A Man in Despair

Three days had passed since Kuuga had arrived in this world.

He still could not leave the altar chamber, and the only one who visited him from outside was Kurone. As usual, the food Kurone brought ranged from nearly spoiled at best to downright rotten at worst. Since Kuuga refused to touch it, the portions had gradually been getting smaller.

Thankfully, since then, Keiry had regularly brought him fresh fruit, allowing him to go without eating the other food. Kurone, unaware of this arrangement, had begun to believe that “divine beasts seldom eat at all.”

Though Kuuga could not converse with Keiry, the boy seemed delighted by any reaction from him and would eagerly talk about all sorts of things during his visits.

It seemed that beings known as divine beasts had not appeared for some five hundred years. The legend was widely known, yet its details had faded, and their nature was shrouded in mystery. Many of the younger people apparently regarded the story as mere folklore.

This place, it turned out, was called a “church.” Priests and acolytes lived here and received some instruction regarding the divine beasts. If that was the extent of their “knowledge,” it was no wonder ordinary folk thought of such creatures as nothing more than fairy tales.

The information, offered almost as an excuse, left Kuuga with a headache. If anything, the way Keiry and Kurone treated him was better than what he might expect elsewhere. If he were to leave this place, he could very well be hunted with weapons.

Leaning over the altar, Kuuga watched his reflection in the spring. He had begun to check daily, harboring a faint hope that perhaps he would be restored to his original form.

Yet nothing changed; only the image of a black beast stared back at him. Perhaps being able to understand the language here was a blessing, but not being able to speak himself was bitterly hard.

He could only learn whatever the other party happened to share, on a whim. He had no fundamental knowledge about this world—its nature, its people, its ecosystem, or how humans lived. Nothing of substance reached him.

If only he could see the world outside, he might at least be able to imagine.

He was grumbling so in his mind when, all of a sudden, the spring glimmered with a faint light and began to project an image.

‘What…!?’

Gone was his own reflection. In its place appeared a stone building, standing amidst a forest.

Perhaps, he thought, this was the exterior of the very building he now occupied. No sooner had he thought it than the scene shifted to a lively town filled with people.

Could it be that this spring had a function like a television?

The town reflected in the water was far less provincial than Kuuga had imagined, with rows of well-ordered, matching buildings. Horse-drawn carriages traveled wide avenues, the markets teemed with bustling crowds—energy and life everywhere.

It was a strange sight to Kuuga, who had lived in Japan. Many people boasted vibrantly colored hair—red, blue, gold—hues rarely, if ever, seen together among the same race. There was no uniformity. The clothing was less fantastical than he had expected; most wore practical, comfortable attire.

‘So these are the ordinary people of this world?’

Since the clergy had worn unfamiliar robes, he had imagined that everyone might wear similarly traditional garments.

As the image moved through the streets—so fluidly it was as if he himself walked among them—a familiar castle came into view at the edge of the screen, prompting Kuuga to murmur, “Ah.” It was the same castle he had seen through the window.

The moment he focused his attention on the castle, the view shifted abruptly, and now the castle filled the screen. Could it be that the spring displayed whatever he wished to see?

Within the castle, the people wore far finer clothes than those in town. There were soldiers in armor with swords at their sides, maids and stewards hurrying about, and among them, certain figures who received deep bows—clearly persons of importance.

Kuuga wondered what kind of man the king was, and at once the image moved to what seemed to be the audience chamber. The figure seated upon the throne looked dignified, but also quite aged.

Was the king truly still ruling at such an age? Kuuga was surprised. Would the next king only be crowned after his death? The current king’s face was haggard with exhaustion—he wondered whether the man would be all right.

But then, he quickly lost interest in the king. Instantly, the scene changed at the prompt of Kuuga’s feelings and now displayed the castle grounds.

It was likely the stables, for several horses stood nearby. To Kuuga’s relief, the horses looked exactly as he remembered—no horns, no wings.

Feeling vaguely disheartened by the absence of any beasts like himself, he continued watching.

At that moment, a man led a horse out of the stable, catching Kuuga’s interest. Perhaps sensing his focus, the spring offered a close-up of the man.

‘Wow… What a look he has.’

The words sounded harsh, but Kuuga did not mean that the man was ugly. Kuuga’s habit was to judge people by their expressions, not their beauty.

By conventional standards, the man’s face was handsome, his tall, well-built frame impressive. His gray hair and bright green eyes suited him perfectly. Yet what captivated Kuuga was, above all, his expression.

It was the face of a man utterly resigned to despair. Kuuga had never seen a human so completely worn down by the world itself.

Unable to look away, he kept observing the man. Mounting his horse, the man rode out of the castle and galloped to a deserted hilltop, where he lay down and closed his eyes for a while.

He was not asleep. Though his eyes were shut, tension radiated from every inch of his body. He was clearly on guard against something.

“There’s no way that counts as relaxation…”

Kuuga felt a deep sympathy. The reason he cared so much must have been because, despite the man’s bleak expression, he seemed like someone you could truly trust.

He looked capable and strong; had he not possessed such a face, he would likely have been beloved by those around him for never betraying or deceiving others. How, Kuuga wondered, could a life be so unhappy as to produce such a face?

It did not sit right with him. Such a man ought to be happy, Kuuga growled under his breath. If he were still human, he would have made a friend of the man by any means, invited him to be a companion. No, not just a companion—this man had the makings of a king. Kuuga would have followed him as lord.

‘That face doesn’t suit you at all, Green.’

Lacking a name, he dubbed the man “Green” after the color of his eyes and called out to him. He did not expect to be heard, yet for some reason, he felt a strong affection for the man.

What was he guarding against? Perhaps he was of high rank and subject to assassination attempts.

To go so far away, to a lonely place, and still never know the comfort of sleep—Kuuga could not accept it.

‘If I were there with you, I’d keep watch so you could rest.’

Where was this hill where the man now lay? If it was near the castle, it could not be too far even from here. If only he could go there right now—

‘No, that’s impossible. If I suddenly appeared, I’d be nothing but a monster.’

Anyone would be terrified to rest with a fearsome beast like him looming close by. Why had he ended up with such a form? Why could he not have remained human?

With a frustrated paw, he stamped the ground, then, feeling wretched and disappointed, Kuuga sank down where he lay.