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odorekijin[Forest of Ice]
Thus, we made our way through the vast white landscape, the snow blanketing the forest floor brutally silencing any noise that dared disturb the stillness.
Beside me, White spared little conversation, earnestly focused on his search.
Each of our steps prompted a crunch from the snow beneath us.
Akira: (Right, we’re supposed to look for a flower...)
I looked around for a plant that would fit our needs, before I realized: I knew nothing about the actual flower, not even its shape or color.
Akira: Um, White, about the Afterglow Lily...
White: I wonder if Snow is still upset with me.
White stopped in his tracks and fixed his gaze on the pale earth beneath him. In the blink of an eye, he had returned to his original form, no longer bearing the features of an adult.
Akira: I don't really know... It didn't feel like he was, but…
As I replied, White spread both arms out and dropped to the ground, cushioned by the snow.
Akira: White?
It dawned on me before I could pry for more: White had already mentioned this place in our previous visits to the Forest of Ice.
This is the forest in which Snow killed him.
White: Even when I am no longer part of the living, festivities will continue, regardless of the location. How ironic.
White murmured, looking up at the sky—a voice that the snow immediately engulfed.
I gathered my courage, and asked him about a thing that had been bothering me.
Akira: ...Um, could it be that you don’t appreciate the “Banquet to our Lost” yourself, White?
White: Hohoho, what gave me away?
White stuck out his tongue with a smile.
White: You see, we were born and raised together; as twins, we always thought the same thoughts and dreamed the same dreams—yet we could not die as one.
From the day I died, we have slowly been drifting apart, like the hands of a dissonant clock ticking out of tune.
My hand must surely be frozen, stuck to the spot, while Snow’s own continues to tick speedily through life.
His small, fragile hands clenched at the snow beneath his body.
White: It wasn’t until after my death that Snow grew so fervently attached to these celebrations.
Up until then, if the people wished to hold a festival, Snow would offer his aid. Following the days of my death, however, he troubled himself in the matter more than ever before.
Akira: ...That was probably for your sake, White…
White: ’Tis true, and I understand that much. Snow’s keen care for the festival inevitably stems from carrying me so close to his heart.
White: …’Tis also why I bear a touch of bitterness.
I feel he is insisting that I, the soul standing right next to him, am a mere illusion—that I am not even real at all.
White’s grip on the cold blanket of flakes eased: snow fell from between his fingers and drifted away with the wind.
White: If Snow's powers were to weaken, I would disappear. If he were to suddenly have a change of heart, I would disappear. My tether to this existence has always been Snow.
We shall be together for as long as Snow wants us to be—no ceremony can alter that choice.
Even so, I believe that Snow… Struggles to accept that particular reality.
Akira: White…
Snow was falling far more quietly from the gray sky above us.
Snowflakes settled on White’s long eyelashes, remaining fresh, intact, unable to melt away. Snowflake by snowflake, white particles piled over his eyes.
Just as it would at a funeral.
White: That I must recognize this, that I am no longer the same as Snow, is the true reason for my aversion to the ceremony.
The more importance he places on this celebration to remember the dead, the heavier the decision at the heart of the festivities will come to be.
This harsh reality where our clocks no longer tick in unison is a blade buried in my lifeless heart.
That is... That is what pains me the most.
White’s gaze clouded, ultimately bursting into tears.
——
Bradley: Hold yer horses, why the hell are you here?
Mithra: Mere coincidence, now hurry up and find the flowers please.
Bradley: You damn moron, just say yer tailin’ me just ‘cause yer slacking on the hunt…
Mithra: Finding an Afterglow Lily is rather difficult, after all. Not only are they plain, but rather inconspicuous as well.
I cannot comprehend their reasoning. Why would the twins and the commoners of that town put in such time and effort, only to hold that sort of festival?
Their attempts make no difference, as the dead will never return.
Bradley: ...Have ya ever wanted t’ give it a go? The whole bringin’ the dead back and all thing, I mean.
Mithra: I have.
But it's useless, isn't it? For all one may desire it, dead souls cannot be resurrected. If anything, you may approach death yourself in an attempt to make the impossible happen.
No matter how many festivals they may hold, it is nothing but pointless.
Bradley: Damn right it is, ya said it yerself.
It’s all for sum’ egoist peace of mind—well, ‘s fine, ain’t it.
Survivors sometimes gotta look back to push forward and keep livin’.
Mithra: Oh, I see, yes.
Bradley: Pretend ya listened at least.
Mithra: I don’t quite understand these difficult topics.
Bradley: Well, basically, it comes down to how they feel about it. Whether this whole shebang’s worth sumthin’ or not is only up to ‘em.
Ya never know, maybe that banquet’ll bring back someone ya wanna see, eh?
Mithra: Haa, I'm getting hungry... I wonder when we’ll be having dinner.
Bradley: Hey, you listen up, dammit!
——
White: … (hic, sniff) ...
Akira: White…
Still lying against the snow, White was whimpering like a small child.
Completely unsure of how to console him, I could only brush the snow away from him—even as it continued to fall.
Akira: … Ah…
But at that very moment, something light and white dropped by our side, blending in with the snow.
Akira: (...Isn’t that… A flower petal?)
