Плотников Сергей, Горный-Цветок. Web of light. book 1

Плотников Сергей, Горный цветок.

The Web of Light I. The expanded universe

The preface

I probably shouldn't tell you what "fanfiction" is, does everyone know that? "Web of Light" is a fanfiction based on the Japanese manga "Omamori Himari", "My Guardian Himari".

If you can't stomach anime or don't like fan fiction, just skip this text :) In principle, the "Web" can be read without knowledge of the original source, but if you are interested, here is the link to the translation: http://mintmanga.com/omamori_himari

"My Guardian Himari" is an author's work by mangaka Matra Milan, who was previously noted for graphic novels in the genre of "hentai", that is, frankly speaking, pornography. Which left its mark, yes. Therefore, "Himari" can be safely attributed to the genre of "etty", eroticism (mostly light). However, in the fanfiction itself, this very eroticism will not be enough: I was interested in something else. Namely, the world, the background of what is happening. I wanted to "unwind" it, to reveal it in a normal way... Well, here we go :)

First of all, I'll briefly introduce you to the main character. Alex Zharov, a graduate student in biophysics, is a typical junior researcher. He sees his career in scientific work, he is on duty in the laboratory at night. And here is Yuto Amakawa, a nine-year-old boy who has just been orphaned. He had a loving family, and the ancestral family tree stretches back almost a thousand years, closely intertwined with the history of Japan itself. He was destined to become an exorcist, a hunter of Ayakashi - in his world, which is very similar to our Earth, demons are a very real threat. But it just so happened that the young prince lost everything - the death of his parents was just the last straw. Well, now Alex will have to become Yuto. Not to take a place, but to become an Amakawa.

Rinko Kuzaki is a swordsman, Yuto's childhood friend, with a ferry that has upgraded her body and is putting pressure on her nervous system. Yuto's neighbor, who took on the kid's domestic problems.

Hiroe Kaname is an aspiring journalist with a flawed Yakoin detective gene.

Yu Shimomuro is the head of the magic club at the Yuto School. He's drawn to Harry Potter and Spider-Man.

Mizuchi Shizuka is the goddess of rivers, who found a younger brother in Yuto.

Hinoyonma Ageha is an air demon (bloodsucker) who has fallen for Yuto and helps him find new vassals in the city.

Bakeneko Himari is Yuto's bodyguard.

Kues Jinguji is the bride of Yuto from the Jinguji clan. She is studying at the British Magic Academy (Hogwarts, as her graduate Rowling called her).

Chapter 1. The Awakening.

The installation works silently, which cannot be said about the peripherals: the power supplies buzz like bumblebees - and each in its own way - the radiometer beeps once a second, the coolers of the rather old system unit (laboratory stand) and the almost new desktop (Starcraft 2 is the favorite game of the laboratory) buzz. My time is night. The experiment starts at 8 p.m. and lasts until 6 p.m., and there is no way to leave the laboratory without an employee: it is forbidden for safety reasons. Unsurprisingly, most of the time I doze on a chair or in an armchair, sometimes on an uncomfortable, flat sofa that looks like a bench from a clinic (if I can't stand it at all). A few months ago, I began to notice that my dreams had become more realistic, vivid, and colorful. Even if I dreamed that I was a giant dragonfly, and the whole dream I was catching flying fish over the vast expanse of a dense, all shades of green ocean. I dreamed of various plots: from a replay of everyday, from a series of experiences, to absolutely fantastic ones, like the struggle for the survivability of a military spaceship. (Or not military?.. I didn't understand it then.) I had played enough of the first mass effect before that. So it's not surprising.

What is the effect? Electromagnetic fluctuations? That's nonsense, that's what the radiometer is for. I told the boss, who assumed an infrasound. They brought a quartz resonator, searched-searched - did not aim. We didn't understand anything, but considering that quartz has some measurement selectivity... On the other hand, we would have detected any strong impact, but a weak one... There won't be enough energy to damage anything in the body. Of course, no one released me from night duty. And I wouldn't ruin my career myself. And now...

Apparently, I very successfully passed out at the intersection of reflections from certain waves - sound waves or electromagnetic waves. This time, I became a gloomy nine-year-old child who had just lost his parents yesterday. A few unusual sensations - and again I remembered myself. I knew I was dreaming. But he didn't wake up, didn't even try. There was no fear, it was interesting. Some kind of alternative Japan. Why an alternative? Here is the house, now mine - the boy has no living relatives left. A completely European design, right down to the furniture. Lack of social care: for some reason, not a single official approached me at the funeral, and I am an orphan child... We don't seem to be in Tokyo (I saw it in the photos), but it doesn't look like Kyoto either - there's no port, but I remember there should be. I was accompanied by the mother of a school friend, and she also had no doubt that the child would be able to live alone. It's kind of gloomy.

I froze gloomily in front of two signs. It's too early to put up monuments, we have to wait at least a year. Shinji and Rei Amakawa. The wind was blowing my hair, and I was crying, trying to figure out what had happened. Judging by the corpses in the closed coffins, there was a car accident.

During the funeral and subsequent movements, I completely lost the feeling of my body lying in an office chair in the middle of the laboratory. But I began to feel a fresh breeze here. This often happened in my dreams - I even remember the taste of the notorious fish from the ocean-broth... I was still doubting whether it was worth watching this drudgery, when suddenly it turned out that my friend was preparing lunch for me in my kitchen. Like it's her voluntary responsibility. By the way, it's unexpectedly delicious, damn it. Even the feeling of fullness appeared, it was so pleasant. And I'm tired of crying. My emotions, according to the plot of the dream, were sad, and I got some strange, slightly unpleasant pleasure from the fact that they were not really mine. That's enough, I decided, and went to bed. The surest way to wake up in a dream is to go to bed. We've been through this before. Or wait for the end of sleep - a subjective five to six hours, but I got bored. Again, I wanted to remember the dream with dinner, not someone else's loss. I lay down and fell asleep.

*** Rinko's POV

Today is a terrible day, my only friend Yuto lost both his parents in a car accident. And a year ago, his grandfather and grandmother died, with whom he used to live in Noihara. There's a funeral today. Yuto returned from the cemetery completely lost. He walked around like he was out of his mind, which is not surprising. Mom said that Yuto had a tantrum at the cemetery, he screamed that he didn't want to live anymore, and then abruptly began to glow and became completely lost.

The kid stood in front of the graves for a long time and whispered something. Then he shook himself and said he wanted to go home. I've completely lost my bearings in the city. Mom had to almost lead him by the hand into his house.

I came to his house preparing for the fact that he would stop recognizing me again, as it was when he was seven years old, when his memory was gone.

"Yuto, you remember me, I've been your best friend Rinko for two years now."

A tearful Yuto let me in with mild interest.

"Come on in, even though I was about to go to bed. I wish this terrible day was over."

"I came to support you and make you something to eat."

"Oh, Rinko, what would I do without you?"

I went to the kitchen, and Yuto went to his room to continue crying for his parents.

So rice, dried carrots, which his mother Ray loved, vegetables in the freezer. Eggs for the omelet and some chicken for the noodle soup.

Today, everything was falling out of Rinko's hands. The girl sobbed softly, but continued cooking. The omelet stuck to a special frying pan, but she rolled it up anyway, as the cooks in her aunt's kitchen had taught her. Damn, the onion is too big in the soup. It is better to remove it altogether, Rinko fished out a coarsely chopped onion.

The girl went into the room where the boy had gone, who had lost the last link to the house yesterday.

"Yuto, I'm sorry to interrupt, but let's go eat. I made it myself."

Crying, Yuto silently got out of bed and went to the kitchen, where the delicious smell of food was coming from.

Rinko placed the plate of omelet in front of Yuto very quietly, as if she was afraid of disturbing the silence. She didn't fold the omurais perfectly - one side was slightly blurred, as if the omelet wanted to hug the rice tighter. Next to it was a small pile of salad: boiled potatoes, peas and a slice of cucumber, cut into thin circles, as she was taught in her first lesson by the sensei cook. She also put a pinch of paprika on the edge of the plate, just a little bit, so that it was the warmest color that Yuuto's mom loved.

Yuto sat with his shoulders slumped, and looked not at the food, but somewhere through it. His eyes were red, and all the time he seemed to want to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Rinko froze for a second, then quietly sat down opposite, not too close so as not to push, but so that he would know that she was there.

"I... I wanted it to be delicious," She whispered, looking at her fingers clasped in a lock. "The cook said that if you do it with care, then even if something is wrong, it will still be fine. Well, at least... not too bad."

Yuuto jerked his shoulder slightly, as if he wanted to shake them, but couldn't.

"That's right," he said finally, almost in a whisper. "It's just... it's hard today. And I don't understand where I am or who I am at all."

"Oh, Yuto," she hugged the boy. "Like two years ago. It's okay, I got you out then, I can handle it now."

"Rinko, I can handle it. I'll look for documents at the house tomorrow and everything. But right now, I just want to eat and be alone. I'll probably go to bed, I don't have any strength at all."

"Then don't eat too much," she said softly. "You can just try a piece. Or not at all. But I wanted you to have something warm. Because when it's cold inside, it's chilly outside too."

She pushed a glass of milk towards him, warm, as she knew how to heat it in a small saucepan so that it wouldn't run away.

"I heated the milk myself on the stove, it tastes so much better than in the microwave. It's not hot to avoid getting burned, but it's not cold either. And... if you want, I can just sit here while you eat. Or I can tell you about how my omelet stuck at first today, and then suddenly fell behind, and I was so happy, as if I had won a competition. Or I don't have to tell you. What do you want more?"

Yuuto slowly raised his eyes. I paused for a second on the ketchup pattern that Rinko had drawn on the side-a simple curl, not a heart or a star, but just something round, like the sun.

He reached out with his fork, picked up a small piece of omelet, and tasted it. And he nodded slightly.

"It's delicious," he said, and the word sounded like it had cost him a lot. Rinko exhaled, as if she had just remembered to breathe. "I'm glad," she whispered. - If it's not enough, I also have chicken noodle soup, as you like. It's warm too."

And they sat like that for a while longer: Yuto ate a little bit, and Rinko looked at the plate, at her hands, at the window, where the bright sun was shining outside the window. And in that silence, between the pieces of food and the unspoken words, there was the most important thing: she tried to hold him, just by staying close.

"Rinko, tell me about my parents, because I don't remember them at all."

"Well, you told me that you lived with your grandparents until the age of seven, while your parents traveled abroad. And then your dad Shinji and Mom Rei took you away. I do not know what they did, but they loved you."

Yuto put down his empty omelet plate. And he asked me to pour him some soup, they say it's customary for them to remember with chicken soup.

"Rinko, sit down to eat too, and tell me about yourself."

"Well, we met in a city park when you were being bullied by older boys. You didn't even realize that they were bullying you. And I kicked them away. We've been walking together ever since."

We ate the entire small pot of soup, and Yuto staggered off to sleep. I stayed to clean up. I wanted to do something with my hands. Yuto doesn't remember anything, again. What if it lasts a lifetime?

Chapter 2. The second day in a new world.

I woke up in a dream again. However. A familiar bed, a familiar wall... An unfamiliar ceiling? No, the ceiling is also familiar: a square chandelier, a round lamp: very typical for the Japanese. More precisely, for manga-anime Japanese. We also have such comrades: a round one is dragged, a square one is rolled - a suspicious similarity of styles. However, it stuck with me.

I wonder if the dream is original or inspired by something? It was both this way and that way. Rather the second, by the way: the anime lamp seems to hint. It's a pity, the original plots are captivating with their strangeness, although the world around them is as real as it can be. Hmm. Well, if that's the case, the show continues. First, let's try to figure out where I am... Or - to remember.

Overcoming tearfulness and the desire to bury my face in the wall and lie down, I began to search the house, as I promised my neighbor yesterday. So where can Japanese adults keep their home documents and their passports?

I listened to the fragmented memory of the child. So my father kept important documents in the built-in closet, and my mother kept his certificates and other necessary things on the table in her room. I was stuck, my memory could hardly make out incomprehensible hieroglyphs, and reacted to envelopes and folders.

*** Rinko's POV.

I stopped by Yuto's place this morning before school, but he was still asleep. Let him sleep, although it's not good for him to skip school, but he can today. Mom called his homeroom teacher yesterday and told her about the boy's bereavement. She gave him permission not to come today.

I adjusted the blanket on Yuto's bed, and after making him breakfast, I ran to school.

Time dragged on like a rubber band. How's your friend, he's probably already awake. Has he started eating or is he still hungry? I barely waited until one o'clock in the afternoon, and ran to Yuto's house.

She came in quietly, and yesterday, when I told her I was going to cook, he gave me the keys before I went to bed. The key turned in the lock, and I entered the house. In the living room, Yuto was sitting at the table sorting through the papers scattered on the table.

A friend was sitting in a state of shock over his grandfather's will. Yuto, what happened? Rinko, it's you. Yuto shuddered.

"Grandfather Gen, cut his father and mother out of his will. I don't understand why. I remember they've been fighting for the last few years, but should I cross it out?"

"Yuto, maybe it's not that scary." I went up to the boy and hugged him.

"I searched for my parents' documents, but I found only my grandfather's will and my documents and school certificates."

"Yuto, let's call my mom after lunch, she knows exactly where the documents might be. Our houses have a typical layout, as Dad once said."

While Yuto was busy with the paperwork at the table, I went to the kitchen to cook dinner for two people. Then she pulled her friend out from behind the table and dragged him to eat, he ate breakfast by the way.

Then I called my mom and she came to help me look for documents, they checked in all the usual places. Then she pulled her friend out from behind the table and dragged him to eat, he ate breakfast by the way. Then I called my mom and she came to help me look for documents, they checked in all the usual places. They found copies of their parents' passports, a housing purchase agreement, and my mother looked at Gennosuke's grandfather's will and looked at the place where Yuto's parents' names had been deleted, explaining that he got the property in Noihara bypassing his father and mother.

"Haruko-san, thank you so much for your help." Yuto bowed and escorted her to the door. Then he began to put the documents in their places in the same order he knew.

This time, I didn't have enough imagination for the original world. Forty-eight hours of local time have passed, and of those two days I can remember almost a minute-by-minute sweep when I was awake: a lot of things were new. Rinko came, that was my neighbor's name. A small girl, she talks a lot, but she cooks, as I mentioned above, surprisingly well for her age. We're nine years old, by the way. Interestingly, I really didn't wait for the social inspector. I went around the whole house, climbed into the attic, into the basement.

I walked around the city, a magnificent park with a reservoir, the business center is built up with skyscrapers, somewhat reminiscent of Moscow City, only the buildings are two or three times lower, but there are more of them. I went shopping. I tried to figure out the chronology. The year is 2005 on the calendar. Hmm again.

It's school time now, I'm going to school tomorrow: Japanese anime is a holy fetish. I tried to "remember" something about myself: I remember surprisingly little. Hmm, Rinko is a common name, but I've definitely met Noihara. In manga or anime.

Rinko's POV

After Mom left, I took Yuto for a walk to the city center. The guy walked strenuously turning his head and asking what was around us.

"Rinko, what's the name of the city?"

"Takamiya, of course, is Yuto with sclerosis. Hee-hee."

Yeah, and the teachers look away, but they don't say anything. That's the way it's done. I wonder if that's the way it's done in real Japan, too? And my place is not at the back window. Either the template is broken, or my imagination is playing tricks, or I'm not the main character*. But it's hardly imagination.

[*A traditional classroom seat for a manga or anime character. Japanese artists and animators diligently support this stamp, which has become a true tradition.]

I've been thinking a lot about what happened. I've memorized a lot of dates about the history of Japan here. Especially awesome motor writing skills. That is, I write like a chicken with my paw: it's normal for a junior, but anyway, I didn't have them. Again, we communicate in Japanese. I understand fluently when I say there are no difficulties at all. I should have woken up by now anyway, if the surrounding beauty had been "supported" by my brain. Therefore, my consciousness is on, let's say, a "third-party server." It sounds crazy, but - "if all possible explanations are discarded, the impossible is correct," or whatever Sherlock Holmes said? And for some reason, I don't really care about that fact, it seems. The installation had an interesting effect, after all, not a stimulant, but something more serious. I wanted to do some research. Logically speaking, at six in the morning the computer will turn off the power, and even if not, at eight the staff will come and turn off the installation. Will I be back? A very high probability. And how much local time will pass? Very interesting.

*** Rinko's POV

I went to pick up Yuto at seven today, and I woke up the guy who didn't set the alarm again.

"Yuto, get ready for school quickly, we'll be late."

"To school, huh? It's Saturday!"

"Yes, it's school today, get dressed. And we went to breakfast. I'm just getting something to eat."

While Yuto was putting on his school uniform, I made an omelet, and boiled fish with rice, Rinko specially cooked the cod in the broth so that it would melt in her mouth. which has already become traditional in Japan. And miso soup.

While we ate, we continued to discuss the school.

"Rinko, where is our school?"

"It's at the other end of the neighborhood, so hurry up, Yuto, we still have a bus ride. Classes start at nine. Here's the schedule."

"I showed Yuto my schedule sheet. Yuto chuckled."

We finished eating. Yuto quickly gathered his textbooks and notebooks. And we went to the bus stop. On the bus, a friend stared stubbornly out the window, smiling sadly into the void. I took my friend's hand and stared out the window too.

At school, he tried to sit at the penultimate desk by the window, and I dragged him to his usual place in the second row next to me, while my classmates laughed.

The class was habitually noisy: someone was rustling with spellings, someone was arguing quietly with a neighbor on the desk, and in the corner Taizo-kun was diligently writing the hieroglyph "sun" - so diligently, as if something very important depended on the beauty of each line. The air smelled of ink, paper, and that special school warmth that usually envelops and soothes.

But for Yuto, this familiar world seemed to have become flat, like a picture in a book. He was sitting staring into space somewhere over a notebook, and his pencil lay motionless on a lined page. There was a third lesson - calligraphy. There was a script in front of him: the hieroglyph ^ - "happiness" was drawn in large, clear, red lines.

The teacher repeated on the blackboard:

"First the upper line, then two vertical lines, and then we close at the bottom - like a house for happiness."

The children were diligently drawing with pencils, trying not to go beyond the lines, and Yuto kept staring and staring at one point, and this hieroglyph did not want to become anything more than just black lines on white paper for him.

Rinko watched her friend warily, apparently he started trying to remember his parents again. The boy confessed in the morning that he doesn't remember anything about them at all, just blurred silhouettes.

The teacher, Ms. Yamada, moved between the rows quietly, almost noiselessly, as she always did so as not to frighten the children. She stopped at his desk, but she didn't lean too close or shake his shoulder. I just quietly put my hand on the edge of his notebook-not on his arm, not on his shoulder, but where the paper touches the wood of the desk. It was not a demand, not a reproach, but just a quiet "I'm here."

"If it's hard to get all the lines out today," She said it just as softly so that the others wouldn't hear. you can just circle it once. Or not even circle it. "You can just sit and listen to the others write."

Yuuto flinched slightly, as if he had just noticed that there were other people around. He slowly shifted his gaze from emptiness to her face - calm, without unnecessary pity, but with the same attentiveness that says: I see that you feel bad, and this is normal.

"I'll... I'll try," he whispered and picked up a pencil. The fingers were naughty, and the first line turned out to be shaky, not as smooth as everyone else's. He froze, as if he was afraid of this curvature.

Ms. Yamada tilted her head slightly, as if she was considering something important rather than a mistake.

"You know, in calligraphy, they sometimes say that a trembling line hides a real feeling", She said softly. "The main thing is that you spent it. This is already a step. And if you want to erase and write again later, I'll bring you an eraser. Or we can leave this line as it is. You can watch how Rinko-chan draws lines.

Yuuto nodded slowly. He didn't do the laundry. Instead, he moved to Rinko's desk and very carefully drew the second line, a little more confidently. And the third one. And even though the hieroglyph turned out to be imperfect, with uneven corners and different stroke thicknesses, it still appeared on paper. As if even in such a small thing it was possible to grasp reality.

"I read yesterday that this hieroglyph looks like an open palm holding something carefully."

Yuto looked at her. And for the first time that day, there was something other than emptiness in his eyes, as if he was trying to remember what it was like to understand other people's words and respond to them. It was like trying to remember how to speak Japanese again. This morning, at breakfast, he sometimes got lost and started speaking in an unfamiliar language.

"Yes, Rinko", he said just as quietly. "But I'm not very good at it."

Rinko did not say "you will succeed" or "don't worry." Instead, she put her writing next to his notebook.

"Then I'll sit here and draw him next to me. So you can see what he looks like. And if you want, you can just look at mine. Or not look at all. But I'm here."

And she began to draw the lines carefully, whispering to herself:

"Top... two down... close... here it is, a house for happiness."

Yuto looked at his character again. Then he looked at her. And slowly, very slowly, as if afraid to scare off this fragile moment, he drew the last line.

He began to repeat the hieroglyph with Rinko. And Rinko calmed down a bit.

After the last lesson, Rinko took out two bentos.

"Yuto, let's go to the roof or eat at the desk, whatever you want?"

Rinko, where will there be fewer people? I don't want to see anyone yet.

"in the classroom. Let's put the notebooks on the desk and eat together."

Rinko unwrapped her bento in a pink handkerchief, Yuto's in a blue one. They took out their chopsticks and began to eat.

Yuto was dumbfounded as he examined everything in the box.

"Did you do it yourself?"

"Yes, my sensei chefs at Aunt Mia's onsen inn taught that if you can't say something with your heart, do it with your hands."

The boy took out the rice formed into triangles with a strip of noria leaf and took a bite. Then I took a piece of teriyaki chicken from the special meat compartment, which Rinko had marinated last night to roast in the morning. I chewed it.

"It's delicious, really."

The girl breathed a sigh of relief and began to eat her rolled omelet and stewed vegetables.

"I put Yuto radish for you instead of plum, I remember that you don't like sour, that's if you want to crunch." The guy nodded gratefully with his mouth full.

At the end, they took out apple slices from the bento, sprinkled with lemon juice.

"Shall we go home, Rinko?"

"Come on, Yuto, if you don't want to go for a walk."

"I'd like to explore our neighborhood today and remember the way home. And maybe take a walk around the city center, I want to know what's interesting in the city."

"Come on."

Rinko shows me the way to the bus stops. How to walk home through our neighborhood. We'll need to draw a map of the Yuto quarter. And introduce him to the neighbors again.

Chapter 3. Household chores.

A week has passed. I'm diligently filling my head with various information, I'm just a nerd. I painted hieroglyphs with a brush, ink, awesome! I drew a vase of flowers on the ISO, cursed everything. I read a school history textbook. I received a letter from the bank, went to get my checkbook, and received it. I get weekly payments from my parents' account, which are good enough not to cook at all, but Rinko feeds me. Sometimes she brings it from her parents' generosity, sometimes she cooks it herself.

Yes, I carry a hefty "amulet" on my chest, a flat red silk bag bigger than my palm. I tried to take it off and immediately "remembered" that my grandfather had given it to me when I was a kid... Six? Seven? Something's wrong with my memory... Has it become? It probably "was" after all. I can take off the amulet, but I can't move more than a meter or two away from it - my heart naturally starts to malfunction and it's wildly scary. Mysticism sucks.

*** Rinko's Pov

For a week now, Rinko has been coming to cook for Yuto and generally harass the kid. Mom cooked breakfast for us a couple of times, and Rinko always cooked bento herself in the morning. Sometimes with fish, sometimes with meat or chicken teriyaki. And be sure to have vegetables and a layered omelet with onigiri.

***

Yuto and Rinko went to school as usual, but today Yuto asked me to show him how to pay the fare himself. The bus approached with a soft hiss, as if exhaling after a long day. Rinko confidently pulled the door open, and they entered the warm interior, smelling of rubber and rain.

"Stand here, I'll show you," Rinko stood at the ticket machine and deftly turned the handle. A small paper ticket with the number "17" came out. "This means that we boarded at bus stop number 17. When we get off, the driver will look at where we get off and tell us how much to pay."

Yuuto carefully took the ticket with two fingers, as if it were not a piece of paper, but an instruction that could not be crumpled.

"Ticket as a session identifier: fixes the entry point. The cost is calculated based on the delta between the entrance and exit. A transparent system with no hidden variables", the graduate student thought, and for a second Yuto even felt strangely calm: if everything can be named and designated, then the world will not throw up surprises.

Rinko was already pulling him towards the window seats.

"Here are the coins. Two hundred is enough for you. If anything, I'll add it."

Yuto spread it out in the palm of his hand: one 100 yen coin, another, and on top of that, a heavy 500 yen coin, like a backup plan.

"I remember," he said softly. "Two hundred."

Rinko smiled, not at him, but as if she was proud that he had noticed it:

"Yes. And look, there's a diagram on the wall. Do you see these numbers? This is how much it will cost to get off at each stop. We're coming out on the 23rd - it says here: 230 yen. Almost like two taiyaki."

Yuto nodded, clutching the coins and the ticket to himself. He suddenly felt better: the numbers weren't enemies, they were just pointers. Like the arrows on a rocket diagram: if you know where they lead, you can sit quietly by the window and watch the city slowly float by.

***

Together with Rinko's mother, Yuto went downtown to the bank to get a checkbook and a card. He received an email from the social network yesterday. The committee requested that a card be issued in his name, but with a request to be accompanied by at least the neighbor's mother.

Rinko sat on a chair in the hall while Yuto and her mom issued a card for Yuto to receive money from the clan's account. Mom showed me a letter from the social network. The Committee, and she was given a Yuto card in an envelope and told that the limit would be replenished every week by a certain amount.

"When I looked at the contract, it's a regular debit card for a child. You can open the envelope and sign the contract. And put it in this document, it's for auto-replenishment of communal services."

"I don't have my signature yet."

"Your accompanying person can sign the document, she will be your official representative at the bank from your quarter."

The card was an ordinary dark blue plastic one, and Yuto just chuckled when he saw it.

Especially in the absence of a broken number, Rinko herself had the same one, where her mother transferred her 2,000 thousand yen per week.

"Yuto, what's your limit?"

"Eight thousand a week for Rinko."

We were whispering on the bus seat.

"Mom, why does Yuto have so much money on his card?"

"Because he is paid by the social committee from the treasury of the Amakawa clan. Yuto is the last heir. Yuto, if you need to buy some clothes, warn me or the seller at least a couple of days in advance so that you can transfer the tranche to the purchase card."

***

Rinko clicked the lock of her purse and pulled out a thin white card with her name neatly written in black hieroglyphs. Nothing else: no long rows of numbers, no strange icons. It's just that "RINKO" is like a plaque on the door of a room that definitely belongs to her.

Yuto turned over his own card in his fingers, the one that showed both sneakers and house bills, and which he was always afraid of "spoiling" with one wrong number.

"You don't have any numbers at all," he said softly, as if he was afraid that if he spoke louder, the numbers would suddenly appear.

Rinko shrugged her shoulders and smiled, calmly, without boasting:

"But why? I don't need to remember them. Mom says it's like a house key.: You don't remember the pattern of the teeth. You just plug it in and the door opens." Rinko turned to the seller. "Two buns with sweet filling, please."

She held the card up to the terminal. A squeak. A green light. The salesman nodded:

"Two thousand. The limit has not been reached."

And everything. No passwords, no "enter code", no trembling fingers over the buttons.

"A card with no visible details. Closed loop: authorization by chip, data is stored in the block system, the user does not see and should not see the number. This is not a simplification for the sake of the child - it is a conscious security architecture." the graduate student inside almost exhaled from this cold, neat order.

Haruno's mom, who was standing a little behind him, seemed to hear this inner sigh and quietly added:

"There's a number on any card, Yuto. The system doesn't work without it. But he's not for you. It's for the bank, for the quarterly office, for reports. And there's only one rule for you: if you need to buy something, you put it on. We keep the rest on ourselves. Rinko tugged on his sleeve:

"Let's go. Let's take another yakitori. I still have almost everything left."

"Let's go, but now I'm crying. I have a bigger limit." Yuto said and followed her, and his fingers no longer clenched into fists. Because now he knew: you don't have to be smarter than numbers. Numbers are the work of adults. And his job is just to live.

***

Yuto ran into the house, waving a white envelope as if it were a trophy or, conversely, a verdict.

"Rinko! There's that piece of paper again! With numbers! And it says "pay by the 25th"! I don't want our lights to go out when you cook again... or I'll just do my homework!"

Rinko just sighed and waved her hand towards the kitchen:

"Take it to Haruno's mom. She's friends with these papers."

Rinko's mom was sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a stack of folders, but when she saw Yuuto's frightened eyes, she immediately pushed the papers away.

"Let me see."

She took the receipt, glanced at the lines, and calmly placed it on top of the folder labeled "Quarter-utilities."

"See? You don't have to press anything, run anywhere, or even get money. We have an autopayment here."

Yuto frowned, as if trying to catch the word and see if it was biting.

"Auto... what?"

"Autopayment," Aunt Haruno repeated, taking out the glasses again. For some reason, it was always easier for her to explain everything through water and jugs. "Look. This is our big jug - money for your life. And this little jug is the bill for the light. Every month, on exactly the same night, the bank itself takes from the big jug as much water as the little one needs. Without you. No queue. Without papers."

Yuto tilted his head like a puppy that had heard a new whistle.

"So... the bank comes and picks it up on its own?"

"Not by myself, of course. I once told the bank, `When the bill for the light comes in, pay from this bill.' And now it's just a rule. It's like saying to a cat, `Every day at six o'clock sharp, you get a bowl of food.' You don't have to pour every night. The rule is already working."

"Autopayment on a pre-agreed order. The write-off takes place on a fixed date. The initiator is not a cardholder, but a legal entity of the quarter; the Yuto card is only part of the content budget access system", Alex inside almost exhaled with relief: finally, instead of the frightening uncertainty, there were clear, fixed rules.

Yuto was still looking at the glasses, as if he was afraid that the water would disappear.

"What if... if I buy another pair of sneakers and there's not enough water in the big jug?" Aunt Haruno calmly ran her finger along the black line that she had once drawn on the glass.

That's what the threshold is for. If the water drops below this line, the social committee immediately sees and refills. So even if you buy sneakers, the cat's bowl will still fill up and the light won't go out.

Rinko, who was leaning against the door frame, chuckled:

"In general, you don't have to be afraid of this piece of paper at all. She comes just so that the adults know how much has run up there. And they pay without it."

Yuuto slowly reached out his hand and carefully placed the receipt on the folder.

"Means... Don't I have to hide it so I don't get upset?"

"You don't have to be afraid of her," Aunt Haruno said softly. "Let him lie. This is a job for adults. Your job is to have comfortable clothes for school and not to think about these numbers."

"The system is designed to eliminate the human factor at a critical stage. Mandatory payments do not depend on the child's memory or courage. They just happen," the graduate student thought.

And for the first time, Yuto looked at the white envelope not as a threat, but as an ordinary piece of paper. He even smiled a little:

"Okay. Then... can I still take those sneakers? Well, the ones with the blue stripe?"

Rinko rolled her eyes, but there was no anger in her voice:

"Go already. Just don't say later that I didn't warn you: in these sneakers you'll be jumping on ledges again."

And Yuto ran out, no longer looking back at the receipt. Rinko ran to run with him, she always had an awl in her ass, as her sensei said at school. Yuto, let's go to the city library, there's a department for children.

"Well, you know that I'm still a homebody. I don't have a library card, my parents probably didn't get it."

"Well, you know that I'm still a homebody."

"Yuuto, but you went to the library with me a month ago. I really didn't take anything."

"I seem to have lost it. You don't know if he's recovering."

"Yuto-kun's mom needs to restore the lost reader like I did that year!"

Haruno-san came out into the hallway.

"I'll ask our inspector from the social committee to help you with a trip to the library."

***

The building of the social committee smelled not of dust and books, but of something completely different - clean, slightly drugstore, with a slight admixture of coffee from the vending machine in the hallway. Yuuto tried to stay close to the wall, as if it could cover him.

"You know, I probably just lost her when my parents..." Tears welled up in Yuto's eyes. "I searched for the documents and couldn't find anything. And I probably watched it."

"There's no need to be afraid," Tanaka-san, the caseworker, said softly, adjusting her badge on her chest. It had her name and job title printed flat, without flourishes-Yuto managed to read it twice while they were waiting for the elevator. "We're just going to the library. And I'm coming with you to arrange everything. It's my job to make sure you have books, a travel card, everything you need.

Rinko walked on the other side and pretended that nothing special was happening at all: she chatted about the new manga, about the fact that there was a soda machine in the library, about the cat sleeping right on top of a stack of magazines in the reading room. And from her chatter, the world seemed to shrink slightly to an understandable size.

The library was quieter than Yuuto had expected. Not "silence when everyone is looking at you," but a calm silence where everyone is busy with their own business: someone is leafing through, someone is writing, someone is whispering something to the librarian.

The library still smelled of the same calm smell of paper and wood. The librarian, the one who had given Yuto the ticket, didn't even frown.

On the contrary, she tilted her head slightly, as if she wanted to catch his eye and say without words: "It's okay. We'll fix it."

"You're Yuto-kun, right? I remember you a month ago, such a lost young man...." She asked softly. "We already have you in the system. Let's just find your card in the database."

Yuto froze for a second. He suddenly felt ashamed: he was afraid that he would be scolded now, they would say that he was careless, that such things should not be lost.

"Identification based on saved data: the system stores the user's profile. The physical medium is secondary. Loss does not revoke access rights", the graduate student's voice sounded not like a cold report, but almost like a defense: he seemed to stand in front of Yuto and shield him from possible reproach.

Tanaka-san calmly placed her ID on the counter:

"I'm escorting Yuto from the social committee. A replacement of the reader's ticket is needed due to the loss."

The librarian nodded, clicked her mouse, and checked something.

"Yes, here it is. Everything is fine. We only need to print a new card. Sometimes they charge a small fee for a duplicate - I'll look at it now... yeah, a hundred yen."

Yuto immediately reached for his wallet, as if he wanted to prove that he wasn't helpless:

"I have. I'll pay for it myself."

Tanaka-san smiled a little-not broadly, but so that the smile would not scare away his determination:

"Good. Let it be your payment. It is right: You're responsible for your card."

He took out a hundred yen coin and placed it on the counter. It rang softly, but to Yuto it sounded like `I did it.'

The printer clicked again, and a new card crawled out of it - exactly the same as the previous one: white, with dark blue letters, with the same number.

"Here," the librarian handed it to Yuto, as she had the first time, holding it by the very edge, as if the card needed to be handed over carefully. "Now she's yours again. If you get lost again, come back. We'll find you in the database again. You're not going anywhere. Just bring your guardian to reissue the card."

Yuto squeezed the card with his fingers, then carefully put it in a special pocket inside the wallet, where only the most important things were.

Rinko, who had been standing nearby all this time, pretending to look at the children's book stand, finally turned around:

"You know, my library card went missing three times last year. And every time I had it done all over again. So you're not the only one."

Yuuto smiled faintly. He didn't want to be pitied, but Rinko's words made his anxiety seem to settle somewhere below, like dust after rain.

"Now I'll only put it here," He tapped the pocket with his finger. "And check. Twice."

Tanaka-san nodded, as if that was the most sensible rule in the world:

"Twice is good. And if you suddenly forget, you know where to call. We will help you."

And they went to the shelves. Yuuto walked a little more confidently because the card was with him again. And also because now he knew for sure that if she disappeared again, the world would not collapse. They will find him by name, by address, by date of birth - and again they will give him a pass to this quiet, paper-smelling island, where you can just read and not be afraid that you will be kicked out for one small loss.

Although you still need to buy an old used computer at home as a work machine and run the Internet around the house.

"And now," Rinko pulled him towards the shelves, where a sign above the shelves read `Manga. Children's and teenagers', "Let's find something about space. You said you like stories where everything can be counted.

And they walked between the rows, and Yuto clutched the card in his pocket so that he could feel its corners - sharp, but not prickly, like small steps that you can climb forward, step by step.

"Let's look for Star Wars."

The shelves in the children's department were cleverly arranged: at the bottom there were books that you could leaf through while sitting on the floor; a little higher there were manga that were pulled from the shelves by everyone; and at eye level there were the most "catchy" covers: bright, with characters who seemed to be looking directly at you.

Rinko pointed at one of the shelves:

"Look! Star Wars is here! And it's not just a book, it's a comic book. With pictures on each page."

Yuto came closer, not hurrying, as if he was afraid of scaring off the find. On the cover was Luke Skywalker with a lightsaber, and next to him were droids that were impossible not to recognize.

"Adaptation of film production in the illustrated comic book format: high visual density, low text load. It is optimal for the reader who needs a predictable structure and reliance on images.", Alex's voice sounded almost casual, as if he, too, was glad that everything was clear.

Yuuto carefully pulled the volume off the shelf. It wasn't too thick, the cover was smooth, and the inside of the pages were thick, as if on purpose so that they could be flipped many times.

"It's even about the Death Star", Rinko was already flipping through the pages, showing the spreads. "Look, here's a scene where everything explodes, and here's Han Solo smiling."

Yuuto nodded, without taking his eyes off the pictures. He didn't have to read the entire text at once: he could just look at the footage first, piece together the story like a diagram.

"Let's take it," he said softly, as if testing whether it sounded like an adult decision. "I want to see all the pages."

Rinko smiled:

"Sure. There's a whole shelf of them. You can take two at once: read one today, the other tomorrow."

And for the first time, Yuto thought that the library was not about silence and strict rules. It's about the fact that somewhere on the shelf there is a story that is already waiting for him.

***

The sun was already sinking towards the roofs, and long shadows lay across the sidewalks, as if someone had carefully drawn the street into even squares. They came in again after having dinner with buns and fish, cookies, and sweet stuffed Tayaks. The clerk in the shop handed the children each a cup of green tea, recently brewed in a teapot.

"Here's a bonus for you, as regular customers."

"Thank you Hiroshi-san." Rinko said.

Hiroshi deftly handed Yuto and Rinko a cup of tea, and then placed two corrugated cardboard cuffs on the counter - such thin "sleeves" that fit on a glass.

"Put this on," he nodded, indicating with a flick of his fingers how to do it. "It's hot."

Rinko immediately pulled the cuff over the glass and smiled:

"Like a mitten!"

Yuto repeated it after her, carefully, as if it were an important instruction: put it on first, then just hold it. The cuff made the glass thicker and seemed calmer: you could wrap your whole palm around it, and you could feel the warmth, but it didn't burn. If necessary, here are some more napkins," Hiroshi pushed a stack of thick paper to the edge.

"You can put thais on them while you drink tea. Just don't put the glasses on the counter, okay? I have to work here. Just don't put the glasses on the counter, okay? I have to work here."

Rinko nodded, took a napkin, and put the taiyaki on it, so you can hold it with one hand and hold the glass calmly with the other.

"Thank you, Hiroshi-san," Yuuto said softly, looking the shopkeeper straight in the eye for the first time.

Hiroshi tilted his head slightly, as if that was the most important answer in the world:

"No problem. Eat while it's warm."

Yuto and Rinko took a few steps away from the stall, to where the sidewalk was getting a little quieter and the dense crowd was spreading out. A low concrete fence stretched nearby: gray, with a slightly rough edge, but smooth on top, as if specially made for such occasions. Rinko was the first to place the cup on it, carefully, with two fingers, as if checking if it was loose.

"You can do it here," she said, already holding the taiyaki more comfortably. Now you're holding a cookie with one hand and tea with the other. Or even a cookie with both hands.

Yuto looked at the fence, then at the cup in his hand. He liked this simple logic: there is a prop, there is a rule.

"A horizontal surface with sufficient surface area and low slip coefficient. Suitable for short-term tea placement", Alex thought, sipping his tea.

He carefully placed the glass on the edge of the fence. The glass stood up straight, did not roll, did not shake. Yuuto exhaled as if he had just completed a small but important task. Now he could safely hold the taiyaki with both hands without fear of anything falling.

Rinko had already taken a bite of the cookie cutter and was now blowing on her fingers - it was too hot.

"Oh..." she giggled, looking at Yuto. "I should have waited. But it's worth it. Try."

Yuto nodded and took a bite. The adzuki pasta was warm and sweet, the dough was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. He didn't say "delicious," but the corners of his lips twitched slightly, as if a smile was trying to break through caution.

Somewhere behind the stall, Hiroshi san was setting up tongs and wiping the edge of the counter. He saw how the children had gone to the fence, how they had set down their cups, and how they were now eating without haste. And that was enough for him: they found their own quiet corner, their own little "table", and now they could just be children.

Little Rinko whispered that her friend was not himself because of the recent death of his parents.

The concrete fence was cool, rough, and so secure-you could easily put cups on it to hold hot taiyaki with both hands. Yuto had just carefully placed his glass on an even edge, exhaled as if he had completed a difficult task, and was about to take a bite when a gray cat with a black stripe silently emerged from behind a low curb.

She jumped gently right onto the fence, sat down two steps away from the cups, turned her head and stared at the children with round eyes, as if checking: "Can I stay here?"

Rinko reacted instantly. She leaned forward a little, not abruptly, so as not to frighten the cat, but firmly waved her hand:

"Shoo! Go where you don't get in the way. There are pills in the right pocket of the backpack with a yellow sticker!"

The cat lazily twitched its ear, jumped down onto the sidewalk, and sauntered away, as if it had been waiting for a polite invitation to leave all this time.

Yuto sniffed, blinked, trying to clear his eyes, and suddenly froze - a simple, familiar rule clicked in his head: if you have allergies, get the medicine.

He hurriedly reached for his backpack, unzipped it, and found a small plastic case inside. His fingers were shaking a little, but he immediately felt that bright yellow sticker, and it made him feel a little calmer: even when everything was swimming in his eyes, it was impossible not to notice it.

Rinko leaned a little closer, but she didn't touch him, just stood there like a quiet support. And suddenly she saw this sticker - and something jumped in her chest from recognition. She put it on herself. On the day when the medic at school gave Yuto a standard pharmacy pencil case - the same as everyone else's, unremarkable, gray-white, merging with everything else in the backpack. Rinko then thought: if it suddenly gets bad, he should find it right away. And in the evening, sitting at her desk, she cut out the brightest yellow piece from a sheet of stickers and stuck it on the case so that it glowed like a beacon.

"Can you... handle it on your own?" She asked softly, nodding at the pill.

Rinko ran to Hiroshi-san and asked for a glass of cold water to take a pill. Then, after getting a cup, she ran back to Yuto.

Yuto nodded, put the pill on his tongue, took a long sip of water, and squeezed his eyes shut for a second, as if he were swallowing panic itself along with the water.

Hiroshi san came up with a pack of clean napkins in his hand.

"Here," he handed them to Yuto. "Blot your eyes, it'll make you feel better. And step aside a little more: there's a breeze, it blows everything away quickly."

Yuto took the napkins and gently dabbed at the corners of his eyes-not rubbing, but as he was taught, he did. His breathing gradually steadied.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking not directly into the shopkeeper's eyes, but slightly to the side, at the edge of the counter. Hiroshi san tilted his head slightly, as if he understood this little caution.

"Medicine is good. But the main thing now is just to stand still. Let it start working. Ten minutes, no more, and you'll be as good as new again."

Rinko wanted to say something to completely banish this awkwardness, but suddenly she found herself staring at the yellow sticker. And she smiled, softly, almost to herself.

"It's good that I put it on." She mumbled, as if apologizing for even mentioning it.

Yuto followed her gaze, looked at that bright square, then back at Rinko - and for the first time in those minutes, there was something other than tension in his gaze.

"Yeah," he said softly. "good. I found the pencil case quickly."

And the "good thing" was not even about the sticker, but about the fact that someone thought in advance, someone made a small but very necessary beacon so that in the dark or in tears you could just reach out and find it.

Hiroshi san chuckled, as if he understood everything without words, and returned behind the counter, but remained standing at the very edge so that he could see the children and come out again at any moment if necessary.

The wind was stirring their hair, the concrete fence was still smooth and secure, and the tea cups were still standing on its edge. Yuto put the case back into his backpack, carefully zipped it up so that nothing would move, so that the yellow square would always be visible. Then he took the new taiyaki that Hiroshi-san had brought and took a bite. The azuki paste was warm, slightly sweet, and the simple taste brought the world back to its place. Rinko took a sip of tea from a closed cup through a straw. Then she took a bite of a fish cookie. The evening was no longer spoiled.

***

They turned into a familiar alley, where the lanterns had not yet been lit, but were already standing ready like silent sentries. Rinko slowed her pace and glanced at Yuto:

"Haruno-san's mom promised to bake apple and cinnamon pies. And then I'll show you one of the moves from the new manga release- just for show, no punches. In case the bullies get attached to you again and I'm not around."

Yuto froze for a second, as if weighing every word. He wanted to go home, to his corner, where he could spread magazines on the floor and look at diagrams until dark. But there was no "need" in Rinko's voice, no pressure - just "if you want". And I didn't want to eat noodles.

"Okay," he finally nodded. "But first I'll show you a page. It's about how astronauts sleep in zero gravity. It's... weird. It's like the world has turned upside down."

Rinko chuckled, but there was a hint of curiosity in her eyes:

"In zero gravity? That is, without a pillow at all?"

"Without a pillow. Without a floor. Without the "bottom". Everything just hangs."

And they went on, a little faster, because now their goal was not just to get there, but to open at least one page before dark. The stacks of magazines gently tapped against the sides, and this quiet rhythm was almost like a promise: there would be nothing scary today anymore. Only space, martial arts, which Rinko has collected manga for teenage boys and cinnamon pies.

***

Yuto went to Rinko's house and stayed for dinner, after Haruno-san's permission.

"I love oyakodon, (this is a classic Japanese dish: a bowl of rice topped with a delicate mixture of chicken and egg stewed in a sweetly salty sauce.)" Rinko said softly, as if apologizing for even having a favorite dish. "He's like... a blanket. Only from food."

Yuuto nodded without looking up from his plate. There really was something of a blanket in it: warm rice, soft pieces of chicken, an egg that enveloped everything around.

"Food as a support system: predictable texture, understandable layers, absence of irritants. It's not just dinner, it's a way to say "you're safe" without words.", Alex thought, and this time his inner voice didn't sound like an instruction, but almost like relief.

And Yuto was just eating. And with each bite, it became a little easier for him to breathe. After dinner, Yuto and Rinko looked at a manga about space, when they were leafing through Revenge of the Sith in the library. Then Yuto went to do his homework, asking Rinko for Monday's schedule, after which he received a photocopy made by the girl at school.

"Yuto, I noticed that you've lost your schedule. Will you explain the math to me again, as you did in class?"

"Yes, of course. Let's go to your room."

And on Monday, there was another math class.

Rinko bent over her notebook so low that her bangs fell over her eyes. She read the task condition quietly, almost in a whisper:

"There were eight taka in the tray... we bought three... then we reported four more..." and she bent the fingers on her left hand again, then on her right, then straightened them out and started over. Her fingers were moving fast, as if they were trying to catch elusive numbers.

"Again," she muttered to herself. "I'm going to count it right now. Eight minus three... that's five... and then plus four... five and four... six, seven, eight, nine? Or have I already lost my way?"

Yuto wasn't looking at the problem, but at those flashing fingers, and suddenly realized that it wasn't the numbers she couldn't figure out, she was afraid of making mistakes, and her fingers seemed to hold the answer until it slipped out.

He quietly pushed a blank piece of paper towards her:

"Let's not use our fingers. Let's draw a tray. Look."

And he began to carefully shade eight cells in a row - exactly, as if he were putting hot melts on a tray. Rinko stopped moving her fingers for a second and stared at those cages.

"It's... like it's real," she whispered.

"Almost," Yuto nodded. "These eight are all that happened. And now the customers have bought three."

He took a red pencil and crossed out three squares. Rinko involuntarily reached out as if she wanted to stop him, but then she exhaled and just stared.

"How much is left?" Yuto asked quietly.

"Five," Rinko said more confidently, without counting. "You can see it right away. No need to bend your fingers."

"Yeah. And now we're drawing five squares from below again, and the seller has baked four more. Let's add it."

On the right, he added four new cells in green, like a fresh batch from the oven. Rinko ran her finger along the row, without bending her fingers, without moving her lips, just drawing a line through the cells: Rinko ran her finger along the row, without bending her fingers, without moving her lips, just drawing a line through the cells:

"Five and four... nine. Turn out."

She looked up at Yuto, and there was such relief in her eyes, as if a heavy backpack had been lifted from her shoulders.

"You know... I'm shifting the sticks all the time., You know... I'm shifting the sticks all the time", She confessed a little sheepishly. I have counting sticks at home, I drive them back and forth until I get completely confused. And here... everything seems to be in place.

Yuto smiled a little:

"Chopsticks are also normal. But the cells are not lost. They won't go anywhere if someone suddenly pushes the desk." Rinko giggled, and this quiet laugh sounded like something very special in the noisy classroom, just for the two of them.

"Okay, tech guy," she whispered. "Show me again how you draw these cells. I want to try it myself."

The teacher, passing by, paused at their desk, looked at the drawing, at the neat strokes, at the crossed-out cells and said softly:

"It's a good way. Someone is counting on their fingers, someone is moving sticks, and someone is drawing. The main thing is that the answer doesn't run away."

When the bell rang, Rinko carefully closed the notebook, as if she was afraid that if she slammed too hard, these painted cells would fly apart.

"Thanks for showing me," she said softly. "Now I'm going to draw a tray. Even if your fingers get tired of bending, and the chopsticks get lost."

Yuto shrugged, but there was something warm in his eyes:

"The main thing is not to rush. And everything will be smooth. It's like putting them on trays."

They went out into the hallway, and the noise of someone else's classroom no longer seemed so loud. Rinko tugged on his sleeve:

"After school, shall we go to the hawker on the corner? Let's get some tea. And if we're lucky, maybe there will be more thayaks."

Yuto nodded. And there was something simple and reliable about this "let's go" - like these cells in a notebook: one step, one more step, and it's not scary anymore. The tray was almost empty, and the salesman smiled and handed them the last of the taiki, one for two.

"For two people?" Rinko frowned slightly, as if this was a new, difficult task. "But it's not enough here..."

"It's fine," Yuuto said softly, and for the first time in a long time, there was no desire to hide in his voice. "We'll split it up. Like a diagram in half: exactly along the line."

He carefully broke the taiki: one half - with a slightly more ruddy crust - went to Rinko, the other - to him. Rinko took a bite, squeezed her eyes shut with pleasure, and immediately pulled Yuto's sleeve towards the noisy group of classmates at the fence.

"Come on," she whispered, as if sharing a secret. "This is Haru and Mio. Haru is always building something out of sticks, and Mio knows all the best places to sit in silence. They're normal. Truth."

Yuto froze for a second, his fingers involuntarily clenched, as if they were looking for a familiar notebook in a cage where everything could be put on the shelves. But then he remembered: the scheme here is different.

"There is no "was-taken-added". You just have to take a step here. One. Then another one."

Haru looked up and smiled, not too broadly, but sincerely:

"Oh, is this the memory-deprived student from the first B? Rinko told me about you."

He says you put any task into squares, as if you were reading a blueprint.

"Well... if you draw everything, you won't get confused," he muttered, and suddenly he was surprised that he was saying it out loud, and not just Rinko.

Mio nodded as if it was the most reasonable explanation in the world:

It's the same with my cards. If I don't mark with a cross where I've already been, I'll definitely wander back into the same alley.

Rinko exhaled softly, as if something had also fallen from her shoulders, and took another bite of the tayaki.

"And we were just sharing the last taiki," She said, as if that made them all a little closer at once. "Yuto broke everything equally. Exactly. Even the filling didn't leak out."

Haru chuckled and took out two chopsticks from his pocket, even though there was nothing left to eat:

"I usually use them to build towers. Do you want to try it together? Or... if you want, we can just stand here. There is a wind from the river of the Quiet Willow Corner, and the noise is not as loud as at the main entrance."

And then Yuto suddenly realized that he wanted both. I want to see how Haru deftly puts one wand on top of the other, as if building an invisible bridge. I want to hear Mio talk about quiet alleys where no one hurries or shouts. I just want to stand here, next to Rinko, and feel that this world is not someone else's, but just not yet fully marked out.

"Give me the tower," Yuto said unexpectedly to himself. "Just... can I chalk a line on the asphalt first? To keep it standing straight."

Mio laughed, but not offensively, but like they laugh when someone does something their own way and suddenly everyone likes it:

Sure. We have a whole collection of lines here. Someone draws paths, someone draws borders, and one day I drew a circle just to know: here I am.

Rinko smiled, looking from one to the other, and there was so much quiet happiness in her smile, as if she herself had just solved the most difficult problem.

"See?" She whispered to Yuto as Haru carefully placed the third wand. "There's no need to keep everything in mind. You can just... be. And if you get confused, we'll tell you."

Yuto nodded. And for the first time, he didn't want to draw a diagram to hide behind it. He wanted to watch this ridiculous, shaky, but so real tower of sticks grow. How the wind moves Rinko's hair. How Mio points to the sky and says, `Look, there's a cloud like a fish.'

And the world, which a week ago seemed alien and too loud, suddenly began to decompose not into cells, but into small, simple things: a warm side of taiyaki, a quiet laugh, a wand that finally stood up straight. The next day, they went to the calligraphy club after school, but Yuto saw the physics club. After the calligraphy class, they walked down the hallway, and Rinko was still smiling, as if she was holding something warm in her palms:

"You liked it! You didn't even wince when you dipped your brush." Yuto shrugged his shoulders, but didn't wave it off. He really liked it - but not to "draw", but to feel how the line obeys the rules.

"I liked it," he admitted quietly. "Everything is in order there. As an instruction."

Rinko wanted to say something else, but then they passed by the door, on which hung a piece of paper with stickers: rocket, magnet, magnifying glass and the inscription "Physics Club: experiments every Wednesday." Yuto suddenly slowed down his pace.

"Is it... about physics?" he asked, as if he was afraid that if he spoke loudly, the door would close.

"Yeah," Rinko nodded. "They touch everything there. Last year, we made boats out of foil so that they wouldn't sink. And they watched how the shadow moved when the lamp was moved."

Yuto looked at the stickers, then at the schedule, where it was written in black and white: "One circle to choose from." And something inside him tightened.

"I want to go there," he said almost in a whisper. "But... there too. Into calligraphy. Everything is according to the rules there, too."

Rinko suddenly stopped pulling on his sleeve. She just stood next to me and also looked at the schedule.

"One circle," she repeated, as if tasting the word. "And you want both."

Yuuto nodded without looking up. He was ashamed that he couldn't choose, as if he was complicating things again.

"There's... there's probably an order to physics, too", He muttered. "We do it first, then we see what happened. Then we write it down. As a scheme."

At that moment, a teacher looked out of the calligraphy classroom, the one who calmly said, "First it's right, then it's beautiful." He looked at their faces, at that quiet confusion, as if he wasn't reading the words, but the lines between them.

"Something happened?" he asked softly.

Rinko opened her mouth, closed it, then finally blurted out:

"Yuto wants to come to you and the "physicists". But it is possible only in one."

The teacher did not immediately shake his head. He tilted his head slightly, as if weighing not the words, but the feelings behind them.

"You know," he said to Yuto, "In calligraphy, we learn how to hold your hand so that it does exactly what you want it to do. It's about control. And in physics, they learn to notice how the world itself does exactly what nature intended. It's about surveillance. Both of these skills are important to you."

Yuto listened as if each word was placed on a separate cell in his head.

"But the circle..." he began.

"Let's do this," the teacher interrupted, not sternly, but as if offering a deal in which everyone wins. "In the Physics club, you will learn to see how everything works. And just come here for five minutes after class. Sit down, draw one line. So that the hand does not forget the order. It won't be a circle. It will be... your little habit."

Rinko exhaled, as if she had just realized that she was holding her breath.

"Really?" she asked. "May I?"

"You can," the teacher nodded calmly.

The main thing is that he feels calm. And so that he doesn't lose what's important to him. Yuto looked at the stickers on the Physics door again: rocket, magnet, magnifying glass. Then look at the schedule sheet. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like hiding behind a notebook. He wanted to step into a place where he could feel how the world worked.

"Then I'll go there," he said softly, as if he were giving himself permission. "To the Physics club. But... if it's okay, I'll come in here. On one line. And maybe I'll draw something complicated? Then..."

"Of course," the teacher smiled. "One line is not much. But it can be very important. And then we'll get to the difficult part."

As they walked away from the door, Rinko giggled softly:

"Imagine, you will make boats and magnets, and then come and draw one smooth line. It's like it's your secret ritual."

Yuuto smiled a little, almost imperceptibly, but Rinko saw it.

"Yes," he said. "As if I'm checking that the order is still in place."

And they walked down the hall, past the lockers, past the notices, past the guys who were screaming and running, and Yuto suddenly realized that he didn't have to choose between "the right lines" and "real experiences." He can take from the world what helps him keep his balance. Step by step. Line by line. Experience after experience.

Chapter 4. Reflections on daily life.

Month. Did I create this world or did I get into it? Or, to put it a little more broadly: was this world created by human fantasy, or did the mangaka, um, anticipate it? Yes, I know where I am. There are no experts on creating worlds in line of sight, and there is no one to ask. Or you should stick to the theory of infinite multiplicity of worlds... or sign a pledge of allegiance to the religion of Max Fry, and Juffin Halley is his prophet. However, from the point of view of a physical observer, this is all bullshit.

The observer does not like the fact that he is the "chosen one", that is, he got the full program. Some kind of perfume... I'm sorry, Ayakashi. Did Mazoku and Kishin get mixed up? I also came across a manga from the category of "etty" - that is, "perversions". Well, from the Japanese point of view, perversion: I don't see anything perverted in looking at beautiful undressed girls for a young guy. If only I was interested in guys... Brr, don't talk about the bad stuff! Why do I believe I'm in a manga? And why not? The very fact of "hitting" is much more incredible.

But back to the manga. "My (body)The guardian of Himari." I remember her among all the plots by having a GH with a support specialization. A certain clan feature, the "Ferry of Light". The name is strange, what does the ferry have to do with it? Moreover, this is my only "superpower", unlike representatives of other clans, who could do magic either way... sort of. I've been reading manga for a long time, but I don't remember everything. If you adapt the story, then (my) ancestors are not fools: the only magic available is an extended analogue of the Uzumaki clan fuinjutsu from Naruto. Yes, I watched Naruto too. My personal clan now, and I'm the only one in it, the last heir, and therefore the head. A nine-year head, just great. But I digress.

So, my ancestors, now mine, didn't watch Naruto, but they fought in much the same way: they cast spells for themselves (such as "spiritual vision", "acceleration", "muscle strengthening" and who-knows-what else) and hacked at ayakashi. Oh, yes, my clan used to hunt demons. Cute. A kind of secret magical Shinobi, hello "Naruto" again. Ordinary people have completely forgotten about Ayakashi, thanks to the government that protects us. I'm being serious, the silverless hunters are far in the past, the Japanese, of course, are conservative people, but the corrupting influence of the West suddenly opened the magicians' eyes: what the fuck?! Now our people (from the exorcist clans, and there are already twelve of them in little Japan) have bypassed the government and climbed up. Not all. According to the manga, it turns out that we, Amakawa, were overboard. I wonder what the fuck. And I wonder why there are so few of us left that you can even put us in the red Book. Yeah, feet first. I got distracted again.

Amakawa. Abilities. Spirits- in Russian, are problematic to endure due to their ipic... epic power. Not all of them, but some of them. And here is one of my clever ancestors two or three hundred years ago (it's bad to forget the history of your own clan, it's bad!) solved the issue radically. I caught a cat. Hey, hey, the demon cat! How is it... baka-neko? No, bakeneko. That is, the spirit is a cat, but in terms of strength it is a very advanced unit, the ancestor almost ended there. But bullshit - the cat was led to a vassal oath. How?! I am most interested in this question. Because at the age of 16, my amulet will end, and I will smell delicious all over the neighborhood with free magical energy.

It's free for the spirits, because no one thought to train the last heir. But they gave me an advance payment for the descendant of the very cat who would come to "protect and mentor" me after the amulet ended. And, as I remember, the spirits will gather around - like flies on... honey. And I- neither with a sword nor with magic! I won't even be able to order my only combat unit. And why is that? According to the manga, the parents were taken away and rigidly fenced off from everything supernatural. They seem to have quarreled with their older relatives. Then why did Grandfather give out the amulet? It's full of questions...

Rinko's pov.

Yuto is very thoughtful this morning, he said that he should be alone and think. To remember the old. I made him breakfast and went home to read the manga "Lightning in a Narrow Street," and then I can read "the blade speaks."

And Yuto reads his Star Wars and says he's attracted to Luke Skywalker.

***

Our city stood on the shore of a large, quiet lake, and it seemed that all the water in it knew where to flow. Thin veins of streams ran from the lake through the city, like lines in a drawing. One such river, no wider than a school desk, flowed right through their neighborhood. There was an iron bridge above it, just enough for two people to separate on it if one was going to school and the other was leaving the store with a bag of buns.

Rinko loved this bridge. She always stopped in the middle, looked down where the water flowed around a couple of smooth stones, and said:

"Do you see how smoothly it bends around? It's like he knows the route."

Yuto nodded because he liked it: the water doesn't argue, it just follows the terrain. For him, it was like another understandable system.

"You don't even have to count here," he once said. "If you throw a wand, it will show you the way."

Rinko giggled and threw a dry twig into the water. It spun on a small funnel, then righted itself and floated further along the shore, past old houses, to the lake.

"Here," she said. "She doesn't get lost."

"Because she has nowhere to go," Yuto replied calmly. "The riverbed does not work."

The president of the Physics club once brought them here on a mini-tour. He brought a transparent ruler and showed how to measure the speed of the current by how many seconds the wand floats from one stone to another. Yuto wrote everything down in a notebook: "Step 1: quit. Step 2: Detect. Step 3: Calculate." For him, it was not a "walk by the water", but a real experience.

***

And after the calligraphy class, they walked home the same way. Rinko chatted incessantly, and Yuto watched as the shadows from the railing lay in even strips on the bridge, and it seemed to him that the city had finally stopped being too big. It had its own landmarks: the sign "2 A", the physics club, the smell of taiyaki at the stall - and this little river that just flowed by itself and did not bother anyone.

They settled down on a flat rock in the "Corner by two Willows" -that's what everyone called this place now. Rinko took out a makeshift tower from her backpack: the bars were slightly uneven, but smooth, polished to a warm beige color.

"The labor teacher gave the blanks," She said proudly, laying them out on the stone. "He said that the main thing is that everyone should be about the same."

Taizo, the new guy, leaned closer, squinting as if trying to figure out a secret:

"And if he falls?"

Rinko giggled:

Then we'll reassemble it. That's the point. Yuto silently moved closer and began to stack the first rows. He did this not quickly, but very precisely: he placed each block so that the joints did not match, as in real masonry.

"This way it's tighter," he muttered without looking up. "If the seams are in one line, the wall falls. It's the same here."

Taizo chuckled, as if he appreciated the approach:

"You're like an engineer."

"I'm like someone who doesn't want to put everything back together", Yuuto replied calmly, and for the first time that evening, he smiled a little. When the tower reached eight rows, Rinko pulled out a side bar. The tower trembled, froze, and stood. Rinko squealed softly, covering her mouth with her palm so as not to scare off luck:

"It worked!"

It was Taizo's turn. He pulled the bar from below, a little too sharply, and the tower swayed. Yuuto instinctively leaned forward, as if he wanted to hold her, but did not touch her.

"Not with two hands!" Rinko whispered immediately. "Just one. And you can move it a little to see which one is sitting freely."

Taizo froze, then slowly, more carefully, pushed another bar. He came out easily.

"Aha", Taizo exhaled, and there was so much delight in his voice, as if he had just launched a rocket. "He slipped out on his own!"

He put the bar on top, crookedly. Yuto frowned slightly, but didn't say anything. I just took it and moved the bar a little, leveling the edge.

"I'm sorry," Taizo said softly. "I'm not very careful."

"Nothing," Yuto suddenly replied calmly. Geometry is important here. If the edge lies flat, the tower stands. If not, she's betraying herself.

Rinko sat back, hugging her knees:

"You know, I like it when she shivers a little. It's like she's alive. As if he feels that now is the decisive move."

"She doesn't feel it," Yuto immediately objected. "This is physics. The center of gravity shifts, and if we place the top row correctly, it returns it."

Taizo looked at him, then at the tower, then back at Yuto - and suddenly he laughed, lightly, without mockery:

"You even count everything in the game."

"Yes," Yuto said simply, unashamed. "It makes me feel better. "When it's clear why something is standing or falling."

And it was his turn. Yuto ran his finger along the bottom rows for a long time, checking which bar was looser. He took his time. Finally, he chose one and pulled-slowly, smoothly, without a jerk. The bar came out as if it wanted to be pulled out by itself. Yuto laid him on top, neatly, exactly in line.

The tower was standing.

Rinko clapped her hands softly:

"Perfect. Just like the textbook."

"As per the blueprint," Yuto corrected, but there was no severity in his voice.

Evening was already falling on the city, and a cool breeze was blowing over the river. Somewhere far away, a bird called, and here, by two willows, it was quiet, only Rinko could be heard whispering: "Your turn," Taizo quietly counting the rows, and Yuto explaining why this particular bar can be touched, but it's better not to touch it.

After the Jenga, Rinko plopped down on the asphalt, pulled out three crayons from her pocket - yellow, blue and red - and joyfully shook them in the air:

"Let's draw a map now! A real one, with roads and secret paths!"

Taizo crouched down next to him, already reaching for yellow:

"Let's get the sun right away! And the house. And... well, to be beautiful."

Yuto didn't move. He looked at the crayons as if they were not pieces of limestone, but details of an unfamiliar pattern. The colors seemed too loose to him, like lines that don't have a blueprint.

But instead of saying nothing or leaving, he suddenly bent down, picked up all three crayons, arranged them in a row - strictly according to shades, from dark to light - and said softly but firmly:

"First, the rules. If we draw randomly, then we won't figure out where what is."

Rinko froze with the chalk halfway to the asphalt, then slowly lowered her hand and narrowed her eyes cunningly:

"Do you want to be in charge of the map?"

"I want it to be clear," Yuuto replied calmly. "Look at this: yellow is water. Just a river and a lake. No sun, no flowers. Just water."

He drew a clear yellow line-smooth, without curls.

"Blue," he continued, picking up another piece of chalk, "these are roads and paths. Everything you can walk on. From the school to our corner, from the store to Haru's house."

Taizo chuckled, but he no longer reached out to draw at random, but listened as if memorizing the instructions.

"And red," Yuto hesitated a little, as if weighing the word, "is the border. Where it's not allowed. Where it's dangerous. Where the water can spill. Or where the fence is. Or just, `don't come here, it's someone else's yard.'"

Rinko giggled softly, but not mockingly, but as if she suddenly felt calmer:

"So you're making a map like in that security textbook they showed us in class?"

"Almost," Yuto nodded. "Only here we build it ourselves. And if everyone remembers the colors, no one will get confused. Even if someone new comes and asks, `Where are you?' we'll say, `By the yellow river, next to the blue path, but don't go over the red line.'"

Taizo suddenly smiled-broadly, sincerely, without a trick:

"You know, it's... cool. It's like we have our own instructions."

And he didn't argue, didn't pull out a yellow crayon to draw the sun. Instead, he carefully took the blue one and drew a thin line from the edge of the yellow stripe:

"There's a path here. It winds, but if you follow it, you'll definitely come to the bridge."

Yuto looked at this line, slightly adjusted its angle - just a millimeter so that the joint lay flat - and for the first time did not frown from "creativity". Because now it wasn't just drawing. It was a markup. Rinko, already understanding the rules, took the yellow one and drew the bend of the river - but exactly along the edge, without going beyond:

"And then she makes a turn. And there, around the corner, is our corner."

The sun was setting, and the long shadows of the willow trees lay directly on their map, as if adding another layer of markup. Yuto looked at the three colors, at the clear boundaries, and thought that maybe the world could really be made clear if he just agreed on what each color meant.

"Okay," he said softly, when the map looked like a diagram instead of a scribble. "Now it's a map. Not just a drawing."

Rinko smiled and moved over to make room for him on the sun-warmed stone:

"So you're the chief engineer. I am the main bending artist. And Taizo..."

"And I," Taizo quickly picked up, "am in charge of the paths. I know all the paths, even the ones where no one walks."

They sat side by side, the three of them, and looked at their map: the yellow river flowed, the blue path led, the red line held the borders. And in that order, Yuto finally felt like he wasn't just "different", but someone who knew how to make everything fit together.

Pov Yu

The club room smelled of old paper and something sweet-Yumi brought a pack of cookies that were "almost expired" in the store, but she bought them anyway: "But it's a fifty percent discount!"

There were sheets of notes, miniatures, a bag of cubes, and an open laptop on the table, where the message in the chat was: "Yu, is the chapter ready? We are waiting!"

Yu, wearing her minus-one glasses, squinted at the screen again, trying to focus without having to take them off and put them on every two minutes.

"Here's the phrase... `He had always been a half-blood'. I've already copied it three times. I want it to sound not like a textbook reference, but as if magic itself is whispering."

Yumi sat down next to her, pulled a piece of paper towards her and quietly read it aloud:

"He always had mixed blood in his veins."

And suddenly she smiled:

"You know, it sounds like a spell. It's like you're not just translating, but putting a spell on the words."

Yu exhaled as if a stone had been lifted from her shoulders:

"Thank you. I was afraid it was too pretentious."

"It's not pretentious," Yumi said confidently. "It's like our paladin: he doesn't shout `I'm a hero,' he just stands in front of the door and says `I got it.' Here are your words - they keep the story alive."

Yu finally clicked "approve." The chat immediately started saying: "Thank you, Yu!", "You're the best!", "I'm reading!"

Yu blushed a little, but she smiled.

"Okay, enough work. Five minutes on D&D. You will be a paladin, and I will be a sorceress who knows all the spells."

Yumi immediately grabbed the bag, shook it, and poured out the cubes. One rolled right to the edge of the table, and she deftly caught it, as if it were not a cube, but something very important.

"Agreed. But if one drops out again, I'll say it's the curse of the dark magician."

"Yeah," Yu laughed, "and I'll say that I translated this curse incorrectly."

***

The lights were already going out in the hallway, and only a warm rectangle was still burning in the club room. The girls walked along the dim corridor, Yu clutched a folder with printouts to her chest, and Yumi chatted about a new idea for the campaign - about a city where magic is forbidden, and all spells must be hidden in ordinary phrases.

"I mean, like your translation," Yumi suddenly realized.

"Precisely!" Yu beamed. "You say `I'll open the door', but in fact it's `alohomora'. You say, `please be quiet,' and this is Silencio."

Yumi nodded, as if that explained everything:

"So you're not just changing words. You're giving people a way to take magic where it shouldn't be."

Yu took off her glasses, wiped them with the edge of her sweater, put them on, and the world became clear again.

"Sometimes it seems to me that if I do even one line wrong, all the magic will crumble."

Yumi stopped and looked at her seriously:

"But you're not doing it wrong. And even if you do, I'll be here. We'll fix it together."

Yu smiled, and this time it wasn't a hasty smile, not the kind that is hidden.

"Thank you."

***

They have their own "campaign map" on the board at the club - and a printout with a quote from Potter is pasted next to it: `It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live'. Yu hung it up because she was afraid of drowning in translations and forgetting about everything else. And Yumi added a marker at the bottom: `But sometimes dreams are also life. Especially if you make them for others.'

And when one of the guys asks: "Why bother with the translation at all?", Yu just nods at this inscription. And everyone understands.

The light from the lamp above the table became especially warm, as if the club itself had decided that it was supposed to be cozy today. All phones were turned down, laptops were closed, even the chat with translations was silent - for a while. All that was left on the table were the data sheets, miniatures, a bag of cubes... and two boxes of mochi: one with green tea (matcha), the other with red beans. Yumi brought them after class,

"It's not just dessert. This is the reward for saving the tower!"

Yu carefully took off her glasses, wiped them with the edge of her blouse, put them on and looked at her character card.

"I'm ready. My sorceress won't be whispering incantations in a low voice today. She's screaming today."

Yumi, who had already arranged the miniatures as if they were real allies, raised an eyebrow:

"Wow. Is it because the paladin shielded you from the dragon last time, and you said "thank you" in a whisper?"

"No," Yu smiled a little. "I just want it to be heard today."

The master of the game, a high school student with thick glasses and a T-shirt with a dragon, tapped a pencil on the table:

"So, the squad is at the edge of the forest. In front of you is an abandoned watchtower. Lights flash in the windows, and the wind brings the smell of burning. What are you doing?"

Yumi pushed the miniature of her ranger forward:

"My ranger goes into the shadows. He feels that someone is there-not just a guard, but something... old. He signals to the others, `Quiet. Don't go out into the open.'.

The master nodded and made a note.

"Yu? Your sorceress?"

Yu looked at the cube, then at Yumi. She nodded almost imperceptibly, saying that it's okay, you can.

"My sorceress is taking out a wand," Yu said, and her voice sounded steady, without trembling. And he casts a spell of light. She wants to see what's hiding in the shadows."

The Master smiled:

"Good. You create a bright ball, it soars up and freezes over the tower. In its light, you can see: on the wall, high up, stands a figure in a ragged cloak. And she's looking right at you."

Yu clutched the bag of cubes.

"Then I throw to the attack. A fireball."

She shook the bag and rolled the cube on the table. It rolled, bounced on the corner of a leaf, and froze.

"Twenty," Yu said softly.

Yumi immediately slammed her palm on the table, not loudly, but in such a way that everyone in the club involuntarily smiled.

"Yes! Critical strike! The universe just says, `You finally screamed!'"

The master made a note and nodded:

"The fireball is flying right at the target. Flames engulf the figure, the cloak bursts into flames, and it falls off the wall... but does not break. At the last moment, she disappears into the shadows, leaving behind only the smell of ozone and ash. She's gone," the master said, "but she'll be back. And now she knows your faces."

The room went quiet for a second. Then Yumi pushed a box of mochi towards Yu.

"Hold. It's a `moral restoration potion.' It's soft and sticky, but it works flawlessly.

Yu picked up the mochi from the matcha and took a careful bite. The sweetness of the red beans and the slight bitterness of the matcha made everything easier for a second: the tower, the enemy, even their own doubts.

"So the tower is ours now," Yu said calmly, looking at the miniatures. "We took up a position. And we know that the enemy will return. But now we'll be ready."

Yumi nodded, arranging the pieces so that they faced in different directions.

"My ranger will take up a post at the entrance. He will keep an eye on the shadows."

"And my sorceress will put up the warning lights," Yu added. "Don't let them be too bright. Let them just remind you: we are here. And we are not afraid to shout."

The master looked at them, then at his notes, and said softly:

"Great. The squad occupied the tower. The next move is for the shadows. But for now, you have this moment of silence."

***

When the sheets were put away, the miniatures were hidden in boxes, and the cubes returned to the velvet bag, the club became very quiet - only you could hear someone rustling foil, and someone pouring green tea from a thermos.

The guys from the club sat on the floor with their legs tucked under them and passed boxes of mochi to each other. Someone laughed,

"I was so worried that my paladin would fall down the stairs that I almost dropped a real glass!"

Someone was nodding seriously:

"But he didn't fall. Because we were covering for him."

Yu was sitting with her back against the cupboard, holding a plastic cup of green tea in her hands. Yumi plopped down next to her and handed her a mochi with red beans:

Yumi plopped down next to her and handed her a mochi with red beans:

"It's a trophy. For a critical hit."

"Thank you," Yu smiled. "But actually... it wasn't just my punch. It was the whole squad."

"Yeah," Yumi nodded, taking a bite of the mochi and wincing slightly at the sweetness. "But you got the cube. So, today you are the main success of the squad."

One of the guys raised his cup:

"Behind the tower. For taking her."

Everyone joined in:

"For the tower!"

Yu laughed softly, and that laugh was as calm as a sip of green tea.

"You know," she told Yumi when everyone started talking about the next game, new traps, and how best to hide the ranger in the shadows. "sometimes it seems to me that if I mess up even one line in translation, the whole of Hogwarts will collapse."

Yumi looked at her seriously, without joking:

"But you won't mess it up. And if it suddenly seems like you've ruined it, we'll sit down, have tea, have a moti and fix it. Like today: first we saved the tower, then we sat down and exhaled."

Yu nodded.

"And Moti helps."

"Of course," Yumi said confidently. "It's not just sweetness. This is the official potion "+2 for peace and +1 for friendship". Verified."

And in that moment of silence there was everything: cold green tea, soft mochi, miniatures in boxes, and two friends who knew that as long as they were around, even the darkest shadow could not take away this evening from them.

Chapter 5. Noihara Trip

One day off! ALONE! If it weren't for that, my life would be a raspberry... Well, until the age of sixteen. I had to wait for the holidays to go to Noihara. It seems that we have a clan library. It seems to be "useless" - the GH from the manga did not even manage to stick his nose into it. `Techniques are passed down by word of mouth.' Yeah, yeah, and the description of the strategic weapon, the demon cats, just lies in the house. I don't think so.

The Amakawa took a deliberately advantageous path - recruiting strong units in the enemy's camp (not everyone needed to be defeated, some did not mind cooperating themselves), and then - support in battle. I wonder what motivated these energy substances to fight? Is it really only the safety of living next to people? It sounds like nonsense.

True, Noihara is now just the "home" enclave of the "sworn in," but it seems to me that most of them have fled with the death of their grandfather and parents. Or was it released on purpose while there is no support? In a certain sense, spirits are vulnerable. In order to somehow influence the world of people, they have to partially materialize.... Damn, the physicist in me is writhing and demanding Einstein's blood, but I have to admit that I didn't turn out to be much of a physicist. A materialized spirit can be killed with ordinary weapons. However, these bastards, even the weakest ones, are very fast. But not faster than a bullet, here Kim's Harald Potter is absolutely right. We should think about where a nine-year-old child can get an AKM or UZI. Do you think I'm joking?"

pov Rinko's.

Life is gradually turning into a routine. Prepare breakfast and bento. Should I wake up Yuto, who is sitting at the computer, and what is he reading in English? And in what's-his-name Russian. And how does he know it?

Although Yuto goes to the library for manga, he prefers to read English or Russian literature, he says he does not want to forget the language. It's strange, I hadn't noticed his craving for foreign literature before. Although he did say that his parents traveled a lot abroad.

I overestimated myself a bit. I haven't been nine years old for a long time! My legs get tired. You sit for 10 minutes and it's all gone. One minute I'm thirsty, the next I'm hungry. I've already eaten an ekiben in a small box, I try to drink the mineral water little by little - you can't buy it here. I've been climbing the mountain for two hours now. Rough.

Going to the clan house of relatives who died in bose is a bit fast: according to the manga, Ayakashi is a vampire (what's her name? I don't remember) my companions are waiting for me right here. But logically, the bloodsucker set up an ambush only after the heir of Amakawa appeared to the world, but for now I'm kind of gone. I wonder if my amulet only protects me from the "glow" of delicious magical energy, or does it completely cut me off from the spirit world? To go to the "holy places", I remember, the "water god" who stuck to Yuto was an ordinary water spirit. If "ordinary" can be called a creature comparable in strength to the one-tailed jinchuriki from Naruto, only a watery one, not a sandy one. Yes, analogies with anime about a moron from the Uzumaki clan come to my mind more and more often. Only here I'm more of a hybrid of two GH: Sasuke and Naruto. Yes, I don't have red eyes, but I think having such a kekkei genkai, that is, an "improved genome", it's not a problem to get them. As I said, the "farry of light" can be applied to yourself. I feel like a Konoha genie, but Danzo is not here. Wait, or is there?

Yuto was climbing a narrow path that wound through low but steep slopes. The stones crumbled slightly under his soles, and each time he took a short pause so as not to slip. The air here was denser than in the city: it smelled of damp earth and moss. With every step, Noihara was getting closer-not just a dot on the horizon, but a real home that seemed to be waiting for him to return.

He was a little out of breath, but he wasn't in a hurry. Down in the valley, there was a noisy world full of other people's voices and haste. But here, among these hills, time seemed to pass more slowly. Yuto stopped for a moment, rested his palm on the warm stone, and looked ahead, where the roofs of the houses were already peeking out from around the bend. And suddenly I thought: "I wonder if Rinko is sitting somewhere in the sun and eating onigiri?" The thought made him feel a little better, and he stepped forward again, more confidently, as if the road itself were whispering: "You're almost home."

Rinko's pov.

Yuto went to Grandpa Gen's clan house to see what kind of house was in Noihara. He said he wants to see what's in the clan library. The city immediately became boring without him. I hope he makes a good trip and there won't be any problems on the road.

Cso, it's all about smarty, okay, she goes to the kendo club just to take a closer look at boken. He may ask you to show him a few strokes. Rinko saw him off at the train station, put another candy bar in her backpack ("In case there's no proper food there"), and a bottle of mineral water. She waved until the train disappeared around the bend, and then stood there for another minute, as if waiting for him to lean out the window and shout, "Don't do anything here!"

But the windows were silent, the platform was emptying, and the city suddenly became too big and too quiet. Rinko shivered, pulled on her cap from the scorching September sun and went home, listening to her own footsteps pounding loudly on the asphalt, as if to prove: She's here, she's not gone anywhere.

By evening, the silence began to oppress. Without Yuto, who grumbled, corrected her crazy ideas and put everything on the shelves, even an ordinary house seemed alien. Rinko was flipping through the manga-the one with the laconic cover "Silence before a lunge"-but the lines were floating in front of her eyes. She closed the book, tapped her fingers on the table, then abruptly stood up.

"Okay," she muttered to herself. "If I have nothing to break, I'll go see how others break themselves."

***

The dojo was not what she had imagined. No gloomy romance: just a neat room with a wooden floor, white walls and the smell of fresh wood. At the entrance, she was met by a woman in dogi, strict but not cold.

"The trial session for beginners is today at six. If you want, stay. We'll give you a uniform, and so will Sinai. The main thing is not to try to defeat everyone at once.

Rinko chuckled:

"I'm not winning. I... just wanted to see if it would suit me. I only held a stick in my hands about two years ago."

The woman raised an eyebrow slightly, as if she had heard this every day:

"That's what everyone says. And then they stay."

Rinko was given great danes, shown how to tie a belt, and how to hold a shinai-a light, springy sword that looked nothing like the heavy sword from the manga. And on the stick that her dad handed her, who decided to introduce her to family traditions. But he couldn't show his stances and punches properly, he said that he had already forgotten that his grandfather had shown him swearing at him as a child.

"Kihon first," the mentor said calmly. "Basic strikes, stances, moves. No drama. Only precision."

And that's when Rinko suddenly felt something snap inside.

Desk. The distance. The angle of impact.

It was like those conversations with Yuto about leverage: not `stronger', but `more accurate'. Not `faster', but `at the right moment'. Each blow was decomposed into simple elements: step, body rotation, blade direction, exhalation.

"The point of application of force. The center of balance. Timing," these words seemed to pop up in her head, as if she wasn't in the dojo, but was sitting next to Yuto again and listening to him explain physics on his fingers.

`On the very first exercise, she almost tripped over her own feet.' Shinai seemed to be too heavy, too light, and the rhythm that the mentor set did not match the way Rinko was used to moving.

"Take your time," the woman repeated calmly, coming closer and gently adjusting her grip. "Kendo is not about speed. It's about making sure that every step you take is necessary." Rinko clenched her teeth, exhaled, and tried again. And more. And more.

By the end of the class, she was drenched in sweat, and her shoulders were buzzing as if she were carrying bags. But when she put the shinai on the shelf and took off her gloves, a smile appeared on her face-tired, but real.

"Well," the teacher asked, watching Rinko try to fold the dogs neatly, although her hands were shaking from fatigue. "Will you come again?"

Rinko thought for a moment, as if she was weighing not `yes or no', but what this word would mean for her next.

"Yes," she said finally. "I... want to understand how it works."

On the way home, she took out her phone and typed a short message:

"I went to kendo. I didn't break anything. But I almost broke my shoulders. But I think I like the way things work out there. It's like they're your levers, just in motion. Text me when you get there normally."

She sent it and put the phone back in her pocket, not expecting Yuto to answer right now. It was enough for her to just know that there was someone to tell.

Rinko woke up the next morning and realized one simple thing: she couldn't raise her hand properly to pour herself a glass of water. Her shoulders, back, even her wrists ached as if she hadn't learned how to hold a light bamboo shinai yesterday, but was carrying bags of cement.

"Well, that's it," she muttered, carefully setting the cup down on the table so as not to touch the edge with her sore hand. "And I also thought that everything in manga was exaggerated."

She still forced herself to go outside-not for the sake of training, but just to walk to the store and buy something that she could eat with one hand. On the way, she found herself walking with her shoulders slightly hunched, trying not to move her shoulders once more. And that made her angry.

"Hey," she muttered to herself, straightening her back, though it sent a new wave of pain through her shoulder blades. "You didn't stand on the tatami yesterday and listen to the "center of gravity" so that you could walk like an old lady today."

The girl walked slowly along the shelves of the combine, as if each movement cost her a little more effort than usual. After training, Rinko's shoulders ached, his knees felt strange, and her back quietly reminded her: `No feats today.' At home, she had a kitchen, pots, and favorite recipes waiting for her - she loved to cook something herself, put everything on plates, and feel how comfort was born from simple things. But today, this feat was clearly not for her. She stopped at a display of onigiri, tilted her head, looking at the neat triangles. She didn't want anything sharp or heavy, just something simple and familiar that would settle inside and give her strength. Almost without thinking, she put a banana next to it - it is convenient to hold it with one hand, and her mother always said that it helps after exertion.

At the cash register, she picked up a bottle of cold mugiti. The salesman, an elderly man with kind eyes, paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but only nodded gently:

"Are you tired?"

The girl smiled a little and nodded:

"After training. Everything hurts."

"Then here, take this one," he placed a small package of soft rice crackers without spices on top. "To crunch when you sit down. And take your time."

The bag with the handle turned out to be unexpectedly comfortable: it hung smoothly in one hand, did not pull, and you could walk slowly, without hurrying anywhere. She went outside, where the evening air was no longer scorching, but gently touching her skin, and thought that sometimes the right adventure after a hard day is just to walk to the bench, open the onigiri and allow herself not to be either a heroine or a cook, but just a girl who needs a little peace today.

She sat on a bench outside the store, exposing her face to the autumn sun. The warm rays seemed to slowly take away this thick, heavy fatigue that had stuck after the workout. The package was on my lap, and I didn't want to open it right now-I just wanted to breathe and feel the day getting quieter.

Rinko unscrewed the lid of the mugitya bottle and took a sip. The drink was cool, with that cozy bitterness that she loved: as if the smell of toasted barley grains and the autumn wind was hidden in it. She smiled to herself.: such a simple, familiar taste, and it immediately made you feel calmer, as if the day was slowly settling into place.

Rinko was sitting on a bench, exposing her face to the autumn sun. The warm, no longer hot rays gently fell on the skin, and from this all the tension of today seemed to melt away. She was holding an onigiri with tuna in her hand, a neat triangle in a transparent Cling film. She slowly unwrapped the package and inhaled the familiar smell of rice and slightly spicy tuna with mayonnaise. The first bite was exactly what it should be after a hard day: simple, satisfying, without surprises.

She took another bite and looked into the distance, where Noihara lay beyond the mountains. Yuto was there right now. Rinko didn't know exactly what he was doing at that very moment. They hadn't agreed to write to each other every day, but now she suddenly really wanted to know that he was okay.

"I wonder if he's tired today, too?" thought Rinko, looking at the thin strip of clouds above the distant roofs. She wanted Yuto's day to be easier than hers. So that he doesn't have to pretend to be cheerful when his whole body is asking him to just lie down and not move.

She finished her third onigiri, carefully folded the film into a small square and put it in her pocket - then she would throw it into the trash. The sun was slowly sinking lower, and the air was getting cooler, but there was still this quiet warmth on the bench. Rinko sat for a while longer, as if holding this calm moment, and then said softly out loud, as if the words could reach Noihara:

"May everything be fine with you, Yuto."

And with that thought, she got up, adjusted the strap of her backpack and went home - it wasn't so hard anymore, as if eating onigiri and a couple of hours in the sun had given her a little strength back. Then, when the sun dropped a little lower and a light cool breeze ran over her skin, she slowly trudged home. The steps were unhurried, as if the legs themselves knew: there was no need to hurry today. On the way, she mechanically took a bite of a banana- sweet, soft, very simple - and it became a little easier to walk.

At home, she took off her sneakers, did not put them neatly in a row, as usual, and went into the room. There was a manga page open on the table with some funny moment that she hadn't finished reading last week. The girl reached for it, but suddenly realized that even holding a book now was too much effort. Instead, she just lay down on the bed, pulling the blanket up to her, and closed her eyes.

I could still see the movements from the training, some of the teacher's remarks, but they quickly blurred and became unimportant. Only the quiet remained: "I'm not a hero today. I'm just resting today." And it was the right thing to do, the most necessary thing.

Evening was slowly falling on the city, and the room was getting darker. Rinko stirred, opened her eyes slightly, and suddenly her nose caught something that immediately made her feel warm and calm. The smell of mushroom soup. Her beloved.

She smiled without opening her eyes yet, as if this smell was the most reliable promise: the day was over, all the bad things were left outside, and they were waiting at home and remembering what was delicious to her. Slowly, as if every movement was still a little harder than usual, Rinko crawled out of bed, threw a soft cardigan over her T-shirt - the house already smelled of autumn - and trudged into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Mom was standing at the stove, head slightly bowed, stirring soup with a wooden spoon. When she heard footsteps, she turned around and smiled:

"You're just in time. The soup has been infused, it has become quite tasty."

Rinko came over, nuzzled into her mom's side for a second, and then climbed onto her favorite chair.

"I couldn't do anything today. She didn't even cook."

Mom laughed softly as she poured the soup into a small bowl:

"I wasn't expecting it. You spent so much effort yesterday. Let someone else be the hero today."

The soup was exactly what Rinko liked: thick but not heavy, with thin slices of mushrooms, a pinch of green onions and a couple of pieces of tofu. She ate slowly, feeling the warmth creep up her arms, down her stomach, and slowly release the ache in her muscles. Next to her on the table was her banana from the store and a bag of crackers-she didn't want to touch them yet, as if all she needed right now was this soup, just this evening.

It was already getting dark outside, the lanterns were turning on one by one, and the kitchen was bright and quiet. Rinko finished her meal, put the bowl on the table and sighed - not tiredly, but as if with relief.

"Thanks, Mom."

Mom stroked her hair:

"Now you can finish reading the manga. Or just lie down. You deserve every option today."

***

On the second day, the pain became different: not acute, but dull, familiar. Rinko could already move her arms normally, although her shoulders still felt heavy. In the evening, she texted Yuto:

"I understood why Sensei doesn't immediately chase us into sparring. The body gets angry. It says, `We did something weird yesterday, don't do it again.' But I'm not going tomorrow. Sensei said that it's better for beginners after two days, so that the muscles don't clog and I don't start doing everything by force. So I have time to just remember how it should feel. And don't forget about the levers. Even when nothing hurts, it's easy to start doing `what's easier' rather than `what's right.'"

Yuto answered almost immediately, as if he was sitting and waiting for a message:

"It sounds like normal physiology. The main thing is not to try to `put the squeeze on' the technique through the pain. If the body screams `stop', listen to it. It's smarter than manga."

Rinko chuckled, but her chest felt warmer. `It's smarter than manga.' Yes. And that's why she's going to the dojo not tomorrow, but the day after tomorrow. Let your shoulders rest, but your head will sort everything out.

***

And when she entered the dojo again on the third day, Sensei nodded at her without surprise, as if she knew that this would happen:

"It's a good thing you didn't come yesterday. Yesterday you would have just reinforced the tension. Today we will clean up the excess."

Rinko took a stance. The pain remained somewhere in the background, but now she wasn't afraid of it. She knew that this was not an enemy, but just traces of a past lesson.

Akira came over, looked at her grip, the way she held her body, and suddenly smiled out of the corner of his lips:

"You haven't forgotten. I see that I didn't try to redo everything at home. I just let my body get used to it. That's smart."

He didn't immediately adjust it with his hands. Instead, he stood in front of her and slowly, almost lazily, delivered the same punch as last time:

"Look how the shoulder goes away. It does not rise, it seems to flow down, freeing the way of energy. Try not to hit, but... let the blow happen."

Rinko inhaled. She remembered about her "low center", about how her hips work differently. And instead of reaching for a wide, beautiful movement, she made it tight. Short. Mine.

The Shinai clicked in the air-not loudly, but very clearly.

Takumi, who was watching from the side, nodded approvingly:

Now you're not fighting the pain. You use what you have.

After training, when she took off her armor again, her shoulders no longer seemed alien. The pain was slowly going away, giving way to a feeling as if the muscles had finally realized what was wanted of them. Rinko carefully put the shinai back in its place, lingered for a second, looking at it as if it were an old acquaintance.

The phone rang softly. Yuto:

"Well, did you break anything today?"

Rinko smiled and typed:

"no. But today I wasn't trying to be stronger than I am. I was trying to be more precise. And you know... I think it's working."

***

Yuto is coming from Noihara today, she will meet him and go to kendo again.

Rinko stood up in kamae again, but this time Takumi did not adjust her shoulders with the usual movement. He froze, cocking his head slightly, as if he saw something unfamiliar in her stance, not a mistake.

"Wait... don't move."

Rinko froze, feeling a chill creep down her spine: now they will say that she will not succeed at all, that she is not suitable for kendo, where everything is measured to the millimeter.

Takumi slowly walked around her, not taking his eyes off her body, the way her hips fit, the way her feet are turned slightly differently than everyone else's.

"You don't move the way we teach newbies." Finally, he said, and there was no reproach in his voice, but... curiosity. "Your center is slightly lower, and your body is slightly more tightly assembled. It's like you're used to keeping your balance on uneven ground instead of on a smooth floor."

Rinko swallowed. She didn't know how to explain it without sounding like an excuse.

"My great-grandfather used to swear at my father." She said softly. "He said that he was even ashamed to give him a stick in his hand. My father was peaceful, not a fighter at all. But he showed me a couple of racks, as clumsily as he could. And now I realize that they're... not exactly wrong. They just fit my body."

Akira, who was standing nearby, suddenly chuckled and exchanged glances with Takumi.

"Yeah. That's it. So, you don't have to break it for the sake of the standard. We need to understand how it works."

He came up without touching her, and began to talk not about "stand up straight," but about the physics of her movements:

"Look: your blow doesn't come from the shoulder, but from the hips, and the amplitude is smaller. It's not a bad thing. That means you're saving traffic. If we slightly twist the angle of the elbow and make the exhale shorter, your blow will not be weaker, but faster. And it will be more natural for your body."

They didn't force her to become "like everyone else." Instead, Akira began to take apart her ligament by bone, by joints, by force vectors:

"The first step: do not stretch your toe forward, but roll over from the heel so that the hips immediately turn on. Second: turn the body slightly before the arm starts moving. That's how you use your body's inertia, not just your muscles."

Takumi nodded, adding details:

"And don't try to take a wide swing. Your mechanics are different: your strength is in density. The less space you occupy with movement, the harder it is to read you."

Rinko listened, and it clicked in her head: these were the "levers" that Yuto had talked about, only now they weren't hanging in the air like formulas, but lived in her muscles. She tried again, and suddenly she felt how the movement felt different: not like someone else's mask, but like her own skin.

The impact wasn't loud or sweeping, but it was as clear as a click. Sinai cut the air briefly and clearly.

Akira raised an eyebrow slightly, as if he was surprised himself:

"Here. Now it's yours. Not a copy. Not `almost right.' Namely yours."

Takumi nodded:

"Kendo values more than just strength and speed. They appreciate the sincerity of the movement. If the technique comes from your body and your understanding, it's real."

Rinko exhaled, and for the first time in training, her smile turned out not to be strained, but real.

"Thank you," she said softly, almost in a whisper, because her voice was suddenly hoarse from tension and from something else that looked like pride. "I was afraid that I would have to forget everything. That's what my father showed me."

Akira shrugged his shoulders as if it was the most common thing:

"Do not forget. Just make it stronger. Let it not be `shameful clumsiness', but your style."

Оставить комментарий © Copyright Плотников Сергей, Горный-Цветок (galinasky1410@yandex.ru) Размещен: 19/07/2026, изменен: 28/07/2026. 127k. Статистика. Повесть: Приключения, Фэнтези, Фанфик miscellaneous translations into English. Earth Скачать FB2		Ваша оценка:
Аннотация: Sergey Plotnikov's Expanded World is a web of light. Added inserts from the faces of Rinko, Shizuki, Kues and Yu. Yuto wakes up in Japan in the world of Omamori Himari manga. The story is narrated both on behalf of Yuto and on behalf of the girls.

Плотников Сергей, Горный-Цветок Web of light. book 1

Плотников Сергей, Горный-Цветок
Web of light. book 1