So I do just that. I have to understand it, accept it, before it's too late. But I still can't make out that delicate writing left on the shore of my consciousness. There's not enough time between one wave and the next.

"I'm in love with Miss Saeki," I say. The words slip out naturally.

"I know that," the boy named Crow says curtly.

"I've never felt that before," I go on. "And it's more important to me than anything else I've ever experienced."

"Of course it is," Crow says. "That goes without saying. That's why you've come all this way."

"But I still don't get it. You're telling me my mother loved me very much. I want to believe you, but if that's true, I just don't get it. Why does loving somebody mean you have to hurt them just as much? I mean, if that's the way it goes, what's the point of loving someone? Why the hell does it have to be like that?"

I wait for an answer. I keep my mouth shut for a long time, but there's no response, so I spin around. The boy named Crow is gone. From up above I hear the flap of wings.

You're totally confused.

Not long afterward, the two soldiers appear.

They're wearing battle fatigues of the old Imperial army. Short-sleeved summer uniforms, gaiters, and knapsacks. No helmets, just caps with bills, and some kind of black face paint. Both of them are young. One of them's tall and thin, with round, metal-framed glasses. The other one's short, broad-shouldered, and muscular. They're both sitting on a flat rock, neither one looking like he's about to leap into battle. Their Arisaka rifles are on the ground by their feet. The tall soldier seems bored and is chewing on a stem of grass. The two of them look completely natural, like they belong here. Unperturbed, they watch as I approach.

There's a small flat clearing around them, like a landing on a staircase.

"Hey," the tall soldier calls out cheerfully.

"How ya doing?" the brawny one says with the smallest of frowns.

"How are you?" I greet them back. I know I should be amazed to see them, but somehow it doesn't seem weird at all. It's entirely within the realm of possibility.

"We were waiting for you," the tall one says.

"For me?" I ask.

"Sure," he replies. "No one else is coming out here, that's for sure."

"We've been waiting a long time," the brawny one says.

"Not that time's much of a factor here," the tall one adds. "Still, you took longer than I figured."

"You're the two guys who disappeared in this forest a long, long time ago, right?" I ask. "During maneuvers?"

The brawny soldier nods. "That's us."

"They searched everywhere for you," I say.

"Yeah, I know," he says. "I know they were looking for us. I know everything that goes on in this forest. But they're not about to find us, no matter how hard they look."

"Actually, we didn't get lost," the tall one says. "We ran away."

"Not running away so much as just stumbling onto this spot and deciding to stay put," the brawny one adds. "That's different from getting lost."

"Not just anybody can find this place," the tall soldier says. "But we did, and now you have too. It was a stroke of luck-for us, at least."

"If we hadn't found this spot, they would've shipped us overseas," the brawny one explains. "Over there it was kill or be killed. That wasn't for us. I'm a farmer, originally, and my buddy here just graduated from college. Neither one of us wants to kill anybody. And being killed's even worse. Kind of obvious, I'd say."

"How 'bout you?" the tall one asks me. "Would you like to kill anybody, or be killed?"

I shake my head. No, neither one, definitely not.

"Everybody feels like that," the tall one says. "Or the vast majority, at least. But if you say, Hey, I don't want to go off to war, the country's not about to break out in smiles and give you permission to skip out. You can't run away. Japan's a small country, so where are you going to run to? They'll track you down so fast it'll make your head spin. That's why we stayed here. This is the only place we could hide." He shakes his head and goes on. "And we've stayed here ever since. Like you said, from a long, long time ago. Not that time's a major factor here. There's almost no difference at all between now and a long, long time ago."

"No difference at all," the brawny one says, waving something away with his hand.

"You knew I was coming?" I ask.

"Sure thing," the brawny one replies.

"We've been standing guard here for a long time, so we know if somebody's coming," the other one said. "We're like part of the forest."

"This is the entrance," the brawny one says. "And we're guarding it."

"And right now the entrance happens to be open," the tall one explains. "Before long, though, it'll close up. If you want to come in, now's the time. It doesn't open up all that often."

"We'll lead the way," the brawny one says. "The path's hard to follow, so you need someone to guide you in."

"If you don't come in, then go back where you came from," the tall one says. "It's not all that hard to find your way back, so don't worry about it. You'll do fine. Then you'll return to the world you came from, to the life you've been living. The choice is entirely up to you. Nobody's going to force you to do one or the other. But once you're in, it isn't easy to turn back."

"Take me inside," I answer without a moment's hesitation.

"Are you sure?" the brawny one asks.

"Somebody's inside I have to see," I say. "At least I think so…"

Slowly, silently, the two of them get up off the rock and shoulder their rifles. They exchange a glance and walk on ahead of me.

"You must think it's strange we still lug around these heavy lumps of steel," the tall one says, turning around. "They're worthless. Never had any bullets anyway."

"But they're a kind of sign," the brawny one says, not looking back at me. "A sign of what we left behind."

"Symbols are important," the tall one adds. "We happen to have these rifles and soldiers' uniforms, so we play the part of sentries. That's our role. Symbols guide us to the roles we play."

"Do you have anything like that with you?" the brawny one asks. "Something that can be a sign?"

I shake my head. "No, I don't have anything. Just memories."

"Hmm…," the brawny one says. "Memories, huh?"

"That's okay. Doesn't matter," the tall one says. "Memories can be a great symbol too. Course I don't have any idea how well memories will stand up, how long they'll last."

"Something that has a form or a shape is best, if you can manage it," the brawny one says. "It's easier to understand."

"Like a rifle," the tall one says. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Kafka Tamura," I answer.

"Kafka Tamura," they both repeat.

"Weird name," the tall one says.

"You got that right," the brawny one adds.

After this we walk in silence down the path.