Mass and Rank
Edward was a whale who commanded formidable power upon the sea.
Having long since passed her hundredth year, her body dwarfed most sailing ships, and a single sweep of her broad flukes could overturn thousands of tons of seawater.
Countless sea monsters claimed the ocean as their domain, yet few were foolish enough to bar Edward’s path.
Even a sea serpent armored in scales harder than steel would have its bones shattered by a single collision with her bulk, and the giant anglerfish said to swallow several ships at once would turn and flee into the deep the moment Edward swung her tail. Even the kraken, whose eight tentacles could drag small islands, avoided meeting her head-on.
The kraken’s tentacles were strong, without question. Once latched onto rock they could tear entire cliffs free; once wrapped around a hull they reduced thick planking to dry twigs. Yet they were too short to encircle Edward’s body. Even if every tentacle managed to coil around her, a single twist and dive would simply drag the creature down into the abyss with her.
There were monsters that wielded magic as well—jellyfish that spat lightning, sharks that fired blades of water, mermaids whose songs stole sailors’ minds, sea turtles that froze the surrounding sea into vast icebergs. Even armed with such powers, bringing Edward down was no simple matter. When wounded she need only descend into the deep. Few creatures could match her swimming speed.
No matter that this was a world of monsters and magic, the pure difference in mass could not be ignored. A small beast, however sharp its teeth, could not bite through a mountain. A human of great magical power might part the sea, yet could never halt a current that stretched for dozens of leagues.
Through long years of life in the ocean Edward had learned that truth with her own body. What was large and heavy was strong. The sea showed no mercy to the small and weak. One needed either powerful teeth from birth, swift fins, or a body vast enough to swallow anything. Edward had been born with the last of those gifts. And so she had never once feared a creature smaller than herself.
That day was no different. Edward swam leisurely across sunlit waters. For several days she had circled the cold northern seas and fed her fill. Her belly was comfortably full, the water pleasantly warm. Sunlight fractured into a thousand shafts that lit the blue depths. Schools of small fish passed beneath her. Barnacles clinging to her dark back swayed with the current; tiny shrimp slipped free from between her long white baleen.
Edward tilted her body slowly. Each movement of her vast form sent a low rumble through the water. She was about to descend a little deeper when a strange presence brushed her senses.
The entire sea seemed to hold its breath. The currents that had been sliding past her body a moment before simply stopped. Schools of fish wheeled as one. Tiny creatures buried in the sand lifted their heads. A shark mid-hunt froze with its teeth still bared; the fish it had been chasing ceased even to flick their tails. Every living thing was looking in the same direction.
Edward turned with deliberate care. Her enormous eyes lifted toward the surface. Amid the dazzling light a small shadow appeared. At first she took it for a seabird. Yet it had no wings. It was far too composed to be a human fallen from a ship. The shadow did not sink. It stood upon the water on two bare feet.
Edward doubted her own eyes for a moment. She had seen humans walk on water with magic—gathering wind beneath their soles or freezing stepping-stones of ice. Powerful mages could cross the sea without ships. But from the being before her she felt no trace of magic. No force pressed the waves flat. No chill froze the surface. The water simply accepted those small feet as though they had always belonged there.
It was a little girl. Silver hair that reached her heels spread wide across the surface. In the sunlight the strands shone pure white; the ends submerged in the sea swayed gently with the swell. A thin garment nearly white fell past her knees. She wore no shoes. Her body was small and slender—small enough that Edward’s eye alone could have covered her entire face.
Ordinarily Edward would have paid her no mind. A human lost in mid-ocean she might have nudged toward the nearest shore, or driven away nearby monsters until a ship passed. Having lived so long, Edward did not harm small lives without reason. She possessed that much leisure, and she knew her own strength.
This time, however, she could not approach. The instant she saw the girl her body locked. Her heart gave one great beat—thump—and the sound traveled through her vast torso out into the sea. The next beat would not come easily. For a moment she even forgot she needed to breathe.
Edward could not understand why. The girl bared no teeth. She carried no weapon. She did not crush the surroundings with mana. She merely stood upon the sea and looked down. Yet the instinct to flee screamed without pause inside Edward’s mind. Turn. Dive deeper. Flee as far as possible. The instinct that had kept her alive through countless battles with predators was screaming for the first time.
Edward tensed her enormous flukes. One push would carry her hundreds of paces away in an instant. Yet the tail did not move. It was not that she could not flee. It felt as though she must not. The fear that something irreversible would happen the moment she turned her back on the girl held her fast.
The girl tilted her head. Blue eyes looked straight down at Edward beneath the surface. They were eyes that seemed to hold the entire vast ocean—clear and still. How deep they went, no one could tell. Without realizing it Edward lowered her body. The great back that had floated near the surface sank little by little. She felt no urge to resist. The sea was not pressing her down. She simply felt she must not remain higher than the girl.
The girl regarded Edward for a moment, then smiled brightly.
“Found you.”
The voice was clear. Edward did not understand the words. She did not know every human tongue. Over long years near coasts and ships she had learned the meaning of a few words, yet speech differed by race and nation. Even so she knew what the girl was saying. The meaning reached her not through her ears but through the sea itself. The moment the voice touched the surface it became ripples; when those ripples brushed Edward’s body the sense of the words sank naturally into her mind.
The girl had been looking for her. As though she had come to this place from the beginning solely to meet Edward. Edward watched her with uneasy eyes. Why she had sought her, Edward could not know. There was no intent to fight. No hunger either. What that small body could possibly do remained a mystery, yet one fact was clear: size alone was no longer a reliable measure. Edward was feeling, right now, that size was not everything.
The girl took a step. When her foot touched the surface a small round ripple spread—ordinary-looking. The instant that ripple reached Edward every sense in her vast body awoke. The water flowing between her baleen. The warmth of sunlight on her back. Old scars where wounds had long since closed. The blood moving through her heart. Every drop of moisture she carried within her seemed to bow its head toward the girl.
Only then did Edward understand. She was strong in the sea because of her enormous body and weight. The water supported her; the currents lent her forward power; the deep pressure kept other lives at bay. Without the sea her vast form could not even move. Yet the girl before her was not a being who borrowed the sea. The sea itself followed her. The surface held her feet. Waves parted for her. Sun-warmed water cooled to a gentle temperature around her; cold currents rising from the depths changed course before they ever touched her clothes. Everything in the ocean knew her. As though welcoming a presence it had awaited since ages past, it quietly opened a path.
The girl walked until she stood above Edward’s head. Looking down at the enormous shadow submerged beneath the surface, she cupped both hands around her mouth.
“Give me a ride~”
The languid voice, its ending drawn out a little, spread across the water. It was as light as asking a stranger met on the road for a lift in their cart. Edward could not answer. A white whale could not speak human language. She could converse with distant kin through high and low songs, yet whether the girl would understand was uncertain. More than that, she did not know what answer to give. She had never carried another life upon her back. Edward was no one’s mount. She was a free wanderer of the wide sea. She swam wherever her body wished and, when she wanted rest, sought the quietest waters to sleep. She had no reason to obey anyone’s command or carry anyone to a destination.
Ordinarily Edward would have refused. She need only turn her head and slowly swim away. Yet she could not treat the girl before her the same way. It was not fear that the girl would grow angry. The girl’s face suggested that if refused she would simply say “Oh?” and go looking for another whale. That fact was somehow more frightening still. The thought of her turning away and approaching some other being was unbearable. Why she felt that way Edward did not know. She only felt that she had been chosen. Among all the lives of the sea the girl had found Edward, approached, and asked. If she turned that request aside the girl might never look at her again. That possibility felt more terrible than death.
Edward slowly drew in a breath. Her vast body rose near the surface. Seawater parted to either side as her rounded back emerged. Sunlight poured onto the dark-blue expanse—rough hide marked with old scars and barnacles, broad enough for several people to lie with arms outstretched and still leave room. The girl’s eyes sparkled.
“You’ll give me a ride?”
Edward released a low, long song.
Wooooooong.
The sound rolled all the way into the deep. It was far smaller and more careful than the call she used for her own kind. The girl listened for a moment, then nodded.
“Mm. Thank you.”
She understood. Edward’s eyes widened. There was no sign the girl had ever learned whale-speech. Yet she grasped Edward’s meaning exactly. Language, it seemed, was unnecessary. Between the girl and herself lay the sea. So long as the sea was there, words flowed naturally. Realizing that, the fear pressing upon her body eased just a little.
The girl pressed the surface lightly with her toes. Her small body rose gently. There was no wind; she did not even bend her knees to leap. The water that had supported her simply swelled upward in a rounded lift and pushed her higher. Silver hair streamed long in the sunlight. She flew the short distance and settled lightly upon Edward’s back. The weight was almost nothing—lighter than a single small seabird. Even so Edward’s entire body tensed. The moment the girl’s feet touched her back, the blood within her and the surrounding seawater grew warm all at once. It was not that wounds hurt. No force crushed her. It was a strange sense of fulfillment, as though a place that had stood empty for ages had at last received the presence that belonged there.
The girl crouched on Edward’s back. She stroked the rough hide a few times with her palm, then tilted her head.
“Slipperier than I expected.”
Edward flinched. She wondered whether she ought to shake the seawater from her body. Yet if she moved the girl might fall. Of course a being like this would hardly be hurt by so little, but Edward did not want even the possibility to exist. She held her breath and remained utterly still. The girl seemed to notice her tension and laughed lightly.
“It’s fine. I won’t fall.”
She patted Edward’s back with her hand. Warmth spread from the place her small palm touched. Edward narrowed her eyes without thinking. It felt good. Against her enormous body the touch was nothing. Yet old barnacles fell away, and the lingering aches beneath her skin vanished. The wound torn open by a kraken’s tentacle in her youth. The place stabbed by a mana-charged harpoon that had throbbed with every change of season. The scars left by ice in the cold northern seas. Decades of pain remaining in her body were washed away by a single touch. Edward let out a low song without realizing it.
Woooong.
This sound was softer than the last. The girl laughed and stroked her back once more.
“Ticklish?”
Edward wanted to say no. It was not ticklish; she wanted more of the stroking. Yet she did not know how to convey that meaning in song. The girl had already turned her attention elsewhere. Still seated on the broad back she shaded her eyes with one hand and gazed out over the open sea. Beyond the horizon nothing was visible—only the long blue line where ocean met sky.
“Where should we go to find lots of interesting things?”
Edward searched her memory for an answer. Eastward lay a harbor where human ships came and went often—a city ringed by great walls, its docks busy with dozens of vessels every day. Southward stretched warm islands. Beneath the shallow clear water grew coral of every color, and schools of small fish that did not fear people. Westward lay seas of endless storms, thick with powerful monsters that ordinary ships dared not approach. Northward, ice-covered waters and vast icebergs. She could go anywhere. Edward decided she must choose the safest place. Whether the girl needed the word “safety” she did not know, yet she could not carry the one on her back into danger. She turned her head toward the east. Her great fins slowly pushed the water.
“That way?”
At the girl’s question Edward gave a short song. As though she had been waiting, the girl stretched out on her stomach across Edward’s back. She reached both arms forward and hugged the rough hide. Her slender arms could not even encircle a portion of Edward’s back. Silver hair spilled left and right into the water. Small fish approached with curiosity through those strands.
“Let’s go.”
Edward moved her flukes. At first very slowly, watching carefully that the girl on her back did not sway, she pushed the water with caution. As her vast body advanced, waves parted to either side. Long swells formed on the once-calm surface. Yet the girl showed not the slightest unease. Instead she lifted her face into the oncoming wind and smiled radiantly.
“You can go a little faster.”
Edward hesitated. The girl patted her back again.
“It’s fine.”
Only then did she put a little more strength into her tail. Thump. A dull resonance spread beneath the surface. Her enormous flukes drove hard against the sea. Edward’s body shot forward. Spray rose on both sides and caught the sunlight in rainbows. Wind rushed fiercely, streaming the girl’s silver hair far behind her. At that speed an ordinary human would have lost their balance and fallen into the sea. The girl, lying comfortably on a back that offered no handhold, burst into laughter.
“Waaah!”
The moment Edward heard that voice she drove her tail even harder. Once. Twice. Her vast body cut through the waves. Schools of fish beneath the surface scattered left and right in alarm. Sharks swimming in the distance sensed her presence and cleared the way. A sea serpent that had been guarding its territory raised its head—then, upon discovering the girl lying on Edward’s back, pressed its body flat against the bottom. Edward did not miss the reaction. She had not been the only one afraid. Every life in the sea recognized the girl. The larger and stronger the monster, the clearer the response. Beings that had once blocked Edward’s path from afar lowered their heads or withdrew into the deep the instant they saw the girl. Even the enormous sea serpent that had once fought Edward over territory coiled itself tightly and did not move. The girl waved at the sight.
“Hello.”
The sea serpent’s head sank even lower. Edward kept swimming, eyes forward. Her body was still vast. One sweep of her tail could raise waves; most monsters she could fell by collision alone. Few lives in the sea outweighed her. Yet now she knew. Size was only one face of strength. The girl on her back was hundreds of times smaller. Those small hands held no sharp claws; those slender arms held no power to shatter rock. Even so Edward could not defy her. She did not want to. The girl stood above the sea itself. Every drop of water Edward had relied upon all her life listened to the girl’s breath; waves and currents gathered willingly beneath her feet. Such a being was riding upon her back. She had chosen Edward and entrusted her with the first step of a journey. Fear had already begun to change into another feeling.
Edward swung her tail a little more vigorously. Beyond the eastern horizon small sails appeared one by one. The human harbor was drawing near. The girl, too, seemed to notice the ships and sat up.
“So those are ships.”
She sparkled like a child seeing everything for the first time. Edward slowed a little so she could watch that expression. On the decks humans cried out in alarm. At first the sailors were terrified by Edward’s enormous bulk. Someone rang a bell; someone else raised a harpoon. Others tried to shift the sails at the captain’s order. Then they saw the girl seated on Edward’s back. One by one their movements stopped. Any sailor who had crossed rough seas knew that sight. Silver hair falling to the heels. Eyes as blue as the sea. A small girl riding a great whale and cutting through the waves. Unlike the solemn statues in the temples, her expression was not stern. Both hands raised high, she was waving excitedly toward the first ships she had ever seen.
“Hello!”
The voice rode the wind all the way to the decks. A harpoon slipped from one sailor’s hand. The clang of metal striking wooden planking rang out. Someone muttered in a trembling voice,
“Mother of the Sea…”
The words did not take long to spread. One man dropped to his knees. Then the other sailors lowered themselves in turn. Even the captain removed his hat, pressed it to his chest, and bowed deeply. Every person on the ship began to pray toward Edward and the girl upon her back.
Edward slowly exhaled. Puuuuu. A great column of water shot into the sky. Sunlit droplets fell, forming a vast rainbow. The girl lifted her face to look at it.
“Pretty.”
Hearing that single word, Edward felt proud of her spout for the first time. Until now she had only exhaled to breathe. If the girl liked it, she felt she could show it again and again. Edward exhaled once more with all her strength. A taller, broader column of water rose than before. The girl’s laughter spread across the sea.
From that day on Edward no longer needed to prove her strength to anyone. That she was stronger than a kraken. That she could drive off a sea serpent with one flick of her tail. That her vast body could overturn a sailing ship—none of it mattered. Upon her back sat the master of the sea. And the mother of all life stroked Edward’s back with her slender hand and said,
“I’ll be counting on you from now on.”
Edward answered with a long, low song. Countless whales and fish, every life that lived in the sea, heard that song. Edward carried upon her back a being far smaller than herself. From that day she was at once the freest whale in the ocean and the first mount to carry the first goddess on a journey across the world.