34 I Experiment

Author: Bishamon Mine
Raw: https://ncode.syosetu.com/n0664js/37/
Translator: Lilia v4
Editor: Yuriko AYA

So no one hears, I flee into the playground equipment, cry for a while, and crawl out.

“This skill really isn’t something you use carelessly…… you don’t know what’s going to be there……”

It suddenly occurs to me and I look at the pilot suit’s residual thoughts, and memories like Alice’s (Suu-san’s embarrassed face is surely cute) get dug up.

A sadist, that person.
And I also see a wish, (please let there be no injuries or anything for Suu-san).
——I can’t say anything anymore.
Actually it protected me from bullets too. And it’s still protecting me.

While thanking Alice, I probe the distance 〖Psychometry〗 can read, head for the iron bar, and try reading residual thoughts.

“A memory of succeeding at a kip-up and being happy,” “a memory of dangling and talking lazily,” “a memory of walking on top like a tightrope, falling, and hitting the crotch.”

Various memories flow in. Continue reading →

33 I Have a Dream

Author: Bishamon Mine
Raw: https://ncode.syosetu.com/n0664js/36/
Translator: Lilia v4
Editor: Yuriko AYA

◆◇◆◇◆

Starlight covering the sky.
A rain of stars falling.
A bouquet of shooting stars.
For Kanagawa’s night sky, the stars are awfully clear.
The Milky Way towering in the heavens is also dazzling, like seeing it in outer space.

I am in the park under the apartment, overwhelmed by a starry sky that looks like it might fall.
While I stand there dazed, eventually the morning sun begins to color the world.
Sunlight erases the stars.

The town wakes.
——But there, for some reason, it is a town missing the sound of people.

Suddenly I feel like I am called. A forgotten-looking hill, I turn my feet there.

When I come to the hill——suddenly time and date change as if the world is being flipped. As if flipping a calendar, the world is flipped.

Suddenly a gust of wind runs through. Waving, shining foxtail grass——the smell of summer.
Looking up, white cumulonimbus.
Lowering my gaze, on the green grass——a little girl sleeping as if nuzzling a pastel-colored vinyl sheet.
A white one-piece.
A pure-white world, an innocent world.
In a basket that smells kind, handmade pancakes.
Beside it, orange juice in a sweating glass cup.
But the world does not look at her. The trees swaying in the summer wind seem to whisper so.
The girl’s sleeping face is innocent, with nothing imprisoning it.
The hourglass beside her remains stopped.

No one remembers the girl——so her figure is terribly vague, hazy like a bleeding watercolor.
“I see,” I think.
That is why——because she is hazy, I know who she is.

“Iris-san——” Continue reading →