(Why!? That was a dog, wasn’t it!?)
The fuzz-ball I picked up yesterday was definitely a dog. But now, sleeping pressed up against me, is unmistakably a naked child.
I let out a scream of shock — but the lid I built absorbs the vibration and lets none of it out. I feel the tissue around my face pulling tight, fixing my mouth into a smile.
“…Oh…”
The child’s eyes snap open. They land straight on mine, so there’s no escaping now. From beneath messy, disheveled brown hair, a pair of bright sky-blue eyes stare up at me. On top of the head: the same animal ears I saw yesterday. Just above the tail: a tail. …Probably, almost certainly, this boy is the dog I picked up yesterday. Why the dog became a human I have absolutely no idea.
“…Um… th-thank… you… very much…”
Speaking would kill him, so I can’t respond — I just stare back, not sure what to do. The dog-boy makes a bewildered face at my silence.
(I’m not ignoring you… it’s just that speaking might kill you… what do I do.)
I go on looking down at him without a word, and the boy hugs his knees self-consciously and curls in on himself. …Right — humans find being completely naked embarrassing. And he must be cold.
Then I’ll make him clothes — a chance to show kindness. I weave the vines at my fingertips into a simple garment, snap it off and hand it over. No pain thanks to Pain Nullification. The boy stares at me with wide eyes.
(Oh no — humans don’t make clothes like that…!)
Daily life among humans feels like a distant memory, and I’d just done something easy without thinking. The alarming thought that I might need to cover this up — or what to do if I can’t — flickers through my head.
“That was… manipulating plants with magic, wasn’t it… you really are… a witch, aren’t you?”
A witch. That word tells me there are people among humans who can do what I just did. In that case, there’s no reason not to go along with it.
(… Oh, right, right. Yes, that’s exactly it. I’m a witch! Me, a witch!)
I give a firm nod. The child seems satisfied with that. Good — safe.
But the child, happily looking at the clothes handed to him, doesn’t put them on. Maybe he’s reluctant because they were made with strange magic?
“…If I wear them, I’ll dirty them… and you made them specially for me, ma’am witch…”
Both ears and tail droop sadly — the picture of an abandoned puppy. Any moment now I expect to hear a weak little whimper.
The boy really is dirty, it’s true. Hygienically speaking, washing him first might be the right call.
(Getting clean is better anyway. It’s not that cold this time of year, so a quick wash in the river should be manageable.)
I beckon him and lead him down to the riverbank. I grow a loofah-like plant at my fingertips, snap it off and hand it to him. That this is for washing seems to have gotten through. The boy takes the loofah and wades into the river.
To warm him up afterward, I set up a campfire nearby. Since producing plants apparently isn’t strange for a “witch,” I skip gathering firewood and instead use sparkflower seeds to ignite oil-rich wood I grow and burn directly.
(How convenient, the witch setting! It means even if I seem a bit un-human, being a witch covers it. Getting lucky picking up this dog-ish kid before going to the settlement might have been real luck.)
Thanks to this child, I’ve gotten a sense of how humans see me. I’ve learned that I don’t have to force myself to act entirely human — some use of my own abilities is apparently fine — and I’m grateful for it.
While the child is bathing, I weave some cloth. When he comes shivering out of the river, I sit him by the fire and pat him dry. He stays very still throughout.
Once he’s clean and the water is off him, he finally puts his arms through the sleeves. His fluffy tail sways somewhere between content and pleased.
“Ma’am witch, I’m… Noel. And you are…”
He seems to be asking my name. And it occurs to me — I don’t have a name. Even in the status display I’m just [Mandrake (Singular)] — no name. …It used to say Variant, but after hitting level 99 it changed to Singular. I’m not entirely sure what the difference is.
And hearing a name like Noel, a Japanese-sounding name would probably stand out as strange. Hanazono Misaki would stick out in all the wrong ways.
(Not that I can speak anyway… we share a language, but would Japanese writing even work here?)
I tap a finger to my chin, mulling it over, and Noel waves both hands in a mild hurry.
“Oh, sorry. I forgot — witches don’t tell their names to anyone they don’t trust. I won’t ask.”
(Oh, is that how it works?)
“Thank you for saving me. …And, um, I… I don’t have anywhere to go back to… or any family… anymore… s-so…!”
Clutching the hem of his new clothes, Noel bursts into tears. Whatever he is — dog or human — a child is a child.
Seeing a child cry hurts. …When I was a child and cried, I was told to stop it.
(I don’t know what happened, but it sounds like he has nowhere to go… once he’s calmed down, I’ll bring him along to that settlement. A child is more human-looking company than a dog, and Noel might explain things nicely on my behalf… …he won’t say I kidnapped him, will he…?)
That prospect is a little frightening, so I probably ought to be even kinder to him, just to make sure “she kidnapped me” never comes out of his mouth. With that thought, I gently pull him into a hug.
I’m worried about what might happen if Noel’s body touches my face, so I’m careful to tuck his head below my chest where it absolutely cannot reach my face. That way there’s no chance of contact.
(I need to check later what happens if a living thing touches my face…)
I hold him until he stops crying. The tears soaking through the fabric of my clothes taste faintly sweet and pleasant, which makes me remember I’m hungry — and then I remember that I’d been wondering, when I thought he was a dog, whether I might absorb him, and internally I let out a short, sharp little yikes. …That was close. One step away from becoming a man-killing Mandrake.