それは物語の予兆

Trees.

A plethora of trees.

Each tree, reaching upward, spreads its branches to its heart's content, and nearly hides away the entire sky.

A deep... wood, or perhaps a forest. As ancient trees with fat trunks stand together, I run through a narrow path laden with bamboo grass and foliage.

............

...I turn around.

I can see a roof lined with tiles.

There is no gate or wall to be seen, but it is nonetheless a magnificent mansion, like one you would see in a period drama.

A large, single-story, Japanese-style house.

I can see a separate building, which is probably a shed.

Perhaps the mansion's inhabitants could be a deeply rooted, traditional Japanese family.

At the cool sound of a bell, I correct my facing to the front.

Pulled forward by someone's hand, I increase my pace.

The incline of the path gradually steepens.

Ah, so this is a mountain.

Pulled by the hand, I climb the mountain path.

While not a genuine designated trail, we veer off from the trail that had any semblance of a trail and proceed by parting the grass.

Faster, faster, faster, faster...

The hand pulling mine strengthens.

Are we being chased by someone?

Why are we hurrying so?

I pound at the grass under my feet, rushing forward.

Za! Za! Za! Za! (Sound of wind rushing by.)

Zaa!... (Sound of the wind blowing.)

Suddenly, my field of vision opens wide.

At this point, we're probably halfway up the mountain.

As far as I can lift my gaze stands a tremendous-

The culmination of hundreds of months and years, existing together with the wind and rain, a tremendous, remarkable tree drops its roots.

As if the other trees stand in reverent reservation for this one, the area around it is slightly open.

Zaa!...

At the passing of the wind, the flowers blossoming in the tree tremble faintly...

I remember seeing this landscape before.

Though I don't remember where...

Perhaps I'd seen it on TV, or a movie...

No, that's not it...

I know that's not it.

This is...

This landscape is...

This was where...

Someone precious to me passed away...

The flower petals, plucked by the wind, flit and dance like butterflies.

A curious feeling of deja vu, and of loss...

What is it, this feeling?

And I wasn't really paying attention to this before...

...But, this landscape... this world...

...is wavering heavily, distantly, like the scenery of a fish tank with red ink poured inside...

The moment I give it my attention, I can hardly think of anything else.

As I look, the red thickens, interrupting my field of vision.

As if to impede me from looking, the red sinks this world, to someplace distant.

And as I strain my eyes, trying to see...

A vivid red that wasn't there before burns into the depths of my eyes.

You mustn't...

I feel as if I'm being warned.

You mustn't...

I'm being called... someone is calling me.

You mustn't...

You shouldn't be here.

You shouldn't go there.

If you go, you won't be able to come back...