It's Time to Forget

The war was over.

Or more precisely, word reached the front this morning that the party that had set out for the Demon King's castle had killed him, and at first no one had been willing to believe it.

People had been dying faster than the days could pass, after all, and countless soldiers had been driven to this place on the single promise that they would kill the Demon King. Hearing that everything was suddenly over as of today simply didn't feel real.

But before long the Hero's party returned, and when news followed that the remaining Demon King's forces were throwing down their weapons and surrendering all across the land, that was when people finally began to let their voices out, one by one. Some hurled their swords into the sky, some grabbed the person beside them and wept, and a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠few — who knew where they'd been hiding them — had already dug out kegs of liquor.

"It's over!"

"Fucking hell, it's really over!"

"We made it! We can go home!"

Cheers erupted all around, and the people who had clawed their way past death more times than they could count, the people who had buried a comrade in the dirt just yesterday, all smiled today without thinking of anything at all.

I watched them for a long while before it finally sank in. It really was over.

I didn't know whether I should feel joy or emptiness. I'd first come to the front at fourteen, so eleven years had already gone by — nearly half of my life, spent here, without my ever noticing as I turned twenty-five. Aside from a childhood I could barely remember, I had spent more time living by the sword, killing demons and monsters, than I had living any ordinary kind of life. It wouldn't even be strange to say I was more at home here than at the orphanage.

And that war was truly over.

Yet the very first thing I thought of when I heard the Demon King was dead was Arien.

She survived.

With the Demon King gone, there was no reason left for Arien to die. She wouldn't have to fight the Demon King's army anymore, wouldn't have to stake her life on saving the world — from now on, she could live not as the Hero, but simply as Arien.

That alone was enough.

"Captain!"

I turned at the sound of someone calling from a distance and found several Vanguard soldiers running toward me with bottles in hand.

"What is it? Everyone else is drinking!"

"Drink on your own."

"You're cutting us out even on a day like today?"

"I'm tired."

"Hah, war ends and he dumps us first thing."

"We'll drink together tomorrow."

"There's no war left after tomorrow, so what excuse will you have then, Captain?"

The bastards snickered, and I snorted, waving them off.

"Go drink. I'll let it slide today, so drink yourselves to death for all I care."

"The captain gave his blessing!"

"Bring more booze!"

Good riddance, you bastards.

I watched their backs as they receded into the noise, then slowly made my way toward my tent.

The camp was still roaring. Even the ones who would normally have been asleep before sundown had gathered around the bonfires with bottles, and someone had scrounged up instruments from somewhere and was playing. And yet, strangely, I felt no desire to join them.

I ducked back into my tent and stood there for a long time, doing nothing at all.

The war was over.

So what was I supposed to do now?

The reason I'd come to the front in the first place was Arien. I slipped out of the orphanage the day after she left for the capital, and joined a mercenary company recruiting fresh soldiers with nothing but the thought of seeing her again, even a little sooner. And so, for ten years, I clung to life with everything I had. No matter how badly I was wounded, I picked the sword back up; no matter how many of those around me died, I kept surviving — all because I wanted to see Arien again someday.

But when we finally did meet again, she didn't recognize me.

After that, even my reason to live was gone, and that was why I joined the Vanguard. If I was going to die anyway, I wanted at least to spend my death for Arien's sake. With that single thought, for the past year I had entered every battlefield ahead of her, carving the path.

So she could move forward even a little more easily. So she could reach the Demon King unharmed. And so that, at the very end, she could come home alive.

And now there was no need for any of it.

The Demon King was dead, the war was over, and Arien had survived. There was no longer any reason to carve a path before her, nor even to watch over her from a distance.

So in the end, even my last excuse to stay by your side is gone.

At that thought, a small laugh escaped me without my meaning it to.

Arien was living on, having forgotten me. So it was only right that I disappear from her life completely.

There was no reason to track her down and say, It's me. I'm Riven, the boy you loved when we were children, and throw her into confusion at this late date. Even more so when not even a good memory was left behind.

I pulled the pack I'd shoved under my bed.

There wasn't much in the way of luggage. A few changes of clothes, enough travel money, a handful of odds and ends — and even stuffed in, the pack wasn't half full.

Eleven years on the front line, and that was all I had to carry out. It was a little funny, really.

I reached for my sword last, and my hand stopped for a moment. The war was over — did I really need this too? But come to think of it, there wasn't much I knew how to do besides swing a blade. I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just finished adding the sword and was about to close the bag when something hanging at my neck slipped free and swung out.

The necklace.

The cheap thing Arien and I had bought together as children, the one I hadn't taken off my body once since that day.

I had come within a breath of dying on the battlefield any number of times, and never once lost it. However I could, I kept it around my neck and carried it with me.

Because it was our token — the proof that we'd recognize each other when we met again.

But we had already met again. Arien hadn't recognized me, and there had been no necklace at her throat. And over the past year, no matter how many times we crossed paths at arm's length, not once did she ever see me.

So shouldn't it be time for me to let go as well?

I stared down at the necklace in my hand for a long while, then reached behind my neck and unclasped it. The moment the thing I'd worn for more than ten years as though it were simply part of me was gone, the skin around my throat felt strangely, achingly bare.

It's time to forget you now.

The war was over, and you had survived. Everything I could do for you was finished, so there was no longer any need to live clutching the promise we ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠made that day.

I tossed the necklace carelessly into my pack.

And in that instant, a thought flickered through me: why not just leave it here? It was a useless thing now, after all. What reason could there be to keep carrying the token of a promise shared with someone who couldn't even remember me?

But in the end, I didn't take the necklace back out of the bag.

Guess I can't throw it away after all.

"...Moron."

Laughing at myself — claiming I'd forget her, yet unable to part with a single necklace — I murmured it under my breath and closed the pack. At the very least, I wouldn't wear it around my neck anymore.

That was enough.

All that was left was to walk out.

But strangely, my feet wouldn't move, and the feeling that I'd forgotten something nagged at me until, after a moment's thought, one face surfaced in my mind, unbidden.

Come to think of it — what am I supposed to say to the Saintess?

All this time, the Saintess had stayed by my side. I knew perfectly well what that meant, and yet I'd played ignorant to the very end. Accepting someone else's heart while I couldn't forget Arien felt like a sin beyond forgiveness.

And yet I couldn't bring myself to push her away properly, either. I took from her only as much as she offered and simply permitted her to stay near — which, looking back, was hardly a decent thing to have done either.

...Leaving without a word would be worse still.

I set the pack back down.

Vanishing without a trace didn't sit right with me. I owed her a great deal; I owed her at least a farewell. I considered going to her in person, then quickly shook my head. The Saintess would be with the Hero's party right now. She was one of the ones who had slain the Demon King, so today of all days she'd be busier than anyone, and showing up now to say I was leaving would only sour the mood.

More than anything, saying it to her face felt like it would drag on far too long.

I sat down at the desk, pulled out a single sheet of paper, and picked up my pen. What should I write? Thank you — or I'm sorry? Both were true, and yet after a long deliberation, I couldn't manage more than a few lines.

That was all of it.

I reread it any number of times, but nothing more would come.

This should do.

I folded the paper, wrote To the Saintess across it, set it down on the desk in the most visible spot, and placed beside it the money pouch I'd been saving up all this while. It was money I'd gathered hoping to build a life with Arien, but now it had nowhere left to go.

The Saintess would surely find a good use for it.

Then I picked up my bag, keeping out only the travel funds. I gave the inside of the tent one last look around, but I felt nothing much. I had never once thought of it as home to begin with.

And so I left the front line that had been my life for eleven years.

Without a word to anyone.

The war was over, the Demon King was dead — and I still couldn't quite believe it.

When I'd opened my eyes this very morning, all I could think of was the battle against the Demon King that lay ahead. And now they were telling me that tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that, I would never have to fight his army again.

I stood a little apart from where the others had gathered, gazing up at the sky for a long time.

"Saintess!"

At the call, I turned to find an injured soldier waving at me.

"Thank you!"

"For what?"

"For keeping me alive all this time!"

A laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it.

"Try not to get hurt anymore, now."

"Where would I even get hurt? The war's over!"

"You could always trip and fall drunk."

Laughter broke out around us, and I laughed along with it.

It really was over, it seemed.

Everyone's faces had changed. The Great Chieftain was already bragging about the feast he'd throw for days on end when he returned to the tribes; the elven hunter was drinking in silence, tipping his cup back again and again; and the mage had flopped flat on the ground, declaring that once she got back to the capital she intended to do absolutely nothing but sleep for a month.

Arien, too, was talking with the others, her face easy and unburdened for the first time in ages.

And as I watched her, one person came to mind.

Riven.

He still hadn't come to offer his congratulations. It wasn't a visit he owed me first, but I thought perhaps, just for today, he might show his face. Then it struck me that maybe that was for the better, and I found myself touching my own lips without meaning to.

The war was over — so now he had no reason to fight as though marching to his death.

Every time I patched his wounds, I told him over and over not to die, and every time he just laughed it off. But now the war was done, and I wouldn't have to worry like that anymore.

And maybe now it was all right to say what was in my heart, too.

I'd tried so many times before, and every time, the words refused to leave my mouth. I was afraid that if he turned me down, even staying by his side like this would become unbearable — and I kept putting it off because it felt like heaping one more burden onto a man fighting a war.

But the war was over now. Riven had survived, and so had I.

So surely I was allowed a little selfishness, just once.

I love you. I want to stay by your side. It wouldn't be wrong to say it, would it?

My face felt a little warm at the mere thought, and I wondered what on earth I was doing, getting worked up alone like this. But still, I made up my mind: today, I would tell him.

All the way to Riven's tent, I turned over and over what I should say. Starting straight off with I love you would be too abrupt, so... The war was over — maybe I should ask first what he planned to do from now on? Or maybe suggest we travel somewhere together?

Lost in one thought after another, I found I'd already arrived at the front of his tent. I fussed once with my clothes, drew in a long breath, and called out.

"Riven?"

No answer.

"I'm coming in."

The moment I lifted the tent flap and stepped inside, I stopped where I stood.

"...Huh?"

It was empty.

The pack that was always tossed carelessly in the corner was gone. No sword, no spare clothes — even the bed had been made up neatly. My heart dropped with a cold lurch, a terrible suspicion blooming alongside it.

"Riven?"

I already knew, and still I called his name again — and of course, no answer came. I hurriedly scanned the inside of the tent and spotted a single letter on the desk, with a money pouch beside it. Written across the letter: To the Saintess. I tore it open at once.

...

That was it.

I turned the letter over and over, but truly, that was everything.

I looked down at the money pouch beside the letter. I had no idea how much he'd managed to save, but just lifting it, the weight alone was nothing to scoff at.

All this time he'd made everyone worry over him, and then the moment the war ended, he'd thrown down even his money and vanished, leaving nothing but a single sheet of paper.

"Ha... how very like him. What a goodbye."

I didn't know whether I should be angry or laugh, but rereading the last line calmed me, if only a little.

If the chance comes, I will come find you.

It wasn't a promise to never see each other again. So all I had to do was wait. I'd endured a war that dragged on for years — how hard could waiting for one man be?

I folded the letter carefully.

"Well... he said he'd come find me, so I'll just have to wait, won't I. But if he takes too long, I really will be angry with him."

I murmured it to the empty tent, then tucked the letter against my chest.

The confession, it seemed, would have to wait for another day. It stung, but there ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was nothing to be done. The next time we met — that time, I would truly say it.

As I stepped back out of the tent, Arien's words suddenly came back to me. Something about how there was something she wanted to do first, now that the Demon King had fallen — though I never heard exactly what. With Riven gone and nothing urgent left to do, I decided I'd go see her.

"Arien?"

When I called her name and peered into her tent, Arien was in the middle of packing her things.

"Oh, Saintess. Come to see me?"

"Packing already?"

"Yes. The war's over, after all."

"I heard everyone's resting for at least a day before leaving."

"I'm not leaving right away either. Just getting things in order ahead of time."

I smiled at that and stepped inside. And that was when Arien drew a small box out from among her belongings.

It was an old, unremarkable little box, but she handled it with far more care than any of her other things.

"What's that?"

"This?"

Arien gave a small smile and opened the box. Inside lay a single necklace. No fine jewels, no precious metal — just the sort of cheap thing you might buy at a market stall for a few coins. And yet, strangely, it looked so terribly familiar.

"...Huh?"

The word escaped me before I could stop it. Arien lifted the necklace out and fastened it around her own neck, and I could only stare at her, dazed.

Where have I seen that before? I didn't even need to think. I had seen it countless times.

Slipping free of his shirt while I treated Riven's wounds — I'd noticed it again and again. Once, while changing his bandages, it had gotten in the way, and I'd taken it in my own hand and set it aside for him.

It looked exactly like the necklace Riven had always worn around his neck. Down to the color, faded with age, the shape, the cord — everything was the same.

"So... Arien?"

"Yes?"

"That necklace — what is it? I've never once seen you wear it."

My voice came out a little strange, but thankfully Arien didn't seem to notice. She touched the necklace gently with her fingertips and smiled — a radiant smile, unlike any I had ever seen from her before.

"I bought it with the person I treasure most in this world."

"...The person you treasure most?"

"Yes. When I was little, there was a boy who grew up with me at the orphanage. We were the same age, and we'd both been abandoned by our parents, so from the very beginning we were always together."

I said nothing at all.

"He was family, and he was my friend... and he was the first person I ever loved."

My heart began to pound, strangely, terribly. It couldn't be — and yet a single face was already rising in my mind.

"When we were fourteen, we told each other we loved each other and became a couple, and we secretly saved up what little money we had and bought these necklaces together. So that even if something happened and we were parted, we'd be able to recognize each other when we met again."

Arien held the necklace up, smiling.

"This is that token."

Unable to take my eyes from it, I swallowed hard.

"Then... why haven't you been wearing it?"

"Because I was afraid of losing it."

Arien answered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"It was a battlefield. The cord could have snapped, or I could have dropped it somewhere. If I'd lost this, I could never have gotten it back — so I only ever kept it, without wearing it. Now that the war's over, though, I can wear it again, can't I?"

Watching her smile as she said it, I found I couldn't make my voice work.

"Where is he... now?"

Arien's expression clouded slightly.

"I don't know."

"...Pardon?"

"We haven't seen each other once since we parted."

At those words, every scene from all this time began surfacing in my mind, one after another.

The necklace that had hung around Riven's neck — always hidden beneath his clothes, yet glimpsed now and then whenever I treated him. The day he came to save us when we were surrounded, and even as I clung to him, sobbing, his gaze kept drifting past my shoulder. And the words he had murmured then, so quietly.

Thank goodness.

At the time, I'd thought he was saying them to me. But now, I understood.

At the end of that gaze had stood Arien.

"His name...?"

When I finally managed to ask, Arien answered without a moment's hesitation.

"Riven. His name is Riven. A bit common, isn't it?"

Everything inside my head went white.

Unaware of what my face must look like, Arien kept speaking, her eyes on the necklace.

"I don't know where he is or what he's doing now, but now that the war's over, I'm going to find him."

I couldn't answer at all.

All I would have had to say was: That man who always entered enemy lines ahead of us on the front line, carving the path — that's the man you're looking for. The one they called the Guide, the one they called the Mad Dog, the Fiend — who fought like a man bent on dying and still came back alive every time — that man is the Riven you've been searching for. That the very same necklace you've treasured all these years — he's still wearing it around his neck, right now.

"I..."

As I opened my mouth, Arien looked at me.

"Yes?"

I should have told her. Of course I should have. Arien was my comrade, my friend. For years we had walked battlefields together, saved each other's lives time and time again. If the man she longed for so desperately was someone I knew, then of course I should tell her.

And yet the words would not leave my mouth.

The moment I spoke that truth, it felt as though there would be no space left for me at his side — not one.

Only now did all of Riven's behavior make sense. Why he'd treated me as if he were looking at me and not looking at me. Why, no matter how closely I drew near, he never let me come closer. Why he'd thrown his life away to come save us. All of it — every last piece — had been because of Arien.

And Arien hadn't forgotten Riven either. On the contrary — she loved him still, so much that on the battlefield she hadn't even dared wear that necklace for fear of losing it, treasuring it instead in a little box.

If I spoke that truth aloud, it would truly be over.

"What's the matter?"

Arien was looking at me strangely, and I hurriedly looked away.

"Ah... it's just. I suddenly remembered something I need to do."

"Right now?"

"Yes. I'm sorry — I'll come back later."

Without giving her even a moment to respond, I slipped out of the tent.

"Huh? Wait—"

Arien's voice reached me from behind, but I didn't turn around.

I don't remember how I made it back to my own tent. The moment I stepped inside, I collapsed where I stood, and with trembling hands I drew out Riven's letter from where I'd tucked it against my chest.

If the chance comes, I will come find you.

I stared at that line for a long, long time.

If only I had opened my mouth a few moments ago, Arien would have known everything. That the man she'd been searching for all this time was nearby. That he hadn't forgotten her either. That the necklace I'd seen countless times was the very proof of it.

And yet I hadn't wanted to say it.

"...I'm sorry, Arien."

The small words slipped from my lips.

I knew exactly what I was doing. But I, too, had lived my whole life giving and giving, sacrificing myself for others. I healed people because I was the Saintess. I prayed for others. No matter how much I struggled, I was told again and again that I must think of others first.

And I had never once resented it. I was glad that the power I held could save lives, and every time I watched someone return to their family because of me, I thought it was a blessing that I had become the Saintess.

So in all my life, I had never once reached for anything — never once wanted something for myself, before anyone else.

But for the first time, there was someone I wanted to keep. Someone I wanted beside me. Someone I had come to love so much that I could not bear to hand him over to anyone else in the world.

I slowly drew the letter in my hand against my chest and held it there.

"I'm truly sorry..."

I breathed the apology once more — an apology Arien would never hear.

And still, this feeling alone was the one thing I could not bring myself to give up.