Web of light. book 1

Rinko's pov.

Yuto is very thoughtful this morning, he said that he should be alone and think. To remember the old. I made him breakfast and went home to read the manga "Lightning in a Narrow Street," and then I can read "the blade speaks."

And Yuto reads his Star Wars and says he's attracted to Luke Skywalker.

* * *

Our city stood on the shore of a large, quiet lake, and it seemed that all the water in it knew where to flow. Thin veins of streams ran from the lake through the city, like lines in a drawing. One such river, no wider than a school desk, flowed right through their neighborhood. There was an iron bridge above it, just enough for two people to separate on it if one was going to school and the other was leaving the store with a bag of buns.

Rinko loved this bridge. She always stopped in the middle, looked down where the water flowed around a couple of smooth stones, and said:

"Do you see how smoothly it bends around? It's like he knows the route."

Yuto nodded because he liked it: the water doesn't argue, it just follows the terrain. For him, it was like another understandable system.

"You don't even have to count here," he once said. "If you throw a wand, it will show you the way."

Rinko giggled and threw a dry twig into the water. It spun on a small funnel, then righted itself and floated further along the shore, past old houses, to the lake.

"Here," she said. "She doesn't get lost."

"Because she has nowhere to go," Yuto replied calmly. "The riverbed does not work."

The president of the Physics club once brought them here on a mini-tour. He brought a transparent ruler and showed how to measure the speed of the current by how many seconds the wand floats from one stone to another. Yuto wrote everything down in a notebook: "Step 1: quit. Step 2: Detect. Step 3: Calculate." For him, it was not a "walk by the water", but a real experience.

* * *

And after the calligraphy class, they walked home the same way. Rinko chatted incessantly, and Yuto watched as the shadows from the railing lay in even strips on the bridge, and it seemed to him that the city had finally stopped being too big. It had its own landmarks: the sign "2 A", the physics club, the smell of taiyaki at the stall — and this little river that just flowed by itself and did not bother anyone.

They settled down on a flat rock in the "Corner by two Willows" -that's what everyone called this place now. Rinko took out a makeshift tower from her backpack: the bars were slightly uneven, but smooth, polished to a warm beige color.

"The labor teacher gave the blanks," She said proudly, laying them out on the stone. "He said that the main thing is that everyone should be about the same."

Taizo, the new guy, leaned closer, squinting as if trying to figure out a secret:

"And if he falls?"

Rinko giggled:

Then we'll reassemble it. That's the point. Yuto silently moved closer and began to stack the first rows. He did this not quickly, but very precisely: he placed each block so that the joints did not match, as in real masonry.

"This way it's tighter," he muttered without looking up. "If the seams are in one line, the wall falls. It's the same here."

Taizo chuckled, as if he appreciated the approach:

"You're like an engineer."

"I'm like someone who doesn't want to put everything back together", Yuuto replied calmly, and for the first time that evening, he smiled a little. When the tower reached eight rows, Rinko pulled out a side bar. The tower trembled, froze, and stood. Rinko squealed softly, covering her mouth with her palm so as not to scare off luck:

"It worked!"

It was Taizo's turn. He pulled the bar from below, a little too sharply, and the tower swayed. Yuuto instinctively leaned forward, as if he wanted to hold her, but did not touch her.

"Not with two hands!" Rinko whispered immediately. "Just one. And you can move it a little to see which one is sitting freely."

Taizo froze, then slowly, more carefully, pushed another bar. He came out easily.

"Aha", Taizo exhaled, and there was so much delight in his voice, as if he had just launched a rocket. "He slipped out on his own!"

He put the bar on top, crookedly. Yuto frowned slightly, but didn't say anything. I just took it and moved the bar a little, leveling the edge.

"I'm sorry," Taizo said softly. "I'm not very careful."

"Nothing," Yuto suddenly replied calmly. Geometry is important here. If the edge lies flat, the tower stands. If not, she's betraying herself.

Rinko sat back, hugging her knees:

"You know, I like it when she shivers a little. It's like she's alive. As if he feels that now is the decisive move."

"She doesn't feel it," Yuto immediately objected. "This is physics. The center of gravity shifts, and if we place the top row correctly, it returns it."

Taizo looked at him, then at the tower, then back at Yuto — and suddenly he laughed, lightly, without mockery:

"You even count everything in the game."

"Yes," Yuto said simply, unashamed. "It makes me feel better. "When it's clear why something is standing or falling."

And it was his turn. Yuto ran his finger along the bottom rows for a long time, checking which bar was looser. He took his time. Finally, he chose one and pulled-slowly, smoothly, without a jerk. The bar came out as if it wanted to be pulled out by itself. Yuto laid him on top, neatly, exactly in line.

The tower was standing.

Rinko clapped her hands softly:

"Perfect. Just like the textbook."

"As per the blueprint," Yuto corrected, but there was no severity in his voice.

Evening was already falling on the city, and a cool breeze was blowing over the river. Somewhere far away, a bird called, and here, by two willows, it was quiet, only Rinko could be heard whispering: "Your turn," Taizo quietly counting the rows, and Yuto explaining why this particular bar can be touched, but it's better not to touch it.

After the Jenga, Rinko plopped down on the asphalt, pulled out three crayons from her pocket — yellow, blue and red — and joyfully shook them in the air:

"Let's draw a map now! A real one, with roads and secret paths!"

Taizo crouched down next to him, already reaching for yellow:

"Let's get the sun right away! And the house. And... well, to be beautiful."

Yuto didn't move. He looked at the crayons as if they were not pieces of limestone, but details of an unfamiliar pattern. The colors seemed too loose to him, like lines that don't have a blueprint.

But instead of saying nothing or leaving, he suddenly bent down, picked up all three crayons, arranged them in a row — strictly according to shades, from dark to light — and said softly but firmly:

"First, the rules. If we draw randomly, then we won't figure out where what is."

Rinko froze with the chalk halfway to the asphalt, then slowly lowered her hand and narrowed her eyes cunningly:

"Do you want to be in charge of the map?"

"I want it to be clear," Yuuto replied calmly. "Look at this: yellow is water. Just a river and a lake. No sun, no flowers. Just water."

He drew a clear yellow line-smooth, without curls.

"Blue," he continued, picking up another piece of chalk, "these are roads and paths. Everything you can walk on. From the school to our corner, from the store to Haru's house."

Taizo chuckled, but he no longer reached out to draw at random, but listened as if memorizing the instructions.

"And red," Yuto hesitated a little, as if weighing the word, "is the border. Where it's not allowed. Where it's dangerous. Where the water can spill. Or where the fence is. Or just, `don't come here, it's someone else's yard.'"

Rinko giggled softly, but not mockingly, but as if she suddenly felt calmer:

"So you're making a map like in that security textbook they showed us in class?"

"Almost," Yuto nodded. "Only here we build it ourselves. And if everyone remembers the colors, no one will get confused. Even if someone new comes and asks, `Where are you?' we'll say, `By the yellow river, next to the blue path, but don't go over the red line.'"

Taizo suddenly smiled-broadly, sincerely, without a trick:

"You know, it's... cool. It's like we have our own instructions."

And he didn't argue, didn't pull out a yellow crayon to draw the sun. Instead, he carefully took the blue one and drew a thin line from the edge of the yellow stripe:

"There's a path here. It winds, but if you follow it, you'll definitely come to the bridge."

Yuto looked at this line, slightly adjusted its angle — just a millimeter so that the joint lay flat — and for the first time did not frown from "creativity". Because now it wasn't just drawing. It was a markup. Rinko, already understanding the rules, took the yellow one and drew the bend of the river — but exactly along the edge, without going beyond:

"And then she makes a turn. And there, around the corner, is our corner."

The sun was setting, and the long shadows of the willow trees lay directly on their map, as if adding another layer of markup. Yuto looked at the three colors, at the clear boundaries, and thought that maybe the world could really be made clear if he just agreed on what each color meant.

"Okay," he said softly, when the map looked like a diagram instead of a scribble. "Now it's a map. Not just a drawing."

Rinko smiled and moved over to make room for him on the sun-warmed stone:

"So you're the chief engineer. I am the main bending artist. And Taizo..."

"And I," Taizo quickly picked up, "am in charge of the paths. I know all the paths, even the ones where no one walks."

They sat side by side, the three of them, and looked at their map: the yellow river flowed, the blue path led, the red line held the borders. And in that order, Yuto finally felt like he wasn't just "different", but someone who knew how to make everything fit together.

Pov Yu

The club room smelled of old paper and something sweet-Yumi brought a pack of cookies that were "almost expired" in the store, but she bought them anyway: "But it's a fifty percent discount!"

There were sheets of notes, miniatures, a bag of cubes, and an open laptop on the table, where the message in the chat was: "Yu, is the chapter ready? We are waiting!"

Yu, wearing her minus-one glasses, squinted at the screen again, trying to focus without having to take them off and put them on every two minutes.

"Here's the phrase... `He had always been a half-blood'. I've already copied it three times. I want it to sound not like a textbook reference, but as if magic itself is whispering."

Yumi sat down next to her, pulled a piece of paper towards her and quietly read it aloud:

"He always had mixed blood in his veins."

And suddenly she smiled:

"You know, it sounds like a spell. It's like you're not just translating, but putting a spell on the words."

Yu exhaled as if a stone had been lifted from her shoulders:

"Thank you. I was afraid it was too pretentious."

"It's not pretentious," Yumi said confidently. "It's like our paladin: he doesn't shout `I'm a hero,' he just stands in front of the door and says `I got it.' Here are your words — they keep the story alive."

Yu finally clicked "approve." The chat immediately started saying: "Thank you, Yu!", "You're the best!", "I'm reading!"

Yu blushed a little, but she smiled.

"Okay, enough work. Five minutes on D&D. You will be a paladin, and I will be a sorceress who knows all the spells."

Yumi immediately grabbed the bag, shook it, and poured out the cubes. One rolled right to the edge of the table, and she deftly caught it, as if it were not a cube, but something very important.

"Agreed. But if one drops out again, I'll say it's the curse of the dark magician."

"Yeah," Yu laughed, "and I'll say that I translated this curse incorrectly."

* * *

The lights were already going out in the hallway, and only a warm rectangle was still burning in the club room. The girls walked along the dim corridor, Yu clutched a folder with printouts to her chest, and Yumi chatted about a new idea for the campaign — about a city where magic is forbidden, and all spells must be hidden in ordinary phrases.

"I mean, like your translation," Yumi suddenly realized.

"Precisely!" Yu beamed. "You say `I'll open the door', but in fact it's `alohomora'. You say, `please be quiet,' and this is Silencio."

Yumi nodded, as if that explained everything:

"So you're not just changing words. You're giving people a way to take magic where it shouldn't be."

Yu took off her glasses, wiped them with the edge of her sweater, put them on, and the world became clear again.

"Sometimes it seems to me that if I do even one line wrong, all the magic will crumble."

Yumi stopped and looked at her seriously:

"But you're not doing it wrong. And even if you do, I'll be here. We'll fix it together."

Yu smiled, and this time it wasn't a hasty smile, not the kind that is hidden.

"Thank you."

* * *

They have their own "campaign map" on the board at the club — and a printout with a quote from Potter is pasted next to it: `It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live'. Yu hung it up because she was afraid of drowning in translations and forgetting about everything else. And Yumi added a marker at the bottom: `But sometimes dreams are also life. Especially if you make them for others.'

And when one of the guys asks: "Why bother with the translation at all?", Yu just nods at this inscription. And everyone understands.

The light from the lamp above the table became especially warm, as if the club itself had decided that it was supposed to be cozy today. All phones were turned down, laptops were closed, even the chat with translations was silent — for a while. All that was left on the table were the data sheets, miniatures, a bag of cubes... and two boxes of mochi: one with green tea (matcha), the other with red beans. Yumi brought them after class,

"It's not just dessert. This is the reward for saving the tower!"

Yu carefully took off her glasses, wiped them with the edge of her blouse, put them on and looked at her character card.

"I'm ready. My sorceress won't be whispering incantations in a low voice today. She's screaming today."

Yumi, who had already arranged the miniatures as if they were real allies, raised an eyebrow:

"Wow. Is it because the paladin shielded you from the dragon last time, and you said "thank you" in a whisper?"

"No," Yu smiled a little. "I just want it to be heard today."

The master of the game, a high school student with thick glasses and a T-shirt with a dragon, tapped a pencil on the table: