The Hero and the Saintess (1)
Aria and Ashtain had wandered the slopes of Mount Ascendio for nearly half a day. The man who exterminated every monster they came across was less a hero and more a butcher. Young or old, whole or maimed, he killed without distinction. Aria sensed a sharp, unmistakable hatred in every swing of his blade. Watching him slaughter them as if he meant to wipe their entire species from existence, she found herself wondering: Why does he go this far?
Was it some sense of duty that came with being the Hero? From what she had seen of him, Ashtain was hardly the type to obsess over such obligations. Because of that, whenever they had a spare moment, Aria would occasionally ask him something personal.
“Ashtain, why do you hunt monsters?”
He had been wiping monster blood from his sword when the question landed. The look on his face suggested he had never heard anything so absurd in his life. Ashtain opened his mouth to snap at her, then seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the effort. His voice came out flat.
“Because someone has to.”
Someone has to. The words carried absolute certainty.
“It doesn’t have to be you, though, does it?”
At her persistent probing, Ashtain’s eyebrow twitched. “...Are you interrogating me right now?”
“If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to.”
She spoke as if it made no difference to her whether she heard the answer or not. In truth, however, she was deeply curious about the private circumstances of this eccentric Hero.
“I don’t want to.”
Unfortunately, Ashtain had zero intention of airing his past to anyone.
“...That’s a shame.”
His curt reply left her disappointed, though she could understand the reluctance. After all, there were things she could never tell him either.
When the sun began to set and shadows stretched like taffy across the ground, Ashtain suggested they head down the mountain. Aria, exhausted from the grueling march, agreed at once. By the time they reached the village, both of them were covered in blood. Ashtain was one thing, but people stared at Aria and wondered how she had ended up in such a state. After all, she had been carried on the blood-soaked Hero’s back the entire way down. Getting stained was inevitable.
The villagers recoiled at the sight of the blood-drenched Hero and Saintess, but they showed no open hostility. That was entirely thanks to the sacred robes Aria wore. No nun of the Sex Cult would commit a crime. There must be some explanation. At least, that seemed to be what the villagers told themselves. It was a clear measure of how deeply the Cult’s influence had taken root in this kingdom.
Ashtain let out a low whistle of admiration. “Normally if I walked around looking like this, nine out of ten people would throw a fit. Guess I have you to thank? Saves me a lot of wasted time.”
Aria pressed her fingers to her temples as if she had a headache. “...Ashtain, you should at least care a little about how other people see you. That’s why I suggested we wash off at the river before coming into the village.”
He shuddered. “You want me to wash in the river in this weather? When it’s almost night?”
“It’s better than getting strange looks, even if it’s a little tiring.”
Like right now. The various gazes boring into her were genuinely unpleasant. She had never particularly enjoyed being the center of attention, but after possessing this body, she had come to hate it even more.
“You really care that much about what other people think?”
“...I am the Saintess, you know.”
Ashtain stared down at her for a moment, then reached out and peeled a flake of dried blood from her hair.
“Honestly, washing in cold water wouldn’t be that bad.”
The casual tone made irritation flare inside her. “If you were fine with it, we could have washed at the river!”
He reached out and squished both of her cheeks. They stretched like soft dough.
“Eugh?”
Caught off guard by the sudden attack, she flailed in protest, but the difference in their sizes made resistance pointless. Her struggles melted away. Ashtain continued poking her puffed-out cheeks as he spoke.
“But think about it. We’re going to an inn anyway—they’ll have warm water. Why bother freezing yourself in a river? Just because you’re worried about their stares? Why should I give a damn about what they think?”
His words went in one ear and out the other. The current situation was far too embarrassing to process anything else. W-what is this skinship all of a sudden? She looked up at the man who was freely molesting her face. His expression was full of mischief.
“L-let go. What do you think my cheeks are, exactly?”
“Hm. Bread dough? Yeah, they feel like that.”
“S-stop it!”
“Fine, fine. Letting go.”
He released her surprisingly easily. He must have pinched hard; both cheeks stung.
“Ugh, that hurts...”
Aria rubbed her face with both hands. Ashtain watched her with a grin, then said,
“I’m fine with cold water. But what about you?”
“Huh?”
“You’re frail. You really think it’s smart to wash in an ice-cold river in this weather? You’ll probably wake up tomorrow burning with fever and sniffling. Is that okay with you?”
Aria stared at him with her mouth open. ...Is he actually worried about me? The words she couldn’t quite voice swirled warmly inside her chest.
“Th-that’s something I can take care of myse—”
“There’s nothing more stupid than worrying about other people’s opinions and neglecting your own needs. That’s from experience, so remember it, idiot.”
Ashtain’s large hand ruffled her small head. She lowered her gaze and bit her lip. Her face burned for an entirely different reason than before. How long had it been since she received such ordinary kindness? Warmth seeped into her frozen heart. Yet because it had been so long, the warmth itself hurt.
Aria took a deep breath and stepped back. “I-I have plenty of social experience, you know?”
“Then why do you look so clueless?”
“...Shut up.”
It was strange. The weather was clearly cold. So why did she feel so warm? Aria shook her head vigorously. Ashtain watched her sudden docility with a puzzled look, then quickened his pace.
“Enough bickering. Let’s get to the inn. Aren’t you cold?”
“...I’m going, I’m going.”
They arrived at the inn. Cleaning up took priority over eating. When they reached the room on the second floor they had reserved, they looked at each other as if on cue. Who would wash first? In their current filthy state, it was a surprisingly important question.
“Ashtain, you should go firs—”
She had been planning to wash for a long time, so she meant to yield to him. ...Or she had, until—
“You go first.”
Ashtain stood with his arms crossed, jerking his chin toward the bathroom. His attitude made it clear he would accept no argument.
“You’re in far worse shape than I am.”
She tried to find some opening to insist she would wash later, but—
“Stop worrying about others and just wash.”
She was practically shoved into the bathroom. A voice came through the door behind her.
“There’s someone waiting, so make it quick.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if I washed later?”
“Stop whining.”
The clear implication was shut up and wash. She had no choice but to give in.
“...Ashtain, you’re so pushy.”
“You talk too much.”
His tone was as indifferent as ever. And yet, for some reason, those words brought her a strange sense of relief.
Aria removed her sacred robes and undergarments, folded them neatly, and set them in the corner. When she looked up, she saw the large wooden tub filled with water. White steam rose gently from it; just looking at it made her feel warm. She scooped water with a ladle and poured it over herself. The crusted blood dissolved in the hot water. The more she washed, the stronger the metallic stench became. The thick, nose-stinging smell of blood made her head spin.
Has Ashtain been fighting like this all this time?
Ashtain. No matter how you dressed it up with the title of Hero, at his core he was a warrior. A man who fought monsters and killed them. He must have endured countless hardships, faced despair more times than she could imagine. And yet he remained steadfast—like an ancient tree that had stood for thousands of years, like an immovable mountain. He was always, simply, himself. What a strong person.
He’s incredible. Nothing like someone like me.
Unlike her, who had given up and resigned herself in less than a year, he was completely different. Maybe that was why his sometimes arrogant behavior shone so brightly in her eyes. Lost in thoughts about Ashtain, she eventually finished washing all the blood from her body. Once she was clean, she walked to the bathroom door and knocked.
“Ashtain?”
“What?”
The answer came quickly. Aria hesitated, then gathered a bit of courage.
“...Um, would it be all right if I soaked in the tub for a while?”
“Why are you even asking? Just get in.”
“But you’ll need the water too. O-of course I did wash myself thoroughly first...”
She stammered, embarrassed. He snorted, sounding utterly uninterested.
“Do whatever you want. And don’t ask about trivial stuff like this next time.”
“Th-thank you.”
“You thank me for everything.”
With his permission granted, Aria lowered herself fully into the large wooden tub. Warmth enveloped her entire body. It felt as though the exhaustion of the brutal day was being washed away. A long, blissful sigh escaped her.
“Haaaaaaa...”
Her stiff muscles began to melt into pleasant languor. There was one thing Aria had overlooked: the fatigue accumulated in her body was far greater than she realized. Before long—only a few minutes later—she had fallen sound asleep in the tub.
No matter how long he waited, there was no sign of Aria coming out. Is she hurting herself in there? What a damn troublesome Saintess.
Bang.
I sighed as I looked at the bathroom door I had smashed open once again. The innkeeper was definitely going to complain.
“Aria, didn’t I tell you not to take too lo—”
I stopped mid-sentence.
“...Well, this is better, I suppose.”
The discovered Aria was slumped over the edge of the tub. There were no visible wounds. She appeared to simply be sleeping.
“You’re such a pain in the ass.”
I had sent her in first because I worried she might attempt self-harm again. I thought that if I was waiting right outside, her constant concern for others’ opinions might stop her. I never expected her to just fall asleep so peacefully.
“I’m not her babysitter.”
I quickly rinsed the blood from my hands, then lifted her out of the tub. She was so light it made me wonder if she even ate properly. I carefully dried her with the towel hanging in the bathroom, then tossed her onto the bed. I had thrown her rather roughly with the intention of waking her, but only soft breathing answered. She probably wouldn’t even notice if someone carried her off.
“Does this woman have no sense of caution at all?”
Still... I am a man. Or maybe she simply doesn’t care what happens to her.
Looking at her sleeping so innocently, I was reminded of my sister’s bright smile. They really did resemble each other. If my dead sister had come back to life and grown up safely, would she have looked like this?
Meaningless sentiment. No matter what, the dead do not return.
I smiled bitterly and stepped into the bathroom.