Didn't It Hurt?

Silence settled over the ridge.

Staring contests. I used to be pretty good at those.

This… was not a staring contest. Winning or losing didn't even enter into it.

Rina, looking down from the crest of the ridge. And me, huddled in someone else's coat—

"Hwah?!"

Only then did I register the state I was in. While I scrambled to snatch up the clothes that had sloughed right off me the moment I'd turned into a sword, Nayeon stepped in as if it were the most natural thing in the world, half-blocking me from view.

I got the clothes on somehow. Heaved myself up with a grunt, and lifted my head toward Rina, who was still watching me, unmoving.

What was I supposed to say?

Maybe the situation wasn't as hopeless as I thought. Maybe all she'd seen was me squatting there in my birthday suit.

Which, sure, was still a problem. But it was a much smaller problem than her realizing I was the sword she'd named.

I picked my words with care and opened my mouth as gently as I could.

"Mheheh… w-wooden swords are just weak, y'know. Mmhm."

"……."

"They snap if you put even a little force into them… nngh…."

I held up the broken practice sword with an awkward little flourish, then let my head droop again.

You idiot. Just keep your mouth shut.

I was always telling myself that thing Nayeon said — stay quiet and you'll at least scrape by with a passing grade — and here I was pulling this trash-tier stunt anyway.

I knew. I knew how monumentally stupid the excuse sounded.

But what else was I supposed to do? I had no idea what you were even meant to say in a situation like this.

"Th-these days all the wooden swords are like that. Cost-cutting. So—"

"Byeori."

Nayeon drew my shoulder back, just a little.

…Live long enough and you really do see everything. Including the day this woman becomes the one holding me back.

Rina said nothing.

No anger at having been lied to all this time. No questions about how any of this was possible. No interrogation at all.

And that was what scared me. If she'd just said something — anything — I could have answered.

Nayeon couldn't take it anymore. She took a careful step forward.

"Um, so… Rina? Ah — is it all right if I call you that? It's, haha, there's a bit of a situation here…"

Rina raised a hand.

It was a request. Please don't say anything. Not right now.

Nayeon would have seen it too — that the hand was shaking.

She closed her mouth.

When Rina finally spoke, it was a long time later.

"Huh?"

"When you broke."

I lifted the snapped wooden hilt as if that might help, but Rina didn't so much as glance at it. She was looking only at me.

Ah.

She wasn't talking about the practice sword.

"…Ah."

My breath locked in my chest.

When I broke… She was talking about that day.

"…It didn't hurt."

"……."

"I mean it. Swords aren't very good at hurting."

It wasn't a lie. There hadn't been time to feel anything — just a clean snap, and that was it. I'd lain on the dirt for a long while after, and even then, nothing much had crossed my mind.

Just…

Ah. So this is really the end.

They're never going ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to use me again.

That was all.

Rina nodded once at the answer.

Not because she believed it, I don't think. It was the kind of nod you give when you know that asking one more question will be the thing that breaks you, so you force yourself to accept what you've been given.

"And, that…"

"Yes?"

She looked like she wanted to say something more. Instead she gave a small shake of her head and crouched down in front of the pile of dirt.

A lump of metal. The half of me the rift had spat out like something it couldn't stand to keep down.

Rina reached for it — and stopped. In midair, her fingers curled shut. Twice.

"……."

In the end she tugged her sleeve down over her hand and picked it up through the cloth, slow and careful.

…As if she had no right to touch it with her bare skin.

It used to be bare hands. The oil-soaked cloth she would run from the hilt to the tip, over and over. The way she'd carry me all the way to the workshop over a single scratch, asking them two times, three times, to please be careful.

All of it, with her bare hands.

And now…

"This…"

She held the broken blade out in both hands.

"Byeori… um… I think your friend should have this."

You can just say my name, you know. You're the one who gave it to me.

I took the fragment, hesitant.

It was cold. Even though it had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠come from my own body, it felt like handling a stranger's scrap of steel.

Was that obvious? It had been separated from me for a long time. And I'd spent all that time forgetting it even existed…

Rina stood.

Her lips moved. Once, twice. She swallowed every word that tried to come out.

One word. That was all she left behind before she turned.

Tomorrow what. Tomorrow what!

There are two things I hate most in this world, and one of them is people who start a sentence and don't—

Anyway. She stumbled back the way she'd come, and not once — not a single time — did she look over her shoulder.

"……."

"……."

That's enough. This isn't the time to get sentimental.

…What was she thinking, right now?

Only after that back had vanished completely did Nayeon let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Pwah—"

"Byeori."

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

"About what?"

"…Never mind. Just."

Nayeon had the face of someone who didn't know what she was supposed to ask.

Fair enough. I didn't know what any of this was either.

"…I'm okay."

Was I supposed to be angry? I was the one who'd been thrown away.

But the really ridiculous part was this: watching her hands shake back there, the very first thought that crossed my mind was—

She's going to trip if she keeps walking like that.

…I really am trash-tier.

Jihyeon emerged from where she'd been hiding behind the vehicle. Uncharacteristically, she'd opened her notebook and then written nothing at all.

"Unnie, you're not gonna ask anything?"

"If I asked, would you answer?"

"Uh… I'd try?"

"Then that's enough. I don't want to pry it out of you."

Her own brand of consideration, I supposed.

"If there's something you want to say, tell me then."

Well. Thanks to this damn status window, even if I wanted to talk, I wasn't sure I'd be able to get the words out.

Meanwhile, Control had been busy on the radio.

Investigation team. Jihyeon's brow tightened at the words.

Of course they'd send one. There'd been an earthquake and six wrecked cars.

Now what? One look at this mess and they'd be back with another round of those nightmarish re-evaluations.

Jihyeon was still turning over a reply, radio halfway to her mouth, when Control changed its tune first.

Jihyeon slowly lowered the radio.

"…That was fast."

"What was?"

"This report. She must have filed it the second she left."

…Yeah.

I looked the way Rina had gone, but of course she was long gone.

Had she done it on purpose? Because she was worried I'd end up in trouble.

And just as we'd been staring at those wrecked cars with no idea what to do about them, a rain-in-a-drought kind of update came through.

"They ruled it a rift event, so the compensation got kicked up to the Association."

"They can just pass it along like that? They didn't even inspect anything properly…"

"An S-rank made the call on-site. When someone who's basically a walking natural disaster says that's what it was, who's going to argue?"

Fair point. The scene she'd put on while pulling that observation-team guy out of the dirt had been indistinguishable from a monster.

"None."

"Minor abrasions. Below reporting threshold."

That wasn't a lie. The only mark on me was a scrape on my thigh from landing on my ass when I'd changed from sword back into a person.

"Thank you for your work."

The radio went dead. Jihyeon let out a sigh big enough to send someone packing.

"…And just like that, today becomes a day where nothing happened."

A day where nothing happened.

The ground had split open. I had found the other half of my body. My former wielder had learned what I was.

A lot of things had happened. And the only word that would go down on paper was incident-free.

The weight of an S-rank hunter's word. It really was something else.

My legs wobbled the whole walk back to the car.

"Hweeh?!"

Nayeon snatched me up before I could plant my ass in the dirt a second time.

"Get on."

"I can walk, though."

"Kang Byeori."

"…Yesh."

That serious look on her face left me no room to argue. I climbed onto her back.

Jihyeon bagged the snapped wooden sword in plastic. She asked if we were throwing it out; I told her to keep it.

…It had worked hard. I couldn't just let it go.

What I cradled carefully against my chest, though, was the other half of my own body.

Still cold, this thing.

A little while ago it had been throwing a full-blown tantrum, pounding the ground and screaming at me to come back, even throwing sword-strikes dangerous enough to level the hillside.

"Heh."

And now here it was, tucked in my arms, the one getting taken along for the ride.

"Coming with?"

I asked it, very quietly.

No answer.

Obviously. It was a scrap of metal.

I'd gone three years without being able to answer anyone myself. Expecting a reply from a half-broken lump of steel would have been shameless.

Not that I needed one.

I was taking it with me either way. Victor's privilege, mm-hmm.

"Hwaaam…"

Nayeon's back was warm. The hands holding me up under the thighs were solid and kind, and if I let my guard down even a little I was going to fall asleep right there.

I forced my eyes wide. The second we got in the car I pestered Jihyeon into lending me her phone.

"Blue lightning…"

It hadn't been mine. But it was sword-ki I could handle now as if it were.

I snuck a glance at Nayeon in the driver's seat. After all that swinging she'd done with me, she looked completely fine. The hands on the wheel, the eyes on the road — both of them perfectly steady.

Did the connection between Rina and me have something to do with being able to borrow her technique?

I turned it over for a second, then shoved ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my nose back in the phone.

"Yah, Kang Byeori! You'll ruin your eyes — hold it out! Thirty centimeters!"

"Yeees."

I wondered if any of them knew. That the reason the mountain had thrown such a fit was because a single lump of metal had decided to throw a tantrum.

"Look at you. You're famous."

I gave the fragment in my arms a little tap.

Naturally, it didn't answer.

The first thing I did when we got back to the office was figure out where to put the fragment.

Not on the desk. The drawer felt wrong. And the storage closet…

"Nngh."

Absolutely not the storage closet.

I wandered around with it for a while before settling on the spot by the head of the sofa.

Closest. Easiest to see.

Why go that far?

…I don't know. It's my body. I don't want it far away. That's all.

"Byeori. Why aren't you in the bath yet?"

"I was picking a spot."

"A spot for who?"

"This one."

Nayeon looked at the scrap of metal in my hands.

A strange expression.

Well, of course! By human standards, there was no way she'd understand how I felt about this!

If you put it in people terms… hmm. Like living your whole life cut in half, and then one day finding the other half?

…Was that too grotesque?

Anyway, Nayeon came back with one of the big towels we used for drying off.

"Then lay it on this. If you just leave it on the floor it'll be cold."

"…It's a scrap of metal."

"Scrap of metal still gets cold."

…Unbelievable.

This woman had a surprisingly good sense for how a sword felt about things.

Sensitivity. No — sword-sitivity, maybe.

Dinner was a rolled omelet. And that wasn't even the whole of it. Today there was sizzling bacon too!

"Eat up. You worked so hard today, Byeori."

"Hweeeh…!"

For as long as I was chewing, I thought about nothing at all.

I went at it like something possessed. Chomp chomp chomp! I was patting my stuffed-round belly when Nayeon, who'd just finished her own meal, set down her chopsticks.

"So… Byeori. What do we do if that woman comes tomorrow?"

"Lock the door?"

"She's an S-rank. You think a door's going to matter?"

"…Yeah, true."

If she felt like it she could chew through an underground bunker… yeah.

"Want Unnie to say something? Like, don't you dare touch our kid?"

"Wouldn't that just poke the bear?"

"I-I guess…"

Jihyeon, who had been quietly working through her last spoonful, cut in.

"Unnie. That woman's hands were shaking today."

"Hm?"

"At the very least, she didn't look like someone who was going to come after us."

Well. That tracked. She was painfully timid, and painfully kind.

We washed up in a noisy little flurry. I crawled under the blanket, and Nayeon turned out the light.

I'd put the towel-wrapped fragment by my pillow.

I spent a while adjusting the angle so the cut face pointed toward the wall.

"Hrm."

This way, you could see where it had been severed… That way, you couldn't…

Yeah. Better not to see it.

The place I'd been cut from still felt like it might start throbbing if I looked, and I didn't particularly want to stare at the cross-section.

"…Good night."

Saying good night to a scrap of metal would look weird to anyone else.

"Sorry I hurt you, earlier."

But I'd been a scrap of metal myself for three years. I knew exactly how it felt to be spoken to.

I closed my eyes and still tossed for a long time after.

The day came back in no particular order.

"Rina… haah."

Tomorrow, she'd said.

Tomorrow, what. Was she coming here, or was she telling me to come to her?

Just in case, I put together about three answer scripts. Then I threw them all out.

…Preparing ahead of time never did a damn bit of good anyway.

"Hwaaaam."

Time to actually sleep. Even if tomorrow was sitting there waiting.

I woke in the middle of the night.

My chest itched. Not a throb — a tickle.

"Nngh…"

A mosquito bite? Sinking its teeth into a national-power-level Ego Sword. Pretty gutsy.

I was just shoving a hand under my shirt to scratch when—

Vmmm—

A sound from beside my pillow. Sleep evaporated.

"……."

Vmmm—

Vmmmmm—

I sat up fast and turned. The fragment on the towel was trembling.

"W-wait."

Wait for what, I didn't know. But wait, anyway.

The fragment lit up. Not enough to make me shut my eyes — just about as much as moonlight.

The light stretched long, then curled in on itself, round.

And then — hwaah! — it receded.

Under the towel, there was a child.

A frame that looked about the same as mine. Hair like snow, a white so pale it was almost silver.

The child was curled up, breathing. Small shoulders rising and falling. Clumsy, like this was the first time — a shaky hhhn, haah.

"……."

I tried to scream and my throat locked.

Instead.

Fwaat—

"……!"

The status window, of all times, decided to be prompt!

No. More importantly — a companion…?

"What is this…"

The child on the blanket stirred. Small fingers closed on the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fabric, then opened again.

And then.

"Hwaang."

Under the moonlight, the child opened their eyes.

Blue irises looked straight at me.