Departure
Remi Akaia was in a terrible mood right now. For someone who always answered "Aris!" when asked, "Do you like Mommy or Daddy more?", it was unthinkable that Aris had gone out on a date with Anna—just the two of them. And Anna was the one who'd hurt Aris before, wasn't she? Aris went off with Anna again, Remi muttered to herself. She was the one who always played with her, took care of her, stayed by her side. The fact that Aris seemed to prefer Anna over her own sister was infuriating. Of course, it was all part of Aris's calculated plan, but Remi had no way of knowing that. Even someone as blissfully innocent as Remi—whose mind was a perpetual flower garden—harbored this tiny grudge.
Aris was so good, almost like the reincarnation of an angel. But that sister of hers? Far from cherishing such an angel, she'd shoved her away without so much as an apology. For a siscon who mumbled like a mantra about wanting to keep her little sister in her eyes forever, this solo hunting trip was surely unbearable.
"But Aris said just for today..."
Thwack. She loosed an arrow at the innocent ground. Nothing but barren earth. Predictably, no game appeared, and the arrow sailed harmlessly into the snow-covered dirt, dangling there pathetically. With a sigh, the princess trudged onward. Her servants would clean up the stray arrows later. Poor things. This princess... had zero intention of actually hunting...!!
All she wanted was to rush to Aris, hug her tight, and rub cheeks—but she held back, endured, for one simple reason. Her sister had said just today. She'd asked her to wait. So she would. Remi Akaia believed. She believed that once today passed, everything would return to normal, just as Aris promised. That her wild, study-shirking sister would snap out of it and become the model student again. That Aris, who ignored her own wounds—body and soul—to watch their eldest sister's unraveling, would finally nestle safely in her arms. That they'd all go back to those happy days. She believed it firmly.
If Aris saw Remi now, she'd think: That's why you're arrogant, sis. Death could lurk anywhere, anytime. So anticipate it everywhere. There's no rule saying tomorrow must be happy just because today is. Remi had forgotten that.
Noise drifted from afar—a commotion on this grand celebratory day. Intruders disrupting the festivities? Curious, and with nothing better to do, she wandered toward the source.
"...-_-!!"
"...Grandpa Feyrn..?"
Remi spotted Aris's sword instructor at a glance. And there he was, panting urgently, speaking to her father—the ever-kind, never-angry man who now looked frantic. Beside him, a woman astride a horse steamed with white breath, trembling as she handed something to a servant. Urgent report for Father, huh, Remi thought. Obviously. Who'd dare cause a scene at a royal event just to report to some noble? No matter their rank, etiquette and protocol demanded restraint. The recipients could only be the king and queen.
Remi figured it was none of her business, but as she watched from afar, her parents' faces grew grave. Her steps quickened toward them. What was happening? Closing in until fragmented words carried on the wind, she heard the one word she could claim to know better than anyone.
'Aris.'
A name. A word to distinguish one from another. Hers, yet used more by others. Mumbled phrases sharpened into meaning. And amid them, Remi noticed Aris's name invoked far too often.
The realization hit. She bolted at a speed she'd never reached before.
Finally close enough to hear clearly, she caught one line from Feyrn—chopped at both ends, incomprehensible, unthinkable to her mind.
".....!!"
But Remi needed no more. That one phrase sufficed. She spun on her heel, spotted an unattended horse, mounted it. Knights moved to stop her—sensing something—but it was futile. No one here could halt a princess with fire in her eyes. That person was far away. In danger.
Yah! Faster. Faster..!!
Cleaving the wind, Remi Akaia spurred her horse for her precious sister.
"What has four legs at breakfast, two at lunch, and three at dinner?"
A riddle from the Sphinx in the Greek-Roman myth of Oedipus. Why a Egyptian monument quizzes in Greco-Roman lore? That's the real mystery—but they're different. Greco-Roman myths have their own Sphinx monster. Some say they're the same; whatever, not my problem.
The answer? Human. Overused as beef broth—even a five-year-old knows it. Babies crawl on four, adults walk on two, elders hobble on three. Cane included.
What am I getting at? Krunch!
"Kiyaaaaah—!!! It hurts, hurts, HURTS!!!!"
"Hahahahahahaha!!!"
Infant Aris here. Baby me. Crawling on all fours. Having cast aside human dignity, I rolled on the ground as Anna's plaything for her pleasure. Her hunting boot—studded sole rough as sandpaper—crushed my hand mercilessly. The arrow-pierced one she'd chosen. Intentional or not, she stomped full-force right on the embedded shaft.
Crunch, crackle-crunch, snap. Sounds no hand should make. Like electricity surging from my hand, frying nerves along bone to my brain. So much pent-up rage, sis... You wanted the rabbit first... Didn't know... Sorry... Actually I did... Truly sorry...
"S-sis... please... please, come baaaack—AAACK!?"
"I said shut up—!!!"
Kicks rained down. I crawled to escape the torrent of violence. Hng. Clothes soaked in my blood and caked with dirt. Ptoo—spat out a clotted gob stuck in my throat. Just as she wanted: wretched, groveling, screaming in terror, fleeing pathetically. Anna laughed gleefully, pursuing.
Trees thinned overhead. Distant rush of water grew. Hands grasped stone over soil. She'd been herding me somewhere—I knew it. Arrows and blows shoved me in one direction. Even in extremity, Anna strived to drown me in despair. Impressive as ever, sis.
But reverie shattered; the endless chase I wished eternal ended. Clack—a pebble dislodged by my scramble tumbled away. Swept into rapids, gone without trace. A sheer cliff, dozens of meters deep. Below, roaring torrent confirmed by sound alone. Nature's vastness screamed: no further. Escape led only to despair. Aaah, this is what you wanted to show me. You craved my understanding of your pain, sis. Our destination: an impassable precipice.
I let out a moan thick with awe.
"Ah.... aaah...!!"
"Ahahahahaha!! Thought you could escape!? Huh!?"
I turned. From shadows, Anna emerged, swords drawn in both hands, advancing slowly. Thud, thud—each step terrified. My face probably wore despair now. I'd die soon, after all.
Whoosh—at ten meters, she hurled one sword. I squeezed eyes shut. But it missed. Thunk—it stabbed precisely between my legs. Not meant to kill; she gripped the other with both hands, assuming stance.
...Why? Just kill me already... It's ending, so what now?
One leg forward, one back. Sword tip aimed at me. Like a sparring match—
"My head hurts. Throbbing like it'll kill me even now."
"...S-sis...?"
Those pitch-black eyes, glaring as if dying to tear me apart. Yet Anna Akaia dwelt within. From start to end—even when I yearned to look away—I'd faced her fully, unflinching. No implanted emotion or shamanism. Nothing so cheap. Pure, unadulterated truth from Anna Akaia.
"Will killing you end this pain?"
"No... nooo... sis..."
With my one intact arm, I covered my eyes. Drip, drip. Tears poured like rain. Arms and clothes couldn't staunch them—they soaked sleeves, pants, then earth. Not from sadness. From joy.
"Draw your sword, Aris Akaia."
"Don't wanna... fight you... waaaah!!"
To Anna, I was her persistent curse, trailing her. Her eyes said it: Though she'd fled once, confrontation was inevitable. Our fate. Thus the noble one now sought to exorcise her self-inflicted curse.
"—Or I'll kill Remi."
"Ah..... aaah...!!"
The final trial began. I drew my sword.
Deep down, I wanted to best Aris. That it was my sister made me feel vile. But even knowing defeat, knowing it futile thrashing, I craved it...
Just surrendering to impulse would ease the heart. Curse me. Mock me. It's right. Too late to turn back—I know...!
But... that final step... I'll take it myself.
Tomorrow. Next, maybe the one after. Episode concludes.