The Exchange Diary
"Looks pretty nice."
"Right!?"
The Demon King hung the picture frame she'd made in the kitchen. She'd slipped the portraits we'd drawn on our last trip into it like photographs and mounted the whole thing on the wall. Unlike my relatively passable drawing of her, the picture she'd done of me looked like some kind of space monster. The first time she handed it over, it was so godawful I thought she was spoiling for a fight. Stare at something that ugly long enough, though, and you get used to it.
That was a good time.
The finale of the trip had turned a little melancholy, but the trip itself had been fun, no question. I looked at the Demon King. Same as every morning, she was hanging buff after buff on the Paper Crane.
If I put buffs on the Paper Crane, the time until it turns into a game comes sooner...
Complete bullshit. It was so long ago the memory had gone a little hazy, but that was during the drawing quiz. Back then I'd been spinning my brain every second just to keep from getting killed... Come to think of it, there weren't many moments that dangerous these days.
"Let's play rock-paper-scissors forehead flicks."
"There it is. You little shit."
The Demon King, who had been gradually steering away from violent bets, had apparently suffered a sudden degeneration of her moral character, because she now proposed a life-or-death Shadow Duel right at the dinner table.
"...Do we really have to draw blood? Let's just eat."
"Take a good look at today's menu."
At her words I dropped my gaze. Jerky was tucked in among the canned beans. The long-haired guy had brought it last time.
"It's jerky-bean stir-fry. One has seven pieces of jerky, the other has three. You know what I'm saying?"
"...You sure about this? Even if it's rock-paper-scissors?"
"What are you talking about? Already forgotten yesterday's humiliation?"
True enough — yesterday was the first time I'd ever lost to her at rock-paper-scissors.
"Sorry, but your world is over. I've figured out all your patterns."
Apparently she'd spent the whole night chewing over yesterday's win, setting off fireworks in her own head.
"I've owed you a lot, haven't I? The Oak-Barrel Forehead-Flick Massacre, the Bingo Butt-Bombardment Incident, the Crocodile Finger-Crunch Incident... I'll never forget those as long as I live..."
"Those were all your ideas..."
"Mmm. No need for belated excuses. Excuses are the worst."
The gist was that she intended to pay back every beating she'd taken with the rock-paper-scissors she'd supposedly mastered as of yesterday.
"You sure? You've been getting wrecked at rock-paper-scissors this whole time."
I held up a warning sign for the Demon King, who was cheerfully opening the door to the lion's den all by herself.
"Ohoho. You thought a taunt that works on kids would work on me? How naive."
"Oh, a stegosaurus."
"Oh my, where!? Where, where?"
"Ah, my mistake. So what are we betting?"
"Mm. Winner of rock-paper-scissors gets to flick the loser's forehead. First to five flicks gets to eat this jerky-bean stir-fry. How about it?"
"Alright. Turn off all those Titan-whatever buffs."
"No need. It's not like you'll ever get to hit me anyway."
"Ugh... sniff."
"Want me to stop?"
"...You, right now, you think I can't take it, so you're going easy..."
THWACK!
I hit her right in the middle of her rambling so it would hurt a little less. Her crimson eyes went round and she toppled over backward. After the fifth bombardment, her forehead was flushed a bright, unfamiliar red.
...Same as ever.
Lately she hadn't been picking fights where we beat the crap out of each other for fun, so I'd figured she'd either grown up or her violent streak had mellowed.
"Uuuugh... shiiiit."
Take it all back. That girl clutching her forehead and rolling around on the floor had only stopped making bets because she kept losing to me and kept getting hit. I give her one opening yesterday and she bares her fangs immediately. There's no such thing as a good Demon King after all.
"Then I'll take the jerky-loaded bean stir-fry. Like a gentleman."
"...N-no."
Before she could start talking nonsense, I quickly dunked the spoon I'd been sucking on into the jerky-loaded bean stir-fry and mixed it around.
"Stop rolling around and come eat."
"...Ugh."
Still rubbing her forehead with one hand, she sat down in her chair and started mixing her jerky-bean stir-fry.
"...What's that under the beans?"
"...I-I didn't think I was gonna lose."
The loser's bean stir-fry sitting in front of her. Under the beans, more carrots than you could count had been laid down in a carpet. This little shit. She'd been so sure she'd win, she'd planned to bury me in carrots.
"H-hey. As a courtesy to the enemy, would you eat the carrots?"
Get lost.
"All fun things come to an end. Maybe that's what makes them precious."
In the end, she left every last carrot, sniveling, and dumped them on me to eat. And after all that, she draped her arm over the windowsill and stood there putting on airs, striking a ridiculously grown-up pose.
"...Wanna play Bubble Bobble? I'll give you all the Golden Candies."
"Yeah yeah! Let's! No taking it back la—"
I'd said it offhand, and the Demon King had jumped all the way to the finish line in a single breath. Realizing her slip, she cleared her throat — ahem — and tried to gather the mood again.
"Let's write an Exchange Diary. We'll check them every evening. I've actually been writing one since this morning. Hehe. How about it?"
"...How about it, what."
The word "check" alone was enough to make me bristle. She was already suffering over her fairy-tale deadline, which wasn't far off, and I had no desire to pile on anything else I had to be responsible for. I'd much rather keep doing what we already did — a little chatter with the Demon King before bed, a few games, then sleep.
"I don't need something like that. I never forget a single day I spend with you."
I hit her with one of those greasy lines Nine used to love. Couldn't believe I was doing this kind of thing again. Back then I'd wanted to bite my tongue and die every time I said something like that, but strangely, it was a little better now than it used to be.
"...R-really?"
Swept away on a thick wave of emotion, she looked into my eyes.
"Th-then how many bowls of kimchi stew have you eaten here?"
"What?"
"How many bowls of kimchi stew have you eaten here!?"
She asked with a face swollen full of expectation.
She's insane.
"...Who even counts that kind of thing."
"...What? How do you not know? After eating it that deliciously... scraping the bowl clean! It's seventy-two bowls!"
She jumped to her feet. She looked exactly like a woman scolding a husband who'd forgotten their wedding anniversary.
"Th-then... what was the second question I asked during our drawing quiz?"
The Demon King asked, wearing an expression of utter disbelief.
I remember the first one. It was a seagull. I'd said bastard sword, and she'd corrected me with a face gone ice-cold — it's a seagull — and the whole thing had been so intense I still couldn't forget it.
The second? What was the second one?
That was months ago. Of course I don't remember...
"...Typhon?"
"No! No! That was the fourth one! And it wasn't Typhon, it was chocolate cake! Eeeek!"
The Grand Demon King of Memory strode toward me, her face full of bereavement. And then, with a face that said this was her last hope, she spoke.
"You have to answer this one. Even I can't yield any more than this."
"...Yeah."
"How many times did you hug me this week?"
You little shit. How would I even know. I kept hugging her whenever.
I dug through my memory as hard as I could. Before bed I pretty much hugged her once... a few days ago during Bubble Bobble I hugged her once... ah, I think I hugged her when we dug up golden potatoes the day before yesterday too... no. Was that just a high-five?
"Fourteen times?"
At my most carefully considered answer, she opened sad eyes.
And then she started stroking the Paper Crane. The whole scene reeked of a morning drama — the soon-to-be widow whispering, Sweetie, I don't think Daddy loves us anymore. From now on, just trust Mommy.
Come on. Is this really that big a deal.
"...Right. To you, we were just some dinosaur plushies you don't even remember hugging."
What a performance...
After soothing the Paper Crane, she came over and asked with sparkling eyes.
"The Exchange Diary... let's just try writing it for today. Okay?"
"Fine. Alright."
That's the story of how I ended up with a pen in my hand.
After pulling cabbages, finishing the doll sewing, and even wrapping up Iron Fist (no illusions allowed), I had to submit the Exchange Diary as promised.
Scratch, scratch.
An Exchange Diary, huh.
She's a girl too, I guess. So she's got this kind of sentimental streak in her.
"I'm done! Kihihi. You still going?"
"Almost done."
"Yeah yeah! Don't feel pressured, just write whatever!"
Excited about the new content, she bounced on her feet as she asked.
Scratch, scratch.
"Here! Yours too!"
"Here."
She snatched the Exchange Diary I held out and flopped onto the bed to start reading.
Then I'll read hers too...
!!!
What the hell is this wall of text.
I'm writing this diary in real time.
My friend still isn't up. I went into the warehouse and took out the picture frame I'd been putting together little by little over the past few days. Pat, pat — I dusted it off and wiped the glass. Looks nice.
I took a deep breath and fitted in the picture I won from my friend at stone-skipping on our last trip (he absolutely did NOT let me win). I'd made the frame to match the size, but my hands were shaking in case it was off. This is the only glass I have.
The result...
A perfect fit! I was so happy I almost woke my friend with Roar of the Berserk Dragon just to show it off! He'd probably understand if he saw this frame! But later. Showing it later is the right call, right? Being the mature person I am, I held it in and looked over today's game list.
I picked and picked among twelve games, and in the end I decided rock-paper-scissors — the one I'd just beaten my friend at — would be best. Yesterday I won super easily, but who knows how today will go. I went back to the room and practiced rock, paper, scissors against my sleeping friend's hand for a while. Doing that made my forehead and my butt that my friend had mercilessly hit, and my finger the crocodile had bitten, start to hurt. Bad guy.
Next I have to make the bait to lure him into a rock-paper-scissors bet. Of course my friend already loves playing games with me, but it'll be even more fun with a prize on the line! After thinking it over, I made jerky-bean stir-fry.
I'm sure if it's my friend, he'd go, "Woooooow! Jerky-bean stir-fry! It's jerky-bean stir-fry! This looks so freaking good!" and love it. Oh, right! After he takes my forehead flicks and his forehead turns red, I'll make him eat carrots too. This is such a good idea. If I hide them under the beans he definitely won't see them, right? He's been making me cry a lot lately. So I'll make him bawl his eyes out soon. Debts have to be collected. Time to go make breakfast.
Is this a diary or a field report.
Even after reading this far, I still hadn't gotten through a quarter of it. Below that she'd written her reflections on pulling cabbages today, her own shortcomings during Iron Fist, points she needed to improve, and she'd recorded every single combo I'd used today. As for dinner, as if she hadn't eaten at all, she'd only written about what I'd enjoyed eating.
This lunatic.
I looked over at the Demon King.
Her expression was not good. She kept flipping through the barren diary with a look that said, surely this isn't all of it. Then her eyes, sharp as a viper's, met mine.
"...My diary's a little more... sparse than yours, huh?"
At my careful question, she let out an empty laugh.
The Demon King came closer.
She held up the Exchange Diary I'd written, open, right in front of my face.
The Demon King made a picture frame. It was cool.
I beat the Demon King at rock-paper-scissors. I won so I ate the jerky. But I also ate the carrots.
Today I pulled a lot of big cabbages. The Demon King's cabbages were all small. Fighting!
We played Iron Fist. I think I've gotten better lately. Fighting!
Dinner was kimchi stew and beans, which I like. The seasoning was a bit saltier than usual today.
"Is this a diary? Or a poem?"
A voice like a sheet of ice.
"...No, a diary is originally just modest little thoughts about the day..."
The Demon King took my cheeks in both snow-white hands and pulled my face up to hers. Right in front of my eyes, her rose-pink lips moved.
"Will do."