Snowman of the Dead | Short Story (#ShirokumaLiteratureClub)

"Make me a snowman. One that won't melt."
That was the last selfish request she—Erika—left for me.
Two in the morning in January. A children's park on the outskirts of town I passed on my way home from my part-time job at the convenience store. The cold wave that had been falling for several days had thoroughly painted this local city white. The swings, the slide, the small spring-mounted elephant ride—everything was covered in relentlessly accumulating snow, and the world was buried in a stark white silence.
I stood alone in the middle of the empty park, feeling the coldness of the snow through my gloves. The snow was heavy and damp. By tomorrow morning, children would surely be playing innocently in it. But right now, this place looked less like a realm for the living and more like a giant white tombstone for the dead.

In this modern age, magic is less reliable than the remaining battery life of a smartphone. My family had been, for generations, what you might call behind-the-scenes mages who managed the "knots of the seasons." However, with the development of civilization, the turning of the seasons has come to be dominated by air conditioning and global warming, and the "curses to hold back winter" or "prayers to summon spring" that we wield have now become outdated antiques, or at best, on par with low-quality occult hobbies.
The family that once governed the harvest and was worshipped as gods has now been reduced to a young man throwing away expired bento boxes at a late-night convenience store.
"Well, time to do it..."
I began to roll the snow with my numb fingertips. First, I made a core the size of my palm. Into it, I mixed the contents of a small glass bottle that Erika had entrusted to me while in her hospital bed. Inside that bottle were fragments of her memories.
My family possessed a secret art of converting human emotions and memories into seasonal phenomena. Erika knew this. She was one of my few... no, my only friend who understood "this side" of things.

The orange light of the streetlamps dyed the falling snow amber.
As I rolled the snow, the sphere grew larger with a heavy, rumbling sound. A torso was formed, then a head. I carefully stacked them. The eyes were black pebbles I found in the corner of the park. The nose was a broken zelkova twig. For the mouth, I forcibly tore off the top button of my coat and pushed it, along with its red thread, into the surface of the snow.
As a finishing touch, I bit the tip of my right finger and let a drop of blood drip onto the snowman's chest. A single drop of fresh blood soaked into the pure white canvas.
"--Laws of ice, abyss of oblivion. Become a shield that guards the boundary. I breathe life into you..."
At that moment, the wind stopped. In the still, freezing air, the snowman's pebble eyes blinked—eerily, yet with a definite will.
Its pure white body trembled slightly, and to my surprise, it skillfully moved the twig stuck in as an "arm" to give me a salute.
"Good work, Master. You've provided a rather shoddy vessel, haven't you? I would have liked you to be a bit more particular about the snow quality."
The voice sounded like both a young boy and an old woman. It was a gritty, rasping voice, like snow rubbing against snow, yet it possessed a certain elegance.
"Don't be demanding. Modern magic supply is tight. Just manifesting you has left me exhausted."
"I understand. So, why did you summon me? Surely it's not just for playing in the snow? Besides, this unnatural heat... it's enough to make my nose curl."
The snowman narrowed its stone eyes and looked toward the north side of the city. As the snowman pointed out, the air was stagnant. Even though it was still snowing, only the northern sky was unnaturally tinged with red. It wasn't a fantastical sight like an aurora, but a thick, impure red, like pus oozing from a wound.
"It's eerie..."
"Yes, very. More importantly, Master, give me a name. Please, a name with good taste."
"How about Shiro?"
The snowman laughed, saying, "That's quite ordinary."

An abnormal situation was occurring in this city. The Meteorological Agency was trying to brush it off with terms like "record-breaking warm winter" or "localized abnormal weather," but those of us who dabbled in magic knew better. It was a conceptual disaster known as "Cold-Heat Fever."
People's excessive desires, such as "I hate winter because it's cold" or "I want it to get warm quickly," had linked up with the modern urban structure, distorting the cycle of the seasons. It was a bug that forcibly devoured the season of winter and tried to drag spring out by force, ignoring the natural order. From that heat source, grotesque monsters that fed on people's memories were crawling out.
"Shiro, we're moving. Are you ready for visual jamming?"
"At any time. To the eyes of passersby, I will look like nothing more than a 'clump of snow dancing in the wind.' Though, that's assuming there's anyone curious enough to be walking at this hour."
Shiro dragged his snowy body clumsily toward the park exit. Every time he walked, the sound of crunching snow echoed. I followed slowly behind him.
The late-night residential area was as quiet as if it were dead. But as we headed north, a clear change appeared. The piles of snow cleared from the sides of the road began to melt at an unnatural speed, and black steam rose from the asphalt.
--The temperature was rising rapidly.
The sensible temperature, which should have been below freezing, was now filled with an unpleasant warmth like early spring or early summer.
"This is terrible..."
I muttered. In the gutters by the roadside, the melted snow was flowing as a muddy torrent. Even though it was only January, the plum trees planted in people's gardens were budding frantically. It wasn't the vibrancy of life, but a distorted blooming, as if they were being tortured into screaming.
"Master, I see it. Over there. The heat spot of this city, the center of it all."
What Shiro pointed to with his twig finger was the tallest building in the city—a closed-down department store towering in front of the station. A massive heat haze was rising from its rooftop. The heat haze shimmering in the night sky looked like a burning heart.
"There's a possibility that a part of Erika's memory is trapped there."
"Hers? I see. Using the memories trapped inside as a core, this Cold-Heat Fever continues to expand. Regret, or unfulfilled desires. Those are the best fuel."
I clenched my fists. That glass bottle Erika entrusted to me just before she died. Its contents were not all of her memories.
The scenery she watched from the hospital window, the trivial promises we made to each other. Those kinds of "memories of a future that hadn't taken shape yet" had been stolen by someone.
"Let's go. Don't let them end my winter, her winter, on their own terms."
"Roger."

The entrance to the department store was distorted by the heat. The automatic doors were broken, stuck in a half-open position. When we entered, a stifling, lukewarm air assaulted us.
"Damn, it's hot..."
"This is a matter of life and death for me. If left alone, I'll be a sorbet in five minutes."
Shiro released cold air from his own body, forcibly lowering the surrounding temperature. Even so, his white body was gradually shrinking. The melted water soaked into the department store's expensive carpet.
We ran up the escalator, aiming for the rooftop. With every floor we ascended, grotesque shadows appeared. They were monsters with translucent red bodies and wings like mayflies.
"Shiro!"
"Understood!"
Shiro opened his mouth wide—or rather, the snow on his face split open. What was released from there was a fierce blizzard. However, it wasn't just cold air. It was the "moment Erika experienced that was the coldest in her life" converted into physical destructive power.
--The lonely hallway on the night she first stayed home alone.
--The winter train station platform where I stood frozen after getting bad results on a mock exam.
--The freezing of the heart the moment she was told the name of her illness.
Those cold memories instantly turned the mayflies' red flames into frozen earth. With a cracking sound, the swarm of monsters turned into ice statues and shattered into pieces under gravity.
"I'm sorry, Shiro. Using her painful memories as a weapon."
"There is no need to apologize. Memories are just trash if they aren't used."
When we kicked open the rooftop door, a hellish scene spread out before us. All the trees in the rooftop garden had withered, and in their place, tentacles of red crystals were stretching toward the sky.
In the center, a mass of flame shaped like a young girl was floating. Its face looked very much like Erika. No, it might have been Erika herself. It was the embodiment of the Cold-Heat Fever, a mixture of the fear of the illness she wanted to discard and her thirst for health.

"...You... came..."

The embodiment of the Cold-Heat Fever opened its mouth. The voice echoed like the screams of hundreds of people layered together.
The surrounding temperature jumped by several hundred degrees in an instant. A sensation like my skin was being seared. My throat went dry, and my vision blurred.
"That's not Erika. It's just burning ash."
I told myself, and formed a seal with both hands.
"Shiro, give it everything you've got. I'll give you all my magic!"
"As you wish. But Master, once this is over, I won't be able to keep my form anymore, you know?"
Shiro's stone eyes looked at me with a hint of sadness.
"I know. But if things stay like this... the winter in this city won't end. The winter she loved will remain ruined."
"Then let's make it a magnificent finale."
Shiro's body began to emit a pale blue light. He had begun to burn his own snowy body as fuel. He sublimated my magic, inherited from a line of mages, into the ultimate absolute zero through the medium of a snowman.
The embodiment of the Cold-Heat Fever roared. Red flame tentacles attacked us from all directions.
I cast a barrier, and it was all I could do to block the heat waves. The asphalt at my feet melted, and I could smell the soles of my shoes burning.
"Go, Shiro!"
Shiro accelerated as if sliding on the ground. His body was already less than half its size. The melted water left a trail, turning into steam and vanishing. Still, he didn't stop.
Slipping through the flame tentacles and having his body scorched by the heat waves, he dove into the heart of the embodiment.
"Eat this... This is the scene of the snow waiting for spring that she cherished the most!"
Shiro embraced the embodiment. At that moment, the world was enveloped in a pure white flash. It wasn't a light of destruction, but a purifying radiance that returned everything to how it should be.
What Erika said while holding my hand for the last time in her hospital bed just before she died.

"I wonder if we'll meet again when the snow melts."

What was contained in those words wasn't a fear of death, but a small hope for a new season.
The memory of the most beautiful, most pure end of winter that remained inside Shiro. It made contact with the core of the Cold-Heat Fever embodiment, causing a massive neutralization reaction.
Explosive cold air enveloped the department store rooftop. The red flames were extinguished in an instant, and the crystal tentacles dissipated like mist. The source of the Cold-Heat Fever was overwritten and erased by that overwhelming truth of winter.
Before I knew it, I was on my knees on the rooftop floor. Around me, quiet snow was beginning to fall once again.
The unpleasant heat from moments ago was nowhere to be found. All that pricked at my nose was that cold, clear scent of air unique to a winter night.
"...Shiro?"
I squeezed out my voice. In front of me, there was nothing.
Where Shiro had been, only the top button I had torn off my coat and the empty glass bottle I had been entrusted with were rolling on the ground.
And a small trace of water.
Looking up at the sky, the morning star was shining quietly through a gap in the thick clouds. The eastern sky was beginning to turn faintly white.
"...Master, can you hear me?"
I felt as if a voice had mingled into the wind. It was Shiro's voice, and at the same time, it sounded like the voice of someone else I missed dearly.
"Winter will end someday. It has to end. But that is not the same as disappearing. It becomes water, returns to the earth, and nurtures the next spring. Please, walk through that spring properly."
I picked up the red button with trembling hands. A faint sensation remained, a mix of Shiro's ice-like coldness and the warmth of a soul.
"I know... I know, Shiro."
I stood up. A sense of fatigue throughout my body and the feeling of loss from having used up all my magic. But the heavy lump deep in my chest had disappeared before I knew it.

When I left the department store, the city was quietly welcoming the dawn. The electronic bulletin board in front of the station displayed the current temperature as "-3°C." A normal, correct winter morning.
The sound of a newspaper delivery motorcycle could be heard from afar.
Daily life was returning. No one knew what had happened this night. That a single mage and a single snowman had protected the seasons of this city.
I started walking.
Passing by the park, the base of the snowman I should have made yesterday had vanished without a trace. However, a small plum tree stood there, and a single, still-hard bud was proudly facing the sky.
"Good work..."
I muttered to no one in particular and bought a warm canned coffee from a vending machine next to the convenience store. The heat of the can felt pleasant against my numb fingertips.
This heat was different from the Cold-Heat Fever from earlier. It wasn't something that eroded life, but a certain warmth to carry on into tomorrow.

I rolled the red button in my pocket.
Winter will continue for a while longer. But when spring comes to this city next time, I should be able to walk forward, looking ahead just a little bit.
The sky was slowly dyeing blue.
I took a sip of the bitter coffee and stepped into the city where a new day was beginning.
I think I'll try to live a little longer in this cold, beloved world that the snowman protected.

(End)

No, that's not it. Please, listen.
At first, I intended to write a heartwarming winter story. But I just couldn't, I just couldn't get that snowman character from that Disney movie out of my head...
But, driven by the desire not to have my idea overlap with anyone else's,
"If it comes to this, I'll make it a battle story."
I decided, rewrote it about three times, and this is how it ended up.
It was incredibly fun, yes.
I started writing an after-story, but it would have gotten out of hand, so I stopped.

Please enjoy this as well.