Witness

“Ken,” Shiden called out.

Kanon blinked. “Ken? Seriously? That’s a boy’s name.”

He shrugged. “Fits you, though.”

“Fits me—how?!”

“Sharp eyes, short hair, that whole ‘I-can-punch-you’ vibe. It’s easy to remember.”

Her brows twitched. “You’re asking for a neck-lock.”

Of all the names, he chose that? Was it because she had sharp eyes and her friends often called her boyish? Her short hair, her physique… she was used to it. But Ken?

“Huh?”

“Why? Perfect for you.”

“Seriously?!”

“I can easily refer to you that way.”

“Hey! I might break your neck.”

Her brow remained furrowed. Kanon tightened her grip on his neck. His warmth permeated her skin. She could feel the hard lump of his Adam’s apple. Regardless, her figurative effort to lock his neck fell short. He showed no signs of fear, even with his neck wrapped in her arms around his throat.

“Go ahead…” he said, teasing. “Try it!”

“You’ve got no sense of humor, Shiden”

“Why would I need one?”

“To ease up the tension, duh?”.

“So, you’re tense?”

She hesitated. “...Maybe.”

For a moment, Shiden’s footsteps were the only sound between them. The cool mountain air brushed against her cheeks, carrying the scent of cedar. Kanon found herself listening to his breathing. Before she could continue, he broke the silence.

“Look, sorry for the trouble. Can you—” he halted before continuing, “pretend you’ve seen nothing?”

Even if Kanon told others about the extraordinary occurrence this morning, they wouldn’t believe her. It was uncanny, weird, and sounded completely unreal. She knew that. She wanted to believe that it wasn’t a dream. She could feel him; the mountain air was too real to be ignored. Hence, she wanted to ask why he’d bother asking her to dismiss what happened, after he’d troubled her during her morning routine.

Magic—something that belonged in games, stories, nowhere real, was a fantastic surreal phenomenon and far out of her grasp, until now. Witnessing it in person had her thinking.

Magic—real? What else have we been blind to? What else have they hidden? How long has it been? How can anyone live knowing the world isn’t working the way we thought it was? Am I supposed to fear it? Or learn it? The thought of this was interesting, but she doubted she was able to. One question appeared larger than the others, dimming them: WHY ME?

The thought lingered. If magic was real, then maybe the world she knew wasn’t what it seemed? Everything she’d dismissed as fiction suddenly felt too close, too possible.

Feeling the hard wooden shaft where his sword was safely sheathed, the wooden scabbard pressed against her thigh, she wanted to ask another question. Is it real? Can it cut through rocks—just like in anime? Where do you buy it? Can I see it, just a second!? Just a swing, can I?

What intrigued her most was what he’d said earlier; she couldn’t grasp his incantation. All of the morning’s odds were burdening her thoughts, morphing into one big question mark. If she were a Non-Playable Character in a game, that question mark might be visible on top of her head. What the hell did he say?

Of all her deep thoughts, only one surfaced.

“Why?”

She tightened her grip. Something tingled her stomach, warm. She wanted to rub it, but knowing she couldn’t, she dismissed the urge. All her life, she had known magic was false, and yet, the moment it became real and vivid in her memory, Shiden—the mage—himself asked her to overlook it…

“Long story short, it would trouble me—” Shiden paused.

“Do you think people will believe you? Don’t make yourself look dumb, okay?!”

“I’m not dumb!” she snapped, tightening her grip.

Only silence followed. Shiden focused on the road, the blurred forest filling Kanon’s vision.

“Why bother saving me in the first place, then?” Her voice was low. She could hear his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed hard.

She knew it would have been easier for him to just ignore her and let her die the moment the fireball propelled at her. Much easier than burdening himself to save her, let alone bringing her to safety by foot.

“Merely, I don’t want to see a passersby become a victim. Just that.”

Kanon giggled, and gradually, her laugher grew louder, although barely audible to just the two of them.

“Only that?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, anyway.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Have you seen a baked human before?”

“No, why?”

“Nothing.”

Kanon’s laughter faded, dampened by Shiden’s short—unanswered—question. She wondered what that was about, but it came to nothing. In the end, after mulling it over, she just had another question to add to her pile.

Streaming wind rushed past them. Kanon looked at her surroundings, and this didn’t look like the way to her home in Anyoji. She recalled the usual route she took in the morning and realized she was heading in the opposite direction.

“Hey. My house is on the other direction.”

“Huh?!” Shiden said, “We can’t.”

“Why, Shiden?”

“They saw you! You know that, don’t you?!”

“So?”

Shiden clicked his tongue. “Do I need to explain it?”

“Go on.” She could hear Shiden sigh.

“They’ll come and kill you. They don’t like witnesses.”

“Oho…”

Their conversation ended shortly as Shiden reached a house next to a shrine. Furumine Shrine. The house was unfamiliar to Kanon. Not only because the house itself was placed a bit deeper in the forest, further away from the main road, but she also had no idea who lived here.

Shiden stopped at the front gate. He placed Kanon on her feet.

“Come in.” He gestured for her to enter the house.

Kanon hesitated, observing the house. “I didn’t know there was a house here.”

The air around the shrine felt still, older somehow, as if time itself slowed when they crossed its boundary.

“Onii-chan.” A soft girl’s voice from the house echoed, reaching them at the front gate.