A Story I Hope Will Be Recorded
People say bad memories stick in your mind for a long time, etched deep into your brain. But for me, it’s always been the good, happy things that linger, leaving thick afterimages in my memories.
My first meeting with Ain. The worn clothes stuffed full of lint that he gave me first. The sweet candy he handed over for the first time. Unspoiled food, plenty of medicine and bandages. And then... the hero’s greatsword, spread wide with arms outstretched to block my path. The rickety, endearing house made of wooden planks. My first bath in a public restroom and the new clothes Ain gave me. The autumn festival we faced together for the first time. Two colorful beads and a smile. The grocery store, our new home. The time I got to work alongside Ain.
Already, I have so many memories piled up like this. Before I knew it, everything I’d shared with Ain remained vivid, guiding me forward, giving me the strength to keep going. And I wanted my emotions to follow him too. Even if not all of them were gentle, even my dark, gloomy feelings yearned for Ain and sought to serve him.
In other words, everything about me revolves around him. I live solely for Ain. Because he alone is the god of my world. Because he alone is my savior.
“...A, Ain.”
Amid these deepening emotions, I carved a wound into my forearm. Now, I had to dig even deeper than before for the rampaging feelings to slowly subside. I’m still such a fool—I don’t even know what these emotions are. They’re a tangle of so many things mixed together, too complex now for my ignorant self.
But I swear it. Even if I’m a beast who can’t control her own emotions, I will live a life for Ain. I swear it to my own god, Ain—not to the god of this world who’s only given me trials and pain. If blocking his path under the excuse of wanting to stay together means I’d rather die. My body is yours. My soul is yours.
So...
“Travel.”
Ain, for you, I’ll endure any pain.
“It’s okay to go, Ain.”
My emotions scream for him not to say such words, but my body trembles to silence my mouth, my expression twisting into something even I can’t recognize. As gray ash begins to swirl and mix with my tears, I say it.
“Ain, I can wait.”
In this scene of gray eyes falling like snow, I look straight at him.
“I’m okay, Ain. I can wait.”
I want to be helpful to him. I don’t want to see him suffer or grieve. I smile so he won’t feel uneasy. I nod so he can set off on the journey he desires. This is the path I’ve chosen.
In truth, there were countless worries. The battle between emotion and reason dragged on, whispering endlessly in my ear. Instinctively, it urged me to choose what was best for me, not him. I wanted to bind his limbs so he couldn’t leave, keep him by my side forever. I wanted those sparkling eyes like starlight fixed only on me. I wanted him not even to talk to anyone else. Those dark, insidious thoughts were always inside me. No matter how hard I tried to change, they never budged.
And the conflict with my emotions lasted so long. As the day of departure approached, it grew more desperate. Every time he wore that troubled look, I wished he’d say nothing at all. Every night, I had to shed blood.
I know what sadness is. It’s the feeling I get when Ain is hurting. I know what fear is. It’s the word for being abandoned by Ain. I’ve learned what sorrow is. It’s the word for parting from Ain. I will learn what loneliness is. It means inevitably separating and being alone again.
Before long, I came to know these things more and more. And every time I recalled that we had to part, grief and sorrow overwhelmed me. So every night, I bled. My clothes soaked through, the bedsheets stained red. Even then, it wasn’t enough—only when the drops began falling plip-plip to the floor did my emotions slowly settle.
I always bled too much, leaving me dizzy, my body drained of strength as I collapsed onto the damp bed. But I never chanted the spell early to reverse it. If I did, I’d have to repeat the process—bleeding until dawn, collapsing again—over and over.
Only when time passed, my eyes fluttered, and sleep crept in did I whisper the incantation softly. That’s how it was.
So if you ask how I, like that, managed to make my resolve... I’d say it was because, amid all those memories, there was one particular moment that let me vow it.
That day, there was the warmth of our clasped hands. The bond from our childhood days still touched me warmly. I loved it so much. I wanted to keep holding hands and stay together forever.
“...Hee-hee.”
Before I knew it, a goofy, strange laugh escaped me. It was a face I didn’t want to show Ain, so I quickly composed myself and glanced at him, but then he spoke first.
“Let’s go. Where do you want to go?”
With Ain, anywhere is fine. But if I had to pick, the market—where I could see his new side—was the best.
“...I won’t eat the grubs.”
He always said it so firmly, swearing he wouldn’t, but...
“You won’t eat them?”
When I kept asking, he’d eventually give in, and I loved that. He clearly hated the grubs, but seeing him close his eyes and open his mouth made my heart thump.
“Ain, it’s good.”
“...It’s good.”
His face clearly said it wasn’t, but he’d tell me it was anyway, and my fingertips trembled.
Truth be told, this was partly wanting to see Ain trying for my sake. But it was also a petty revenge against the one trying to leave my side. If I harbored such thoughts, he’d have to endure at least this much, right? That’s what I think.
And so, after our market tale ended, in the square we visited together, colors swirled everywhere. Late autumn. The peaceful empire square had its own vibe, making my heart flutter for no reason. Ain always did things for me, but chances to stroll like this were rare, so maybe that’s why I was extra excited.
Before I knew it, I was grinning wide and tugging his hand along.
Fallen leaves. A pile of leaves. A pile that looked so fluffy suddenly caught my eye.
“This looks so soft.”
I said it and dove right in.
And the result?
“Ain... this isn’t soft at all.”
“...”
There was Ain staring at me in disbelief, and me, a total mess. This was Ain's fault for not warning me the leaf pile wasn’t actually soft. Plus, leaves itch when they get inside your clothes.
“Hee-hee, it tickles. Ain, get the ones still in my clothes out.”
“Just wait a bit... no, you can’t take your clothes off outside...!”
I even got scolded for starting to strip right there.
“Agh!”
“Ain, don’t get mad, just get the leaves out.”
“Don’t take them off!”
But thinking about it, this too was Ain's fault for not warning me that leaf piles make you itchy afterward.
Time with him was truly wonderful. Even without leaves, my heart kept tickling. Even without holding hands, my chest grew warmer bit by bit.
As the day’s end approached, we naturally headed down an alley and faced that shabby, makeshift wooden-plank house.
It’s a precious memory for me. Because it holds his love, hammered together with banged-up, sore hands. Because my heart beat thump-thump in time with those blows, still echoing in my ears. That’s why I can smile at the now-weathered wooden planks.
“Do you miss it?”
As his words reached me, I stroked the moldy wood, gazing blankly around it. His breath lingers here. His love lingers. No matter how worn and shabby, his indelible traces remain.
So I answer.
“...No. It’s okay.”
“Really okay?”
Standing again with a somewhat relieved heart.
“Yeah, because my home isn’t here anymore.”
“...”
I looked at him and beamed.
“You and Uncle gave me a new home, so it’s fine. This can just stay a memory.”
In truth, I didn’t leave it behind. I gathered every memory that remained. Even the tiny fragments left, I gently collected them all.
So I can say it’s okay. That’s why.
I took his hand again and stepped forward first. Ain murmured quietly.
“Asha.”
For a moment, I didn’t realize what it was and tilted my head.
“Your name.”
He said it was the name he was giving me.
“Huh...?”
Thump—my heart resounds.
Thump—that one word strikes my heart more fiercely than ever, igniting every emotion.
Thump—my face flushes, my fingertips reach for him, my eyes tremble, I forget what to say and just open and close my mouth.
Thump—my heart races wildly without pause.
Is this hazy feeling truly just happiness? Even though I still can’t tell, I end up throwing myself into his arms with a bright smile.
And so, today I added another new memory. My name. The name he gave me. Asha. I am Asha.
So I can bear it. I thought I could let him go. I hope for it. For him to be happy, to achieve what he wants. More desperately than my own desires and emotions.
Because I’m a good girl. Because I’m a life lived for Ain.