Compared to the smooth side facing Ashihara no Nakatsukuni, the reverse of this flat moon could be described as "magnificent and towering." However, what was "towering" was not mountain ranges or craters blasted by meteors, but a humanoid figure semi-molded into a brownish-black substance.
The giant that Take-minakata had transformed into wouldn't even match the length of a finger on this colossal figure. Its skin was pale as grey rock, its eyes tightly shut—or rather, where the eyes should be, there were only two mottled slits, covered by blocky stones like barnacles on the hull of a ship that had sailed for many years.
One didn't need to mimic the pose to imagine that this giant humanoid was immured in the back of the moon in a posture of extreme agony. Its two arms, stretched to their maximum, were twisted at an incredible angle and buried within the brownish-black substance.
It seemed to be thrusting its body forward, arching its waist, but because its arms and legs were submerged in that dark matter, it lacked the power to succeed. It could only do its best to form a bow shape; after countless aeons, even the space behind its back had been filled in.
It was a mysterious, exaggerated statue that wordlessly proclaimed its own nobility. Like a piece of religious art, it was filled with an unspeakable aura of sanctity that would make mortals kneel in awe.
Fortunately, Sū ěr and Think were not mortals.
"...Can we get closer?" This eerie scene caused even someone as bold as Think to hesitate. She was more worried about Sū ěr safety.
If only that yokai had come along, Think thought with some regret.
Wouldn't this be the perfect time for that fox-woman to be useful?
"To be honest, I don't know. It looks incredibly creepy," Sū ěr was also a bit spooked. As they observed more closely, they couldn't avoid the brownish-black substances clearly binding the giant figure.
They seemed to be alive. Sū ěr could detect a faint heaving, along with linear pulses of light that brightened and faded with a rhythmic breath—like a web of blood vessels rooted into the jade disc.
Have you ever seen the aerial roots of a plant?
Imagine those aerial roots magnified hundreds or thousands of times, twisted into irregular shapes, and suctioned onto the object behind them. Something was being drained from the body of this giant humanoid—sometimes more, sometimes less, sometimes fast, sometimes slow.
Then, through that heavy, sluggish respiration, it was transported to the jade disc behind it... Sū ěr suddenly had a bizarre thought: the moon that all life in Ashihara no Nakatsukuni saw every night—and even during the day—radiating its pure, clean light, was being powered by the energy provided by this giant figure.
After all, before they had crossed to the back, Sū ěr was certain the moon beneath his feet was emitting light on its own. Despite being so close, it wasn't blinding; it felt just like the moonlight he experienced on the ground. But this was exactly the kind of anomaly that defied explanation.
Light attenuates as it travels. So why was the light he felt on the lunar surface no different from the light he felt on earth?
It was changing, yet it seemed static, fixed as a constant that would not shift.
No, perhaps all previous conjectures had to be overturned. As Sū ěr and Think cautiously drew closer, Sū ěr suddenly noticed a fact he had previously overlooked: the brownish-black substances were not antagonistic. They weren't binding the giant figure from the outside; in fact, the truth was the exact opposite.
They were a part of the giant humanoid.
If one had to describe it, it was like a popsicle in summer. The parts that were still frozen solid maintained their shape, but the edges and corners had melted into a smooth, rounded fluid. This was the current state of the giant figure.
The edges of its hands and feet, the corners of its torso—all had melted, gushing out so much brownish-black substance that it covered its own body. What it sought to break free from was not another's shackles, but its own.
It had immured itself into this form.
The muffled buzzing in his ears hadn't faded, because it wasn't Sū ěr ears that were enclosed—it was the entire moon. This was the environmental sound permeating the entire lunar sphere. Sū ěr did not choose to get any closer; he stopped at the edge.
He didn't know if this giant was currently alive or dead, but Sū ěr truly couldn't feel terror or disgust toward it. Although the conclusion was hard to believe, both he and Think currently felt a sense of solemnity and reverence, without any negative connotation.
Sū ěr just felt... stifled.
What kind of world had he come to?
Who created this world? What was their state of mind? What did this world mean to them?
It was like an ecosystem simulated inside a glass box.
If the smooth side of the moon were considered the base, then one only had to place that base flat on a table... and wasn't it exactly an ornamental statue?
It was even quite artistic.
Sū ěr suddenly remembered the models he had built with friends in university and the lessons taught by the professors: as long as the things shown before the camera looked normal, it didn't matter if there was clipping or rendering failures in the places the camera couldn't see.
Didn't this moon look like a texture map?
And this starry sky—was it also just a backdrop painted with stars? What lay behind that curtain?
A pair of giant eyes?
What kind of face would it be?
He couldn't help but turn back to look at the stars flickering in the pitch-black universe... Were they real planets? Or were they just points of light timed to blink? They didn't even need physical bodies.
A meticulously arranged landscape.
His breathing suddenly became labored. Sū ěr scanned his surroundings, as if looking for one or several... or countless existences that were right here, yet he could not perceive. Were they watching him?
Like tourists at an aquarium observing a school of fish, while he—the "fish"—could not see through the glass to the world outside.
Should he say hello?
Or should he ask them the reason for creating all this... would they sneer, or would they marvel?
Sū ěr wanted to scream, but after opening his mouth, he didn't know what sound to make. Instead, he bit his lower lip hard.
To an ant, a bucket of water splashed by a human could be called an apocalyptic flood. They cannot see the full form of the giants that tower into the clouds; they can only hide in awe, or perhaps be held in the palms of those giants, kept in a glass box, observed while nesting, observed while foraging... cheered for every unexpected action. It was the ultimate, unknown drama.
Then what about me?
Sū ěr asked himself.