Ari was dreaming of the past.
The sky was heavy that day, gray and dull. A slow wind moved through the empty park, pushing the rusty chains of the old swing set into a soft, uneven creak.
Ari sat on the farthest swing. His small hands rested around the cold metal links. His feet hovered above the dirt and he sat still, zoning out, listening to the quiet.
His father and stepmother were inside the community center nearby. They said the meeting wouldn't take long. They said he would be fine waiting outside.
He wasn't.
It had been a year since his mother died. A spider bite. Something no bigger than a coin. She got sick quickly. Her breathing became shallow. By the time anyone understood how serious it was, there was nothing they could do.
Ari had to learn how to live without her voice in the house.
His shoulders curled inward. His face stayed blank. It was the kind of silence that settles deep, where even crying feels unnecessary. He didn't want anyone looking at him. Didn't want questions. Didn't want the careful voices people used when they thought they understood.
Footsteps crunched softly over the gravel path. He didn't lift his head. A small shadow stopped beside him.
"…Are you stuck?"
Ari flinched. His fingers tightened around the chains, the metal pressing into his palms. He kept his gaze down.
"You look like you're stuck."
After a moment, he raised his head slightly. A girl around his age stood in front of him, her hands clasped behind her back. She rocked lightly on her heels. Her brown hair was tied into uneven pigtails. One sock had tiny stars; the other had bright red stripes. A purple hoodie was zipped all the way to her chin despite the warmth. The tip of her nose was pink from the breeze.
She tilted her head. "…Well?"
Ari looked at her for a moment, his expression flat. "…What do you want."
"Nothing." She glanced at the swing beside him. "You were sitting here... alone. I thought maybe you needed a push to cheer you up."
"I don't."
"Okay," she said simply. Then she sat on the swing next to his.
He expected her to start swinging, to make noise, to talk too much. But she didn't. Her feet stayed still, her hands loose on the chains. The wind moved them both.
"…What's your name?" she asked after a long pause.
He hesitated. "...Ari Igarashi."
"I'm Keiko Matsuoka," she said holding up a peace sign.
"Okay..."
Silence stretched.
"You don't talk much, huh? …How boring." She puffed her cheeks into a little whistle pout.
What's her deal…? Ari thought, the wind gently blowing his hair.
"But I don't mind," Keiko said, nudging the dirt with the tip of her shoe. "I talk enough for two anyway. My teacher says I should try not to bother anyone. But I don't think sitting next to someone counts as bothering. Does it?"
Ari blinked. "No."
She grinned. "Good."
Ari's chest tightened, his lips trembling. His voice came out hesitant. "My mom...used to take me to this park," he said suddenly.
Keiko turned to him, quiet now.
"She'd bring a little blanket and sit under that tree." He nodded toward a bare-looking maple. "She always had snacks in her bag. She called them secret snacks, like it was some big mission."
He gave a small, tired smile. Keiko smiled too, but gently.
"She died last year," he added, barely above a whisper. "From a spider bite."
Keiko blinked. "Wow… That's scary. I didn't know spiders could kill people."
"Me neither."
She looked down at her lap, thinking. "That's really sad."
"…Yeah."
Keiko tilted her head, watching him quietly. Then, without warning, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him.
Ari's eyes widened. The breeze stirred, brushing against his face as strands of hair lifted. Keiko's hand followed, gentle, brushing his hair back into place.
"What are you…" Ari whispered, voice trembling.
"Just stay quiet," she said softly. "My mama always told me to comfort someone who's in pain. So, I'm doing that now."
Her warmth pressed against him, steady and unyielding. Ari's lips parted, but no words came. His chest ached, his throat tightened, and before he could stop himself, tears welled in his eyes.
They spilled down his cheeks, hot and unrelenting. He lowered his head, shoulders shaking as the sobs broke free. Keiko held him, a faint smile on her face, saying nothing more.
The breeze carried the sound of his crying, but in her silence, there was no judgment—only quiet comfort. For the first time, Ari let himself cry, and for the first time, he did not feel alone.
After a while, Keiko stepped back from him and wandered a few paces across the grass. She turned suddenly, pointing toward the slide that gleamed under the afternoon sun.
"Wanna race down it? Loser has to eat a leaf."
Ari blinked. "What...?"
"I'm serious. It's a sacred playground law," she said with a cheeky smile.
He gave her a weird look, then laughed softly under his breath. "You're weird."
"That's not nice… I'm the one who helped you when you were crying."
Ari's cheeks flushed red. He shook his head quickly, eyes darting away.
"I wasn't crying!" he blurted, his voice cracking with embarrassment.
She started walking toward the slide, not checking to see if he followed. But he did—slowly at first, then faster, until he was right behind her. And even though the sky was still gray, something in his chest felt just a little lighter.
That was the day Ari met Keiko. And without even realizing it, that was the day he stopped feeling so alone.
Ari stirred in his sleep. "…Keiko…"
A single tear traced down his cheek, warm against the cool air of the tunnels. Suddenly, a loud banging echoed through the lower tunnels.
Ari jolted awake, antennae twitching. "Ahhh! My ears… what was that?" he muttered, pressing his hands against them.
Ari heard footsteps coming closer. The shadows stretched until a figure stepped out of the tunnel's dim light. An ant stood at the hardened resin bars, a whip sheathed at his side. He pressed a cylindrical block of resin into a hole in the wall. The lock shifted. The cell creaked open.
"Get moving," he said sternly.
Ari stepped out of the cell, keeping his eyes low as he moved in front of the prison guard. As they made their way through the tunnel, he glanced back from time to time at the ant behind him. The prison guard's face was composed, face never changed.
So even here, in their colony, they have prisons… He raised his eyes to the ceiling, then to the walls, noticing how spacious they were, how carefully built.
I checked the bars last night. They're almost the same hardened substance they used to subdue me when I was reincarnated. It is much stronger though. With the right cylindrical force of the same material, they soften slightly… and that's how the cells open.
I'm not even sure anymore—am I dreaming, or is this reality? His hands trembled, fear rising in his chest. Where will he take me?
As Ari and the warden turned right, another figure stepped into their path.
"Junior Warden Fergus," the first warden said, arms folded. "Sector Warden Domonic is requesting an audience with you. It concerns your patrol shifts."
Fergus gave a curt nod.
"I'll take the prisoner to the quarry."
Fergus turned sharply, leaving Ari in the other warden's custody. All the prisoners were released from their cells and driven down the tunnels.
The passage opened into a vast chamber carved from dirt-packed earth. The walls were rough and uneven in some areas, pressed hard by countless hands and tools. Dust clung to the air, dry and heavy, settling into every breath. Lines of prisoners shuffled forward, their footsteps crunching against the hardened soil.
Wardens lined the perimeter, their silhouettes rigid against the dim glow of fungus. Whips and mandibles alike hung at their sides, their eyes tracking every movement. An ant with a stern, composed face stood above the crowd.
"I expect most of you already know who I am. For the new prisoners, listen carefully—for I will only introduce myself once."
He stepped forward, posture straight, antennae still. His voice carried across the chamber, steady and firm.
"My name is Draven. Chief Warden. A Commander of Her Majesty Queen Celeste's army. You will address me as Chief and follow my orders or that of my subordinates without hesitation. Discipline is not a request in this prison—it is the law. Those who falter will answer for it. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Chief!" the prisoners answered in unison.
Draven gave a small nod. "You will work in eight-hour shifts. Your labor is your ration. Fail to complete it, and you forfeit your meal. The rules are simple. Order is maintained through discipline."
A ripple of unease passed through the prisoners.
Eight hours…? And if you don't work, you don't eat? This is bad… Ari thought, looking up at the chief warden.
Draven raised his hand. The crowd fell silent.
His voice carried, calm and absolute.
"Now you know the rules. Begin. The tunnels won't dig themselves. The debris won't clear itself."
One by one, the prisoners picked up pickaxes to start digging. The area was heavily guarded by warden ants, their presence a constant reminder of punishment and idleness. As Ari reached the front of the line, he picked up a pickaxe and examined it.
This was crafted from sticks and stone, bound together with that same viscous material to strengthen it. Efficient… precise. To think ants could create tools like this in another world… Ari thought as he made his way toward the mines.
At the end of one of the many tunnels, Ari reached the quarry. Lines of prisoners stretched into different branches, each swallowed by the earth. He joined one line, pickaxe in hand. He swung it down. The stone tip struck with a dull thud. Dust rose, clinging to his arms, smearing his face. The soil was dry, stubborn. It broke only in small chunks.
In no less than a minute, beside him, another prisoner faltered. His arms shook as he lifted the tool, then dropped it weakly against the ground. He could barely keep pace. The sound of his dull strikes echoed differently—slower, weaker—drawing the eyes of the nearby wardens.
"Get back to work!" shouted the warden ant.
His exoskeleton gleamed under the dim light as his face twisted into a scowl.
"Please… just give me time to rest. I beg you. I haven't recovered from yesterday."
The prisoner's legs shook. He struggled to stay conscious.
"Did I stutter?" the warden barked.
He lashed the prisoner with the thorny vine.
The man screamed, curling against the dirt.
If I'm not too careful, I might end up like that unfortunate ant over there. That looks really painful, Ari thought with a gulp, continuing to dig, his pickaxes lodging into the earth.
"The debris mover is full. Help me move it outside," said another ant.
His tired face turned to Ari, eyes heavy as he gestured.
Together, they leaned into the heavy barrel, muscles straining as it scraped across the dirt. The weight pressed against their shoulders, every step harder than the last.
If I were human, this kind of labor would kill me in half an hour. But since I'm an ant, I can endure. My body was made for this, even if my mind still resists, Ari thought, forcing himself to keep pace.