Episode 0-b. The One Who Tumbles. (3)
There has always been some force in the world that draws similar souls together.
I've never laid eyes on any non-human races, having spent my whole life in the Empire, but it was a fact I knew well from the many books Idrin had given me.
On a grand scale, through race and territory; on a smaller one, through nations, cities, villages, and families. They always formed communities, living and moving forward as one.
There was joy born from those connections, and sorrow too, inevitable when hearts intertwined. But I could clearly see that being together gave them tremendous strength.
Only...
I had no such "similar souls."
Abandoned long ago, I had no family left to claim me, no community to slip into.
This world neatly divides into the tiny fraction of gray—and the vast masses who despise it.
There was a time when that felt... well, truly heartbreaking.
I couldn't understand what I'd done wrong. Why was I born bearing this gray curse? Why couldn't I be an ordinary person? Why must I suppress instincts no better than a beast's?
Why couldn't I stand by his side, just like this?
It felt so profoundly unfair, so heartbreakingly sad.
But...
Within the fence Ain built around me, people had quietly gathered, kindling a warm campfire.
They're nothing like me, really. Good, ordinary folk—far removed from the grotesque gray I carry. They could never be lumped in the same category.
The grocery store owner. The librarian. The parents of any average home. They embodied the normalcy I'd always longed for from afar, untethered to anything gray.
Yet those bonds crossed the lines the world had drawn, filling the space beside me.
So.
The books say like attracts like. But that's clearly wrong.
Even I—who had nothing like me, adrift and alone—somehow ended up with a community of my own.
Thus, if you asked how I endured those three years...
I'd say it was the connections Ain forged for me. The affection they poured out without end.
The sun was sinking now. The vast, distant blue sky gradually flushed red, drawing closer, until—whoosh—it shifted to a rippling violet haze, beautiful in the twilight.
In that welcoming evening hour...
"Asha! Bring this to the table, would you?"
"Yes, just a moment."
I now shared dinner with Ain's parents as naturally as breathing.
"Carry it carefully. Ain always used to drop things and hurt himself."
"Don't worry. I'm not as clumsy as Ain."
"Pfft, true enough!"
Watching her cheerful back as she bustled with cooking, I felt my own lips curve upward.
Home.
It was warm.
The scene he'd left behind brimmed with that warmth.
When did it start? Thinking back, it must have been shortly after Ain left.
Living in the little room at Rendo's grocery, evenings were always my solitary time. Rendo Uncle had a family of his own, so he'd apologize profusely, make dinner for me, and head home.
After that, all I had was the empty store and steaming bowls cooling in the silence.
And I—fool that I was—didn't eat that warm food right away.
Alone, I'd zone out, my thoughts spiraling into dark places. I'd writhe like a worm till dawn, struggling to stay a "good girl," unleashing every pent-up emotion before finally spooning cold rice into my mouth.
So.
Evenings, for me, had been that kind of time. A time to vent emotions until I inevitably ate cold food. A time when solitude crashed down.
But...
"Asha! Taste this for me!"
"Yes... Mmm, it's delicious."
"Good? Then take this to the table too!"
Now, it was different. Evenings weren't lonely anymore.
No more savoring bleak emptiness as dusk fell. I could carry warm plates, eat steaming rice.
And then—ding-a-ling—the bell on the door chimed once.
"Honey, I'm home! Rain, Asha! Let's eat!"
That gravelly, familiar voice rang out, and Ain's mother and I hurried to the entrance, bowing our heads.
"Zuben, welcome home!"
"Welcome home."
"Yeah! It was a tough day. So let's eat together!"
The bearish man lumbering in with a grin was Ain's father, Zuben. He knew my secret yet always patted my head with a warm smile.
Today's dinner wrapped up like that. Three people sharing warm, tasty food and lively chatter. We piled up those moments until, regretfully, it ended.
"No, Asha, I'll do the dishes!"
"I'll handle it."
So I'd naturally carry the leftovers and wash up. Eating and leaving felt too rude.
Or maybe... these moments had become precious to me.
"You can just come eat and go, you know. Hmm, fine. Soap 'em up, and Auntie will rinse!"
"No... I mean, thank you."
But Ain's mother, Rain, wouldn't let me do it alone. As I scrubbed, she'd sidle up, beaming, and rinse them off.
And then.
"Tea after dishes?"
"Uh... Y-Yes. I'd love some, thank you."
Rain always stuck close, chattering endlessly.
"Bread? Your stomach's separate from dinner, right? Gotta have some!"
"Ah... My stomach's just one, so I think I'm fine..."
"What, no bread?"
"...No, thank you. I'll have some."
If I were her, I'd probably wish the ominous gray witch would leave the house sooner. Yet...
"So, tea and bread—what next? Board games? Chess with Auntie?"
"Uh... I don't really know how..."
"I'll teach you! Gotta learn now if you wanna beat Ain someday!"
Somehow, Rain talked nonstop while I washed, suggesting things to do together, stretching out our time.
Before long, evening turned to night amid all that.
"Asha, why not sleep over tonight?"
"N-No, I..."
As I gathered my things to leave, Rain said it.
We'd shared dinners for three years, but I'd never slept here. This place felt like sacred ground—far above my station to even dream of staying.
"It's late! Sleep over. Pajama party with Auntie! We'll ditch Zuben and share the bed, okay?"
"...Ah, um. I, uh... That is..."
I short-circuited.
"I'll lend you pajamas. You've... grown a lot. Might be snug, but lock Zuben in his room!"
"No, ma'am, I have the grocery... Wait, hold on, I..."
Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed my hand and dragged me to the bedroom. I could only stutter, frozen.
Thinking about it, spending the night with someone was utterly new to me.
Flustered, I had no choice but to change into the pajamas she handed me.
And...
The buttons wouldn't fasten.
"Hmm, tighter than I thought. Asha, why are your breasts so big now? They used to be tiny."
"Ah... Um... Sorry."
Probably from eating too much.
"No need to apologize. But... would it be rude if Auntie touched them once...?"
"..."
"Sorry."
"It's okay."
Sorry, but even as Ain's mother, that was as rude as Idrin.
Night came.
Long, endless night—the time when I'd bleed and wail. When darkness cloaked the sky, forcing me to savor hollow solitude.
"Asha."
"Yes?"
But tonight, I wasn't alone. On the wide bed lay me... and Ain's mother.
"Hmm, bit of a tummy."
"..."
Rain kept placing her hand on my belly, slyly poking.
"Looks good. Better a little soft than skinny."
"...Keep poking like that, and your words lose all credibility."
It was pure affection—more than I deserved to even hope for.
"But wanting to touch something squishy is human instinct."
"I've read books on human instincts. No mention of that one."
Her playful words reminded me so much of Ain's.
"Umm... Can't exactly write 'want to poke soft bellies' in a book."
"..."
Whenever such banter flowed, my lips twitched upward.
(Though, to be fair, Idrin would write that in her research notes.)
Anyway.
Light, teasing, everyday chatter filled the room—comforting and casual.
Night was still long, shrouded in dark veils, but my heart stayed calm as I listened.
"Ah, it's so late. You have work tomorrow, and I kept you up."
"It's fine. I enjoyed it."
Time had truly flown.
"Alright, bedtime."
"Yes. Goodnight."
Regretfully, it was time to close our eyes.
Rain and I stopped the playfulness, slipping into silence.
And then.
In the quiet scene, a soft voice emerged.
"It must be so hard."
"..."
A voice rippling with emotion.
"Sorry I can't do more."
"..."
Pure care—far beyond what I could dare wish for.
"Someday, what you want will come true, Asha."
A hand pulling me from isolation, into no community before.
Such warmth flowed softly over the plush bed.
Why did she go this far? Why approach a gray monster, pour out love?
I still couldn't comprehend.
But I answered.
"Yes. It will."
Like my hopes, like theirs.
Someday, I wished—willed—it to be.
Spending the night with someone...
Was calmer, warmer than I'd imagined.
I squeezed my eyes shut and drifted off.
Some nights would demand I unleash pent-up emotions, no doubt.
But at least tonight... I could rest.