The Princess (2)
The Pope considered the Princess’s arrival at the Holy See nothing short of heaven-sent fortune.
To understand why he thought so, one first had to know that the ambitious “Operation: Find the Saint a Friend” had been floundering from the start.
In truth, the operation was always going to struggle. The standards were simply too strict.
The criteria for becoming the Saint’s friend ran as follows.
First, the candidate had to be a good person. There were old sayings for a reason: near ink one is blackened, near vermilion one is reddened, and a reed among hemp grows straight. If the Saint ever befriended someone of twisted heart and, heaven forbid, absorbed that twistedness herself, the Church’s leadership would have no face left to show the Goddess.
Second, she had to be a girl of roughly the same age. The natural rapport that came from shared age and gender was not something one could casually dismiss.
Third, she could not be cowed by the Saint’s lofty station. Friends needed to stand on something close to equal footing.
And of course she had to already hold a measure of goodwill toward the Saint. How could anyone become friends without at least a little fondness?
Those were only the bare-minimum requirements, so of course hunting for candidates had been an ordeal.
Then a messenger arrived from the Imperial Palace. The Goddess had bestowed divine power upon the Princess.
It was a bombshell that left everyone reeling.
Divine power appearing in a direct descendant of the Emperor? Unprecedented.
Divine power was never easily obtained. Even among the most devout followers of the Goddess, only those with the true makings of a cleric ever received it. Roughly one in a thousand—two at most—gained the gift. That alone showed how rare it was.
By any ordinary logic, an imperial bloodline should almost never awaken divine power.
And yet the extraordinary had happened.
At first everyone was simply flustered. Then they realized: this was an opportunity.
The ability to wield divine power was itself proof of a pure heart. The Princess was a girl of the same age as the Saint. Moreover, her station was nearly as exalted; she would not be overawed by the title of Saint.
Word even had it that she had personally attended the Saint’s medal ceremony and struck up a conversation.
As a friend candidate, she was flawless.
Once that conclusion was reached, everything moved with lightning speed.
The Holy See proposed that the Princess stay for a time to learn the proper use of her new power. From the palace’s perspective it was a chance to strengthen ties with the Church—an offer with no downside. The Princess herself had shown clear goodwill toward the idea, so acceptance was inevitable.
While they were at it, someone suggested putting the Saint and the Princess in the same room. The idea was adopted on the spot.
Justification? Easy. They would simply claim it was to display the unbreakable alliance between Church and Empire.
And so the Saint and the Princess came to share a room.
Of course, the full truth could never be told to the Saint.
“We simply wished to use this opportunity to deepen our relationship with the Imperial House.”
“Of course, if either of you finds the arrangement inconvenient, we will end it at once.”
He could say that all he liked. Once the Church’s leadership had already floated the proposal, turning it down felt awkward. Refusing might even come across as rude to the other party.
It could sound like, Ugh, I don’t want to share a room with her.
Was I overthinking it? No… that was exactly how it would sound, right?
“……How did the Princess react?”
“She said she would be delighted, provided the Saint had no objections.”
……Checkmate. With the Princess already giving a positive answer, any refusal on my part would only make it look even more like I found her presence unpleasant.
In the end there was only one reply I could give.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea. Sharing a room with someone my own age… it makes my heart flutter a little.”
“I knew you would be pleased, Saint.”
Why was it that the Pope, who normally looked like nothing more than a kindly old grandfather, suddenly seemed like a thousand-year-old snake?
……No. That had to be my imagination.
The brief meeting with the Pope ended and I stepped out of his office. For a moment I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling.
My expression right then must have been the most wistful in the world.
Goodbye. Take care, my privacy. I don’t think I’ll be seeing much of you for a while. Still… thanks for everything.
With that thought I returned to my room—no, to the room that now belonged to both the Princess and me.
When I opened the door the place was a whirlwind of activity; several priests were rearranging the furniture. The Princess simply stood there watching the chaos with wide, blank eyes.
“……Princess?”
“Ah, Saint! Have you finished your urgent business?”
The moment she saw me her whole face lit up.
It struck me then: to her this place was completely foreign, full of strangers. She must have felt like a student on the first day of dormitory life—or a recruit on the first day of basic training.
Having lived through both experiences myself, my empathy for the Princess suddenly skyrocketed.
That must have been why I said something I would never normally say.
“Princess? I was just about to go take a bath. Would you like to come with me?”
Even as the words left my mouth I realized how absurd the invitation was. A meal invitation would have been one thing, but a bath?
“……Yes!!!”
And the Princess accepted that absurd invitation with pure, radiant joy.
A reasonable suspicion crossed my mind: maybe the real Saint was the Princess, not me.
What is the single most important thing when trying to become close to someone?
There are many answers, but I still believe shared interests top the list. Just having one thing in common multiplies the number of possible conversations.
That was why I planned to bathe together and fish for common ground. We were going to be roommates for a while anyway; getting friendly sooner rather than later could only help.
The plan hit a crisis the instant it began.
……What kind of interests would a princess even have?
I had overlooked something crucial.
The odds that the interests of a girl who had been born female and the interests of a Saint who only looked female but was, inside, a strapping young man who had even completed military service would overlap were vanishingly small.
Especially lately, my entire focus had narrowed to one question: How can I get stronger faster?
So… what was I supposed to say? Something like, “Princess, do you like bombardment?”
“Bombardment?”
Okay, even I knew that was too much. It was no different from asking a junior private, “Hey, you like shooting?”
……Wait.
“……Did I just say that out loud?”
“Ah, yes. You asked me if I liked bombardment……”
The Bombardment Fairy lets out a sigh of pure, bottomless exasperation.
I had nothing to say. I had been thinking the exact same thing. Who commits a cartoon-level blunder in real life?
Apparently when people get too flustered they start speaking their thoughts aloud. I had just learned a fact I never wanted to know.
I was about to wring my brain dry for a brilliant excuse when the Princess carefully continued.
“I heard the Grace you received from the Goddess is the Grace of Bombardment.”
“Yes. I consider it a Grace far beyond what I deserve.”
More accurately, it was a Grace with firepower far beyond what I deserved.
Lately, though, I had started to feel that even that firepower was a little lacking. To take the heads of the Four Heavenly Kings I would probably need still more. Right now the only thing I could really count on was the Contaminated Miracle.
My thoughts were starting to spiral when the Princess’s voice cut in again.
“Um… would it be all right if I saw your bombardment just once?”
“……My bombardment?”
“Yes! I want to see the bombardment that even drove back the Four Heavenly Kings!”
In that moment I understood her intention. She was trying to spare me embarrassment.
……It felt oddly like a popular kid carefully looking after a total loner, and that stung a little.
But consideration was still consideration. I decided to accept it at face value.
“All right. I’ll show you right after we finish bathing!”
“……Isn’t it a bit late today?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I haven’t done today’s bombardment yet. I was planning to do it right after the bath anyway.”
Thank goodness I hadn’t fired anything off the moment I got back. Otherwise the demonstration would have been postponed until tomorrow.
Come to think of it, was this the first time anyone had ever asked to see my bombardment? Was simply letting her watch me fire enough?
No. Whoever saw it needed to be left with an impact so strong it would burn into their memory forever.
That meant I needed proper staging. And proper staging was not something I could throw together on the spot.
“Actually, never mind. I’ll show you tomorrow. There are a few things I should prepare first.”
“Prepare?”
“Yes. I can’t just show the Princess an ordinary bombardment. I’ll give you one you’ll remember for the rest of your life!”
The Bombardment Fairy mutters that something feels ominous.
The Bombardment Fairy tells you not to do anything unnecessary.
Too late. My heart was already locked on a single straight line. No one could stop me now!!
Looking back now, I often think that back then I must have been possessed by something.