Chapter 15. Difference in Direction (4)

In Hayun's eyes, Jieun was a "person who only pretended to be cold."

Back in their school days, whenever Hayun was struggling on her own, Jieun would at some point appear at her side and start rambling about this and that, none of it in any particular order. Or else she'd take her by the hand and lead her off somewhere with no one around, then keep walking beside her in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠silence; or she'd abruptly march to a convenience store, buy something to eat, and stick it right into Hayun's mouth.

And through all of it, she never once made a show of it. She was never the type to come back later with "I helped you when you were struggling, remember?" and demand the same favor in return.

Her face was always indifferent, and even when she bought something for you, she never made a big production of it. But there was always a sunlight-like warmth in what she did—like a single thin ray of sun slipping through a small hole when you're shivering in the shade on a dry, cold day. To Hayun, that was who Jieun was.

The light Jieun gave off was warm. It made you feel a warmth seeping all the way into your heart just from being near her, and that light made Hayun happy.

But.

"..."

They'd patched the place up quite a bit and somehow made it livable, but seen objectively, it still looked like a ruin. The moment they got back to where they'd been staying, the light flowing from Jieun's circuit guttered out in an instant. Jieun standing there was nothing more than a girl who looked worn out and, somehow, sad.

Her back, weighed down with a large plastic bag in each hand, somehow looked far darker than usual.

Hayun wanted to say something—anything—but didn't know what. The other girls surely had plenty they wanted to say, too. Iris especially wore a slightly restless expression, as if she were itching to ask how that warp from earlier had even been done.

But in the end, not one of them managed it. With her back alone, Jieun was asking them not to.

Jieun went inside without so much as a glance back. She set down the bags she'd carried so carefully, then crawled into her tent. She didn't close the flap, but she burrowed into her sleeping bag and curled herself up small.

Hayun bit her lip. She wanted to follow right in and hold Jieun, to tell her everything would be all right. But right now, of all times, she couldn't.

A beat late, the girls began to move. Given the mood they didn't get loud, but they bustled about as if trying to do something about the heaviness that had settled over them all at once. It was fair enough—there was a meal to eat, food to sort and put away, water to draw for washing. And normally they'd have had to bring Jieun along for the bath, too.

But for now, it seemed best to give her a little time. No one here had a personality sharp enough to hound Jieun into moving after seeing her like that.

As she went about the sorting and the preparing, Hayun kept thinking.

Jieun... well, it wasn't strange for Jieun to have other people she knew. She'd never thought Jieun's only friend could be her—Hayun herself had friends among the magical girls besides Jieun, after all.

But even so—her chest felt a little tight.

It was a strange thing. She already knew there was a girl called Jihye. She'd also somehow learned that Jihye was the friend who'd shared a room with Jieun for years. So showing that much closeness was only natural.

The feeling she'd had watching Jieun fawn over James—who for all practical purposes might as well be a middle-aged man—was natural, too. On the outside he looked like a cute hamster blended with fox ears and a tail, but the being inside was a villain who had cooked up every scheme imaginable at Noir Corporation. These days she didn't assume every combatant was evil, but she had no illusions that the ones who'd sat above them were purely good. By that logic, the Federation and the government were no different—yet at least Jieun showed neither warmth toward those two organizations nor any intention of cooperating with them.

The way she touched him without a shred of formality, so effortlessly natural, almost looked like a display of just how close they were. And James was, for now, only cooperating temporarily for goals of his own. What if... if they grew too emotionally close, wouldn't Jieun end up being used?

She couldn't help thinking that way.

But Jihye... with Jihye, she couldn't think that way at all. Because that girl was simply, overwhelmingly kind. She'd never even wronged Jieun the way Hayun had. A sister-like friend who had done Jieun no wrong, and whom Jieun missed so terribly.

And for some reason, every time that fact surfaced, Hayun's chest constricted.

Once a fair share of the sorting and preparing was done, Hayun went outside. Today it wasn't "together" with Jieun, just her alone—but it seemed like the only way to quiet her heart.

She came to the spot where the two of them used to sit shoulder to shoulder watching the sky, and today she sat there alone. Every time Hayun leaned on Jieun's shoulder, how had Jieun reacted? She seemed to simply accept it, unbothered, as though having her there were the most natural thing in the world.

Hayun couldn't tell whether that was a good thing or not.

"Why...?"

She murmured it alone, her heart stifled. The question was aimed at herself, and so it had no answer—it only made her feel more stifled still.

Hayun had a dim idea of what this feeling was. It was an emotion she'd felt toward Jihye once before.

When the three of them had gone out together and Hayun saw Jihye casually attaching herself to Jieun's side, she had attached herself to the other side. It might have been the first time in her life Hayun had ever clung first.

It was the same now. She wanted to be that kind of person to Jieun—that was what she believed.

Which was why she'd been overjoyed in today's battle. Because Jieun had looked at Hayun and felt hope, and with that, her circuit had learned to spin the energy of hope.

But Jihye... with a single meeting, Jihye had managed something even greater. Embracing her like it was nothing, cheering her on like it was nothing. The acts Hayun thought of as special, Jihye performed for Jieun so ordinarily—as if they were nothing at all.

"I..."

There it was. Hayun was jealous of Jihye.

She knew how absurd that sounded. No matter how you counted it, Hayun was the one with more—more than Jihye, more than Jieun. The reason she could face even this situation without grave fear for the future was that she had lived her whole life wanting for nothing.

For someone like that to be jealous of even another person's feelings—wasn't that just too ugly?

Hayun stayed like that a long while, hands folded at her chest, before finally rising from her spot. She hadn't overcome the jealousy. But she knew what she had to do to overcome it.

Hayun strode off, step by firm step, toward where Jieun was.

I know I look pathetic like this, too.

It wasn't the magical girls' fault that the whole thing happened in the first place. It happened because I couldn't control my own energy properly.

In the end, that mess was what let me meet Jihye, and with her cheering me on I cast yet another new spell and made it back here—but the moment I arrived, my mood was rock bottom.

Seeing hope within despair—catching sight of a bright light in that dark place—was, honestly, like standing face to face with a miracle. Even while thinking nothing about it pleased me, I'd somehow been seized by the feeling that I could do anything.

But the moment I crossed back over the edge of that hope into reality, it felt like a blow to the back of the head—the fact that I had nothing, and that even to eat one snack, one pack of ramen, I had to raid the pockets of a friend who wasn't exactly flush herself.

It's not as if I'd never known this feeling in my life. But the weight of the situation I'm in, of everything I've been through—that's different, isn't it?

How on earth do magical girls keep that hope alive even in a situation like this—

—I was about to decide I had no idea when I felt someone burst into the tent.

Thump.

The sound came from in front of me and behind me. Palms, braced against the floor.

It took me about three seconds to deduce the situation from that sound. Any other day I'd have shrieked far sooner, but I'd surrendered myself to the depths of gloom and was lying there without a shred of motivation, so it took a moment for the "situation" to dawn on me.

And then—

"H-Hayun!?"

Three seconds late, that was my panicked shriek.

The faint murmur of noise outside the tent went silent all at once.

Whoosh.

The sleeping bag draped over my face came down.

What I saw was Hayun's face.

Her face was close. She hadn't especially bent her arms to bring it near, but with her palms planted on the floor, her eyes and mine ended up only a breath apart.

"How long were you planning to stay like that?"

Hayun said, her expression a touch stern.

"Huh?"

I was barely pinning down the heart that had nearly leapt out of my mouth when Hayun seized my shoulder and hauled me upright.

"You haven't even eaten."

Hayun pulled my arm along, no arguments accepted.

Even if I dug in my heels, it was obvious we'd just wrestle each other for a good long while, so I chose to simply follow that hand and get up.

"You haven't washed, either. Were you just going to sleep like that?"

"I'm not hungry, and washing can wait until tomorrow."

"You haven't even changed your clothes!"

Hayun said.

"Come on, come on, out you come."

When I did as she said and stepped outside, the girls really were getting a meal ready. I felt a little pathetic for having lain there sprawled out without a single thought of helping.

Hayun pressed down on my shoulder until I was seated, then took the spot beside me.

"Here."

Then, when she picked up a side dish with her chopsticks and tried to pop it into my mouth, I panicked all over again and caught her wrist to stop her.

"Okay, okay. I'll eat. I said I'll eat."

I said it while feeling something odd about that strange ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠distance between us, and Hayun just smiled and asked back, "Yeah?"

I decided to simply eat in silence. The other girls' eyes were pinned on the two of us, which was a little embarrassing. All the more so, given I'd already been moping at full tilt.

...Still, thank goodness I'd gotten up when Hayun told me to. If I'd stayed like that until I fell asleep tonight, I'd have had even less face to show the girls come tomorrow morning.

The moment the meal was finished, Hayun grabbed my arm again.

"What, again?"

"You're covered in dust. Obviously you wash before bed. Come on, let's go get you cleaned up."

Once again, Hayun dragged me off toward the kitchen.

"W-We haven't even drawn lots yet."

"You're tired, aren't you? Wouldn't it be better to hurry and wash instead of wasting time on that?"

Hayun was so relentlessly proactive about it that I ran out of words. Not because she was being too logical—more that, quite literally, there was nothing left to add. Somehow it also felt like whatever I came up with, Hayun wouldn't care in the least.

Was Hayun always this stubborn? ...Maybe she was.

At school, in front of the other kids in her class, she'd acted like a girl who'd blow away if the wind picked up. She dutifully did everything her parents asked, one thing after another, and yet whenever she got hurt, she couldn't say a word in front of anyone. Even in front of me. Only when I figured out what was wrong on my own and tried to make her feel even a little better would Hayun finally give a sheepish smile.

But even so, that didn't mean she lacked backbone. If she hadn't been stubborn to begin with, she never could have fought using hope. Never could have battled villains and upheld her own kind of justice. ...She wouldn't even be here.

Maybe I'd been acting pathetic enough that Hayun had no choice but to step in herself.

Hayun, who'd shoved me firmly into the kitchen, grabbed the hem of my top and tried to pull it up.

"W-Wh-what are you doing!?"

When I shrieked yet again, Hayun said:

"It seemed like you wouldn't wash unless I helped—"

"I'll undress! I said I'll undress, so let go!"

At that, Hayun obediently let go. Ah—wait. Would it have been better to just leave her be? Knowing Hayun's personality, she probably really would have stripped me all the way.

In the end, I undressed with a strange sense of defeat. Naturally, neither of us looked at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠other. No matter what, that felt like it would be going too far.

But when I sank into the tub—to my genuine annoyance, I felt... fine. It was warm water, after all. There's no way a proper soak could feel bad. The only ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠problem was that dragging myself to the tub had been a colossal hassle, and so was cleaning up after.

"..."

Hayun, who'd been noisy in every possible way right up until she followed me in, went ghost-quiet the moment she actually settled into the tub. She'd probably only felt the embarrassment once she was in. Honestly, she really does push herself.

In the end, it was all because of me. Hayun must have been racking her brain over how to rekindle my spirits, and this was the method she'd come up with.

I let out a small breath.

"Sorry."

Maybe she heard that breath, because Hayun apologized. She was facing the opposite side from me, so her voice came back off the wall.

"...It's fine."

I answered.

"Sorry for making you worry over nothing."

"...No. You didn't do anything wrong."

This time it was my apology, and Hayun replied in a voice gone a little deflated.

Neither of us said anything after that.

Was it being in the tub? Or just being quiet, in a quiet place? Either way, my thoughts seemed to be slowly settling into place.

So the point is, the bad one here isn't me. The problem is those enormous organizations that engineered this whole situation, isn't it?

All three of them—I still didn't have a grasp on what to do, but I had to land at least one solid hit somehow. I wanted revenge, whatever form it took. The Federation hadn't laid a hand on Jihye yet... but they had on me, so. Yeah.

"Hey, about Jihye."

I'd been thinking about Jihye at that exact moment, so Hayun bringing her up startled me a little.

"You two are really close, huh."

"...Yeah."

I answered with a nod—though from an angle Hayun couldn't see.

"...She's a good kid. Truly."

It's not that we never fought. After that many years under the same roof, how could we not? Honestly, if Jihye hadn't been the one to accept my personality first, we might have ended up like those "sisters who can't stand each other" you sometimes hear about in internet stories.

I don't much like people touching my things without permission. If I had to put it another way, you could call it "a deep attachment to my personal space." But would a small child who'd come to live under the same roof as me have understood that?

At first I tried to put up with it, and I did. For years. And years. But putting up with it doesn't mean it stops being irritating. And when that kind of thing piles up year after year, the moment eventually comes when you both spill your grievances.

Was it because we'd climbed over that emotional wall? Or because we discovered we had tastes in common? Really, it might have been nothing special at all—just that living in the same place for literal years made us close, more or less by force. With no family to speak of for either of us, spending so long together meant we simply accepted each other as family—and maybe that's how we ended up looking after each other.

The reason didn't matter. Jihye was a girl who took care of me, and I had every bit as much reason to take care of her. So... I just gave it my all. That was all.

While we sat in the tub, I told Hayun bits and pieces of all that. She listened to the end without interrupting me once. And by the end, she seemed to understand why Jihye and I were so close.

"I see. So that's why..."

Murmuring that, Hayun went quiet for a moment—then soon rose from her spot. The water sloshed as she sank down out of it.

I got up too and dried myself with the towel I'd left near the door. Nothing was fully settled yet. There was still a mountain of things left to deal with. But even so, my heart felt a little lighter.

"Did I talk about myself too much?"

"My story is something you already know all of."

"..."

I'd only said it out of some pointless, one-sided embarrassment, and Hayun's answer was so matter-of-fact that I forgot what I'd been about to say.

Right. Even now, there was one more friend at my side who'd known me for a long, long time.

I was worried about Jihye. But worrying alone wouldn't fix anything. Because sorting this situation out with the girls helping me at my side was, in the end, also how I'd help the people around me.

The girls didn't seem to be dwelling on it too deeply yet. The night was as dark as ever—they kept the light to a bare minimum, wary of being spotted after dark. If anything, that seemed to make the mood look almost pleasant. Like we'd just gone camping.

The girls who glanced our way caught our faces in that faint glow, and their expressions eased with relief. I'd really made the other girls worry too, huh.

Beside me, Hayun gently took my hand.

"Let's not go straight to sleep tonight. Let's talk for a bit."

"Talk?"

"Not about the operation, or enemy movements, or what was on the radio. Just... talk."

Hayun smiled.

"Funny stories are fine, scary stories are fine. We've got all kinds, don't we?"

"..."

So that was it.

I looked at the girls again. At first, I hadn't understood why they'd come here. But even with chances to leave any number of times, they'd all followed me this far. Whatever we'd been to each other in the past, the hearts of the girls I was watching now were certain.

Those girls were fighting for the justice they believed in. And I was among the people that justice was meant to save. I'd looked away from that truth for far too long.

"...I don't really know any stories like that."

"Then it's fine to just sit there and listen."

At Hayun's words, I ended up nodding after all. Just as she suggested, I listened to the girls' stories—shivering now and then, chuckling softly at their tales. And somewhere along the way, I drifted off just like that.

That night, for the first time, I fell asleep not inside my tent, but among the girls.

...Though the part where Hayun was glued to my side when I woke up was pretty much business as usual.