as he swished through the air. On his right wrist, he was wearing a bracelet—one half a pair of handcuffs, with a chain link attached… the severed cuffs.
Haruko was ecstatic at seeing the birdman. 'Atomsk!'
It may have just been coincidence, but when Haruko shouted that single word, it acted like the shot of a gun triggering an avalanche: The towering hand—MM's robot that they were standing upon—started to crumble. As it broke up into separate bits, the entire body of it became unstable and started to collapse, unable to hold up its own weight.
It was like something from a nightmare. If the structure were to fall to the ground, there would be tragic losses as a result. The metal monster was taller than even a skyscraper, and it was going to fall onto the residential blocks like a massive tree.
But something happened to prevent that: The mass of debris stopped mid-collapse and started to float in the air. And then, it started to rise up, as if lifted by an invisible god.
The person creating this miracle, equal to the parting of the seas, was Atomsk, of course.
At some point, the floating Atomsk's head had become a localized typhoon, which created a giant twister that exhibited amazing sucking power. The towering hand was being gradually drawn in. No, it wasn't simply drawn in—Atomsk controlled the suction and twister himself.
'N.O.?' While he muttered to himself, Amarao also was pulled up into the swirling air, and soon he was caught up in the twisting air, flying inside it. However, in contrast to the towering hand, Amarao's body slowly descended to earth. Somehow, the power could choose not to suck certain things in; the power was devastating, but also reasonable. Amarao had escaped unharmed—only the eyebrow stickers were damaged, having been ripped off Amarao's face and blown away.
Round and round and round… the air around Mabase was being swirled as if it were inside a giant blender. The brown leaves of the ginkgo trees were blown from their branches and danced like butterflies in the air. And now, the majority of Mabase residents who hadn't deserted after the factory closed were watching the spectacle above their heads, unaware of the danger.
Around and around and around… until Mamimi—who had come free from the machine, Canti—who had returned to blue, Amarao—minus eyebrow stickers, and Naota—who had separated from the Pirate King—all had been picked up by the swirling wind and then dropped down in a safe place, unharmed. The vortex was Atomsk's energy, which was carefully controlled, right down to the smallest detail.
It was an incredible power the Pirate King held. And to Naota, who had been in contact with it for a moment, it wasn't the slightest bit mysterious. The owner of that red light was definitely an amazing man.
The twister finally sucked everything within the vortex inside Atomsk's head, and then it disintegrated. It had sucked in every single piece of debris from the giant MM robot—that, and the smoke. It had cleaned up that gloomy white smoke.
For the first time in a long time, Mabase was filled with the shining sun and blue sky.
The black-winged Pirate King then closed the N.O. and, with the same lightning speed with which he'd appeared, he jumped up into the sky.
In the bright blue, completely cloudless sky, a yellow Vespa floated.
On the seat, of course, sat Haruko. Although she had whistled for her scooter quickly, Atomsk already had disappeared into Mabase's skies by the time she was on it.
Seated on the floating Vespa, Haruko looked down at the bracelet on her left arm. On the metal band was a short chain link, which was pointing up toward the heavens, showing her where Atomsk had flown.
Naota, who was standing on the hill, was staring up at Haruko, looking at her with all his heart.
The wild girl who rode her yellow scooter… that untamed girl who had at first been a hated housemaid… she had hit Naota with her guitar countless times, knocked him over with her Vespa, and used him like he was a fool. She had acted selfishly and violently and irresponsibly. Yet in the end, Naota had confessed that he liked her despite it all.
Haruko lingered, staring affectionately into the sky where the chain was pointing, but finally, she smiled with resignation, knowing that nothing could be done, and looked down at Naota.
'This is all your fault. I've lost sight of him.' Haruko's tone was unusually kind. As she came to this realization herself, she smiled a little wider.
The two of them regarded each other as the brown leaves danced to the ground.
Finally, Haruko spoke gently. 'Want to come with me?'
Naota thought to himself,
'You can't, huh?' Haruko said. 'You're still just a kid, Takkun.'
With those parting words, she pulled down her goggles and turned the accelerator. With a massive boom, the Vespa sped away into the blue sky, gradually getting smaller and smaller, until it was visible no more.
After a short while, Naota noticed the discarded base guitar near him—Haruko's guitar. He picked it up and tried to play a chord, but a painful sound came out instead. It was the noise signaling the end of this special season—it was Naota's and Haruko's parting.
Afterword
Out of the entire series, the one scene I like most is when Naota ran through the town at night to meet up with Mamimi; also, I really like the atmosphere when those two were playing by the riverbank.
And if that's the case, then when I think about it, I realize that I'm already an adult.
Why's this? Because I find amusement in the feeling of sorrow.
Originally—I mean, when I was much younger—sorrow was no more than a negative feeling to me.
One's set of values changes as the years pile on. Only adults are really able to efficiently put the negative emotions to good use, right?
That being said, we must not overlook the fact that even when we become adults, we are still limited beings.
For everything you gain, there will be something lost—and for everything you lose, there will be something gained. I thought the person who first made me realize this was amazing.
For example, when you lose a precious treasure, you gain the feeling of having lost a treasure. Or when you finally realize a dream after many years, you lose that passion of wanting to make that dream a reality.
You might think it no more than simple rhetoric, but if you could have a sense of value like from the point of view of an objective god, you would have access to an extremely simple yet profound truth.
But in reality, this thesis is pretty impractical, because there aren't any humans who can peer out from a god's point of view. Humans always will have individual desires, making them unable to see that what's lost and what's gained are equal, that there's usually a relationship between supply and demand.
I apologize to all my future descendents for this example, but people who collect trading cards value those they have multiple copies of differently than those they don't have. From a god's point of view, they are all equal cards, but for humans who are limited by circumstance, that is not the case. The special value of each individual card is determined by the current status of the owner's collection.
Value comes from purpose. Therefore, in reality, when people lose something important, they may not realize they also have the good fortune of making a profit.
Because of this, the words 'for everything you lose, there will be something gained' take on a sharp meaning. When considering the concept of a god's point of view, we can think of purpose and value not as absolutes, but as things that will change to some degree, such as when you've suffered a massive disappointment, or maybe when you've gained the power to save yourself.
Indeed, according to your purpose, the value of all things that surround humans—all the rabble—will change. If you lose all interest in collecting trading cards, the things that had been treasure up until that day will suddenly
