Hamster Wheel
If only life were a hamster wheel, that might have been better. Round and round. What if I could become a single hamster, thinking of nothing, just aiming to complete one lap a day? How wonderful would that be? But the days of the week that pass one by one, the calendar pages torn off sheet by sheet, the hair that grows back no matter how much you cut it—they all prove that life isn't a wheel fixed in one place, spinning endlessly. It's more like a bicycle: pedal, and you move forward. The rooster crows, you wake at dawn, fetch water for the day, and start the chores. Pull weeds, do laundry, tidy the yard. Eat a meal earned through labor, pocket a pittance. In the spare time left, chat idly with Remi. That's the life—clinging to others, scraping by on handouts, watching every day with wary eyes.
Well, yeah. It's getting by, somehow. For now, their small pity keeps me alive. But next year? The year after? Ten years from now? Could I still muddle through like this? That question torments me every night as I drift off. No matter how much I agonize, no matter how I try to solve it, I can't find any guarantee I'll survive. There's no teacher here to explain the problem if I ask, no friend to solve it for me—no one at all.
Here, there's just one lost child, wandering aimlessly, drained of all vitality. Only me.
—Whoooosh.
"Ugh......"
Gazing at the autumn wind growing chill, scattering fallen leaves, I wandered the mountains aimlessly, their slopes ablaze in vibrant hues. Sure, it's a life of chores for meals and meager coin, but surprisingly, there's plenty of time to rest. Funny, isn't it? In an era where even simple tasks take hours by hand—things machines would blitz through in modern times—the actual work hours are fewer. What an irony.
"Waking up dead to find a world like that feels even more ironic."
True enough.
Crunch, crunch. Ankle-deep in fallen leaves, I stepped lightly over them, pressing on. Wandering alone through mountain gullies where beasts might prowl isn't something I'd recommend, honestly. But what can you do? If I didn't do this, I couldn't endure. A bit of rebellion, a touch of defiance—that's all. Can't a model student who's toughed it out deserve that much?
"Ah—knowing it'd come to this, I should've been born a tree instead."
Trees have their own woes I can't fathom, sure. Loggers chopping them down out of nowhere, landslides—stuff like that. Lives that can't flee, forced to accept encroaching death meekly. But right now, in this moment, I envied that tree so much. It seemed better, at least. A tree can become firewood, after all.
Pluck.
"Oh."
Spotting wild strawberries blooming in nearby brush, I picked one and popped it in my mouth. Plump and ripe despite the season. I still couldn't reliably tell herbs from weeds, but as the saying goes, even a village dog learns the ways of the world after three years at the schoolhouse. I knew enough for strawberries.
Was this progress? Who knows.
—Nom.
The berry burst in my mouth with a refreshing pop. Unlike modern strawberries bred for overwhelming sweetness, this was nature's raw deal—tart, astringent, what you'd call "wild flavor" if polite. Honestly, not that tasty.
"Eeeugh...."
I found a sun-dappled clearing. Pat pat. Brushed away the leaves underfoot. Good enough? My skirt would get dirty for sure, but I'd leave the dusting to future-me. Leaning against a tree, I closed my eyes for sleep.
".......Yawn."
Ah, I hate this. Hate it. Better if something just ate me while I slept soundly—no pain, right in the middle of a deep slumber. Really... truly.... Dark...
Rustle, rustle.
A warm, gentle hand caressed my hair, soft and soothing. Back in school days, even when it was time to go, Mom would stroke my head like this instead of waking me. I'd realize I overslept, yell at her, and bolt out the door, of course. A loving touch I hadn't felt in ages. Was this a dream? Too blissful for one—but if all dreams were like this, I'd sleep forever.
"....—...—?"
"....Mm...mmph..."
I wished this moment eternal, a tiny prayer, but my consciousness betrayed me, stirring awake. Faint voices. Fresh grass scent, cool breeze. Pleasant sounds filled my ears, vitality seeping back into my limbs bit by bit. And with it, questions bubbled up unbidden.
What was I doing just now? Who's touching my hair?
The answer came from right behind me.
"—Unnie? Sleeping here'll give you a cold."
"...Eek!?"
A high, childish voice tickled my ear—pure girl.
—Itchy.
"...!!!"
Whoa! I let out a pathetic yelp even to my own ears and sprang up like a coiled spring. But fresh from sleep, my wobbly legs buckled, forcing me to my knees in a heap. Thud. Like a perfect prostration, fitting for someone like me.
"......."
"...Huh?"
To sum it up bluntly: yeah. Fucking embarrassing.
"Hee hee hee!"
".....Ugh..."
Excruciatingly embarrassing. Clap clap clap. Tiny applause from behind, like I'd performed a marvel, dug deeper into my wounds. That pure, joyous laughter—pure delight—was the finishing blow.
P...please...stop...
All I could do was cover my face with both hands. The laughter didn't stop, of course.
Please...just stop...
My ears burned like fire; I didn't need a mirror to know my face's hue. Knowing or not my turmoil, the one who'd stroked my hair—presumably—approached slowly. Light footsteps on leaves.
Tap. The child stopped.
"Unnie, you okay?"
Laughter lingered, but genuine worry colored the voice. My weak tear ducts urged a dribble from the onslaught of shame, but I clamped down with all my might. Anything more, and I'd...really...die. No, I'd kill myself...
"...Kinda hurts."
"...Ehhh!? R-Really? W-Where..?"
Yeah... my heart hurts bad. But I couldn't voice it, just thought it. Seeing the kid fret like calamity struck at my playful reply, I managed a wry smile, calming my face.
Sigh, what am I doing to a child? Still, why was a kid up in these mountains? Curiosity stirred. Composing myself, I lowered my hands, lifted my head slowly to speak.
To speak.
"No, I'm fine..ah....?"
".....??"
Did my eyes deceive me? Beautiful silver hair shimmering like waves. Emerald eyes deep as the sea. Sleepy half-lidded gaze, yet alluring. Young, sure, but beauty enough for "stunner" category. Prettier than anyone I'd met in life. That's what I thought.
"......."
"Unnie, where does it hurt?"
"......."
"Hmm...?"
Hands on ground, frozen prone. Undignified, but my heart was numb to shame now. Anyone face-to-face with this girl would freeze—who wouldn't? She was unreal, like a fairy from tales I'd never seen but imagined just so.
"......Ah.."
"Huh...? Want more head pats?"
She tilted her head this way and that, gazing at me. Dazed, entranced, I just watched. After a pondering moment, she brightened with realization, reached for my hair.
And then—
"...!!!"
"Good girl~ Good girl~"
—Stroke, stroke.
What was happening? My brain stalled, rejecting the scene. But the familiar warmth on my hair, the comfort closing my eyes—it knew this touch instantly. The one from my half-sleep, the one I craved more of.
Ah. It was this child.
"......."
"Hmm, I wish I had hair like Ellie-unnie or you..."
She murmured "Ellie-unnie"—some stranger to me. But thoughtless, on all fours, I savored her soft touch. On all fours. In front of her...?
All...fours...?
"WAAAAH—!!!?"
"—Eek!?"
Insane. Insane!! Whoaaa! Screaming, I sprang up again like a spring. Her eyes flew wide in true shock. Her innocent surprise warmed my heart even as shame made me want to crawl into a hole.
Ugh...kill me...please....