The Blossoming Bud and the Thief Cat

Time, slipping away like an arrow off a bowstring, had devoured two whole months before I knew it.

Returning to the Academy meant that I had to face my final semester at last.

Truthfully, nothing had changed for those slated to graduate when the last semester began. In my case, I had simply kept holding my place among the top ranks in the recurring mock battles, and that was all there was to it.

Of course, it wasn't just me — Aria, too, had borne unmistakable fruit.

Magic is a thing that swallows countless variations depending on the perspective from which its caster beholds it. In that respect, among all the magical theses submitted this year, Aria's work — lacking not a single flaw, and registered without dispute as the year's most outstanding graduation thesis — was the fruit of her tireless effort.

"Well? What do you think?"

As I stood admiring that badge of honor displayed prominently on the plaza's bulletin board, a familiar voice reached me, lending the power of Conversation to my words.

"All your hard work has finally paid off."

Once a thesis from the Mage Department proved itself worthy of the degree it crowned, word of it spread to magic towers across the land. The mages serving in those towers could then pay to read its contents — and a fixed share of that money flowed, naturally, into Aria's coffers. The greater the ripple it caused, the more it became something like a free pass: her choice of any magic tower in the empire, whatever she pleased.

I had long known her talent was anything but ordinary, but I hadn't expected the bud to burst into full bloom this quickly. And not just one thesis — two of them.

But then, the only person capable of snapping that blooming bud in two was me as well...

"Your eyes are getting lecherous."

"Surely that's a delusion born of some strange prejudice you've settled against me."

"...If you were normal, you'd usually just swallow your shame and serve me with your mouth. You wouldn't go demanding I swallow something as foul-tasting as that, would you?"

"We're outside."

"There's no one around, though, is there? Besides, once this last semester ends, it's your wedding with Lapis, isn't it?"

"That's right."

"Now I'm curious. Whether you'll end up holding a wedding with me the way you did with Lapis — or whether you'll stand there as a guest, congratulating me at mine."

She hadn't needled me with provocations like that in recent months. Graduation was drawing near — and with it, the long-deferred matter of settling the shape of our relationship. She was reminding me, in her own way: don't forget it, and keep your word.

"Don't push me so hard. Not once — not a single time — have I forgotten that promise. It's just..."

"And now you're going to trail off about it, at this late hour?"

"The wedding will go straight ahead right after graduation. I hesitate to say whether I should raise this before it happens, or after."

"That's..."

Aria's own voice faltered at the end, too.

To say it beforehand would wound Lapis's giddy, fluttering heart. But to say it afterward felt like selfishness — like binding her in place first and then demanding her acceptance as an accomplished fact.

There was a clear and honest difference between laying out the choices and letting her consent to one, and barring off every other path before extracting that consent. Aria understood that as well as I did, which was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no doubt why she wasn't being cruel about it.

No — truthfully, since I'd been the one to promise I'd settle everything clearly before my time at the Academy was done, wavering now over the question of my marriage to Lapis was, plainly and simply, a deception of her. A discourtesy.

"Forget it."

But when the long silence finally broke, Aria's answer came back surprisingly clean.

"Before the wedding, after the wedding — do as you please. If you need more time, then you need it."

"..."

"It's awkward to admit, but... I've dropped hints a few times over the years. So unless Lapis is completely oblivious, she's already got a rough sense of what we are to each other."

"Then..."

"Saying she's simply waiting for you to speak first? That's a stretch, I'd think."

"Yeah. I suppose so."

"If she'd meant to let you go, Lapis would have opened her mouth long ago. But she shows no sign of it — so the choice you're hesitating over isn't entirely wrong either."

"What do you mean?"

"On the absolute premise that you have no intention of casting me aside — the very fact that you need more time before making your decision might be exactly what Lapis wants."

As though the point should have been obvious, Aria let out a faint sigh and pressed on.

"You, drowning in guilt because you can't tie things off cleanly. And me, a thief cat forced to secretly covet a man who already belongs to someone, because I can't have my claim acknowledged."

"..."

"The time we spend in this entanglement — for Lapis, it serves at once as a punishment handed down to the two of us, as a comfort to herself, and as an excuse for her own rationalization."

Spelled out that plainly, even I could grasp it without difficulty.

Sharing the person you love with someone else. The very picture of it is, in truth, an agonizing thing. Had our positions been reversed, I don't think I could have tolerated it at all.

But at the point where Lapis could no longer give up being my wife, she was choosing to let this situation stretch on and vent her pent-up frustration through it — and later, when it came time to accept this arrangement, she would tell herself that the two of us had suffered enough in the meantime to warrant her blessing. That was the excuse she was building for herself.

"For my part, at least, I'm content with having finally confirmed that you have no intention of abandoning me. So I have no intention of dragging you off to Lapis this instant and forcing you to settle it. No matter how long this entanglement drags on, it will be tied off before the Demonic Tree revives. Isn't that so?"

"It is..."

"Honestly. Brooding over it with that solemn face of yours, all out of proportion to yourself."

Aria stepped close and, with a smirk, straightened the tie of my Academy uniform.

"I'm used to waiting. Though it was half a year ago that I got impatient with you despite that, which is a bit rich of me... Anyway, no need to rush. Sneaking the candy you've hidden away has pleasures all its own, you know."

Tap.

Aria rapped her knuckles lightly against my chest, the corner of her lips curling upward.

"Fortunately, thieving suits my nature rather well — so rather than useless agonizing, I'll start by taking the things right in front of me, one step at a time."

"..."

"Watching you fret over every little thing on my account only makes my heart uneasy, after all."

"Thank you."

I thought to add an apology as well — but I didn't.

No, I couldn't.

Before the words could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even reach her ears, Aria had already turned on her heel and gone.

It had been about two months since I returned to the Academy, perhaps. Graduation ceremonies began to be held at a surprisingly early date.

Frankly, lingering any longer would only have meant more meaningless idle time, so from my standpoint it was a welcome development.

Having earned excellent marks in the mock battles all along, I was chosen as the joint representative of the Knight Department's graduating class. It seemed that having skipped grades made it feel unfair to send me off alone while the students who had climbed steadily through their first, second, and third years were passed over.

Aria, whose thesis had been selected as the year's finest in the Mage Department, was this year's representative graduate as well. And Lapis hardly needed saying. Alphonse had been picked as his department's representative too.

Save for Dana, who was only now rising into her graduating year, every one of us had been chosen to represent our department's graduates.

There was little joy in it, though. I would have to deliver a speech, which meant lending the power of Conversation to my words — and that stirred in me nothing but irritation at the waste of it.

Still, marveling anew at how eight-tenths of the year had vanished ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the blink of an eye, I threw myself into packing. The chosen representatives would normally be hunched over scribbling their speeches, but thanks to the gift of eloquence I'd been granted as a jack-of-all-trades, I could spare myself that labor.

And so graduation day drew steadily nearer — and on the day itself, I met with Dana.

"So once the semester ends, I'm simply to go down to the Altair Dukedom Territory?"

"Yes. And once I take charge, the territory's name will likely change as well."

It wouldn't do to keep it called the Altair Dukedom Territory — the name of a house that had committed treason — until the end of days.

"It will be the place you return to. So come down whenever it suits you."

Having sent Dana off, I made my way to the Academy's grand hall.

The representative graduates were expected to wait on the stage, so I straightened my clothes and climbed up slowly. Seated and gazing down at the hall below, I found a considerable number of eyes converging on the stage. For some of the chosen students, unused to attention like this, the nerves were written all over them.

Perhaps it was a small mercy, then, that Lapis and Aria, with their peerless presence, drew most of those gazes away. Glancing around for Alphonse, I spotted him seated at the far right, mouthing his speech over and over with fierce concentration. Deciding that going over to talk would only earn me a deathly pale declaration that he'd forgotten everything, I kept quietly to myself.

Some twenty minutes later, the Academy's graduation ceremony began in earnest, opening with the long-winded greetings of professors that would bore anyone to tears.

When the preliminaries ended, each department's representative graduate was called up one by one — receive the diploma, deliver the address, step down.

"The representative graduate of the Knight Department, Rohen Paul Bertian. Please come forward."

My turn from the very start, it seemed. I rose from my seat and walked ahead. As I accepted the diploma and the applause and cheers settled into silence, I gathered myself to address the seated students and my classmates — and then, with a small steadying breath, I slowly gave voice to the speech I had prepared.

After the perfunctory speech and the closing of the ceremony, I wrote a note and passed it to Alphonse.

"When I went down to the Imperial Palace for a time, I had a trading company established in advance under the name Peridot."

"R-really, my lord?"

"Yes."

"Th-thank you!"

Whatever the story behind that name — Peridot — Alphonse's face bloomed with genuine delight.

"There's nothing to thank me for. From now on, you'll be working like a dog."

"L-like... a dog, you say?"

"Don't worry. I'll see you treated like an honored guest."

"I am... deeply humbled, my lord..."

Upon returning, the time had come for me to receive ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my credentials as acting duke and prepare in earnest for the future.

"Let's go."

So that this moment — all of us together — might be the extension of the future itself.

No. It had to be so. I would make certain of it.