The Hotspot Sapling (2)

I sent the pigeon on its way.

"I think my part is done here. Whatever I could do from this point, I doubt I could report anything better than what I've already gathered."

Thermia wiped the sweat from her hands on her clothes.

—You've worked hard since this morning.

The human mercenaries weren't moving quickly. Instead, they were focused on scanning their surroundings, taking the measure of the area as they advanced at a crawl. Perhaps they'd decided the timing wasn't right for an ambush, or perhaps they were trying to keep up their lost-mercenaries excuse — hoping an elf would just happen to stumble across them and "kindly" point the way.

Or maybe the plan was to linger in the elf village as guests, dragging things out until the slave traders arrived, and then betray everyone at the last moment. Or possibly they meant to simply grab whatever elf they happened to meet and run. The tactical map hadn't spelled any of it out. Still, they must have discussed something like that on the way here, or worked it out from each other's cues.

Not that it mattered. We'd long since finished figuring out what they were really thinking. And when elves and these mercenaries finally came face to face, what awaited them wouldn't be a conversation — it would be a rain of arrows.

Thermia climbed down from my trunk.

"But when we face five humans, can we really take them without any casualties on our side?"

—None at all? That might be hard. Everyone here makes their living hunting, but hunting isn't the same as fighting.

If the mercenaries fought as a team, finishing things off cleanly and without losses would be hard to imagine. In the heat of a chase, one of ours getting killed by a desperate counterattack wouldn't even be surprising.

The girl mulled it over.

"What if we whittle them down a little? One? No, even two would help enormously, wouldn't it?"

—I'd love that, but isn't it dangerous?

"Just sizing up the enemy seems perfectly safe to me."

—And how exactly would you do that?

The girl just giggled without explaining.

"I don't think anyone in this world could look at you, Lord Tree, and simply walk away."

Dry leaves crunched underfoot.

The human mercenaries pressed slowly forward, eyes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠darting in every direction. With not so much as a whisper of human presence around them, their nerves were stretched tight as bowstrings.

Then one of them spotted something strange.

"What's that?"

A finger pointed toward the far edge of the sky. Beyond a wall of dense yellow and crimson autumn foliage, the green crown of a tree was just barely visible.

Yep. That's me.

Quite a difference in the range at which we spotted each other, huh. Maybe elves and humans just have wildly different eyesight. Or maybe I'm simply used to the neighborhood.

"Should we head up there? We might be able to see the village layout from that spot."

The mercenaries who had spotted me lit up.

"We shouldn't be doing this anyway. Let's get a proper look first and redraw the plan. Drawing weapons and pushing in blind, with no idea what's waiting, is just asking for it."

"He's right. Elves are vicious fighters — word is when they're on edge, they loose arrows before you even get close. Captain, there's no stray elf out here worth grabbing anyway. Let's just scout it once. I'll climb."

"······You think so?"

The mercenaries moved quickly.

When they reached the clearing, the mercenary captain stopped at the forest's edge. He frowned, then slipped into the brush, his gaze sweeping over the open ground.

"Tch. Wide open on all sides. What kind of tree sits in a spot like that? If we all go together, we're just begging to catch arrows. You said you'd climb it?"

The chin of one mercenary bobbed as if on trial.

"Huh? Er — well, I didn't expect it to be in a spot like that."

"So are you going or not?"

Grumbling, the mercenary rose to his feet, looking none too pleased about it.

"If you've got complaints, then at least take this with you."

The captain magnanimously handed over his own arm shield. It must have been fairly expensive, because the mercenary accepted it with genuine gratitude, the fresh resentment melting right off his face.

Huh. So the captain does know how to handle his men.

The mercenary emerged from the brush warily. As he drew closer, he loosened up a little and looked me over.

"Just how big is this thing?"

His gaze swept between the branches, checking whether anyone was hiding up there. Then he rolled up his sleeves and began to climb my trunk.

Whoa, whoa.

Lots of guests today, huh.

I guess I'm the neighborhood hotspot for reconnaissance.

Having climbed high enough, the mercenary surveyed the direction of the village. It was all visible at a glance — he let out a short whistle of admiration and threw himself into mapping out the settlement.

But you know,

People live their whole lives without ever knowing when an unavoidable outcome is coming for them.

Take a man who takes a bite of a mushroom just to check whether it's poisonous. Standing back, it looks idiotic — but in a desperate situation with no food, someone has to risk their life and taste it. That's just how it is.

People do their very best and still die, if their luck runs bad. Not that these men deserved sympathy — they'd earned every bit of what was coming.

An arrow flew from the brush.

Loosed from the precise opposite side of where the mercenaries were watching, it had hidden in the blind spot created by the massive tree, lying in wait without a sound.

The arrow punched through a man's throat.

Drops of blood scattered, and a soft wheeze of escaping air slipped out. Hands rushed to catch the falling body before it could hit the ground. His belongings spilled loose and came to rest on the bed of leaves.

From the brush in the blind spot, Thermia poked her head out. She checked the result, her face lighting up as if to throw both hands in the air in triumph — then hastily restrained herself and ducked back into hiding.

I'd been uncertain, but it seems Thermia has real talent for the bow. There's no way someone who picked up archery and practiced seriously for about a year could casually hit targets tens of meters away otherwise.

Some time passed before the humans grew restless.

"Why isn't he coming back?"

"You think he got shot?"

"I wasn't watching that closely, but I didn't see anything?"

The captain frowned.

"Stop making noise and wait. He only got a brief look at the village — it might take a while to size it all up."

"He's not dead, is he? It's been way too long."

The captain, who had kept his eyes locked on the tree the entire time, snapped in irritation.

"If he were dead, the arm shield would've dropped. I didn't hand him a strapping kit — so why hasn't that big round thing fallen?"

"...Oh."

"If you want to whine about nothing, go check yourself."

The chin jerked again, half order, half dismissal.

The mercenary shifted uncomfortably, then stepped out of the brush. He glanced around, sprinted quickly to the center, and looked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up into my branches.

"You see anything up there? Hey?"

No answer came.

Anxious, the mercenary decided standing out in the open was even more dangerous, and started up the trunk.

When he spotted his comrade's legs between the branches, his face brightened.

"Hey, why didn't you answer me—"

A drop of blood fell and splashed against his forehead.

The mercenary froze, raised a hand, and touched his brow. It came away smeared red. His gaze drifted blankly down to the blood on his fingers.

"...Ah?"

The sound of an arrow came.

His throat was pierced, and a branch caught the body before it could fall.

Thermia shoots remarkably calmly. The way she went straight for the eyes the first time she met a wolf, startled as she was — she simply has a gift for the hunt.

Some time passed.

"Why isn't he coming back either?"

The human's brief question was followed by silence.

The two remaining men turned to look at their captain.

The captain swallowed dryly.

"Something's wrong. Something's gone bad here."

He wrestled with it for a moment, then rose and put distance between himself and the tree.

"We're pulling out."

"Sir?"

"I said we're pulling out."

His subordinates panicked.

"What about the two of them, sir?"

"Leave a note. That's enough."

"Ah, got it."

The captain scrawled out a message, tied it to a small branch, and without another moment's delay turned and ran. His rattled subordinates scrambled after him.

Are they leaving?

I watched their backs recede, then called for Thermia.

—They gave up and ran.

A blond head poked out from the brush. She looked around, then walked out.

"They fled, my lord?"

Thermia considered it.

"Tempting as it is, chasing them down alone would be rash, wouldn't it?"

—Right.

"Then let's report this to the village as well! Five down to three — this should be easy to clean up now."

The girl looked around. The pigeon had already been dispatched, so the only messenger who could warn the village quickly was the Water Drop.

Wait. Where had the Water Drop gone off to?

The answer turned up in a rather unexpected place.

"Now what in the world is that?"

The fleeing mercenaries skidded to a stop.

Beyond the autumn-painted scenery, a single round water drop was bobbing in midair.

It wore a horned helmet on its head, and at its side hung a mana sword thin as a toothpick.

The Water Drop swished its toothpick sword through the air. Falling maple leaves were sliced clean in two and scattered on the wind.

"What is that thing?"

The mercenaries' expressions twisted into something uneasy. Then the captain, dredging up some memory, suddenly went wide-eyed.

"Don't tell me — is that a familiar?!"

"Sorry? A what?"

"Doesn't matter if it's not an animal — no, wait, that's not the point! Catch it right now, before the mage shows up!"

The captain drew his sword and charged. The Water Drop trilled with laughter and flitted away. His bewildered subordinates drew their weapons and gave chase.

Whoa — whoa?

What are you doing over there?

The Water Drop and the mercenaries vanished beyond the edge of my sight in an instant.

Whoaaaa?

I couldn't confirm whether the Water Drop had survived until the elven pursuit party caught up and reported back.

"By the time we found them, they were already dead."

The corpses looked outwardly clean, each with a single puncture wound at the throat — a trail that seemed to follow neatly in the wake of Thermia's arrows.

Whoa?

At my look, the Water Drop flinched.

Shifting into her girl form, she clasped her hands behind her back and began to whistle innocently, the bloodstained toothpick sword hidden behind her.

Somebody here is a little liar, aren't they~.

All life dies.

Then again, perhaps "dies" isn't even the right word for it.

A life takes on human form, returns to the soil, rises again as a plant, and is eaten once more — a cycle that simply turns. Life itself never ends.

That's why, when someone dies, we say they have returned to nature.

The humans returned to nature.

They merely experienced ahead of time what every living thing must one day face, so there was no great need to grieve. Not that they hadn't brought it on themselves.

The subjugation of the slave caravan ended splendidly.

Perhaps because it was an ambush, our side suffered barely any casualties — an utterly one-sided victory.

"The village chief says if there's anything on the spoils list you need, just tell him."

An itemized inventory was laid at the base of my trunk.

"The slave traders dabbled in general trade on the side, so there's all sorts. Take your time looking. I'll wrap the cloth around you again."

Thermia wound the insulating cloth around my trunk.

—Thank you. But is it really all right for me to keep all of this? Won't it cause trouble?

"The slave traders had it coming, that's all. The reason our family could live peacefully in a human village in the first place is because humans despise slave traders themselves. They're considered worth less than the meat they'd sell us — not worth dealing with at all."

The knot on the insulating cloth was tied.

"This current lot even has humans of unknown origin among their captives, so they're to be handed over to the lord. Whether the trading of slaves is legal or not, kidnapping isn't — though who knows if they knew or cared."

Thermia clicked her tongue.

No wonder she hates them.

I looked over the spoils list.

—Plenty of items here, but I honestly don't know what any of it is.

"Is there nothing you need? Anything you're lacking?"

Something ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'm lacking, hm.

—I want to make a little sibling spirit for the Water Drop. Anything on that list that might help?

Thermia tilted her head.

"I've been wondering this for a while now, actually. What exactly is a spirit?"

—A spirit is nature with a mind of its own.

Should I be more specific?

—It's granting intelligence to nature itself.

Thermia went blank.

A silence stretched between us before she blurted it out.

"Isn't that... rather beyond the duties of a mere sapling on the back hill of the village?"

Oh. So she'd been fretting about that this whole time.

—Ah, I misspoke earlier. First time meeting a person and all — my tongue slipped.

"Oh, I knew it."

—I'm not just a plain sapling on the back hill of the village.

There we go.

—I am a mysterious sapling on the back hill of the village.

Yes. That's the one.

"······."

Thermia stared at me in silence.

After a long moment, she simply went back to carefully straightening the insulating cloth.

"In any case, I'll mention it to the village chief. He truly knows a great deal — he might even manage to pick out something that would help you, Lord Tree."

—I'd appreciate that.

The next day, a single painstakingly chosen item from the spoils was delivered to me.

Dark blue-green greed. A place where nature had lingered.

It was a lump of mana stone.

Well — it is nature itself, isn't it.

I think I may have lectured her a little too harshly.

One look at the Water Drop Girl told the story: both her cheeks were puffed out to bursting.

She'd been like that since yesterday.

Perched on a pink flower, she'd spent the entire day puffing up her cheeks without so much as glancing my way. Anyone passing by would have taken her for the spirit of the flower itself.

So nagging her about how worried I'd been was overkill, apparently.

—Isn't it tiring, keeping that up?

The Water Drop Girl spun her whole body away and stared off in the opposite direction. That was her entire reply.

Oh dear.

I chose my words slowly, carefully.

—I think I worried too much. I had no idea our Water Drop was that strong. Who could have guessed you'd bravely thrash those fearsome mercenaries all on your own?

The Water Drop didn't react, not exactly. But I could feel her listening.

—I'm sorry I underestimated you. I apologize. So will you try to understand how I felt, too? My worry got ahead of me and the nagging just came out. I like you every bit as much as you like me — my heart simply got ahead of my head, that's all.

The tension drained from the Water Drop Girl's shoulders. The softening was unmistakable.

Still too proud to turn around right away, though.

I lifted a mana cube up along my branches. Not for the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sulking Water Drop — I'd asked Thermia to dig it out from underground for me.

—I'm about to make your little sibling. Aren't you going to watch? Once it's born, you'll be living together. You'd miss the only moment like this there will ever be.

The Water Drop Girl agonized, visibly. Bubbles rose and fizzed through her watery little body.

—If no one had been watching over you when you were born, how would that have felt? Wouldn't it have been awkward to even talk to me?

The Water Drop Girl stole a sideways glance.

I waited without another word, until at last she heaved a hugely exaggerated sigh — as if she had no other choice — and flitted off somewhere.

The Water Drop Girl came back carrying a dish-shaped pebble.

A dish-shaped pebble.

The very special pebble the Water Drop had given me as her first gift after venturing outside.

She set the pebble down on the mana cube.

Her small hands pointed at the pebble, then the cube, then back again. Then she hugged them both tight with both arms at once.

—You want me to make it using that pebble as the base?

The Water Drop Girl nodded.

Oh my. So while pretending not to care about a sibling, the Water Drop had been quivering with anticipation and had it all planned out.

She really was lonely, then.

My determination blazed to life.

All right. Let's make her a sibling.

—Could you set the mana stone lump on top too?

The mana stone was added to the pile.

I had no idea how exactly to go about this — but I had a feeling I understood.

Back when I caught that self-proclaimed mana stone surveyor, there had been a moment when I knew — absolutely knew — that letting him go was not an option, and in that instant, meaning had leapt across the gulf of language all on its own.

Maybe that sensation was Divinity itself. That would fit, wouldn't it.

I placed the mana stone and the pebble into the cube.

I gathered my focus and gazed down at the pebble.

What should I say to it?

—I want you to become one of our family. I want us to play together, live together, and share joyful days.

Intent poured forth.

Wind surged, and the leaves shook.

—Just as this world is beautiful, I hope your life will be beautiful too.

The cube trembled violently.

It floated up, then slowly began to rotate and compress.

At its center, the mana stone melted. Mineral mingled with the pebble.

Memory forged the mind; the earth shaped the body.

The form shifted, imitating the Water Drop.

All the mana swirled and condensed.

Light burst forth.

From within the glow, a round little pebble revealed itself.

Now then — what shape do you like?

Back then, the Water Drop cycled through one animal form after another until she settled on the shape she loved. The Water Drop stayed a water drop. And you?

The light faded.

The wind settled, and the leaves grew still.

The floating pebble lost its aura of mystery, obeyed gravity, and dropped with a tok. It struck the roots at my base, bounced a few times, and rolled head over heels across the grass. It wobbled against a stone and finally stopped moving.

I waited a long while for something to change.

Sunlight warmed the pebble. A passing ant explored it with her antennae, then simply moved on. She was passing by, after all.

Whoa?

The Water Drop tilted her head.

Her look said: Is this right?

—Let's give it a moment.

And then my gaze drifted elsewhere.

It says it worked... but?

The Water Drop approached the pebble. When she gave it a little poke with her tiny hand, the pebble rolled along the ground. It touched a blade of grass — and stopped dead.

There was no will in the movement.

It's just a pebble.

Don't tell me.

It can't move?

Because it's a stone...?