Change (2)
Life gradually became familiar.
The hand that gripped the dagger had grown quite practiced, and whether from fragments of a past life, dagger techniques had become fairly familiar as well.
Laika, who kept joking that she'd keep visiting our house, had become familiar too—and so had Cronian, the uncle who pretended to be cold but cared for the guild members more than anyone.
I could even read and write a little now.
Though that was putting it generously.
Claudia.
Ceria.
Rhea.
Riel.
Family.
Love.
Childhood friends.
Promise.
Well—that was about all I could manage, scrawling those words in a crooked hand.
As life as an apprentice guild member gradually settled into routine, and I steadily saved money, two things began to emerge that I could never grow used to.
The first was revenge.
On the way to the slums, on the path that led past that place toward the guild, Sister Flora's phantom always stood waiting. The way she had shielded us when we were being beaten. The way she looked when she came to the slums to earn money. The warm voice that held us close, saying she loved us, calling us my child.
And then...
Fuck.
It was only imagination, but the image of Sister being dragged away, screaming—Loren, that unforgettable piece of shit—the image of her being beaten by him filled a corner of the slums in my mind. The suffering of Sister Flora, who had only ever shown us a warm smile and gentle warmth, shimmered before my eyes, and the impulse and rage that rose unbidden never became familiar.
The other was the children, who had lately begun—little by little—to show their discontent.
...I hate you! I told you... a tail is something the person you love brushes for you... Claudia was always waiting only for Riel...
Every time Claudia, who had always adored me, let her complaints show, it felt as if my heart dropped straight through my chest.
The time we used to spend together all day after I came home from work had, for all practical purposes, been cut in half once I started going to the guild. There was simply no way I could make the trip without rest. And so, whenever we couldn't spend time together, Claudia would sniffle and wipe at her tears.
She said she hated me. That I'd changed. That she was a discarded wolf-beastkin of the Wolf Tribe—and wasn't Riel abandoning her too?
Sometimes, perhaps because the reality we faced was so bleak, even I forgot that I was a child—and it seemed Rhea, Ceria, and Claudia forgot they were children as well. Everyone said we had matured faster than other kids our age, but even so, it was as if we had erased the fact that we still needed someone to look after us.
When I saw her tail, tangled and stripped of its luster. When I overheard Claudia alone in the bedroom, tearful, resenting me—
That day was truly exhausting. The fact that the people I loved were sad and struggling was almost too much to bear.
When I cut back on time with Rhea and Ceria for Claudia's sake, the two of them spoke up as well.
Ceria said that if I played favorites, the promise might break. Rhea said that if I claimed to like her, why did I keep leaving her alone—and that she hated me for it.
I also heard that they knew I was going to the slums, and that it seemed I had forgotten Sister Flora and no longer prayed.
Lately—and it was a ridiculous thought, an absurd one—I even wondered if everyone hated me. If they resented me. If I was so inadequate that I kept thinking of Sister. If the promise I had made from the start was one I could never keep...
Those kinds of frightening thoughts.
Because the three of them, when I wasn't there, looked so happy, smiling so warmly—and yet when it was just the two of us, instead of the old words of affection and gratitude, all I heard were complaints and grievances: that they hated me, that they disliked me, why didn't I do the things I used to do?
Was it because I wasn't telling them I loved them that they felt hurt?
"...Ha."
A laugh slipped out.
Of course they would feel hurt.
I feel hurt.
Sad.
It aches.
It's hard.
Maybe these days hurt a little more than when I was beaten at the general store. A little more than when a goblin nearly crushed my skull and killed me.
No. No.
Rhea, Ceria, Claudia. The childhood friends I loved, the ones I even played house with.
I told myself they were just young—that I was young too, but they were younger still—and simply laughed it off. Hating them or feeling resentful was harder than I expected. Hard enough that I corrected the thought the moment it formed.
...Still. Still, I'm glad.
Even so, I genuinely thought I was fortunate. Rhea and Ceria no longer fought the way they had when they gossiped about me behind my back, and Claudia would mix in with the two of them and smile as if she were happy. The thing that had been hardest of all—the promise that bound us as a family—hadn't broken. If anything, I thought, it had grown more solid, the way iron is hammered until it hardens. I thought that for all my shortcomings, we were leaning on each other.
And the fact that I had saved a fair amount of money was a comfort as well. Even if I thought of it as the price of a life that might end any day as an adventurer, I had put away quite a bit. We had always been so short on everything we were gasping for air—and yet if I tightened my belt, I had enough to send two of them to the Academy.
Tomorrow we would all turn a year older. Rhea and I would be thirteen; Ceria and Claudia, twelve.
Lately, because I came home so late and couldn't do the things I used to, things had grown a little awkward—but I still knew that everyone liked me. If they truly hated me, they wouldn't let me brush a tail, or pray together, or cook together. They wouldn't go into the village with me from time to time.
And maybe that was why it was even harder. Being able to send two to the Academy meant one would be left out. No matter how long I turned it over, no answer came, so—as always—I rose from bed in the dark of a dawn that had not yet broken.
I wanted to be with all of them even a little longer. If I finished the training I had to do at the guild even a little sooner, I could stay a little longer. I knew our relationship wasn't the kind that should fill up with complaints and grievances. I knew we only needed time—so I wanted to leave for the guild even a little earlier.
I took up my dagger and went outside the church, clearing the snow that had settled on Sister's grave. I tried to imagine what she would have said to me if she were still alive.
When I closed my eyes, it almost seemed as if Sister Flora were there. Smiling, looking at how hard I had worked.
But then—
Loren. That bastard kept rising up, and the warm words Sister would have given me never quite reached my ears.
Instead of hearing an answer, I just had to do better—and show her all of us living happily together.
"...Please. Watch over us."
Only after offering a prayer to Sister did I set out along the snow-covered road toward the slums.
Laika had said she would fill out the Academy enrollment papers for me.
A fair amount of time had passed.
It had already been several months since Riel started going to the guild.
The affection they felt for him had only grown larger. Saying they hated him because they wanted to be with him had been painful at first—but now it was different.
Hearing Riel apologize. Being taken into the village from time to time. When it was just the two of them, applying salve to the training wounds on his body. Listening to him say he loved them, that he would make them happy, and apologizing for having been so harsh—forcing the wounds closed.
All of them were gradually growing used to it. Feeling Riel's apologies as affection. Feeling that the time he set aside specially for them, different from the others, was something extraordinarily precious. Making Riel smile by saying, even belatedly, that they loved him and hadn't meant it—after they themselves had been the ones to hurt him.
They thought that stitching up, even late, the wounds they had stabbed open with words was a way of confirming each other's hearts. They thought that this twisted affection—this favoritism—was something they themselves were receiving.
Riel, who had changed even his dreams for Sister Flora, who had saved him and his childhood friends from the slums, and for the family he loved. Everything he did to keep the promise made before her grave—they thought all of it was affection directed at them.
"...Eat."
Rhea boiled stew and set a portion in front of each of their rooms. It was always like this once Riel left. The laughter that used to fill the church had faded, and they no longer spoke.
Even when they did, it was only about what was strictly necessary. Fetching water. Tending Sister's grave. Things they could manage the way they used to, without Riel.
And after that, they would go back to acting like strangers again...
Today was no different. The moment Riel left, each of them shut themselves in their own rooms.
Claudia deliberately twisted her tail fur until it could no longer tangle any further, so she could tell Riel he hated her. Ceria, having realized that talking about Sister Flora was an effective way to touch Riel's guilt, deliberately rubbed at her eyes—so she could say she had cried because thinking of Sister made her so sad, and why didn't Riel pray? Rhea deliberately ground the kitchen knife unevenly against a stone so she would cut herself while cooking. That way, Riel would leave the others and come to her.
But today was going to be different.
The moment Claudia asked him to brush her tail, Ceria said Sister had come to mind, and Rhea claimed she had cut herself on the kitchen knife—approaching Riel the way they always did—
"...Haa."
Riel sighed.
His eyes, unlike usual, were sad and heavy, and at the end of that exhausted look—in his right hand, where scars now seemed a matter of course—he held the Academy enrollment papers.
"...I'm sorry. It's because I'm not enough. I'll try harder... so even if it hurts, please bear with me, okay?"
But the three of them, who still couldn't read well, had no idea what those papers were. Purely out of worry and sadness at Riel looking so different—or rather, as always, with the cynical thought that they could worry and feel sad later, as long as they got his attention now—they answered coldly.
"...What am I supposed to put up with?"
"...You just don't want to pray, is that it?"
"...My tail... it hurts... Can't we talk later...?"
To those three girls, Riel said:
"I have to tell you this now."
He held up the Academy enrollment papers, his expression sad.
"...Rhea. Ceria. Claudia. Starting next year, only two of the three of you can attend the Academy."
Rhea's eyes lit up. So did Ceria's. So did Claudia's.
Because they thought that if they went to the Academy, they would be the ones Riel cherished more than the one left behind.
"...Then why do you look so sad?"
When Rhea asked, sharp and prickly, Riel spoke through tears.
"...You'd have to be apart for four months, twice a year. If you attend the Academy, they said you have to live in the dormitories they provide..."
All of them froze solid, like ice.
"Rhea, do you want to go...? Being a magician was your dream, so if you go to the Academy, you'll definitely be able to learn magic."
Riel looked at Rhea and asked.
"Ceria? Sister said she attended a small academy too, even if it wasn't much... I heard you have to take an exam to become a sister in the Orthodox Church."
He looked at Ceria and asked again.
"...If you want to be a beautiful mother, you'll need to learn how to care for a child. How to live. Maybe... you might even make friends from the Wolf Tribe who understand you better than I do, Claudia."
Last of all, he looked at Claudia and asked.
Not one of the girls could answer. Going to the Academy was something to look forward to, certainly—but not enough to be apart from Riel for four months at a time.
"...Th-the slum. I think it would be better if Rhea from the slums went, Riel. Sh-she has the most to learn, r-right?"
"...What?"
"...C-Claudia thinks s-so too."
Ceria spoke first, on instinct, and Claudia hurriedly nodded along. Rhea's red eyes narrowed as she glared at Ceria for bringing up the slums and all the rest of it.