The Timeless Library

8. Aosagibi Watching

"Greetings, everyone," I spoke into the portable microphone. "This is The Birdwatcher, coming at you live from the banks of the Tama river. As you can see, I stand before a beautiful scenery home to a variety of magnificent specimen. Here's hoping I can catch some on camera for you today."

I checked the viewer count: just shy of 100, slowly rising. Not bad at all.

"It's great to see so many of you here today. Remember that you can support me by giving me a like and subscribing to my channel—"

Something fluttered behind me. I immediately went quiet, praying that my marketing pitch didn't just scare a creature away. No amount of talking could bring in more views than a live bird on camera.

Trying my best to keep my sweaty hands steady, I slowly rotated the camera toward the sound. There, perched on a tree, I saw a crow. Oh well. Better than nothing.

"Fellow birdwatchers," I whispered into the mic, "here we have a large-billed crow." I adjusted the focus. "This fella is very adaptable, and does just fine pretty much everywhere. It can often be mistaken for a common raven, but looking closely we can see they have their differences. There's the tail shape, for one, and—oh, it's gone. Darn. That's the problem with livestreams."

Oops. That came out rather candid. I checked the viewer count again: still rising, thankfully. I was glad to see the viewers weren't immediately spooked by my natural personality.

"Anyway, let's see what else we can find around here." I desperately scoured my surroundings for a new specimen, or at least some decent scenery to use as a backdrop while we waited. "It's late afternoon in this part of the world, so we should be seeing quite a bit of activity. Stick around, and we might even be able to catch some nocturnal species coming out to play."

Still nothing.

"Though, uh, much of the river has suffered from urbanization, there are still quite a few fish, crabs, turtles, and birds, of course, as you saw with our crow friend earlier." How long would the darn things keep me talking? I regretted not being grateful for the crow. "Um, there are also some non-native species making their home here in recent years, and—a kingfisher! Yeees, finally. Now we're talking."

Like before, I turned my camera to face the creature, doing my best to follow its movements.

"I love these guys. They're small and they move around a lot, so they can be pretty hard to catch on camera. Rumor has it that their speed and silence was the source of inspiration for an engineer who was designing the nose of the Shinkansen. See, your birdwatching hobby can help your career, too."

Naturally, it was hard to keep focus on the elusive little critter. I managed to get about two minutes of decent footage, but it took off soon enough, leaving me alone with my viewers once again.

The sun started to set, the fading light marking a time limit for my stream. I tried to make the most of it, but only managed to spot a couple of ducks and a heron, standing there the entire time without moving a muscle. The excitement had definitely gone downhill after the kingfisher, as had my viewer count. Eventually, just as the sun dipped beneath the horizon and basked the area in a soft twilight that made for some horrible footage, I decided to cut my losses and call it a day.

"Thank you all for coming to today's birdwatching session," I said, putting my hand in front of the lens and waving. "Tune in next week as I head to Kairakuen Park to catch some early morning activity among the plum blossoms. Don't forget to like and subscribe! See you soon, birdwatchers!"

I closed my laptop and put my equipment away, then sat on the grass, exhausted.The heron from before was still there, unmoving. It kept staring at me. Eery. As great as it was having views online, those glassy eyes pinned on my face and watching my every move were just plain disconcerting. I decided to stay still as well, watching it just as intensely in some sort of attempt to out-menace it. The staring contest was on.

Night fell soon enough, and my body started to long for the comfort of home. I conceded the victory to the heron. Just as I stood to gather my things, however, the darn bird finally decided it was time to do something interesting.

First it stretched out one wing, then the other. Then it splayed out both wings, warming up for flight.

Then it opened its beak and spat out a golden iridescent powder that scattered into the wind, igniting into bright blue flames that floated all around me.

The heron took off, and the fiery orbs floated up into the trees, softly dissipating among the leaves and leaving me alone in the darkness.

Darn. There was no way anybody was going to believe that.

Then again, if you didn't catch it on camera, did it really happen?