This choice: Watashi, the sarcastic mediator • Go Back... We begin in the strange little town of Camphorwood.
Beams of light shone through the wooden windowfame. The sun set on the household. Watashi's shadow drifted across the musty pages in her hands. She frowned, green eyes tightening. The mediator shifted the documents into the light, where their yellowing hire was plainer.
"Two thousand, something, and twenty-three... What's done can't be undone. Who'd have thought this would happen? I never got a chance to tell him ---"
Watashi scratched her rose-coloured hair. She ran a finger on the gigantic rip in the page, and flipped to the next one. "The great destroyer. Everything will fall under..." Sections were missing again. The next page had naught but a blurry image, resembling Bigfoot. A gasp caught in her mouth.
When Y handed her documents from old ruins to analyze, the woman hadn't expected this... drama. These documents regarded giant monsters waking the Earth long ago. With the right analysis, this historic finding could unveil new truths about the past. They may have to reconsider the theory that humans naturally declined due to low birth rates - this showed signs of a major extinction event. It'd kickstart the Human Monument Project anew.
Holding her breath in anticipation, she turned the page, and read the next words: "This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental."
Oh. Well, mystery solved.
Watashi softly smiled. It was getting late, and cold winds approached. She lit the fireplace, and tossed the writing into the flames. It made a satisfying crackle as it burned. Her shoulders sunk into the seat. Nice of Y to give fuel for the fire.
As she crumpled and tossed another ball of the document, something small jumped to grab it in a blur.
"Interception!" The green-capped fairy smiled, looking at the paper ball in his hand.
Another short fairy with purple clothes admired the fire, seemingly entranced by the flames. "Burning books?"
"Heretical texts?" One in simple red clothes asked a friend beside her.
"Fahrenheit 451?" This cheerful fellow, in a captain's hat, picked up a cookbook eagerly.
With a sigh, Watashi leaned down to her visitors, pulling the book away. She'd given up on giving them names after last time, so she just called: "Wait, wait, captain. I wouldn't do that. These are photocopies."
"Then..." the formally-dressed fairy asked, "are you destroying digital piracy?"
The red one nodded. "Protecting Intellectual Property Law. You wouldn't download a candy."
"Human, will you protect me? Am I an intellectual property?" The purple guy tilted his head.
"Maybe you're an idiotic property?" The green fairy smiled.
Watashi waved her hands, only barely following their train of thought. "The author's not here anymore. Any copyrights probably expired. All I wanted was a little heat."
Collectively, the fairies' arms dropped, and stormclouds formed atop their drooping heads. "Oh..." Despite their continual grins, they were obviously depressed at this revelation. The woman wasn't sure what disappointed them more: the death of the writer, or the death of their copyright.
Leaving her chair, and carefully stepping over the miniature people, Watashi went to preparing sweets. If these guys weren't happy, someone from the UN might shout at her again. Thankfully, they were easily distracted. Her hands rolled about cookie dough, patting it together, before reaching for a rolling-pin. She looked to the sunset, with a wistful gaze, trying to change the subject. "But it would be nice to speak with one of them..."
"Who?" The fairies crowded her, clinging on her dress, climbing the folds in the apron.
Watashi relaxed her shoulders, trying to think. "A writer from that time." With either sleeve rolled up, bunching at her elbows, she went deeper into the relaxing rhythms of cooking. "I'm not nostalgic, but it'd make this kind of job a lot easier if I could see into the past. You'd be able to tell what information was real, and what the writers embellished." She looked down. The number of fairies had grown when she wasn't looking . Folding her hands to her knees, she asked: "Aren't there things you want to learn about times before, that aren't in books?"
The green fairy waved his arms enthusiastically. "Oh! Who shot JFK?"
"No," the captain-hat fairy explained with a stubby finger up, "like how people peed before toilets."
Watashi grinned. "For instance, I wish I knew what inspired them to write about these great beasts." She added in a mental note, and scold them. They really led us on a wild goose chase with their phony evidence. Her pleasant gaze didn't change an inch.
The purple fairy crossed his arms, and viewed his head, deep in thought. "But fairies can't just slip into the past..." He shook his head. "Too many EM waves, so it's a no-go. You humans wouldn't have a problem, though."
"Right..." An insincere laugh exited her soft lips. So that's the ONLY thing preventing them from time travel? Small talk with small people. It didn't really matter that the conversation had moved in this direction. If it kept these guys busy and happy, it was worth it. As she rolled, she noticed something soft moving inside the flour. She plucked the red-clothed fairy out. Watashi dangled her by the collar. "Hey! Do you want to be food?"
"Is that bad?" The tiny thing smiled back, head tilted. As Watashi blew the white powder off her clothes, she spread her arms out, pretending she was flying.
By the time the moon rose, the cookies were ready. The fairies surrounded it eagerly. Watashi, too exhausted to change into pajamas, simply flopped onto the bed. Cooking was her favorite hobby - but when she had to babysit in the meantime, it was exhausting.
Between shutting eyes, she saw the fairies gazing at her, expectantly. Probably waiting for the "go" sign to dig into their treats. She turned her head to the side, pinkish hair flipping on the bed. "Sure, do as you please..."
With that, she drifted into a deep slumber.
Left alone in the night, the fairies did as they pleased, just as she told them to.
And Watashi's would find her wish interpreted in a way she never expected.
She woke up...  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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