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The words graved on the stones had a youthful voice. The child traced the symbols with his fingertip, reading slowly but with confidence. It was a familiar voice and these writings were as old as…The day before this one. Alone, the redhead child couldn't help but smile. The young archivist he admires never stopped when facing the absence of ink or paper. When the emotion-bearing words and the tales emerge, they must be allowed to flow freely.
But that day, the voice made itself much more lively, could it be that…? Kikujin raised his head quickly, looking above, towards the high towers of the Mud Whale, then behind him. Over there ! He noticed the dark brown hair of the boy in the distance, ruffled by the wind. So curiosity manifested itself, the little one abandoned the stones to join the author but as he started running, he tripped over the tall grass and fell, sprawling out at full length. More was needed to discourage the boy, raising himself he noticed what was the cause and, immediately, who was responsible. There's always someone — that is to say young rascals — to tie the long strands of grass together and intentionally make this kind of trap. Ah, even the twins would feel guilty if they knew which innocent victim was in trouble because of them ! But where had Chakuro gone ? Seeing no one on the horizon, he sighed and continued forward, prudently, before moving into the golden alleyways of their little paradise on the sands.
Falling like raindrops on the cobblestones, voices, their echoes. Who knows what was said a few steps ahead, the stories converged as winding rivers do. Has the unstoppable archivist been swept here ? Who knows what words were waiting ahead for Kikujin. The appetite for tales that the boy entertained was immense. As simple and common they could have been, Chakuro's writings always captivated Kikujin's attention, it was almost supernatural, instinctive even.
At the end of the path, three teenagers were talking together. The archivist was with his best friends. “Ah ! Chaku—”
But before Kikujin could finish a single word, The dreaded twins, followed by Nibi, ran at full speed past him, bursting into laughter. Far behind, an adult was chasing them.
“Huh ? Dad ?” In confusion, he turned around to get a better look at them running.
Once they disappeared out of sight, he looked ahead and remembered what he was here for. Too late, like a violent gust of wind, the group destabilized him and Chakuro, accompanied by his friends, left in a flash.
Head down, he walked on without looking where he was going and kicked weakly in a pebble, muttering. “Dad didn't hear me…”
Eventually, his wanderings led him around the bamboo garden, where the wind carried different scents compared to what their home vessel had to offer. Going in the opposite direction, a young girl was strolling. The blonde girl, Sami, was holding a basket. Kikujin guessed the content was bamboo shoots. From where he was below, he could also see the tall leaves at the top of the long stems that were hidden from him by the walls.
The boy waved and runned up to her. “Sami, Sami…Have you seen Chakuro ?”
“Chakuro ?” She halted her steps and stopped at the boy's level, holding back from falling a bamboo shoot as she leaned slightly forward. “Yes, I saw him with Ro and Anzu. They were going over there and carrying another one of those silly machines…Anyway, I need to go ! See ya later !”
After informing him, she left to the shades of the moving island. As indicated, Kikujin then headed towards the front of the vessel. He passed through silent alleyways and walked into sun-bathed corridors with wide arcades. Palm against the warm walls, he progressed lost in thoughts, his steps set to the rhythm of a forgotten lullaby. A memory, the embrace of a young mother. But the coldness of a distant father, his gaze elsewhere, caught up with him.
“Dad didn't even notice that I was here…”
A warm wind whipped across his face and made the chimes of the passageway from which he had just emerged ring. He remained here an instant, wishing for this brief moment to repeat itself in time. The boy suddenly realized that he was out of breath after running and walking here and there, his gaze fell upon the vast deck. A heavy calm reigned here. Kikujin placed his small hands on the edge and leaned forward slightly, glancing at the back of the Mud Whale. It was a good observation point to see the entire extent of the sea of sand, and that alone. Their little paradise was nonetheless immense, a heavy vessel sailing on golden grains, awakening creatures below in its wake. He wondered where they were headed and what was left behind. What if there were other Mud Whales, before and behind them, like a colony of ants moving together ? Were they escaping from a giant sand monster ? Or sailing in search of a long forgotten treasure ? Awaiting them at the end of the journey, when countless generations aboard would have passed, the edge of the world will throw their remains to nothingness, in a fall of sand. Perhaps everything was going to crumble and the Mud Whale sank, one day. Terrified by his imagination, the boy shivered and looked away.
Where his eyes found a refuge was Mayor Taisha, the one his father fell in love with. Kikujin told himself that she had the answer to his questions but did not ask her.
“Well, Kikujin,” she spoke softly, “what made you look so tired ?”
Without saying a word, he looked at her. Not directly into her eyes, but towards her beauty mark at the bottom of her forehead.
“Is something bothering you ?” She lowered her voice.
“Chakuro…I can't catch up to him. I wanted to talk but there's always something getting in my way.” He pointed to his knees where there were traces of dust and grass stains.
“Do you have a boo-boo ?”
“No, it’s fine !”
“Hmm…You really are your father's son.” Taisha’s laugh was soft and affectionate.
But the remark did not amuse the child, who took it rather badly although he knew she meant no wrong.
“So, there's no Chakuro around here either ?” She turned her back to the sands to let her gaze embrace the entirety of the Mud Whale’s deck.
“He escapes as fast as a cat.” Though, he never saw a cat himself but felt like he did, not only in books. The boy crossed his arms behind his head.
“A cat.” Taisha whispered to herself, in contemplation and held out her hand. “Should we look around ?”
The boy's small hand clasped Lady Taisha's fingers as they walked together across the vast terrace of sand and small plants that the vessel offered. Beside her, he could smell a faint perfume that reminded him of withered flowers and books…But dust, too. The windswept, sun-drenched place invited relaxation, and so, Taisha — not forgetting her role, as being present for the youth was one of her missions — settled down. Disrupted in its daytime rest, a mud moth fluttered in front of the two newcomers. Here, it was the duty of the entire group to take care of the children, to raise them. But Kikujin lacked both the mother who birthed him and tenderness from his father. Sitting on the woman's lap, he tried to sense in her the piece he was missing.
“You were in such a hurry, may I ask what you wanted to talk about with Chakuro ?”
“I just wanted to talk. I needed to, that's all.”
Taisha didn't meddle further in what concerned him alone. She took the opportunity to gently fix the boy's disheveled hair, as if he were her own son. It was a forbidden thought that had to pass as swiftly as it came, it was not permitted, they would not allow her to, even if she were to express the desire. She had her duty and was proud to play this role. She did what she could not to think about the child's father. They stayed like that without seeing time slipping, only the clouds above their heads. No, Taisha did not forget her responsibilities, she only found herself strangely paralyzed. On her knees, Kikujin was babbling, evoking ideas while moving his hands, thoughts from a childlike imagination, pure but not as carefree as it should.
As the sun began to set, the sand on the horizon took on the hue of fire. It was time to leave, before the cold of the sea could bite them. Kikujin rubbed his tired eyes and walked alongside the Mayor to go back home. The wall they were walking along did not cast a shadow on them, it bore their silhouettes. Something, almost imperceptible, stung their noses. The smell intensified with every step. With curiosity Taisha raised her chin and Kikujin imitated her. A plume of smoke was appearing on the other side of the mud wall.
“Oh no !” The mayor set off, her feet pounding the dry earth of the small path.
Initially bewildered, the child began to run after her as she went with long strides. Determined to find the source of the fire and a way to stop it, they advanced until they reached the other side. A vacant lot, empty. Or almost ! In the middle of nowhere, a machine was emitting a whole column of smoke, and around it, three children were panicking. Kikujin gasped, seeing the faces of Chakuro and his friends. Suddenly, the machine shook and a high-pitched noise, like that of a pot on the stove, ended in an explosion. The boy's hands instinctively gripped the mayor's dress. When he opened his eyes, gears rolled towards his feet and the boys were crouching, covering their ears.
Taisha rushed to them, almost stumbling on scattered mechanical parts. “Are you alright ?”
Nezu, who was crouching and covering his head like the others, carefully opened one eye. “We're sorry,” the three boys slowly got up, “we're so sorry !”
Taisha let out a sigh of relief, her voice regained its calm but her demeanor became more severe than usual. “At least you made the right decision by activating your invention in a secluded place. But what if you got hurt and nobody was there for you ?”
Timidly, the boys glanced between each other. More than worrying about themselves, they felt guilty to see the mayor so worried.
Ro hesitated and Chakuro spoke up. “Please lady Taisha, don't worry we will be very, very careful ! We'll clean up the mess too.”
Standing back, Kikujin wished he had been brave earlier. Was it fatigue or forgetfulness ? He no longer felt the urge to speak to the boy. In fact, it was as if anything that could be said was already “resolved” in some, unexplainable ways.
“Good.” She addressed her usual, soft smile, to the children. “But don't stay up too late…This night will be cold.”
Taisha extended her hand to Kikujin, the situation being resolved, it was time to resume their walk home. They reached the warm corridors of their moving island and, halfway there, her hand slipped from his. What would Kuchiba feel by seeing them together ? She did not want to flow any more grief when both of them had been, until then, brave.
Silence embraced the empty spaces. “I have to go back now, have a good evening.”
It felt sudden, when her cold fingers let go.
“Oh...You too, mayor Taisha.”
So he walked the rest of the way alone, it wasn't really far. Just a few steps away. Quickly, the child went back into his father's arms.