The Little Rat Ramon (1)
The Astaria Empire.
The underground prison of Ina Abisa.
"Nngh..."
Pitch-black darkness, without a single thread of light. A prison of exile for the condemned, whose name meant, quite literally, that one had to die before they could ever see the light again. Citing the unbearably harsh conditions of confinement — and the historical sins bound up in the place — the empire had long since shuttered the facility.
"It hurts... it hurts..."
In that prison, a naked girl was locked away.
"It hurts, Mama. It hurts..."
A voice that cut straight to the heart. Golden eyes, dull and clouded. Tears that poured and poured and would not stop.
"It's hot. It's so hot."
The floor offered nothing but a bleak, biting chill. And yet the girl cried out as if she were being consumed by fire.
"It hurts... the fire, it's so hot."
The gouges raked into the stone spoke of how long she had suffered here alone. Her nails were shattered from scraping at the floor, the scabs upon them weeping pus and fluid, and her hair — a tangled wreck — was so caked in rotting filth that it had lost all trace of its original color.
Child.
A place where even a nation's king would not have been granted an audience. Someone called out to the girl writhing in agony on the ground.
"Mr. Ramon, it's ho—nngh. It's hot. I'm burning."
There was no one around. Or rather — the only thing that looked human was the girl herself.
That's not so, child.
"It's hot. It's hot."
Perhaps the only living creature this place had ever permitted. The sort of animal one might expect to find in a dank underground prison. A small rodent that humans found repulsive — and it kept watch at the girl's side.
"My flesh... nngh! My flesh — it's melting!"
...That is phantom pain, born of an old wound.
"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts... it hurts! It hurts...!"
The mutterings repeated like those of a sick parrot. How many months had it been now? Ever since the day they first met, the seizures came without fail the moment water began to drip from the ceiling. The little rat clutched one of the girl's fingers in both forepaws and prayed, again and again, for this terrible stretch of time to pass.
"Nngh... I... can't... breathe..."
I'm sorry, child.
Her form was reflected in his clear little eyes. Chains bound her neck, her ankles, her wrists, strange characters densely inscribed upon the iron — heavy enough, it seemed, to crush her fragile bones at any moment. What made humans think themselves so superior that they could inflict such cruel punishment on this pitiful child?
"Mama, it hurts, nngh — Papa... I want to see you."
A little child weeping, calling for her parents. For no reason other than that she was not the same kind of "human."
"Nngh...! Nngh! Nnngh!"
Each time the girl's emaciated body jerked up and down, the cold chains clattered. If only he could gnaw through that iron with his own teeth. How utterly powerless he was.
It will all be all right. Breathe, good child.
Burn scars covered the left side of her naked body. And what rose again in the girl's memory was this—
In the hour when dew gathers on the spider's silk — around the time the girl's seizure subsided and she sank into a deep sleep — the little rat Ramon slipped out of the prison. Names had never meant much to their kind. And yet Ramon was rather fond of the name the girl had given him.
Foolish. Truly foolish.
The cry sounded far above Ramon's head just as he emerged from the prison's cramped drainage channel. A great owl sat perched on a branch. The little rat politely brought his two forepaws together and bowed in greeting to the predator above him.
Moon Messenger.
Enough of that pretentious display, little rat. I keep my word.
Some sort of pact seemed to have been struck between the two of them.
Besides, thanks to the hunting ground you pointed me toward, my companions and I ate our fill again today. Quite the sharp little thing, aren't you.
I'm glad it pleased you.
The owl ruffled its wings, apparently in good spirits.
Here. A reward.
This is too generous... thank you.
Hmph! It's a mere whim. Don't get too excited.
What the owl dropped was fruit, to bring back to the child. Tonight, there would be no need to wander until late.
You're a strange one, you know. Why go so far for a mere demon child?
No, honored owl. That child is not a demon.
Hmm? Didn't you say last time that the child had horns on her head?
I did. But they are not the horns of a demon.
Not a demon's horns?
Ramon nodded.
Those horns... they look rather like the branch you're sitting on.
A branch? What an odd shape for horns.
A somewhat disinterested tone.
I don't suppose anything comes to mind?
A branch... branch-shaped horns... I feel as though I remember something... no. I can't quite place it.
The owl tilted its head, then shook the thought away.
Bah! I haven't the slightest interest in those wretched humans! And even less in the ones who end up in that underground prison! I've seen them come and go often enough. Parents who butchered their own family's limbs and cooked them. Villains who murdered the innocent more times than one could count. Every last one of them reeked of death and calamity!
A deep sorrow settled in Ramon's eyes. Why was an innocent child like her in a prison meant for people like that?
That child is different, honored owl.
Hmph! That's none of my concern. You'd do well to be careful yourself! You never know when it might change its mind and try to eat you—
No!
The cry burst from him almost as a scream.
......
Silence. Now and then, the chirping of insects in the grass.
Ah... that is, I mean... I'm sorry.
Ahem. That's enough. If you've gone so far as to make a pact like that — you must have grown quite attached to the child. I spoke too harshly.
The owl flicked its wings this way and that, as if to say forget it.
Anyway — when did you become a spirit beast? You don't look as though you've lived as long as I have... and I've never heard of a rat, of all creatures, becoming one.
A spirit beast? Me? A spirit beast?
Well, who else is here besides you?
Could it be? Had he not even realized it himself?
Mother does inscrutable things from time to time. Usually, the first thing a spirit beast comes to understand is its own existence. Why have you still not awakened to it?
Ah, well... I don't really know.
A long sigh.
Tsk, tsk. Then I'll ask it another way. When did you first begin to hear the Mother's tongue?
The Mother's tongue? It was growing more and more incomprehensible. Ramon stood there, dazed.
Good grief. What a dense little creature. If you were an ordinary rat, you wouldn't even be able to speak with me. If you hadn't cried out in the Mother's tongue for me to spare you when I first snatched you up in my talons, you'd have been my dinner long ago.
So that was it.
A rare case, indeed. My friends say they dreamed of Mother World Tree before they became spirit beasts. I was a little different, but it was much the same. In any event, we all blossom into spirit beasts at the same moment we become aware of Mother World Tree's existence. Those damned humans burned Her away — but we still believe She has taken root somewhere.
He had never dreamed of the World Tree. He had never even thought about it.
There must be some trigger you've forgotten. Think on it carefully. And take pride. Mother does not choose anyone without reason. Each of us is given a mission. And before long, you will come to understand yours.
When had it been? When he had been searching for food, tumbled by chance through a hole into the underground prison, and met the girl's eyes? No. He had merely been circling the fallen girl, rummaging for something to eat. Then perhaps after he had drunk from the water dripping from the prison ceiling and climbed onto the girl's horns? That wasn't it either. Later than that, most likely. The moment the girl had given him a name—
───! ───!
Just then, the cries of owls sounded from somewhere in the night.
Ah, it's already time.
His companions, who always came together. I should be getting back too, to feed the child the fruit.
Well, that was a rather pleasant conversation. My friends have arrived, so I'll be taking my leave.
Thank you for your gracious counsel.
Ramon bowed his head as politely as he had at the start.
...I'll offer one piece of advice, out of concern for you.
A powerful beat of wings, preparing for flight. The messenger of the night added one last thing.
Honored owl. Wise owl.
It may already be far too late for that.