Chapter 27: The Observer Beneath the Surface – Naname-san

He is in a forgotten corner of a small aquarium.

If it’s your first time here, you’d probably overlook this route. People tend to wander around the more noticeable tanks and don’t enter this little path. There’s nowhere to sit nearby, and no one lingers in front of this tank. That’s where I am.

The exhibit is a common octopus.

Anyone coming here specifically for octopuses must be a serious enthusiast, so even though it’s an urban aquarium, hardly anyone comes this far.

But I paid the admission just to be here.

When I get close to the tank, a voice resonates directly in my mind.

"It’s better if you don’t do that."

"Sorry, my comprehension isn’t great. Which one is it?"

This is Naname-san.

A mutant octopus living in the aquarium.

He’s highly intelligent, can communicate telepathically like this, and also has the ability to see the future. He can read human thoughts, and having interacted repeatedly with people, he understands them well—but naturally, he’s different from humans.

He doesn’t seem particularly attached to individual names, and since he never introduces himself, I call him Naname-san.

Because the conversation “skews” to him.

Naname-san sometimes talks to me from a few minutes, or even years, in the future. I try to understand as best I can, but the worlds we observe are different, so there’s a limit.

"At least ten years ahead."

"I don’t care about that far ahead… but if it means I’m still alive ten years from now, that’s good to know."

"Ah, that’s not good. You die."

"So, I shouldn’t get complacent. Thanks, Naname-san."

Naname-san’s advice is sometimes concrete, but often abstract. For near-future matters, he gives clear guidance, but the further ahead it is, the vaguer it gets. Still, it’s more accurate than a horoscope, so I don’t ignore it.

"Sorry."

"It’s fine."

Naname-san occasionally apologizes like this. I can’t tell what he’s apologizing for—what he sees in the future. It might happen right away, or years from now. Since he observes an ever-changing future, it could even be an apology for something that never occurs.

But every time he apologizes, I always say it’s fine. No matter what, I forgive Naname-san. That’s what I feel.

What responsibility could a future-seeing octopus possibly have?

"Can we start with some small talk? It’s been a while, Naname-san. Sorry I haven’t been able to come recently. Was everything okay? If there was a problem, I guess you’d already know."

"It’s fine. If there’s a problem, it’s three days from now."

"Do you need me?"

"I’m busy with other things, so it’s fine. And compared to your problems, it’s nothing serious. It’d just make me a little grumpy."

"That’s a problem, isn’t it? Is it arrogant to want my friend to be in a good mood?"

"My mood improved enough with that remark, so you’ve done your part."

"I see… you’re still good at giving compliments."

"Not as good as you."

Naname-san is my friend—my friend octopus.

I treat him like a guide, sometimes like a life advisor, but even if he didn’t have his future-seeing ability, I would still come see him like this.

From his perspective, being able to read human thoughts, I must seem like someone fretting over trivial matters. I don’t know his exact age, but he seems to live a very long time. He’s an experienced octopus who has known the sour and sweet of life.

Fortunately, it seems Naname-san likes me too. He was originally a wild octopus living in my hometown, but when I moved to the city for university, he came along.

So now he’s in a tank near my home, in an urban aquarium.

"I’ll tell you where to go when you feel the time is right. It’s your university lab."

"Can I really feel the right time? My intuition isn’t the best."

Naname-san emerged from the octopus pot in the tank and said this.

"Faust, huh."

"Goethe’s? You still like the classics, even though you can see the future."

"From one, do ten."

"I get the meaning, but who are you saying it to, about what?"

"Delta’s actions. About you."

Even though I’m not a literature major, I happen to know a lot about classical literature because of Naname-san’s preferences.

Since he often quotes like this, I have to go home and read the books afterward.

From one, do ten.
Let two be left behind.
Then immediately go to three.
Thus shall you become rich.
Let four be lost.
From five and six
Let seven and eight be born.
So the witch speaks.
And thereby shall you succeed.
Nine is one.
Ten is nothing.

This is a poem from Goethe’s Faust—the witch’s multiplication table.

Does it have any meaning? Not really.

After reciting it, the witch adds:

"It seems deeply mysterious to both the wise and the foolish because it is so contradictory."

Since Naname-san can see multiple futures, his statements sometimes contradict themselves. Even if he tells me something about Delta, it’s about an uncertain and fluctuating future. His advice may contradict itself and make no real sense. It only preserves Naname-san’s mystery and doesn’t help me. The meaning is: “Keep your mouth shut.”

But the way he says it is so cool.

Back in the day, I spent a long time trying to understand this.

Naname-san touched the walls of the tank with his suckers. I idly tapped back from the other side.

Even though the thick acrylic separates us, I can still hear Naname-san’s words. But unlike in the countryside, being unable to physically interact easily feels somewhat lonely.

"He’s tough. I can’t understand everything."

"Even you, Naname-san? That’s impressive. Is it a power similar to yours?"

"Maybe. Ah, no… I just saw myself die for the first time in a while."

"…Sorry. Should I not come anymore, or is there some other way to make it right?"

The future-seeing Naname-san is naturally adept at survival. He memorizes Shakespeare, so overcoming the struggles of the natural world is probably easy for him.

Yet even Naname-san has a future in which he dies.

The villain, Delta.

The first villain, still unidentified.

All I know is that he’s apparently a man—but forgetting the fact that he’s supposedly attractive to gay men—still, even Naname-san doesn’t know his identity.

I had assumed Naname-san knew everything. I thought of him as some kind of Akashic record. Clearly, there is no truly omnipotent power.

I check in on Naname-san from time to time as a friend octopus. After all, he came to the city from the countryside with me. If life gets difficult, it’s my responsibility.

Today, I also had a bit of a hidden motive. I heard that Delta is after my life. I wondered if Naname-san might tell me the purpose.

But the result is this. I don’t want to put Naname-san in danger as a friend. If I were to get the octopus who came all the way here worrying about me killed, it would haunt me forever.

If I bring danger to Naname-san, I’ll keep my distance with a heavy heart. I have an annual aquarium pass anyway, and I’ve more than gotten my money’s worth.

The aquarium staff even call me "Ah, the octopus guy!" I’m fully recognized as an octopus maniac. Well, that’s true. I don’t really care about octopuses other than Naname-san, though.

"It’s not repayment, not duty, not necessity—just that you come to visit me improves my mood."

To have something that might bring death to me say this… he’s really a remarkable octopus.

"Naname-san, you’re still such a heart-stealing octopus."

"May the heart-stealer of octopuses live forever."

"If you’re with me, I’ll consider it."

"Even the obvious things make one want to confirm them."

Even though Naname-san can read my mind, I can never fully understand his. That’s why I choose to trust what he says, straightforwardly.

As long as Naname-san likes me and tells me he wants to see me again, I’ll go to see him.

The aquarium is always climate-controlled and comfortable, whether summer or winter.