The Harpy's First Friend
I have been alone ever since I was very young. When I awoke, I found myself lying beneath the grass in the forest, having forgotten every memory from before. The grass and twigs piled thickly over my body when I first stirred… now that I think about it, they may have been meant to hide me.
Drawn by instinct, I walked to the stream, drank deeply, and caught sight of my reflection on the water’s surface. Blood had run from a long, jagged scar across my forehead and dried in place, as though I had been struck hard by something. It did not hurt. Yet even then, I vaguely understood why I had lost my memories.
Though I was alone, I never struggled to survive. The knowledge of how to beat my wings, how to speak, how to hunt for food—none of it had been forgotten. Still, I felt terribly sorry that I could not remember the kind person who must have taught me these things. Even when I reached out toward the hazy images that seemed ready to return at any moment, my hands always closed on empty air.
That was how the seasons turned, until the tenth winter arrived. I had finished preparing for the cold and was praising myself while tucking my body into the warmth of my wings, ready to sleep, when a strange sound from outside the nest made me lift my head.
Clutching one of those human devices that glow when you press the round part, I stepped out of the cave and shone the light toward the noise. What I saw was… astonishingly, a human child.
The old teaching that I must never let humans see me still lingered in my memory, so I tried to flee at once. But the small human, delighted by the light shining on them, came running straight toward me. I had always thought humans who carried strange glowing things were dangerous, yet when the child drew close I saw they were covered in cuts and bleeding. I could not leave them lying there after they had looked at my face and lost consciousness in relief. So, reluctantly, I carried the child back to my nest.
I washed their wounds with clean water I had set aside to drink, then covered them with my wings to keep them warm. The small human slept through an entire day before finally waking.
“You’ve met humans before coming here, haven’t you?”
“…Yes.”
“Was it that person who—”
“No… no, it wasn’t. Dora… Dora was a good child.”
Dora really was a good child. She told me she had come camping here with her parents in their RV, wandered off alone, encountered a crocodile that had crawled onto land, and fled in panic until she lost her way. I imagined how terrified she must have been, knowing there were many crocodiles with huge mouths and sharp teeth, as well as fierce snakes, in this area.
Once awake, Dora called me the fairy lady. She said the fairies in the fairy tales her parents told her had shining wings. My wings did not shine, but I was deeply grateful that she never found my appearance strange. It was still dark outside, and the girl who had just met a fairy and the harpy who had just met a human girl soon found themselves lost in conversation. Since I could only speak simple words, I mostly listened to her stories about the outside world.
That was how we became friends. Though it pained me to part, I flew high into the sky to safely return my first friend, found the people calling Dora’s name, and delivered her back to her family. Hidden in the shadows, I watched them embrace her, weeping and laughing at the same time. Was it longing for something I could never have, or simply envy?
After that night, I began visiting their campsite every evening. Because Dora’s parents were larger than me, I stayed carefully out of sight and only met with Dora late at night, sharing stories in secret. She told me she was on winter break and had come from a place called Chesterfield in St. Louis. We played with the nail polish she had brought and stuck pretty stickers on the backs of our hands. The ticklish feeling of her small brush gliding over my sharp hunting claws remains a pleasant memory even now.
But Dora could not stay forever. In two days she would have to return home. The thought of losing my first friend so soon was heartbreaking, yet she looked happiest when she was with her parents. I simply did not want to waste the little time we had left together.
That was the night before Dora’s final day. As always, I landed quietly beside the RV and cautiously peeked through the darkened window. Before I could even check whether Dora was inside, I felt hands suddenly grab my shoulders and heard her voice cry out, “Fairy lady!”
Startled by the presence behind me, I instinctively swung my arm even though I recognized her voice. Four long slashes tore across the cute pajamas she wore. Red blood quickly soaked through the shredded fabric. Dora collapsed to the floor with a scream of pain and burst into tears. Hearing the frantic footsteps of her parents rushing out of the RV, I fled without even apologizing.
Chased by thunderous gunshots that cracked like lightning behind me, I lost my first friend that night.
“She was such a pretty… and kind child.”
“…Harpy.”
“Even as I swung my hand, I knew it was Dora. But I couldn’t stop. It was as if… the hand didn’t belong to me.”
Watching Harpy hug her own arms and sniffle, I could not bring myself to speak. She had lived in the wild for so long; she must have possessed instincts I could never understand. Yet if I had seen those blood-stained claws with my own eyes…
“I thought she was a friend I truly cared for… but I hurt her. With these sharp claws.”
With a soft tearing sound, she simply extended her fingers and the sleeve of her shirt parted easily, revealing the long talons beneath. Those same claws had cut deep enough to draw blood from a little girl, and afterward she had never learned whether the child lived or died. I had no words. Neither comfort nor reproach felt right; I could not decide what I, a human who had also wounded others, was qualified to say.
“…”
While I felt a strange relief that what she feared most was not being hurt by others but hurting someone herself, another thought inevitably followed. Even though she was placed in the lowest containment level, Risk Level 2, sharing the same floor with those terrifying mermaids meant she was still considered an inhuman existence, no different from them.
Unable to give Harpy a clear answer while she sniffled, I used the chime signaling the end of counseling time as an excuse and fled back home like a coward.
Flop…
My mind was so unsettled that I barely remembered how I got home. I did not even wash up, only shrugged off my coat before collapsing onto the bed. Pulling the blanket over my head, I let out a heavy sigh, then felt a presence nearby and peeked out.
‘Why the sudden serious face? Did you confess to your boss and get rejected?’
A black-furred cat was looking down at me, delivering that provocative line in her alluring voice. Nero… she had no idea how troubled her caretaker was right now.
“Haa…”
Because of the confidentiality agreement, I could not seek advice from anyone at the moment.
“…”
…Except for the cat I was raising.
“Nero, can you listen to something?”
‘Nyahaha. A passing cat would laugh. You’re trying to get relationship advice from the cat you keep?’
“It’s not relationship advice.”
‘Not like I can’t help. It probably won’t be too hard to give relationship advice to a pitiful owner like you. But… for free~?’
“Nyaauuung~?”
“I told you, it’s not relationship advice. When I move, I’ll give you your own room. You’ve been complaining that this place is too cramped, haven’t you?”
After licking her paw and pretending to think it over, Nero finally placed her front paw on my head and consented.
‘Hmm~ Well, all right. Go ahead and tell me, then.’
The sight of a counselor seeking advice from his own cat was ridiculous, but I desperately needed someone else’s opinion right now.
“Actually…”