Chapter 11

"..."

Jio stood in his studio.

"..."

What he was looking at was the countless drawers covering all four walls.

What he was thinking of was the paint materials sleeping quietly inside those drawers.

"..."

At last, Jio moved.

"... Let's use what I used last time."

He brought out the materials he had used in the past when he made the water birds.

That was not all.

Along with gems resembling aquamarine and emerald, there were white, translucent pebbles like marble from a stream.

A shard of obsidian branch that had hidden in the forest, pretending to be a burnt tree.

Pale green bark brimming with life, as if sap would come out if he pressed it hard...

When he thought this would be enough, Jio stopped taking materials out of the drawers.

"If there are leftovers, putting them back will be annoying, so if I run short, I'll bring more later..."

CLINK, CLATTER.

He set the materials on the workbench.

"... Today's content."

Making my own paint.

"Nice."

The basic materials needed to make oil paint were pigment to create the color, oil to mix it with, and a glass plate and muller to gather and grind them into a fine paint.

If one wanted to mix it well, a palette knife of suitable size was also needed.

Among those, what Jio was trying to make now was the pigment that would create the color.

"Should I break these up first?"

With the materials in the state they were in after he had just taken them out of the drawers, he could not make proper paint.

He had to turn all of them into colored powder, and for that, it seemed he would need to break them up first.

Jio prepared a sharp nail and a hammer.

After staring intently at the transparent gem, he soon placed the nail on a certain spot and tapped it.

TINK!

"..."

Though he had not used much force, the gem, struck precisely at the fracture point, split in two.

Jio thought.

'As expected, I am one magnificent potato.'

This mountain-village idol can tell where a mineral will split just by looking at it.

'I should have become a miner.'

Jio continued his work.

CLATTER.

"..."

TINK, CRACK.

CRACK...!

"..."

CLICK.

"... Good."

Perhaps because he had identified only the weakest grain before striking it, the gem was soon divided into pieces smaller than Jio's pinky nail.

"This should do."

Jio smashed the finely broken gem pieces with the hammer, swept the even smaller fragments into a ceramic mortar, and ground them with force.

At some point, the grating sound that had been scraping at his ears changed into something smooth, like glass beads rolling, and the gems all became powder.

"... What principle is this working on...?"

A pigment with a mysterious blend of blue and pale green had been completed.

"Troubling. Since everything that makes me up is this special, I must make sure I don't get dragged off to a research lab."

The materials in this studio were all unique.

Normally, if one ground gems, all that came out was stone powder.

Most gems were transparent and beautifully colored because of their molecular structure, but once they were ground up, that transparency could no longer be found.

But the gems here were different.

'Even when ground, their color and transparency stay perfectly intact.'

Even after going through an amateur process like Jio's, the original hue remained intact, so it was truly thanks to the quality of the materials.

When the finely ground gems clumped together among themselves, they would shine with their distinctive crisp transparency.

After silently turning all the materials into pigment, Jio slowly mixed them with the oil he had prepared.

"..."

Even though he had powdered them, and despite having mixed in raw stone powder, the oil and pigment did not separate.

Normally, he would have had to prepare an oil suited to the pigment's characteristics, but the wax in his studio showed excellent viscosity and compatibility.

"... I'll mix in fragrance too..."

Moving beyond merely adding color, Jio even added a scent that suited it well.

The oil, infused with flowers, fruits, and the like to give it fragrance, blended remarkably well with the pigment.

"Grind it, add it..."

He added the pigment and scented oil, then ground them finely on the glass plate.

"..."

Until it would feel as if silk brushed against his hand.

Very finely.

* * *

The water birds Jio had made were more mischievous than he had expected.

"Kids."

CLATTER.

"The back of Dad's neck feels chilly."

They were wriggling inside Jio's collar and nesting there.

Inside the shirt collar at his neck, inside sleeves where the smallest gap had opened, whether in his pants or his top, wherever there was space, the water birds were wedged inside.

'Isn't that uncomfortable?'

Calling them little water balloons did not quite fit when they were tucked inside his clothes with even their shapes crumpled out of form; they could hardly be called balloons or birds.

At the sight of them crumpled while maintaining the bare minimum of roundness, Jio stared at the ceiling for a moment.

"..."

It was funny, so he would let it slide.

"... Maybe it's because they're doing it to me, their parent, but they like getting wedged into places. Or do they like hiding?"

The water birds had a habit of moving around in a flock.

If not that, they preferred pooling somewhere.

Sometimes, when he went outside the cabin, he would often be startled by puddles he spotted even though it had not rained.

'They are definitely different from ordinary puddles, so I can notice them quickly enough.'

The puddles where they gathered had a faint blue glow, were strangely transparent, and had all sorts of odds and ends rolling around inside.

When he thought of how they were usually gathered in a round bird shape, it was ironic that he could not feel even the slightest viscosity.

"They look like plain water from the outside, though."

RUSTLE.

"If you keep making a fuss, I may stick a straw in you and slurp you right up."

RUSTLE, RUSTLE.

"That was a joke. I won't drink you. Even I think that was a frightening thing to say."

Living water.

How could he possibly drink something like that?

"Eating something alive, drinking paint, and consuming children I gave birth to as paint are all physiologically difficult for me."

CLATTER?

"Before I can be moved by your filial devotion, saying you would offer up your bodies if your father were thirsty, I feel fear. It would be better to restrain yourselves."

Jio, who was having an incomprehensible conversation with the children who had multiplied to nearly hundreds, was now sitting in the studio.

"I need to make your house."

At first, he had not thought much of it, but once living water started moving around near the house, it was impossible not to be bothered.

If they simply gathered quietly, he would not care, but they often came into the house and caused accidents or stole things.

If that were all, Jio would have let it pass, calling them cute, but because they even hid in the stream at times...

"I've been saying this for a while, but I really am not going to drink you. I misspoke, kids."

PFFT.

"No, I don't want to. Do not slander this dad as having strange tastes. I just wanted to drink some water."

He had really almost drunk the water birds.

"Do you know how startled I was when you popped out in my mouth? Yes, you. I mean you, the one with nothing in your belly right now."

At least the way to distinguish the water birds was by their faint light and the odds and ends inside them, but when one had no belongings of its own and completely blended into the stream water, he could not tell it apart.

When he felt the water wriggling in his mouth, Jio's heart sank.

The parties involved not only did not care, but astonishingly, even seemed to like it, but Jio had no such cruel tastes.

"You need a house too."

CLATTER, CLACK?

"You need your own habitat."

It was not as if they had no money, no time, or no land.

In this abundant, vast world, what was this nonsense about living as lodgers?

"And..."

He also had a personal interest.

"I'm thinking of decorating this place little by little too."

TAP TAP, CLICK!

"It's too plain right now."

One cabin, an immense forest, and a beautiful spring.

That alone was insufficient.

"I should make a fishing spot."

There was a reason the popularity of open-world RPGs varied so wildly.

As a rule, in any content, a map being merely wide was not necessarily a good thing; it needed plenty of elements to enjoy.

"I'm not saying this place is really a game, but it is true that I need to develop it further. In the end, it's the same idea."

The outdoor activities Jio did right now amounted to little more than gathering and farming.

He had to increase the content he could do one thing at a time so he would not get bored even without going outside the painting.

"I've strangely grown no affection for the outside as it is now."

SCRITCH.

"Maybe because it's not that world I remembered from back then..."

SCRAPE.

"I don't want to live there."

Jio liked the inside of the painting as it was now.

"And I like being unemployed."

In truth, he liked that part the most.

"... Come out now."

CLACK! CLACK!

"I don't mind if you watch me draw, but if you stay inside my clothes, it bothers me. Even now, my shirt is about to burst. Poor thing."

CLATTER...

"Do you think this dad is doing this for his own good, kids? Remember that this is all to make you a house."

Fortunately, the water birds obediently came out of Jio's clothes.

"..."

Thanks to children who knew how to listen when spoken to, Jio was finally able to hold his brush.

He opened his mouth.

"If we're going to fish..."

A large lake would be good.

"Let's make it a lake."

Let it be a lake where trees and water fully touch.

Fish would live beneath it.

There would be little minnows that flowed in from the stream, and flat fish hiding with their bodies buried in the sand at the bottom.

"Nice."

Let's make a bridge where fishing can be done too.

There is a wooden bridge connecting the middle of the large lake.

Is the color a little pale?

A pale, soft color like freshly baked white bread would be good.

If the lake water peeked through between the wooden planks, it would sparkle in the sunlight during the day.

What would the evening scene be like?

"..."

Every time it swayed in the wind, the surface of the water would glow with soft lantern light.

When night fell and it grew dark, he wanted the inside to be clearly visible.

He wanted the entire depths of that lake to be visible.

Like the fluorescent bracelet he had treasured and admired as a child, hiding beneath a thick blanket in a room with the lights off, where only he could see it, it would be bright yet gentle light.

"... It might be nice if the color changes depending on your mood."

RUSTLE.

"Golden on days when you're feeling good, red on days when you're not, blue on days when you're sad or depressed... and green on ordinary, peaceful days."

RUSTLE, RUSTLE.

"You don't have vocal cords, so you can't cry out."

If he could not hear them, then he would make it so he could see.

"That way, I can talk with you too."

Though Jio was the creator of the water birds, he could not control them as he pleased.

So he did not know what the water birds were thinking, their forms were indistinct, and because they had no vocal cords and were quiet, he could not even know where they were unless he listened carefully.

'It wasn't for nothing that I almost ate one. There must never be another disaster like that.'

If not for their mischievous and talkative personalities, Jio surely would not have been able to find them.

"..."

That seemed a little sad.

"I'll come visit at night. We can talk then."

PFFT.

"If you give off that kind of light on a dark evening, I'll be able to see you even if I'm in the cabin. Yes, that should work. I'll be watching you from the veranda, so if there's something you want to say, you can tell me then."

PFFT, PFFT.

"Good."

Jio moved his brush again.

"Let's do that."

The lake he painted held the night within it.

"... I like it."

The lake did not have only one color.

Water birds liked to gather together, but the treasures they placed inside their bodies were each different.

Their personalities were different.

The way they spoke, thought, and acted could not help but all be different.

'So their whispered complaints or boasts every night will all be different too.'

So he placed clusters of their light one by one with his brush.

"It's just like pointillism."

If he looked from up close, he would be able to tell which of them was struggling or hurt, and which was joyful and happy.

If he looked from far away, he would be able to know what all of them wanted to say to him, and when he should go visit to soothe them and talk with them.

"Nice."

It also looked like a flower garden blooming on the surface of the water.

Perhaps because he had painted it with paint he made himself, though it was unmistakably water, it gave off an inexplicable freshness.

"Good."

Or perhaps it resembled fireflies, or the forest butterflies resembling sunlight and moonlight that roamed this place.

Perhaps it resembled the sparkle of transparent lights reflected in a glass window.

"..."

When Jio had painted all of their emotions, the lake was dyed gold.

"... I think it's good."

The thrill of drawing something from imagination into reality was beyond words.

This lake would be located a little far from the cabin, and clearly separate from the spring as well.

The trees pressed close against the boundary of the lake would still retain their greenness.

"It will be blue during the day."

When water was drawn from it, it would be clear as if it held the sky, the inside would be a chilling blue like the sea, and the glittering ripples when sunlight touched it would look almost white.

And with so many water birds hiding and moving around in it, perhaps they would occasionally poke their heads out and play pranks when they got bored.

"At night, you'll sparkle however you like..."

Sparkle like water made of mist.

"Shimmering all over."

Like newborn babies laughing at even the smallest breeze, you will glow brightly.

Imagining that put him in a truly good mood.

"..."

TOCK.

When he struck the canvas, the painting soon disappeared.

Perhaps it was his imagination, but the scent of water drifted from far away.

It was a delicate scent, one that made him want to lie down on moss and fall asleep at once with just one breath.

'Scent coming from water with nothing in it... Is it similar to the white tree spring water?'

The bird on his shoulder stirred at that scent, and the bird sitting on the canvas flapped.

FLAP FLAP FLAP!

FLUTTER, FLUTTER!

RUSTLEEEEE.

CLACK, CLACK!

SPLASH...!

The countless birds that had been hanging from the lamp flew out through the open window.

Their lively wingbeats, like migratory birds returning to their homeland, were as refreshing as a wind blowing in from the seaside...

"..."

He liked it after all.

The water birds would as well.