd exist!"

The boy left through the half-opened door and let out a small sigh. He was relieved that the hostile air between the girl and the boss had disappeared.

He did not assume that everyone in the world was kind-hearted, but as it was impossible to meet everyone, he wanted to at least make a favorable relationship to those he actually learned to know.

That he had provoked boss earlier was also part of that mindset. Well, he got them a slightly cumbersome task, but they weren't in a hurry, after all.

They were going to spend the following days together, so he wanted to get on as well as possible.

At least he thought so at this very moment. However, when he came back approximately 20 minutes later, after doing some light maintaining, he was a little cross with them.

"Oh come on! Just by the two of you...?"

"Haah...? Now, now, why so tense booy?"

She suddenly wrapped her arm round his neck, which he hurriedly shook off. The girl tended to forget restraining herself when alcoholized.

"Where on earth did he shelve this...?"

"He said they bought a whooole lot for celebrating the success of the test! The stuff's already expired... but it's still good, you know~?"

"Listen, girl. We're still in high school, you know? Alcohol is..."

"There's no high schooler that gives a shit about such an ooold law nowadaays~" the girl laughed with her tanned skin flushed bright red.

The empty beer and shochu cans that were scattered around those two were proof that a grand feast had been made during the twenty minutes the boy was away for maintaining their bike.

"But look, excessive alcohol consumption during the growth period has a negative influence on your growth..."

"I'm already sixteeen, you know? No way I'm still growing!"

The girl chuckled while clinging to his back.

She had a point there indeed, but judging by the feel on his back, some parts of her body could still need some growth. The boy was smart, however, so by no means did he say it. He loved life too much.

As a footnote: the boy was a nondrinker from the core. So much that his skin turned bright red in plaster shape when an alcohol-drenched patch was applied to him during a test in junior high.

As for boss, who was most definitely the patron of the alcohol, he was wordlessly drinking beer. Though his face looked serious as he stared into the air, it was obvious that he was drunk because he was red all over. Probably he was the type of person that would get silent when drunk.

"It's been a while since we last had some alcohol... and we don't know when's the next opportunity~..."

The boy gave up persuading the giggling girl.

He judged that it would be better not to care about them any more. Now that still nobody had made him drink, too, the damage was still low.

The boy decided to quickly evacuate to the nap area where he would write the diary and then go to sleep.

"Nap area" may sound nice, but in fact it was just a corner in the warehouse that was divided with a partition and consisted of five cots. But to the boy and girl, who had basically always slept on top of some blankets on the asphalt, it was a heavenly place to sleep.

He lay on the bed and covered himself with a blanket so as to not get a stomachache. He was soon attacked by sleepiness while writing the diary entry.

Before long, the only voice still speaking, the girl's, slowly faded out and the boy fell into a soft sleep.

✱

The day dawned.

A noise of immense volume caused both the boy and girl to jump awake at the same time.

"W-What the heck?!"

The boy, utterly startled, jumped out the nap area, pushing the partition aside, and recognized the origin of the noise.

Boss was backing the truck into the warehouse through the front door and getting ready to unload the things inside.

Outside the building it was so silent that he could hear the twittering of birds far away. Apparently, it was fine weather.

"Hey, you two! Won't you get up already! We're starting!"

"Y-Yes!"

Where did the spirit from yesterday go? He hurriedly flung on a shirt and got into his trousers while jumping with the other.

The girl who had been sleeping in the bed next to him had degenerated to the embodiment of "inviting one's own misfortunes".

Leaving aside her richly stimulating clothing, which consisted of only her underwear and a blouse, her vacant eyes were the eyes of a dead. Her whole body was enveloped in the stench of alcohol and her hair was so disordered that she could have been mistaken for a Medusa.

She had apparently continued drinking for quite a while after the boy had gone to sleep and was now cursed with deep rings under her eyes that only added to her hypotension.

"Um... well, join us as soon as you're better!"

He took a packet of headache tablets out of their portable first-aid box and put it on the knees of the girl who had partly turned into a zombie.

According to what he knew from personal experience, she would take a few hours until becoming operative again. Most likely she hadn't even heard what he had just spoke to her.

With a deep buzz the engine stopped on the other side of the partition.

He put his messy clothes in order and returned the partition he had tossed away to its former place. He did so not because of consideration toward the lady, but because of the menacing death penalty that would come from the suspicion of having forgotten the consideration toward the lady.

"All right, boss. What are we doing first?"

"...Cleaning up."

"Cleaning up...?"

He was about to ask how they were going to clean up something when they hadn't even started, but he got immediately enlightened when he took a look at the hall.

There was the fire they had ignited the former day in the center of the bare ground. Well, it was already dead, since they didn't use it for keeping them warm anyway, but the problem was in what lay around it.

Countless empty cans and snack packaging were scattered about. And the most crucial problem was the vomit that was to be found at several spots.

"...You didn't have to drink until vomiting..."

"I have no excuse... Sorry, but I can't remember it at all..."

The boy joined the slouching of boss' shoulders with a sigh.

He seriously asked himself whether her brain was equipped with learning functionality upon considering the corn incident a few days ago and the current mishap.

"Oh well, leave it to me to throw away this... stuff. I've still got other preparations to do, so you clean up the interior for now."

"Got it..."

After letting out a slight breath, he headed towards the cleaning locker in a corner of the building.

"...By the way, what's with little one over there?"

"She's idling because of a hangover and hypotension. She won't be moving for a while!"

"..."

The boss scooped up the pools with a mien brimming with mixed feelings and threw them into a bucket.

"Just regret that you carelessly served alcohol!" the boy whispered in his mind while watching him go to empty the bucket while making a face as though he was carrying a load of highly radioactive waste matter.

Well then! It was about time to start the work assigned to him, but there was something to do prior to it.

The boy, in proud spirits, cowered before their luggage and took out a pig. Indeed, it was their ceramic anti-mosquito pig!

Be it inside or outside, one must not be careless. They did not pay much heed to it while riding the bike, but with the vicinity being full of meadows there were lots of insects. It's a must to take measures against them when staying at a place for a while for work.

Thus, he placed the spiral-loaded anti-mosquito pig at the center of the warehouse where the fire had been and began tidying the ground.

Contrary to the boy who had cheerfully started work, the awakening of the girl was accompanied by heavy discomfort.

Her head was throbbing painfully and her stomach was bewailing heartburn.

The reason was obvious. It was probably because she had poured way too much alcohol in the previous day—or rather, that was bound to be the reason.

Overjoyed with the alcohol she hadn't seen in a while, she had accidentally let loose too much. Or to be precise, she didn't even remember having let loose, so perhaps it was the most excessive drinking she had ever done?

She now agreed that alcohol should be taken in moderation—well, originally a girl like her wouldn't be allowed to drink in the first place, though.

"...Ueh... gh..."

She instinctively covered her mouth upon feeling vomit slowly wandering up, and managed to deflect the danger by turning on her valuable blanket while stroking her stomach.

"Looks like... I went overboard quite a bit..."

She had a funny taste in her mouth and her teeth felt strangely smooth, which led her to the assumption that she had thrown up a few times. Moreover, her stomach was empty even though she had eaten and drunk late into the night. On top of all that, her throat was rough and her voice in a sombre state.

However, the early bird gets the worm! Pulling aside the blanket, she slipped into the sneakers that were put next to her cot.

That moment something landed on her foot with a weak thump.

While raising a brow, she sluggishly picked it up.

"...Headache tablets...?"

Apart from the opened, half-empty packet of headache tablets, there was a small note attached to it that said "Don't strain yourself and take a rest" with letters familiar to her. There was no name, but it was self-evident who the writer was.

Suddenly, she noticed a bottle of water on the small rack right beside her bed.

It was one of their two-liter bottles which they used to store drinking water. By it was an upside-down glass.

"...jeez... my fellow companion shows consideration at the strangest occasions...," she smiled crookedly and poured water into the glass.

She held the bottle against her side for a few moments to cool her body down and feel the refreshing water through the thin polymeric material.

Then, accepting the boy's favor, she took two tablets out of the packaging and threw them into her mouth. After she had gulped them down at once with some water, a cold sensation spread in her stomach.

With her sleeves she brushed away the water drops that slid down her neck and found another object on the rack in the process.

A wet towel.

"Does he want me to wipe myself? ...jeez... I know nobody that's better prepared than him...," she sighed with a combination of joy and amazement and accepted his favor once again.

Noon. The weather was clear and free of any clouds.

"Oh, you? Already recovered from your hangover?" greeted boss, who had just leaned a dustpan on a corner of the warehouse, while wiping his sweat with a towel that was draped over his shoulder.

"Yes. I can still feel it, but it's gotten a lot better."

She wasn't lying. Thanks to the mysterious effect of the headache tablets, the pain that had been tormenting her temple and forehead had almost entirely disappeared, and she was feeling quite refreshed after washing her body and putting on new underwear. While she wasn't fully functional yet, there were no worries about minor work.

"Anyway! Sorry for making you clean up the mess for me."

"No sweat, little one. There's no way to tell who of us did what anyway."

"True word."

She may have giggled, but truth to be told, she could vaguely remember that more than half of it was her fault.

"By the way, where's the boy?"

"I had him throw away the trash. He should be back any moment."

Trash probably referred to the empty cans and packages from yesterday. It seemed that her dependence on his most appreciated nursing was put on show even here.

"So, do you have any work for me?" she asked and looked down at the floor—no, bare ground.

Most of the remains of the feast the previous day were tidied away. What was still there were the ashes and bits of charcoal in the center. It didn't look like she was going to join the cleanup.

"Let's see... wanna help me with some real work?" boss grinned.

She was a little hesitant, but still she followed him and got on the step of the container of the truck.

"Okay, let's carry the parts out of there."

"Y...Yeah..."

They entered the container. Somehow the disassembled human-powered aircraft seemed much more extensive to her than the day before. She knew that type of vehicle only by hearsay. She had not the slightest idea what function each part had.

"Don't be afraid. I'm not asking you to put it together on your own."

"But...?"

"Just place the parts I give you where it's written in the manual over there. We'll save the larger parts for when the boy's back, so only the little ones for now," he said as he went farther into the container.

While the aircraft loaded on the four-tonner was quite spacious, its surface wasn't particularly big. There were lots of gaps, so they could easily move within the container. In terms of weight, the plane was lighter than the girl. This stuff went beyond her scope.

"Alright. This is the first one. Can you place it on the worktable?"

He one-handedly held out a component to her. No matter how unexperienced she was in mechanics, she was familiar with that kind of part. It was an axis merged with two blades—known as "propeller".

"Got it."

The moment she actually took it, she immediately understood why he had handled the part so carelessly.

It was truly light. She was surprised—not only by it being as thin as paper, but also by the fact that she could hold with just two fingers, even though the two blades reached almost a length of 140cm.

"Unbelievable..."

"Right? You could almost say the propeller defines how hard you have to pedal, so we put quite some work into developing it."

There was a very special something in his eyes gazing at the propeller. The girl didn't know much about him and his colleagues, but she figured that all those parts, including the extremely light-weight board, were full of their dreams and strong will.

When thinking about it like that, the propeller in her hands suddenly felt heavier than a stone.

Until she had softly placed it on the worktable, she treated the part like a baby with utmost care—not because she wanted to be considerate of the boss, but because it was her own will to do so.

"But say, does the funny shape of it have a reason, too?"

To the understanding of the girl, a propeller was normally equipped with two or three straight rotor blades. Or rather, that's the only way she could imagine them to look like.

The propeller before her eyes, however, was certainly two-bladed, but the shape was quite unconventional. The blades drew a smooth half-moon-shaped curve and hence looked more like the ventilation fan of a kitchen than a propeller. Furthermore, she was also wondering why it was painted in yellow, while all the other parts were white.

"Ah, yeah, the shape's yet another little highlight. It's made to get the best out of low rotational speed."

"But why are there two of the?"

Right, that was what puzzled her the most: there were two of those two-bladed propellers.

"Heh... that's... a secret."

"Uwa, that's mean."

Boss broke into a grin while looking at the offended girl.

"Just a little patience. Look forward to when it's finished. Anyway, next is this. Place it on the holding device that's labeled as 'A'."

"Whoa whoa!"

A large basket-like frame was handed to her from within the container, which she, startled, tried to hold in her hands.

It was a streamlined object that looked a little like a parallelogram with rounded corners, was composed of shiny white material and just about boss' size.

However, it was as light as a feather, which again did not match its appearance at all. The girl could well-nigh hold it in one hand.

Holding it aloft, she brought it to told place with rather wobbly legs. The stand had apparently been specifically designed for it, so it was finely fixated by the metal fittings on there.

"But isn't this frame... plastic?"

The material the frame consisted of was completely white and its touch, as far as she knew, was definitely the one of plastic.

"Yeah, you're right. It's not ordinary plastic, though, but FRP."

"FRP?"

"Fiber-reinforced plastic. It has a 'bone' made of carbon fibres weaved into it, so to speak. It's damn hard, I tell you," he explained with a smirk. He stroked the white body with a smile that resembled the one of a little boy who had gotten a new toy. "...Heh... to think I'll be flying this baby... it's like I'm dreaming!"

"Should I pinch you? Maybe you'll wake up?" mumbled the girl.

Boss laughed only with his face while keeping working. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm flying this baby whether it's a dream or not."

She breathed up.

She sensed that this feather-light aircraft was the lifework, the very dream, of the man before her.

"Come on, here's the first wing. Take the other end."

"Uwa!"

She hurriedly grabbed the end of the wing that appeared from within the container.

The wing, which was basically just a skeleton, was covered by a material that looked like transparent vinyl. So much that she unconsciously whispered, "This looks like chopsticks with wrapping around them..."

"You're actually not so wrong, since it's just a special type of macromolecule film we wrapped around the FRP-based skeleton."

Compared to the frame she had transported beforehand, the wing was clearly more massive and had a certain weight. As the same applied to its length, boss and the girl had to move it with the greatest care.

"A-Aren't these too long? I mean, won't they break midair?"

"They're going to bend, but don't worry: we calculated them so they won't break. Besides, about this much length is necessary to fly! If you look at the aspect rate..."

"I'll pass on details. I've never been good at physics."

The girl promptly abandoned any attempt to grasp the principle behind it and carefully placed the end she was holding on the specialized holding device.

"But physics is fun, you know? And it's handy in your everyday life."

"I prefer gymnastics."

"Gh... I lose in practical use..."

While accepting her answer because of a questionable reason, he also let the wing down.

Now that they had actually placed some of the parts, it became apparent that the holding devices were positioned so that the aircraft would stand diagonally in the warehouse instead of facing the door.

Which was only too understandable, because that was the only way to fit the giant wings somehow into the warehouse.

"Okay, next is the left wing. Show me some of your strength, sports-addict."

"All right!"

The girl, by now accustomed to the work, tripped onto the container.

✱

"Whew... this took longer than I thought."

The boy slumped on a tatami mat, with a side-glance at the brisk and sparking fire.

He was in a small prefabricated shed behind the warehouse. Apparently, it had originally served as the break room for the workers and was actually quite well-built. There was even a water conduit, though unusable.

Outside the window was a drum on a cement block, under which the fire was burning. It had quite some resemblance with the traditional drum-bath—with the exception that water within was boiling, making it a deadly iron pot instead.

The drum was covered by a lid, which was connected by a pipe in its center to a second drum, positioned a little lower. Out of the side of this second one looked again a pipe, which this time was connected to the lid of a much smaller third drum.

Though a citizen of the civilized world would have no doubt wondered what kind of cultic ritual this was, in the current Japan it was by no means a rare sight. It was a water purifier.

The both first drums contained previously stored rain water. The water in the first drum was brought to the boil, producing steam that then went into the second barrel and cooled down there by the cool water surrounding the pipe. The time it reached the third drum, it had become water again.

In short, by using steam that was once evaporated, they gained pure water without any pollution and bacteria.

There was a lot of water in Japan, but most of it was not pure enough to just scoop and drink it. Only few water conduits remained intact in these times of ruin, so they had often spotted such purifiers on their journey—and had become used to using it.

En passant, the heat source of this purifier was trash. The reason was apparently to get rid of the trash and boil water at the same time. The boy was a little anxious about the dioxin emission, but he reassured himself by saying that it wasn't so much trash. It's not like he only used trash; he had also added quite some firewood.

The reason for his exhaustion was the pouring the stored rain water into the drums. They weren't particularly big, but still they could store 44 gallons, which made about 200 liter. Considering that the bucket he had used to scoop could take 5 liter, he'd poured water into the drum almost 40 times. While youth spared him from lower back pain, he was in for some muscle ache the following morning.

But individual work also had its bright sides: the boy made himself comfortable on the ground, fully stretching out his arms and legs.

The scent of the tatami mat under him and the soft breeze made him drowsy.

He was enveloped by a listless feeling and could have slept anytime. The only thing that barely kept his eyelids open was the crying of the cicadas far away.

Though the boy had long since given up wearing the blazer of his winter uniform, doing only with the white shirt and the necktie, the summery temperature had become hardly bearable.

Despite the region he was at being near the northern frontier of this country, summer was hot even there, which might have also been a benefit of a country with four seasons in a sense.

Suddenly, the boy noticed with big eyes a change to his necktie, which had a rather plain, blue design and was part of the uniform specified by his school. The heat had loosened it so much that it had grown long and looked like the necktie of an office worker at a party.

The necktie was supposed to have the emblem of his high school sewn in.

However, not a single thread was to be seen at the spot where the sewing had been, degrading the monotonous blue necktie to one that was really just blue.

"......Oh my. At last even the name of my old school has been «lost», huh..."

The phenomenon that was slowly corroding the world had no official name.

Neither the medical circles, which are always eager to assign long scientific names to each and everything, nor the scientific circles, which normally try to make complicated formulas, gave the phenomenon a name.

Even the mass communication that loves it so much to think up tasteless names failed at creating a grand name for this mysterious phenomenon.

At last, someone started using the generic word "vanishment disease", which then spread and became common.

No one was able to explain what principle caused this disease.

Renowned scholars all over the world had since been researching the origin with all their might, but so far no one had come up with a logical explanation. It was not even known why the symptoms were different between humans and animals, respectively objects.

The disease starts actually quite harmlessly.

First, your "name" is lost. No one is able to recall it anymore, naturally including the diseased person himself, too. The name vanishes without a trace from all books, digital documents, and everything else.

Secondly, your "face" is lost, meaning that you vanish from every photograph you're on. It doesn't matter whether it's a digital one, a painting or even in the memories of others.

Thirdly, your "color" is lost. Your appearance turns monochrome like the actor of a black-and-white movie.

Fourthly, your "shadow" is lost and even light passes through you.

Lastly, your very "existence" is lost and you disappear into naught. Everything you bequeathed disappears, be it paintings, texts, printings or recordings.

The only thing that remains is the memory of the people that have known you, in form of a feeling that "there was someone like you". A ambiguous memory that does neither include your name nor your face. It's the end if even those memories fade out completely.

Everything one has left in the world, and even oneself, disappears without a single trace.

The speed of progression varies vastly between each one. Some disappear on the same day as the disease breaks out, while for others the progress suddenly stops, allowing them to stay alive. But it can be said that in general, it progresses extremely slowly. Already four months had passed since the boy's name had been «lost».

There is no common feature between the people that get it—the disease spreads truly randomly. While the government found themselves unable to make progress with their research—it was not even clear how many had fallen victim to the disease—the country slowly stopped functioning properly.

A little more than one year had passed since. The government was no more and all lifelines had become unstable.

The citizens that had remained here and there had started working wellnigh voluntarily, struggling to maintain a lifezone to survive in.

But the atmosphere up here in the north turned out to be completely different from the slum-like conditions in the city zone the boy and girl had lived in.

There were no signs of devastation, which was probably due to the low population density, and only the odd fact that "there is nobody" remained clearly.