21. About the Polar Bear's Cloth
"Hey, answer me!"
No longer treating me like a customer, the clerk pressed again.
"Where did you get that cloth?!"
I answered casually.
"Got it from a hitchhiking polar bear."
"…A hitchhiking polar bear?"
Her beautiful eyes widened even further.
"W-W-Wait," she stammered with excitement. "You mean the polar bear that communicates with a sketchbook?"
"Yeah, that's the one," I replied. "You know it?"
"Know it? Are you kidding?!"
The clerk's shout shook the jungle, startling the birds resting in the trees into flight.
"It's the most famous weaver in Tropical Night City!"
"Really?"
I'd thought it was eccentric, but I had no idea it was that renowned.
"But why would someone that important hitchhike?"
"Because hitchhiking is its hobby," the clerk said, her expression turning wistful, as if talking about a lifelong idol, and began explaining.
"It says daily work dulls its senses. The polar bear teacher is basically an indoor type, but staying cooped up in the workshop too long dulls its instincts, so it goes out for fresh air occasionally. It doesn't seem to want to own a car, though. It rarely goes out, and owning a car in Tropical Night City comes with high maintenance and taxes. Even for the city's top designer, that requires serious wealth. So when the teacher wants a drive, instead of taking a taxi, it hitchhikes to save money. And for drivers it likes, it gives handmade fabric as payment."
"Wow."
My curt response ignited an even brighter spark in the clerk's eyes. She grabbed my arm and started shaking it.
"You got the polar bear teacher's fabric and treated it like a rope?! That's unacceptable! Unthinkable! Do you want to die? Want me to kill you?"
"Thanks to you, I nearly got killed in this jungle already."
"Oh…"
Realizing my point was valid, her momentum deflated sharply.
"Anyway," she said, regaining a calmer demeanor, "that fabric is incredible. It's one of the rarest treasures in this city."
"Huh. So I'm rich. Not that it matters—I'll be dead in 30 hours anyway."
"I don't care about your situation," the clerk said bluntly, pointing at the cloth I'd just untied from its rope form and continuing with conviction.
"If you don't need it, give it to me."
"No way," I replied matter-of-factly. "It's mine. And it's valuable, apparently."
"But!"
The clerk's face crumpled with indignation as she protested.
"It's worthless in your hands!"
"The value of a thing doesn't change depending on who holds it. Whether it's in my hands or yours, its nature stays the same."
My overly logical argument seemed to bore her, and she prepared to ramp up her outrage, but then froze.
"…"
Her eyes widened like a cat discovering a world secret.
"That's it," she said.
"I'll make clothes with this fabric."
"Oh," I suggested lightly. "Can you make uniforms with it? That'd help. The clothes here didn't choose us, after all."
But she didn't seem to hear me, lost in her own感動, her beautiful eyes glistening as she closed them and looked skyward, as if offering a prayer.
While she was presumably receiving some revelation, I glanced back at Jinri, who'd been ignored.
While the clerk and I were discussing the polar bear's fabric, Jinri had been digging under a tall, ancient tree by the marsh, burying the giant fish's leftover bones to make a grave.
Now, her naked, mud-covered body was further smeared with dark brown soil.
Her face held a mix of loneliness and clear satisfaction, like someone who'd just put away a cherished memento in a shelf after a dear friend's funeral.
"Sorted out your feelings?"
I asked softly, and she nodded with the gentlest expression.
"Yup."
I nodded back and turned to the clerk again.
"So?" Jinri asked.
"What's going on now?"
"Oh, right," I briefed her. "The cloth we used as a rope, the one from the polar bear, is apparently super high-end material. The clerk's going to make our uniforms with it."
"Nice!"
"Yeah. Probably instead of the two giant fish that were supposed to become our clothes, we'll get something even better."
I glanced at the clerk, who had finished her prayer and was gently stroking the cloth like it was precious hair. She turned to us, her expression no longer the languid, insincere one of before but radiating the brilliance of a newly minted humanoid robot.
"Let's get started on your uniforms."
I asked, "Here, in this jungle?"
"No. There's a pyramid-like ruin in this jungle, built by the first humans on Mars. I'll make the clothes there in a calm environment."
And so, the three of us headed toward the ruins.
The ruins were visible nearby, but walking there felt like it would take a while, and I grew reluctant.
Then, the clerk pulled a whistle from her pocket and blew it, emitting a faint ultrasonic sound. Three crocodiles emerged from the river and stopped before us.
Each was just the right size to carry one humanoid robot.
"Get on," the clerk said, mounting one first.
Jinri, looking slightly scared, asked,
"Is it safe to just hop on? They look like they might eat us."
"That depends on luck," the clerk replied.
"What?"
"But the chance of being bitten is only 5%. Not zero, but to get the best uniforms in this city, isn't a little risk worth it?"
"No, no, no," I waved my hands. "Can't we just go back to the store and make them there?"
"That would only produce ordinary clothes," the clerk said, displeased.
"I want to make the best high school uniforms in this city—no, on Mars. I want to leave my mark on Martian history. For that, we need a historic place."
"Fine, I give up," I said, turning to Jinri.
I checked with my eyes—You okay with this?—and she, showing no fear, climbed onto her assigned crocodile. She hit the 95% chance, and nothing happened.
I mounted mine nervously but also hit the 95% chance.
Relieved but somehow unsatisfied, I wondered what would've happened if the crocodile had gone wild.
The crocodiles, as tame as well-trained horses, swam calmly through the river toward the ruins.