The Water Grows Hot
Trickle... The steady, clear sound of flowing water in the quiet has a profoundly calming effect on both mind and body. Enjoying a leisurely hot spring soak during work hours is a luxury I rarely get. Still, this is all for her counseling session, so I need to do my part properly.
"...How's the water temperature? Not too hot?"
I think it's just right for relaxing the body, but I ask anyway since I don't know how she feels. She lets out a small laugh before answering.
"Pfft. Have you already forgotten what my ability is?"
"Ah."
Forgetting it would be impossible. From our very first meeting, she'd appeared by dropping a massive fireball that burned everything around us to ash. Even now, the memory leaves that thick, scorching air of the fire scene lingering in my nose.
"Of course not. It was incredibly hot."
"Ah, that... Did it hurt a lot back then?"
When I said "hot," I meant the searing heat I'd felt at the scene of that living inferno for the first time in my life. But she seemed to be thinking of the bright red, glowing dagger she'd driven into my abdomen instead.
"It... did hurt."
I wanted to tell her it was fine, but that pain had been among the worst I'd ever experienced in my life. I couldn't bring myself to tell such an obvious lie. If Undine hadn't absorbed some of the shock back then, I would've gone into shock and died on the spot. Even with her help, it was still horrific.
"...I suppose it did. If I said I was sorry... would you accept the apology?"
I hadn't said it expecting an apology. She asks if it's even okay for her to apologize, as if she feels she no longer has the right to offer one.
"I'm fine with what happened back then. Besides, I stabbed myself."
If Nero, the team leader, or any innocent civilians had burned to death right in front of me, my answer would've been different. But thanks to everyone's efforts, the incident was resolved smoothly despite its scale, so I can honestly say it's fine now.
"Back then... you were really something."
"Huh? Me?"
Wait, she's calling me impressive? Getting recognized by her, a specialist in the field? It's... strangely embarrassing.
"Hmm..."
Looking back, all I remember is running around, nearly dying, and getting saved repeatedly.
"Being willing to throw your own body away for someone else... that means you really care about them, doesn't it?"
"..."
Yet the "impressive" part she was referring to seemed to be something else entirely. Sacrificing yourself for another isn't something just anyone can do. It only happens when that person has become irreplaceable to you—unless you're some kind of saint from scripture. Still, back then the choice had been between all of us dying or sacrificing just me to save Nero and the field team leader. Maybe it wasn't as grand as she made it sound. If the one who had to die hadn't been me, would I have made the same decision so quickly?
"...You're right. I do care about them a lot. But I don't think it was anything worthy of being called impressive."
"No, it was. I couldn't do something like that."
"..."
She turns her head to the side and looks up at me. Her red eyes make it clear this isn't flattery—it's genuine.
"For that person, I could pretend to throw my body away... but in the end, I'd only do it because I want to survive, receive their favor, and feel alive. I'm just using them for my own benefit, too."
"..."
"That's why I find you fascinating. Even in that situation, you were thinking of others, not yourself."
Suddenly, I remember how Nero had scolded me furiously, telling me not to die for her sake. Looking back, even though there hadn't been any other way, leaving Nero behind—someone who cared about me so deeply—had been selfish. That's why I can't claim my choice back then was purely for others. I've come to realize that.
"In the end, helping them also ends up helping me in a roundabout way. I'm not so different from you, Scarlet."
"I... don't really get it."
Even if I call them "others," they're not complete strangers. They're people I'm deeply connected to. The reason I'm willing to step forward for them is because, deep down, I want the same kindness in return. It's not hypocrisy born from getting drunk on my own image of helping others... I simply want to grow closer to them, to be on better terms. This is probably because I can hear their inner voices, making me more aware of how they see me than most people would be.
"And doing something for yourself isn't necessarily a bad thing. As long as it doesn't hurt others... though in that case, finding another way would be better."
She must've thought I was pointing directly at her. After finishing, I glance at her face, but she doesn't seem interested in defending herself.
"I've always thought nothing of hurting others for my own sake... even taking their lives."
"..."
I believe that's clearly wrong, but now that I know her background, I can't just blame her alone.
"I suppose some things have become too familiar."
"Familiar...?"
"You said you freed me from the Stigma, but... if that person promised me their favor again, I'd definitely go back. I was never following orders just because I was forced to, after all."
She hadn't obeyed out of fear of the Stigma's punishment. Her only reason had been to earn favor.
"Even if I'm given freedom, I wouldn't know how to live anyway. Following orders obediently and receiving rewards is easier for me. Well... that's assuming the people at this facility would even let me go in the first place."
"..."
"Your face went dark. Are you disillusioned after all?"
She's no innocent lamb. She understands herself and her situation well, and every action she takes has a reason. She's not wandering aimlessly—she's a well-trained sheepdog who prefers to keep doing the job she's always done, eating from her master's hand rather than hunting on her own.
But the reason she's telling me all this now... the reason she isn't trying to take me hostage and escape immediately... is clearly because some form of longing still remains in her heart as a vague hope, a fluttering feeling. Whether it's freedom, genuine affection, or something else, I don't know. What I do know is that she's looking at me and seeing the possibility of another kind of life.
...So I have to answer that hope.
"There's no way I'd be disillusioned. If anything, I think it's impressive that you held onto your own will even in that situation."
"...That's not true."
"Even if you say it's not, that's how I see it. But I do need to be clear about one thing regarding that 'favor.'"
She's clearly mistaken. I'd hoped she would realize it on her own with a little more time, but it seems I need to correct her with words first.
"You call it favor, Scarlet, but I know the truth. You just needed someone who would truly see you for who you are."
"..."
The self is completed through the gaze of others. It can never be whole in isolation. A parent's loving gaze, the eyes of peers, a teacher's attention—these external views, despite being outside factors, become the elements that complete the self. Everyone begins this process in childhood, constantly seeking their ideal form while being conscious of how others see them, and it never truly stops as long as they're part of society.
But she had been in a special situation where she lacked people who would watch over her. So the first person to give her something sweet instead of pain became her only target, and she came to rely on them far more than she should have.
"So... from now on, I'll be the one to truly see you."
"...Ah."
What I want to give her is simply one gaze that regards her as an equal. Just one gaze—nothing special, but for someone who's been oppressed as a prisoner, it's an entirely new kind of look.
"You can be happier. That's what I want to show you."
"..."
She stares blankly up at my face for a moment. Then, as if startled awake by the sound of the bamboo pipe striking the bottom of the tub, her red eyes tremble... and she suddenly covers her flushed cheeks with both hands, murmuring,
"The water... it's gotten really hot."