How to Overcome Childhood (2)
For several days, nothing happened at all.
We had earned quite a bit of money, so we could afford to rest for a while—and that made the quiet all the more complete.
The next morning, Sister Flora looked at the donation I had slipped in and wept soft, grateful tears, offering a prayer of thanks to God for the blessing. She even smiled, saying it might be a good omen.
“Oh… you’re not going out today…?”
“Mm. Why? Would Ceria rather I went out?”
“Ah, n-no! I-it’s just… I’m so happy… When you come back, you always look so tired…”
“Today I’m going to play with my little ones. Is that all right?”
“R-really?”
“Yeah. You don’t want to…?”
“N-no! I-I do! I like it!”
For the first time in a very long while, Sister Flora did not wander the village. She did not spend more than ten hours begging for even a single coin like a beggar, nor did she offer prayers with that anxious look in her eyes. She played with Ceria, Claudia, Rhea, and me for hours, then stopped by the market in our place. For us, she bought rough cloth clothes so we could endure the cold. For the Orthodox Church people who would soon visit, she prepared simple refreshments.
Of course, she did not spend every last coin on them. Even knowing that recognition from the Orthodox Church would mean support from churches in major territories, towns, and cities, she made sure to leave a share for us.
Part of what remained she used on us—things that might have been mere snacks to others, but to us were pure luxuries.
Candy. Cookies. Caramel dusted with pure white sugar.
We were children, after all. We loved sweet things.
It was the first time I had ever eaten candy. The first time I had ever held leftover snacks of my own.
Claudia spat one out, saying it was so sweet the tip of her tongue stung—but in the end we all ate them with delight, laughing that something so delicious and sweet could exist in the world.
It was peace, after so long.
No one fought over who got more. No one had to leave the children behind while they begged to be played with and head into the village. When they were happy, the children leaned on one another and played. Today they seemed especially cheerful—perhaps because they had sometimes watched other people with envy. Rhea, eleven years old and a little old for playing house, smiled at Ceria and said:
“…All right. Just this once, you can play house with us too!”
“…What’s playing house, Rhea?”
“Umm… it means we become a family! Claudia, come here too.”
Rhea called Claudia over from the corner where she was quietly grooming her tail with her hands. We never really left her out, but Claudia had always been the shy one. I smiled at the quiet consideration. We were unfortunate, but every one of us had a good heart.
“…You’re including Claudia too?”
“We don’t discriminate against the Wolf Tribe.”
“…B-but… w-we’re already a family…”
“Y-yeah, but we’re not a real family…”
“…Sister Flora said… we’re all we have in the world. That we’re family who share something thicker than blood…?”
“…Y-you…!”
Claudia curled her tail around herself and answered Rhea.
“…Don’t talk back!”
In that instant, something must have rubbed her the wrong way. Rhea bonked Claudia lightly on the head. Claudia’s startled tail and ears shot straight up.
“Hyeek—! O-okay… I-I understand…”
Sometimes Rhea’s hands moved before her thoughts—that was one of her worse habits. Strangely, though, Ceria and Claudia would just smile and take it whenever she hit them.
Rhea and I had been orphans from the start. Ceria and Claudia had not. Maybe they were afraid of being abandoned again, afraid of anything that might drive a wedge between them and the only family they had left. From my corner of the orphanage, where I was already fretting over which sewer to visit next so I could earn even a little more, the scene did not sit well with me. I walked over and gave Rhea the exact same bonk on the head.
“Ow—!”
Rhea looked up at me with a sulky face, her eyes asking why. I answered shortly.
“Playing house means becoming a family. Are you going to hit family?”
“…U-uh… n-no…”
“Apologize. To Claudia.”
When I told her to apologize, her cheeks puffed out in protest. She clenched the hem of her worn skirt so hard it might tear—she knew that, and still she gripped it that tightly. That was how unfair it felt to her.
“…Riel, why do you always take their side? I-I’ve been with you the longest! You like me best! Y-you said you’d marry me…”
Sometimes Rhea treated me like someone special. Until Ceria and Claudia had arrived one after another, holding Sister Flora’s hands, it had only been the two of us. Whenever Sister went out for hours trying to scrape together even a little donation money, we had always been together.
I was the one who had taught her how to play house. Rhea had been such a dark, sorrowful-looking child that I had suggested we at least pretend at a happy future. In her own way, she had probably decided to let the others join a game that used to be just ours. Her intentions had been good, and now she was being scolded for them—of course she was sulking. Still, wrong was wrong.
“Ceria and Claudia are precious too. You know that, Rhea. Apologize. Or else I’ll just go outside and look at bugs.”
At the mention of looking at bugs, Rhea flinched. “Looking” was only a word—what it really meant was going out to earn money, and that meant I would not come back for hours.
“…Hiiing.”
She made a deflated little sound, then trudged over and hugged Claudia.
“I’m sorry.”
“Mm. It’s okay.”
Then Ceria, who had been standing blankly, slipped right between them. She grinned and said she was okay too. That seemed to annoy Rhea all over again, but this time she hugged Ceria without a word. When they carefully pulled apart, Rhea came padding over to me, hesitant.
“Play house with us. It’s no fun without Riel. There’s no one to be the dad.”
It was not the apology I would have preferred, but looking at Claudia and Ceria, she seemed to have accepted it. The moment I nodded, Rhea brightened and tugged my hand.
“I’ll be the mom. Ceria can be the daughter. Riel, you be the dad.”
“What about me?”
“…The puppy.”
She had meant nothing cruel by it, but to Claudia the word landed differently. There was a reason people said pure hearts could still be cruel. Rhea just stared blankly at her, but Claudia was not the same. She had laughed “hehe” even when she got bonked—yet the moment she was called a puppy, her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m not a puppy. I-I’m a wolf. My mom and dad said we’re brave wolves!”
Was it shame at being called a puppy instead of a wolf? I stepped up beside Claudia, whose tail was trembling, and took her hand.
“Claudia can be the mom.”
“…Hweh? Huh?”
“I-I’m the mom…”
“You’ve already done it a lot, Rhea.”
Claudia looked at me, then whipped her head away. I had been about to say she did not have to if she hated it, that maybe she could try another role—
“…H-here. Eat this.”
Apparently she did not hate it after all. Claudia held out one of the snacks Sister Flora had given us. Maybe she had felt envy all those times Rhea insisted on playing house alone with me.
“…Eat it!”
In any case, the game of house had begun. Claudia, who had been sulking, approached Rhea.
“Baby, time to eat.”
And Rhea snapped,
“No! Get out!”
Ceria, who seemed to want a turn as mom herself, came up beside me and called,
“…Honey!”
“…There’s only one mom. What are we supposed to do if you become a mom too, Ceria?”
“But Sister Flora said nobles keep several wives.”
“…Riel isn’t a noble.”
“Sister said kind people get rewarded later. Riel plays with me… gives me snacks… comforts me… and… mm… uuuh… he’s just kind… Can’t he be made a noble?”
“…Then I’m being the mom too.”
Claudia beamed as if she were the official wife and kept the game going, while Ceria and Rhea argued in a rare display. The atmosphere never turned truly ugly, though. At some point Sister Flora, who had been watching us, spoke up.
“Riel, you’re popular, aren’t you?”
The moment Sister appeared, the game of house ended. Even with her nun’s robe pulled low, her beauty could not be hidden. More beautiful still was the warm heart that kept caring for us even while she was insulted as a witch’s child—the warmth that would go to meet the very Orthodox Church people who had persecuted her, all for our sake.
“Sister!”
“Are you leaving now?”
“Th-the Orthodox Church people… th-they’re coming to visit, right?!”
The Orthodox Church people had sent a letter saying they did not know where our church—no, our orphanage—was, and that she should come to the village herself. Why they would claim not to know the location after sending a letter, I could not say.
“So I’m going. Don’t fight, and wait nicely for me, all right? Understood?”
Only after hugging each of us did Sister leave the church. She called me over, pressed two silver coins into my hand, and whispered that if she was a little late I should buy some bread. After seeing her off, I watched until she became a distant speck, then we went back to playing house.
There were three moms, but everyone still managed to have fun in their own way. We did not stop even when the sun went down. When the cold evening air poured in through the crumbling walls, we lowered the cloth we used in place of a window to block the wind and lit a candle.
Everyone clearly wondered when she would return, but by then it was already past bedtime. Feeling a strange little thrill at staying up so late, we whiled away the hours with idle talk.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Rhea spoke first. We were all worn out from playing house, lying on the makeshift beds of gathered rags.
“…I-I… w-want to help other people, like Sister Flora!”
“What about you, Claudia?”
“…I-I want to make a family. B-be a mom… b-become a mom… hiiing… I’ll be a mom… have a baby and raise it pretty…”
“…What, Claudia, are you crying? Sister said crybabies don’t get presents.”
“I-I’m not crying! R-Rhea, I-I hate you. Y-you always tease me… Ceria and Riel are nice…”
“…I-I already said I was sorry!”
“…Mm, I’ll accept it. S-so… d-don’t get mad…”
Claudia sniffled and wiped her tears with her own tail. Then she asked,
“…Rhea, what do you want to do when you grow up?”
Rhea did not answer. Maybe she was thinking it over. While everyone waited, the late night of play caught up with them and they drifted off one by one. Only when they were all asleep did Rhea speak.
“…I wish Riel wouldn’t go outside alone for us. I just… wish he’d stay here and play with us.”
The others might not have known, but I did. Before Ceria and Claudia came to the orphanage—before Sister Flora took us in—I had heard those words over and over.
Thank you for saving me.
Thank you for staying with me.
When I look at Riel, my chest gets all ticklish.
It feels weird, like the wind is blowing!
“Don’t work so hard by yourself… We’re childhood friends, so I wish you’d ask me for help too…”
Rhea tossed and turned a few more times before falling asleep.
Childhood friends.
Close enough to play house together—best friends.
I lay thinking for a while, then drifted off myself. Rhea had seemed especially happy when she heard about the Orthodox Church. Had she been mean to Claudia and Ceria just to get attention, because she already knew everything? Because she knew I left to work? Turning it over brought no answer. When I woke, Sister would be back.
But Sister did not return. Not even by the next evening.
“I’ll go check. Wait here. All right?”
Uneasy, I headed into the village and heard people talking—witch, heretic after all. They even praised the Orthodox Church for treating a heretic instead of killing her. Wondering what they meant, I went to the village clinic and found Sister Flora lying there in a terrible state. Her lips were split; she was covered in wounds and dirt as if she had been beaten. They claimed to have treated her, yet they had simply left her in a corner.
I wanted to take her with me, but the villagers would not allow it. She needed care—if they left her like that, the wounds would fester and grow worse. The two silver coins Sister had given me were probably our entire fortune. I held them out, eyes filling with tears.
Being a child turned out to be a mercy. A child crying and offering money was enough to make them step aside.
I took Sister into my arms, but carrying her was far too hard. Her black robes dragged and scraped; blood showed where her knees had scraped the ground. I could not lift her properly, so dirt and stone cut into her. In the end, for the first time, I called the other children.
They had been excited at the idea of going into the village, but their faces crumpled as they clung to Sister. Together we carried her back to the ruin where people who had once hoped for blessings now lived without a single blessing of their own.
Stomachs growled, but no one complained. Sister was asleep.