Autumn Festival Part 2

“Do you remember the first time we came here?” Ren asked suddenly. “It was another autumn festival, just like this one.”

“Inviting someone you’d just met to such a special place... an interesting choice,” Kaede replied.

“People should show who they are right away,” Ren said, gazing into the distance. “Some people never fully understand who they are, what they want, or what they’re doing here. It’s hard to imagine such a person truly loving themselves or anyone else.”

“Where is this coming from?” Kaede asked.

“That man over there caught my eye,” Ren said, nodding toward a tall man with dark shadows under his eyes. “He’s here just because his child wanted to come, but he’s so busy watching other things that he doesn’t realize how special today could be.”

“Some people realize things at different speeds. It might take them longer to know themselves.”

“But how can someone who doesn’t know themselves understand a child?” Ren countered. “The kid’s trying so hard to get his attention, pulling him along, saying, ‘Look at this, look over there!’ How will he find himself in all that?”

“You’re right, people shouldn’t burden others with their struggles. But there are places where they can get help. Maybe the child will find what they need there.”

“What if they can’t help the father?” Ren replied, his face shadowed. “What’s the point then? For some things to heal, they need to change. We need criticism to progress, don’t we?”

“That’s one way to see it, but we’re just ordinary people. What can we really do?”

Ren shot her a sharp look, and Kaede felt a surge of fear, thinking she had opposed him more than she should have. 

"Of course, you can do something. I should have spoken for myself; I’m sorry. I know my way of speaking bothers you. I’m sorry."

“Then watch and see,” Ren said with a defiant spark in his eyes as he stood. A pang of fear hit Kaede, but she trusted him.

She watched as Ren strode purposefully toward the tall, gaunt man. The child was engrossed in a bamboo flute-making contest, but the father was lost in internet, almost oblivious to his surroundings. Kaede thought it was a kind of blindness.

The System called such people Anchio, those with underdeveloped personalities. They didn’t enjoy life’s small pleasures or have personal styles. They adopted the opinions of the majority and mistook them for their own. The System ignored them as they were harmless, but to others, this existence was unbearably sad, like living without truly being alive, dead but unaware.

Ren touched the man’s shoulder and spoke a few words. The man’s eyes widened as he looked at Ren in astonishment, unable to respond. Nearby, others began to watch the interaction.

“Why didn’t I go with him?" Kaede thought as she watched from a far. The moment Ren walked away, she regretted not going with him. A voice inside her said that the partner she kept seeing wouldn’t come back.

Ren was speaking, and the man shook his head slowly, declining. Onlookers cast judgmental glances, while robots moved closer to them. Kaede grew increasingly anxious.

Ren had always been like this. While everyone else seemed content to live peaceful, indifferent lives, he attracted problems, or perhaps created them.

The man looked more panicked. Ren spoke again, and the man sighed, lightly pressing his temple to remove his chip’s activation button and handing it to Ren. Ren thanked him politely and quickly walked away in the opposite direction of the approaching robots, disappearing behind a cluster of bushes.

 The long-faced man pointing to the bushes where Ren had gone only heightened her anxiety.

For ten to fifteen minutes, nothing happened. The gaunt man looked uneasy. He joined his child’s activity but was visibly stressed by being disconnected. Later, he began to observe his surroundings and watched a few events. Gradually, he softened. When the clay flute he and his child made broke in his hands, he laughed openly.

Kaede was a curious woman. Most people would have condemned the troubled man, but she was proud that Ren had risked himself for someone else. Yet, the longer Ren was gone, the more her anxiety grew. Even in a place where everything seemed to go well, it was hard to predict what Ren would do, or what might happen to him. Before meeting him, Kaede had never experienced such stress. Now, she sometimes found it hard to breathe from worry.

Then, a soothing voice called from the lake.

“If this lovely lady is alone, would she consider joining me for a boat ride?”

It was Ren. He was back. Kaede was so relieved she nearly toppled into the boat, but Ren caught her. Looking into his eyes, she calmed down, though her hands still trembled. Ren laughed softly, like comforting a child. “Calm down, I'm here”

“You’re the nervous one,” he teased, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

At that moment, Kaede felt inadequate. Ren had his own philosophy: “This is all we have, and if we can’t live it, we’ll die never having lived.” His greatest fear was exactly that, not truly living. No one Kaede knew was like him. She considered herself ordinary, even dull beside him, and often wondered why Ren had chosen to marry her. Since meeting him, her life had never been the same, something she once found exciting and delightful.

“If you used a chip, I could have tracked you,” Kaede said.

“You know I hate giving my attention to anything outside my world.”

“But everything there is part of this world, too.”

“No, it’s not! It’s a completely different world, shallower, denser, more artificial. Honestly, even this solar system feels too shallow for me, so why would I dive into something even more hollow?” Ren replied.

“That’s why you love stories, isn’t it? I do too. Relationships, events, people, they feel more natural than what we have here. Sure, faenils, hobbits, and fairies aren’t real, but maybe everything we imagine is real in other worlds. Maybe we’re just someone else’s dreams.”

Ren’s expression was calm, perhaps even cold to some. “I’d like to have your perspective on life. I’m sure it’s a beautiful place, your world.” He paused, then added, “Actually, never mind. I prefer harsh truths.”

Kaede didn’t understand what truths Ren meant, but she was used to his cryptic remarks.

“What did you do to that man?” she asked, steadying an oar.

“I just helped him see the present moment, that’s all.”

Kaede gave him a skeptical look, hoping for more details.

“I accused him of stealing my chip button. It worked because I don’t have one. I told him, ‘It was there when I passed by, then it mysteriously vanished.’ When he tried to explain himself, I improvised. Finally, when he handed me his button, I agreed to pretend it never happened.”

“By the way, he was telling the authorities…”

“Guess I didn’t scare him enough. Oh well! Did it work, at least?”

“When I last saw him, he was making clay fruits with his kid. They looked happy.”

“I’m glad it was worth it,” Ren said, leaning back to let the wind hit his face.

“I don’t like it when you take such risks.”

“I can’t stand seeing such people exist. Seeing them nearby makes me sick. Souls dulled by too much fake peace.”

Kaede thought her husband was, as always, overreacting. But of course she didn't tell him that. She embraced him and listened to the sound of water and the gentle wind as he stayed silent.

When the day ended, they returned home. Passing the flower garden Ren had meticulously cultivated, they reached their door. Waiting there were three robots, two human-sized and one larger. Kaede had never seen this model before.

The largest robot spoke. “Ren Zephyrin, you have to come with us urgently to Health Center.”