13. Eye Drops
We finished the laundry and stepped out of the coin laundry.
Though three years had passed, the scenery of the village had not changed at all.
Holding Oto's hand, I looked over the familiar landscape.
When I glanced at her face, she looked somehow relieved, yet burdened with deep disillusionment — a complex mixture of emotions.
It was a face where nostalgia, loneliness, and dissatisfaction had melted into one.
"Let's go home for now."
As I thought that, a voice called from behind us.
"Hey."
That single word made me stop and turn around.
Standing there — was Rin.
The girl I met on my first day in this village, at the torii gate.
That was three years ago.
She stood in the middle of the road, as if blocking our path.
Her arms spread slightly, forming the shape of a cross.
It looked like a gesture of refusal — or maybe a plea for an embrace.
Not knowing how to react, I looked at Oto.
She was pulling my hand, stepping backward.
Trying to run away.
"Hey," Rin said again.
That one word froze Oto in place.
She turned toward Rin, trembling.
And on her face — was pure terror.
I had never seen such a frozen look of fear on a humanoid's expression before.
That emotion spread like a virus, seeping into me as well.
Rin stood there, looking impatient, as though she had been waiting forever for her turn.
Then, once she was sure we had recognized her, she spoke quietly.
"Are you ready?"
The question was clearly directed at Oto.
The hand I was holding began to tremble.
I squeezed it tighter and asked in her place,
"Ready for what?"
"Why, to be offered, of course."
Rin slowly began to walk toward us.
With each step, the air around us turned red.
It was as if the very space itself was absorbing the color of blood.
"You even did the laundry," she said. "Your body's all clean now. You did well."
The closer she got, the more violently Oto trembled.
Her hand shook like a vibration at high frequency, until I could barely feel my grip on it.
We wouldn't be able to stay connected like this.
And just as I thought that—
the trembling stopped.
Perfect stillness, like the instant a clock strikes midnight.
Then Oto turned sharply, yanking my hand, and started to run.
"Mim-kun, run!"
She didn't let go, dragging me with a force that left no room to resist.
Her pull had a strange, addictive gravity I couldn't reject, and I found myself running with her.
We dashed along the unpaved, rough road of the village.
The midnight sky glowed deep violet, as if the entire village were poisoned.
A chemical, toxic atmosphere.
The wind was damp, carrying a smell like burning metal.
Beside the road stood rows of windmill-like structures, supported by thin poles, their rainbow-colored blades spinning. The spectrum's light flickered across us, flashing moments of our escape like a broken strobe.
Our breathing overlapped, growing harsh.
We could hear nothing but the rhythm of our breaths. Our bodies overheated. I couldn't tell how far we'd run. The actuators' cooling systems couldn't keep up; the internal fans spun desperately, but the heat wouldn't subside. Soon even that sound faded, and I could no longer sense Oto beside me—
And then, I collided with something.
Suddenly, that girl — Rin — appeared before us, as if she had teleported.
She was right in our path.
Before I could even scream, I crashed into her hard.
Still holding Oto's hand, I fell forward, refusing to let go — squeezing even tighter instead. It was an instinctive reaction, like a newborn clutching a parent's finger.
As a result, Oto and I fell together, knocking Rin down with us. Because she was in front, it was as if we tackled her. The three of us rolled together, entangled, while a cloud of dust rose around us.
The impact made my CPU nearly shut down. My vision went black, and when it returned, it was like rebooting.
I pushed myself up from the ground and helped Oto to her feet. She was panting heavily.
But Rin didn't move.
She lay motionless on the ground, as if unconscious.
We stood there, staring down at the small, still body of the girl.
Only the sound of our rough breathing filled the night air, and droplets of our condensation fell — drip, drip — onto the cheek of the fainted nine-year-old humanoid.
"Let's bury her," Oto said.
She turned to me, her voice clear and firm.
"Let's bury her right here."
"…What?"
Her words were so sudden, I could only stare.
"What are you talking about? We have to help her."
"She's dangerous!" Oto screamed.
"She's the curse of this village. She's a ghost."
"…A ghost?"
I looked again at Rin's face.
Peaceful. Innocent. The farthest thing from evil.
"She doesn't look evil," I said honestly.
Oto snapped,
"That's because your imagination is too small, Mim-kun."
The coldness of her words shocked me.
I looked down again at Rin's small, motionless body.
And I tried to imagine.
But my ordinary, mass-produced CPU wasn't good at imagination. That function didn't run properly.
I turned back to Oto.
She, too, should have been a mass-produced humanoid like me.
So how could she call this small girl a "ghost"?
Where did that rich imagination come from?
That had been my greatest mystery since coming to Venus.
"Tell me why," I said.
If I couldn't imagine it, I could at least try to understand.
There had to be a reason why Oto saw Rin as evil.
Even if it was her own invention — or a delusion shared by the whole village — imagination always has a reason.
"Why is Rin bad?" I asked.
Oto was silent for a long time.
It wasn't the silence of excuse-making, or of inventing a lie.
Humanoids cannot lie.
If they do, that data is instantly sent to the human corporations, and the humanoid is shut down — executed.
So Oto was simply hesitating — deciding whether or not to tell me the truth.
A being most unnatural, searching for "natural words" — the irony made me laugh quietly.
Perhaps that laugh flipped some internal switch.
The long silence broke. Oto finally spoke.
"I was chosen," she said softly. "Chosen to be the sacrifice."