ORCA 99

Orca was tied down. He could neither go to find Niah nor remain where he was. While he was worried that if Niah were waiting for him in the garden or the greenhouse, he might end up hurt for no reason just like yesterday, he was simultaneously terrified of what he might do if Niah burst into tears the moment he saw him. The goldfish used to ask hesitatingly, with a look that was part anxious, part expectant. The routine he thought would end after a few days was being repeated every single night.

“Master. Did I forget anything today?”

If he answered in the affirmative, Niah would burst into a giggle. Half-disbelieving, Niah would mutter, “Thank goodness,” and find relief. It was obvious that he was relieved to realize he wasn’t going to be scolded, but Orca never let on that he knew.

The goldfish often forgot things and only occasionally remembered them. They were all trivial, minor errors. It would be something like bringing soap when he had been told to bring bath salts. It was truly nothing, but Niah would become depressed as if he had committed a grave sin. On bad days, he would shed tears. He would blame himself with a look of absolute intolerance.

Watching him cry was one thing, but he hated this. He was also annoyed at hearing the apologies. Orca felt pathetic every moment, as he could offer nothing but words of reassurance. He wanted to clear out all the people who made the goldfish feel pressured just by living in the same house, but since it had already been hammered home that he couldn’t, even that was impossible. Refused the best way to help, he couldn’t think of any other solution.

There had never been anything he couldn’t have or achieve, yet the goldfish never went according to his will. He always rendered him powerless. Even when he wasn’t by his side, Niah had him wrapped around his little finger. Just by the simple fact of his absence, he could manipulate Orca to his heart’s content.

Orca slumped against the wall, sliding down limply. If anyone were to see this, they would whisper that it was an unrefined act, but the only person who would come here was Niah, and the only thing that mattered to him right now was Niah. He couldn’t guess how much time had passed. It felt like he had waited for a very long time, yet also like a fleeting moment.

With his elbows on his knees, he lifted one hand to press against his eyes. The surroundings grew dark and sank into a muffled gloom. Shadows of the pitch-black deep sea overflowed into his mind. Left at a crossroads of choices, he was sucked into a labyrinth. He could neither go to find Niah nor not go. It seemed the sixth reason was the correct answer after all.

“Master…?”

Niah, who had stomped into the fourth floor, thought he was seeing things. He couldn’t understand why his master was crumpled up on the floor, so his brow furrowed on its own. It was an awkward scene to witness with his own eyes. It wasn’t exactly unfamiliar to be crouching down beside him, but this was the first time he had seen him all alone and forlorn. His large frame was folded up, making him look tiny. It was as if he had been struck in the head by a giant question mark. Niah ran over, calling him repeatedly.

“Master? Master.”

His pace quickened as the distance closed. His master was a person who could sense his arrival before he even reached the door. He had clearly said that his hearing was good, that he was sensitive and heard better than others. Since he was a person who could even guess how many times Niah had blinked, there was no way he couldn’t hear his voice. He shouldn’t have been unable to recognize Niah, who was standing right there.

“Master….”

Niah knelt down, tucked himself between Orca’s thighs, and sat pressed against him. He braced his hands on Orca’s belly and leaned in. Leaning against him, Niah tried to peek at the face hidden from view. He tilted his head to call out to him and tapped him lightly to try and grab his attention. However, Orca remained unresponsive, as if his body had frozen. Even after being called dozens of times, there was no reply.

“Master.”

Niah took his hand. He slowly and cautiously pulled it down, feeling the cool temperature. The moment their eyes met, it felt as though the flow of time had stopped. Calm ripples stirred in the depths of those eyes that held only Niah. It was as if he were staring directly into a pitch-black lake that didn’t reflect even a sliver of moonlight. All the playful plans and shyness he had boldly resolved to carry out on his way here dissolved into the recesses of his memory. For some reason, his eyes grew hot.

“Master, your hands are cold. Why are you like this here…”

“Why did you come so late…”

Orca collapsed onto Niah’s shoulder. His voice, filled with complaint, sounded indistinct. The short sentence scattered poorly. It was difficult to manage the emotions he had pressed down until they were on the verge of overflowing.

He reached out his arms and hugged the small body. He clutched Niah so fiercely that he nearly had to stifle a scream. It was a rough and menacing touch, as if he were a predator unwilling to let go of its prey, as if this place were a sea at war. Had he bared his teeth instead of reaching out his arms, Niah would have undoubtedly died. If he had failed to control his strength just a little bit, his bones would have shattered and his organs would have burst.

Orca puffed out his chest and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to kill him, but he didn’t want to let him go, either.

“I’m sorry. I was… distracted. Oh… are you… no, never mind. Hmm… were you… worried? I’m sorry, Master.”

Niah, wiggling his trapped arm free, hugged Orca back. The places where he was bruised throbbed, but he didn’t show it. As he embraced him, he patted and comforted the man who had buried himself in his arms. He rubbed his back diligently and held him tight.

Niah felt his master was particularly small today. For some reason, he couldn’t quite explain it, but he could feel a profound sense of distress being transmitted. Just as his master had eased his own sad feelings, Niah wanted to ease a little bit of his master’s distress, piece by piece.

“I thought you had forgotten. About coming to me.”

Niah flinched in surprise. Even so, he continued to pat the area near Orca’s shoulder blades diligently. Rolling his eyes, he calmly sorted through the thoughts rushing in. He couldn’t believe that while he was busy hiding in his own embarrassment, his master had been worrying about him the whole time. He couldn’t grasp the reality that his master, a nobleman, had been upset, fearing Niah had forgotten about coming here, and had been sitting on the cold hallway floor waiting only for him.

To think that because of someone like him, his master was sitting alone in the hallway waiting for him—it was, how should he put it, overwhelming. The fact that his “stupid goldfish” could make someone not just angry, but also feel neglected and sad, was fascinating. His stomach tickled. Suddenly excited, Niah’s cheeks flushed, and he felt a flutter of joy. His lips parted in a hurry, whispering his curiosity as if to verify his guess.

“Master. Did you wait for me…?”

“Yes.”

“Were you afraid I’d… forgotten you?”

“Yes.”

To Niah, Orca rubbing against his shoulder felt like a spoiled child. He also felt like a large puppy seeking affection. He knew it was seriously impudent to have such thoughts about his master, but he couldn’t help it. He had the illusion that he could feel the fine hair that tickled his neck even through his clothes. Niah curled his lips and bit them to hold back the giggles. He wondered if this was the same feeling his master had whenever he called Niah dog-like. Niah’s arms tightened around Orca.

“That’s not true. I won’t forget you, Master. I… I can’t make a promise, though… but I won’t forget. I won’t. Every night before I go to sleep—no, even during the day, I only think of you. I try every day not to forget, to keep everything safe. So please don’t worry. Okay?”

The sentences, recited in a hurry, piled up neatly for Orca. Each word, heavy with meaning, filled him up and encouraged him to the brim. The sight of this goldfish, no bigger than two of his finger joints, struggling to reassure him was laughable, and as pretty as it was laughable.

He felt he could now understand the goldfish who had described a strange, nameless plant as “pretty.” He wondered if his current expression was quite similar to the flushed look on Niah’s face when he used to talk proudly about how he had raised a plant with such care and love.

As Orca’s arms released him and pulled away, Niah instantly grabbed his hands. He brought them up to his eye level, held one in each hand, and began to knead them. He rubbed them back and forth and blew a breathy “haa” onto them. Only after the chill had vanished and the temperature returned to normal did his hands grow still.