The trees ringing the Dragon God’s pond held a deep, dripping green, showing no sign of stirring. When the soft spring sunlight slanted through them, the water’s surface erupted into a riot of scattered reflections, tracing intricate geometric patterns across the old stone monuments nearby. “…It’s done. This is the ultimate balance, connecting private matters with convenience.” The man called Spice reverently raised what he held — a bizarre iron helmet fitted with a translucent liquid-crystal visor. Across its surface ran an unbroken procession of characters resembling some kind of curse , coldly shutting out all the surrounding noise. “Spice, that means we can’t admire your handsome face anymore. What a waste of good looks.” Kopo gave the iron helmet a light tap, and from a speaker inside it came a garbled, mechanical voice, poisonous in its flatness. “You’re ignorant, Kopo. amid the crowds of the city, how one defends the ‘self’ is a pressing concern. One’s face, one’s voice, and even the history of one’s every move. With this ‘Personal Shield,’ no one, whoever they may be, can peer into my thoughts.” Spice lifted his nose and puffed out his chest with satisfaction. Unfortunately, his field of vision had narrowed to the width of a needle’s eye, and this proved his undoing . He tripped over a stone at his feet and fell, wretchedly, into the mud. The iron helmet struck a rock with an ominous clang. “Well, well. So intent on concealing yourself that you can’t even see your own feet — how careless .” Sonchō, with the tip of his long cane, gently lifted the brim of Spice’s iron helmet. Through the gap, brilliant spring sunlight slipped in without warning. Spice narrowed his eyes against the sudden glare. “Sonchō… but information must be protected at all costs.” “Feh-feh. Is this ‘information’ of yours more precious than the wind blowing through this town? Keep your secrets if you like, but if you shut away even your own heart, no one will be able to lend you a hand.” Sonchō beckoned to Maskman, who had been standing silently nearby. As always, he kept his face hidden behind a single cloth, but he wordlessly extended a thick, gentle hand toward the mud-covered Spice. “Look at this man. However much he hides, he cannot hide the warmth of that hand. What we must protect isn’t ‘data’ — isn’t it the ‘connection’ within arm’s reach?” Spice clung to the offered, thickly gloved hand, gripping it tight. Through the gap in the iron helmet came the smell of earth and the unmistakable presence of his friends. It was a mercy that no security, however precise , could ever keep out — the “defenseless ” compassion of Amencho Town.
Margin note: In the end, Spice’s iron helmet was mercilessly repurposed that afternoon as a prop for Kopo’s game of “secret-base submarine.”
【Today’s Drop】
- Enforcement of the Amended Personal Information Protection Act (related anniversary): A contrast between protecting data and human trust, caricatured through Spice’s extreme device.
- Metric System Proclamation Anniversary: Changing one’s “ruler.” Sonchō contrasts the city’s standard (numerical protection) with the town’s standard (emotional nuance ), suggesting a shift in values.
This is an English translation of “機巧（からくり）の檻”, part of Tales of Amencho Town (蛙鳴町奇譚).