7: The Golden Axe

“How exactly are you supposed to find that ‘axe’ with a fishing rod?”

Rena, ever the curious type, couldn’t help but question the strange scene unfolding before her.

“I’m ‘searching’ with it,” the man in the suit replied matter-of-factly.
“This rod has that kind of function. Some sort of cutting-edge AI, I think?
Honestly, I don’t fully understand it myself.”

His words left Rena more confused than ever.
He seemed to be hinting at some kind of advanced technology, but the explanation felt unreal—
like something from a dream, or worse, a delusion.
Despite the man’s calm demeanor, unease crept into her heart.

“R-Right… I see,” Rena muttered.

She took a deep breath.
Then, without realizing it, her body started inching backward.
Something in her was telling her to put distance between herself and this bizarre situation.

Just as she turned to leave, the man suddenly cried out:

“Oh! Did I get a hit!?”

The shout stopped her in her tracks. She turned back—and gasped.
Floating just above the surface of the water was something glowing, radiant in the sunlight.

“No way… Is that a golden axe?”

She stepped closer, captivated by the object before her.
It was a double-edged axe, each blade gleaming with a sharp, divine brilliance.
Its simple design gave off an air of ancient dignity, as though it had withstood the passage of centuries.

“Hm… Nope. That’s not it.”

The man showed no interest in the golden axe.
With an indifferent flick of his wrist, he tossed it toward the shore.

Startled, Rena rushed forward and knelt beside it, entranced.

“It’s beautiful… And it feels like it carries some kind of history…”

Driven by a strange urge, she reached out.
The axe was heavy, but Rena braced herself and grasped the handle firmly with both hands, lifting it carefully.
As the blade caught the sunlight, its golden glow grew even brighter—
not harsh, but warm, as if harmonizing with the nature around it,
whispering stories from a long-forgotten time.

“Hmm? Looks like something’s floating up now.”

The man squinted down at the water near his feet.

“What is that white stuff…? Looks like a bunch of straws or something…”

Rena froze.

Straws…?

She followed his gaze to the surface of the pond.
There, drifting silently, were countless thin white straws, rising from the depths in eerie disarray.

Without thinking, she dropped the axe and leaned toward the edge of the water.

“Those straws… No. They’re his. They’re Tom’s…”

She stared into the pale surface of the pond—
and there, reflected in the water, was a face twisted in fear like she’d never seen before.

Tom.
His eyes, wide with shock and terror, were staring straight back at her—from beneath the water.