Dialogue with the Spirits of the Skin
A Mystical Beauty Saga

Season 1 – When the Moon Descends: The Tale of the Loquat Spirit

Episode 10: Life, Pure and Beautiful

The loquat fermentation research,
after a month of Kodama Takano’s meticulous effort,
had at last begun to bear fruit.

“At the fall of the moon, upon its own bed.”

The words whispered by the spirit.
By faithfully recreating the conditions bestowed by nature,
a miraculous ferment had quietly emerged.

The golden, translucent liquid released a subtle fragrance
at the faintest stir.
It was no mere scent—
but something deeper,
as if answering to an unseen call.

“…At last.”

Takano murmured softly,
drawing a deep breath in the silence of the lab.
The path to scale-up was visible,
and a new future gleamed for Misaki’s salon, Hanakage.
The tension of the past month finally began to loosen.

“Since you’ve come all the way to Okinawa,
why not see the island a bit?”

That morning, a white truck rumbled up the farm road.
Shimabukuro leaned out the window with a warm smile.

With research at a pause,
Takano finally felt space open within him—
room to simply see.

He nodded and climbed into the passenger seat.

As they drove, the scenery shifted gently.
Wildflowers swayed at the roadside,
sea breezes crossed the slopes.

Hands on the wheel, Shimabukuro spoke quietly.

“Today, we’ll go south.
Somewhere… quiet.”

The truck climbed the slope,
pulling into a small lot.

Before him stood a concrete memorial.

—The Himeyuri Tower.

Out of season, the place was empty of tourists.
The sky was clear,
only the wind passing faintly through.

Standing before the tower,
something stirred deep within Takano’s chest.

A breeze rose.
No sound. No fragrance.
Yet a presence touched him, clear and direct.

Unspoken voices.
Layers of pain never put into words.

Lives that sought to protect.
Lives that chose not to flee, but to stay beside.

Each of them still lingered here.

And then,
a droplet fell within his chest.

Rippling outward, silently.

Like a drop falling into Shisui,
voices flowed into him—
the voices of those girls.

“Here, there were no enemies, no allies. All were one. Life, pure and beautiful.”

Life given for another.
Life lived with unbroken clarity.
That light, pure and without form,
still filled the space.

“…Life is… beautiful.”

The words left Takano’s lips unbidden.

It was not beauty of appearance.
Not a polished form.

It was in the use of life.
The way it was lived.
Leaving behind only the quiet sense—of beauty.

The words sank deep within him.

Good and evil had been surpassed.
It was not about judgment, nor division.

Simply—
life existing as life.

There,
human endeavor had been.

At his chest, Shisui rang faintly.
A gentle, quiet reply.

On the way back, Shimabukuro murmured:

“Today was a fine sky.
Takano-san… Okinawa has been waiting for you.”

“…I suppose I’ve felt that.”

Takano smiled faintly in the passenger seat.

The wind filled the cab for a while.

That afternoon,
Takano returned to the lab.
He unlocked the refrigerator to check the ferment’s progress.
Rows of bottles—

And stopped.

One was missing.

It had been there.
The vial crafted from the earliest harvest,
the first to respond on that night of the full moon.
That one vial—was gone.

There were no visible traces.
And yet he sensed it—
someone had touched it.

At his feet, a fiber.
Black, like the suits worn by those men at Itami Airport.

(So… it was connected after all.)

He reached to the back of the shelf.
From its depths, a thin layer of scent rose.

Someone had touched the bottles.
Someone had moved something here.

Opening his research notebook,
he saw it—
one bottle number, faintly erased.
Ink smudged, as if rewritten.

(Of course…)

Closing the shelf,
he gave a faint smile.
The smile of one resolved.

The spirit was silent.
Shisui gave no voice.

And yet—
he already sensed it.

The next question.
The next reply.

And—

The next battle.