Ugly Five-Year-Old 2
I still remember that scene vividly. The day light descended from the heavens, enveloping my body, and the bishops I'd been looking up at for so long knelt before me in prayer. Fireworks exploded high in the sky, and countless subjects of the empire filled the streets, roaring in cheers. The beautiful beginning of that day, when I first received the overly grand title of Saintess and met the Hero—that memory circles vividly in my mind. I was so clumsy, trembling so much.
"What are you spacing out for?"
"Ah, Hero. It's nothing. I was just reminiscing."
"Talking nonsense again. If you have time for that, go to sleep."
"Hehe, as you wish."
Maybe it was because of the Hero's gruff way of speaking that I was trembling. His bear-like massive build and the huge scar crossing his face. That first meeting, looking down at me with a greatsword bigger than my height strapped to his back. I think I instinctively got scared and stepped back.
The ugly five-year-old who realized far too quickly that this world was the world inside a novel. It would have been better if I hadn't known this cruel truth, but now that I did, there wasn't much I could do about it.
"Mom."
"Yes, my son."
"I want to make money."
I confessed to my legal guardian my desire to save up for the journey I'd eventually embark on in the future.
"Sure, my son. What can a five-year-old kid even do?"
"...Like delivering newspapers."
"Yeah, yeah. Finish your meal~"
Mom just smiled brightly and dismissed it as nonsense.
"Mom."
"Yes. What do you want to say this time, my son."
"Then give me some allowance."
Even when I shamelessly asked her to fund my trip despite her raising me.
"Son, if Dad hears you saying that when he's already gone to work so early and is working his bones to the bone, he'll be so sad. Right?"
"...".
Her ploy to turn me into a proper unfilial son left me speechless.
Did my head get younger along with my body? Considering my actual age, it wasn't that much of a difference, but I couldn't win with words at all. Of course, the problem was that I wasn't particularly good with words even in my past life.
"I need to grow up quick. There's nothing I can do."
"Pfft, sometimes you talk like such an old soul. Are you really five?"
Well, that's...
"...".
Yes, as I told you. But I couldn't exactly say your son was an adult who died hit by a car.
So instead of that truth, I spat out a curt reply.
"...And you're acting like such a kid. Are you really twenty-five?"
"Hey! This bad habit of not backing down even on one word—whose is it like?!"
No. You don't need to pinch my cheeks with that much emotion.
Hands full of emotion sting. And as I thought every time, the gap between an adult and a child couldn't be bridged by any means.
So I had to dangle there, held by Mom's thoroughly annoyed hand, until my cheeks turned red and even a bit swollen.
But honestly, this is your fault too.
Well, there was a bit of a noisy incident in the morning, but today was a particularly special day. Every day since being reborn felt special, but this one even more so. My heart was pounding like a real kid's, swelling with inexplicable emotion, so even with an adult mind, I made a bit of a fuss.
"Mom, let's go already."
"Son... There's still over an hour left. Don't rush so much... Eek! Son, don't pull on my skirt! It'll rip, it'll rip!!"
I tugged hard on Mom's favorite skirt. She'd just been sipping her tea for an hour after saying okay, which annoyed me a little.
This was revenge against the adult enjoying her leisure despite her son's expectant eyes.
"You promised we'd go early today. If I ate lots of bell peppers and carrots."
"No, son. I get it, so!"
Today was the day the oracle would reveal the Hero and Saintess. The scene signaling the novel's start would unfold before my eyes, and the condition for my request to go watch it was eating bell peppers and carrots.
But after tormenting me for a week using those as hostages, dragging her feet now wasn't adult behavior.
She was making me, who forced down the stuff I hated, look pitiful.
This hateful twenty-five-year-old. So.
"Die, skirt."
"Agh, enough!"
Rise upon the skirt's sacrifice. Ah, it's sunny. My head throbbed a bit from the bump on my forehead, but the weather was great. A clear blue sky, as if blessings from the novel's pages would pour down.
And under that cloudless blue sky, the empire's subjects were all heading in one direction. To Kate Square, wide open enough to see the imperial palace clearly, to witness that one moment's spectacle.
Mom and I were following the crowd toward the square too.
"Son, don't let go of Mom's hand. Hold on tight, okay?"
"Ah, I know. I'm not a baby, stop nagging."
"Sorry, but you are a baby."
"...".
Five is plenty grown. Instead of replying to Mom, who was giggling busily, I gripped her hand tight and pulled toward the square.
Because she kept dawdling, the oracle time was approaching fast.
"Son, we can go slow~"
"...We're already super late."
The moment the oracle descended, light would pour like a miracle from the heavens, shining on a certain adventurer who would become the Hero and a certain nun working at the papal office.
The novel's opening scene. I'd said my journey mattered more than the protagonists' path or the plot, but honestly, I couldn't help wanting to see that novel scene with my own eyes.
So I hurried my steps to witness it firsthand. The great clock tower's hands would point to exactly 1 PM when the light poured down, and it was already past 12:50.
All because Mom dragged her feet. Hateful twenty-five-year-old.
"Son! Slow down a bit...! It's hard for Mom to keep up, so let's go slow, okay?"
"No. If we go slow, we won't see it up close."
And just like that, the tightly held hand slipped away in an instant.
"No, son.... Huh, I lost son's hand...!"
"Ah."
I'd lost Mom's hand. I thought I'd gripped it with all my might, but a kid's strength was so weak. The surging crowd made even the common occurrence of losing hands happen to me.
Mom's voice faded into the noisy throng.
I tried heading toward where Mom might be, but to avoid getting trampled by adults' feet, I had no choice but to veer off toward a less crowded alley nearby, rushing to the wall corner.
I made it safely to the wall and leaned against it, but tiny me jumping up wouldn't catch Mom's eye.
Looking around like a meerkat, I couldn't even spot a trace of "Mom."
"...Screwed."
Actually, if I went to the square's lost child center, Mom would find me, but I'd get an earful.
"...".
Not thrilled, but as a kid—not an adult—I needed to put on some Oscar-worthy tears.
I could still avoid punishment with tears at this age.
So I sighed deeply and looked up at the clock tower to check the time.
But.
There was a reason crowds avoided places. Blocked by the wall, I couldn't see the square, let alone the clock tower.
I'd been so excited to see the novel's start with my own eyes, but all I got was Mom's worry and anger.
This felt a bit unfair. Like, somehow.
The inevitable role of an extra, unable to even approach the plot. I didn't want to interfere with the story, but being forcibly kept away like this brought unexpected sorrow.
And then.
The moment I turned my head toward the alley in regret.
Light poured from the heavens.
La― And with the light came that sound.
I.
From afar. Very far away. Witnessed the scene where angels' song flowed gently, and radiant beams illuminated two spots in the square.
Surely in the square where the light poured, everyone was kneeling in worship.
Proclaiming the birth of the Hero and Saintess, reading the revelation that came with the light.
It was a shame not to see it up close, but my heart still pounded like a child's at being able to savor it like this.
The story was finally beginning.
The novel I'd read until just before dying now stood at the starting line before my eyes.
Taking its first step toward an ending I didn't know.
Maybe that's why.
Because of the overwhelming emotion.
Or because the light beams faded, returning me to the reality of being lost.
I passed by the girl sprawled in the alley corner without much thought.
Faded gray hair like ash.
Dull gray eyes just as much.
Ragged clothes draped haphazardly, rotten planks beneath her.
Even seeing that scene, I just turned back toward the crowd.
Maybe.
I just looked away.
It was just a common novel trope, and I didn't need to value one more extra who would die like that.
I hadn't helped the pitiful in reality either, so no need to save her in the novel.
Even though the girl's dull gray eyes held me in them.
That's what I thought.