Come Forth, Child of the Heroic Spirits
2話 「来たれ、英霊の子よ」
〈Lindholm Sacred Mountain〉.
A sacred mountain, where the souls of all living things were said to make their way after death.
Souls that reached Lindholm Sacred Mountain shifted their destination according to the weight of their lingering regret. Some ascended to the heavens. Others — in order to discharge that regret — were said to wait, at one corner of the sacred mountain, for something.
— A place where souls are enshrined.
Such was the summit of Lindholm Sacred Mountain.
Among the regret-bearing spirits gathered on the mountain, there was one place where the especially strong were assembled.
"The otherworld-grass has been picked up."
"Seriously? Things are going well, then."
"Until the soul actually crosses over, succeeded would be too strong a word."
"Granted, granted — but that the otherworld-grass we planted on this side connected at all to its counterpart on the other side is, in itself, near enough to a miracle."
In that place, voices were ringing.
A summit of uneven stone, scattered cobbles. A biting wind, and the snow-painted remnants strewn around.
In a space of white and grey, spirits with see-through bodies —
"Mind — even spirit-bodies, gather a hundred of them and the air goes stuffy. Oi — back up a little, would you?"
"Don't say that. Every last one of them is fixed on this. The birth of our child."
A hundred bodies in total.
At the centre of those gathered spirits, one body alone bore physical form.
It lay face-up, snow-white hair swaying on the wind.
It did not move so much as a twitch. Indistinguishable from a dead man.
"Somehow or other, from the residue of our souls, we have managed to fashion a real body — but the crucial contents are missing. By that measure, this is worse than a corpse. A doll."
"The child who is to discharge us Heroic Spirits' regret. The body is the assembled work of our hands; the aptitude, without question, will be there. But hollow contents will not do."
"Greed brings ruin, mind. — Already ruined, of course."
"This is not greed. Talent — that is not the matter. So long as the soul that comes is noble, and bears a will that will not bend to harsh winds, beyond that I will say nothing."
"That is greed, though. Mind, fine. The first matter is whether one will, in fact, come at all. This world cannot catch a soul. The ones who ascend are swallowed up by 〈Empyrean〉; the ones who reach this sacred mountain are nothing but souls with pieces missing."
"We are no exception. Therefore — to discharge our regret, there is nothing for it but to call an intact soul from the other world."
"Right. — Anyway, as Tyrant says, the matter is whether one truly will be able to cross over. The mana I tied to the otherworld-grass's root did, without doubt, cross worlds. The root passed beyond the world and connected to its counterpart on the other side. When the flower blooms, the gate opens."
"The whole business has been miracle-dependent throughout, but to here, things have gone well. — Honestly — otherworld-grass I had not so much as seen in life. I'd taken it for fairy-tale."
"Same for everyone. Even I am seeing it for the first time. And to actually see otherworld-grass cross worlds — likely no one has, ever, before."
Voices flew across the place.
A man's voice, a woman's voice. Each, somehow, slightly raised.
"— Soon, the otherworld-grass's flower blooms. Who has made it bloom — I will trace the mana and go to see."
"Mind your step. Your consciousness caught in the rift between worlds, and the whole thing fails."
"Guide him properly through. — The soul of our son."
"Leave it to me. To here, no slip-ups."
One among the spirits.
A man of long, lean build, with an androgynous beauty about him, gave a small nod.
In the same instant, his body, blending with the wind, slid quietly out of view.
The remaining spirits watched the manner of his departure with grave faces.
And one among them — as if in prayer — said it.
"— Come forth, child of the Heroic Spirits."
That voice melted into the sky and flew on, far away.