Vihal's Desperate Stratagem

"Everyone! If you can imitate my method, try it!"

Right before all their eyes, Vihal flung down arcs of white paint and black paint in alternation.

"—?!—"

"What are you doing—?!"

As every eye there widened, Vihal mixed the scattered black and white where they fell and began shaping them, there on the spot, into magnificent thunderclouds.

"Senior! If it's you, you can fill the gaps between these storm clouds and those, can't you? Would you take that part?"

Vihal called to the angel who had been assigned this room.

"Y-Yeah! Leave it to me!"

"We have to paint before it dries—but if we split up and do it like this, I think we can get close to seventy! Please!"

At Vihal's cry, the several angels there at once began the same sort of work from different directions.

A few minutes later Edwin came, having finished his own assignment and heard what was happening, and saw the scene with his own eyes.

"I'll help too! You lot are amazing—this is going to make it, you know!"

The sky the Cloud Painters had set their hands to together became a dark heaven leading from the clear dusk in one corner toward a storm—

"…We did it…!"

"Yes…!"

"Hey! You from the Planning Division—how much time?!"

The Planning angel, who had stood there dumbstruck watching, started at Edwin's shout and opened the door.

The rooms were equipped to hold a pleasant temperature at all times, but every one of them was drenched in sweat; when the air flowed in through the opened door, it felt strangely cool and sweet.

The angel looked at the central clock—and in a face of utter astonishment said,

"…There are two minutes left before the end of the shift…!"

At those words, everyone in the room gave a cry of joy.

Some jumped into the air, some embraced, some clasped each other's hands, and all of them celebrated the joy of having done it together.

The senior angel whose room it was came to Vihal—who was staggering because Edwin had thrown himself around him—and said,

"Vihal! Thanks to you I won't lose points over this… Thank you!"

"No—it's not thanks to me…!

It's thanks to everyone here…!"

"Everyone… thank you, truly…!"

The member of the Planning Division who had been watching them said,

"Cloud Painters—I'm truly sorry! You saved us. Thank you!"

With that he hurried out of the room, saying he would go and deal with the remaining paperwork.

And while all that happened, the next time slot came almost immediately, and the storm sky they had painted together vanished, changing into a star-bright night sky.

The angel whose turn it was next said that, to repay what had been done for him, he would stay and help with the next sky before going; he remained behind, and all the others left the room spent to the bone, yet carrying in their chests the relief of having accomplished it. ---