The Dance of Mahanaim (2)
"Haaah……."
The woman let out a long, ragged breath and dropped onto the floor.
The room was heated, though not fiercely, and the thin short-sleeved shirt she wore was hardly clothing for early spring. Even so, beads of sweat stood out on her skin, and her brown hair clung damply to the nape of her neck.
"Good work, Miss Ninomae."
The other woman who had been watching her—Ninomae Hitomi—said it with a smile. Her own hair was tied back with a hair tie, and like Ninomae, she was dressed for ease of movement.
"That was truly perfect. Do exactly that much tomorrow, when it counts, and it'll be the finest stage you could ask for."
She was a dance trainer employed by Anathema Production, and the one who had created the choreography for several of the original songs Ninomae would perform at the upcoming live.
"That's... isn't the praise a little much?"
She said it modestly, yet she couldn't quite hide the way the corners of her mouth kept creeping into a grin. Fond of the cute attempt to pretend otherwise, the trainer smiled and praised her again.
"I'm not exaggerating. If this were before I left my old company, I might have tried to scout you at least once."
She had mentioned working as a dance trainer at some entertainment agency. That was more or less the background Ninomae's manager had passed along when they were first introduced.
"I never heard from your manager that your physical ability was this good."
"Ah, that's... um. Yes. I only started exercising recently."
"Wow. You started recently, and you're already like this? That's a genuinely blessed talent."
Ninomae laughed, awkward, and looked away.
In truth she owed it to the power of magic, and that left her with a prickle of guilt—the feeling of being praised after doping in secret. But the trainer and the manager alike were people of the surface, and the truth was not something she could tell them.
Ah, no. This is part of my ability too...! Right. It definitely is. Definitely.
So Ninomae comforted herself. Or, as one might also say, she turned her eyes from the truth.
Still seated, she scooted across the floor on her backside. Whether she was too spent to stand, or simply couldn't be bothered, was impossible to say.
"Stay there. I'll bring it to you."
Having guessed what she was after, the trainer got up and fetched a light-gray tumbler from Ninomae's tote.
"Ah, thank you."
Ninomae took it with a small smile and drank deep, gulping until her throat was wet.
"By the way, what is that, exactly? You've been bringing it every time lately... A supplement? Some kind of enzyme drink?"
"No. It's similar, but that sort of thing is pseudoscience to begin with, so it doesn't really have much to do with health... I don't think."
She lost her certainty halfway through, because the first axiom of the hidden world had surfaced unbidden. Pseudoscience or not—if enough people believed in it, wouldn't some effect actually appear? The thought struck her all at once. On reflection, though, it hardly mattered, and she let the question go.
"It's figs steeped in honey and a few other things. As for whether it's healthy... hmm, honestly, I don't know. I drink it purely for the taste."
The ingredients sounded like something that would sell beautifully under an all-natural pitch, but with that much sugar in the mix, she could hardly call it good for you. Thinking so, Ninomae peered into the tumbler's dim interior, where a fig drink whose flavor had turned strangely different of late sloshed against the walls.
Originally it had been a take-it-or-leave-it arrangement: if Han Seoyeon happened to brew some, she drank it, and if not, that was fine. But the scent of the new batch of cheong—honeyed fruit syrup—they had received not long ago was appetizing enough that she had asked Seoyeon to pack it whenever she came in to the company to prepare for the live.
A sweet-and-sour fragrance lingered on her tongue. Tasting it, Ninomae found herself, for no clear reason, remembering a few days before.
"Huh. Is this the one you usually drink?"
"The one I usually drink? In what sense do you mean?"
"You know. You said you'd gotten a new batch this time, right? But I can't smell that scent I caught for a moment back then..."
"Ah. Ah, that. You mean that. Um, well... yes. I thought we ought to finish what was left first, so for the time being I used the usual..."
"I see... I'm really sorry, but could you brew me just one more cup? I'd like to get a clear taste of the new one, too."
For some reason, Han Seoyeon had worn an exceedingly strange expression then—a degree of fluster she had shown only when Ninomae, unable to hold the impulse back, stole a kiss from her lips. Well, in the end she had granted the request, so it didn't seem to have been any great problem.
"Mm. Yeah, this one really is more to my taste."
"I-i-is that so. That's... useful to know. Yes. Truly."
"...Huh? Miss Shion, do you have a fever or something? Your face is awfully red. And your breathing's a little rough."
And in the Han Seoyeon who came back, there was, somehow, something off...
"—Miss Ninomae?"
"...Ah! Yes, yes!"
A heartbeat later, Ninomae came back to herself at the sound of her name. The trainer had come up close and was holding out a smartphone. It was hers.
"You've got a message."
"Ah. Thank you."
Ninomae unlocked it, checked the contents, and nodded.
"Looks like she's arrived. I'll head out now."
"All right. Good work, Miss Ninomae. Give it your all at tomorrow's live, too! And mind your condition."
"I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."
"Amen."
The rite of absolution spilled from the smartphone's speaker. Feeling the vibration of the truck seat against her back, Han Seoyeon gave the responses.
"Let us praise the Lord."
"His mercy endures forever."
"The Lord has forgiven your sins. ...Still, a confession out of nowhere? You really surprised me, Natacchi."
From the other end of the call came Mika Eru's voice, laughing under her breath.
The reaction was not so strange. Among those who held the rank of Apostle, it was not uncommon to forgo confession altogether, and even short of that, the sacrament was unnecessary for anyone who had stepped too deep into the hidden world. This had nothing to do with the Protestant doctrine of the priesthood of all believers, nor with anything like the Japanese esoteric Konchirisan no Orasho—the unavoidable stopgap by which, when no priest could be had, sacramental confession was simply omitted. It was meaningless, and nothing more. For those whose very thoughts had been stained by the anomalous, confession was not an essential rite.
Of course, even when it was not required, many of the faithful still approached it with devout hearts. Keeping such a rite sometimes did a healthy life of faith some good. Han Seoyeon was not one to set much store by confession, but now and then she received the sacrament anyway, to set her own heart in order.
Even so, half the point of this "confession" was counseling, which was why she was saying it over the phone. Frankly, with a purpose like that, the other party didn't need to be clergy at all. Mika Eru, for what it was worth, did have the authority to hear one.
"I simply felt this was something I had to get off my chest and talk through..."
"Ehhh, Natacchi, don't tell me you put it in confession form on purpose, just to stick me with the seal of secrecy?"
"...I won't deny it."
It wasn't even a video call, and yet Han Seoyeon looked away anyway.
"Anyway, it was a good story. Brew me a cup next time too~"
"Don't talk nonsense."
"Then should I brew you one? Ever since I settled my taxes, the fridge has been packed full and I don't know what to do with it all."
"No. Kindly throw that sort of thing out."
They were still bickering over whether a few bottles would be sent next time when Ninomae's figure appeared beyond the window. Han Seoyeon ended the call with a promise to continue the counseling later, and unlocked the truck door.
"Miss Shion!"
"You've worked hard, Miss Ninomae."
As the door swung wide, Ninomae beamed, her voice sweet with an affection she was probably unaware of. Han Seoyeon met her with a faint smile of her own.
Climbing into the passenger seat, Ninomae threw her arms around her, and they pressed cheek to cheek. It had already been several days of Han Seoyeon coming to collect her from live rehearsals. At first she had been shy of the sweat and the rest, but by now the embrace was simply part of the greeting they exchanged every day. As for the smell—well. With Han Seoyeon's nose, a distance like this was within the margin of error to begin with.
"Thank you for coming to pick me up every time."
"Not at all. With how hard you're working, Miss Ninomae, this much is only natural."
"Mmm, even so."
"If it truly weighs on you, then simply regard it as one servant supporting Shutang's live."
Han Seoyeon murmured it while stroking her hair, and the soft strands slipped between her fingers. The faint, lingering scent of peach shampoo set her heart beating strangely fast.
"But as Mary, I don't really want people seeing me practice. I want to show only the perfect version, always."
Unless one was a prodigy beyond measure, everyone was putting in a little work somewhere—just as a swan that seemed aloof was kicking hard beneath the water.
"Mary's goal is a charismatic True Ancestor queen. She doesn't show this side of herself in front of others."
"Even so, isn't hiding it, and working hard in secret, part of what makes Shutang so charming?"
"Ugh, Miss Shion, you really..."
She was the sort of person who could say faintly embarrassing things without a flicker of self-consciousness. Worse, underneath it—with no awareness to speak of—lay the simple conviction that there was nothing wrong with stating the facts. Even turning that over with a touch of complaint, Ninomae Hitomi smiled, radiant.
It was a smile so clear it seemed to set the air around them sparkling. And yet, before that bright smile, the cab of the truck sank into a brief silence.
"L-like...?"
"Eep?! No, that's—! I didn't mean it that way! Not that I dislike you, Miss Shion! The 'like' here is of course person to person... I mean—!"
"R-right?! Mm. Of course it is."
In an instant, both their faces burned red. Ninomae was ashamed of having let her true feelings slip out unthinking; Han Seoyeon was busy crushing the romantic heart that insisted on loading the word like with far too much meaning.
Ah. What do I do. Miss Shion all bright red is way too cute, with the gap from how she usually is...!
What is this. This adorable creature. Some new manner of Satan's temptation?
...Well. Even in the middle of all that, both of them were rather far gone.
"Sh-shall we get going."
"...Yes. Let's."
The two were quiet for a moment, then turned their eyes forward together.
"The live is tomorrow."
"...Are you looking forward to it?"
"Of course I am. It isn't just anyone. It's Shutang's first live."
The truck was already moving again. Han Seoyeon answered as she turned the wheel with an easy hand.
"Ugh, I'm nervous. I've never done anything like this in my life..."
"You'll be fine. If it's you, Miss Ninomae, I'm certain you can do it."
"I'll do everything I can."
With expectations piled on her like this, she had no choice, and Ninomae laughed under her breath.
"You'll watch too, won't you, Miss Shion?"
"Yes. I've cleared tomorrow's schedule completely."
"Then I'm glad. That's enough on its own to keep me going."
Of course, knowing Ninomae's nature, she would have given her all for the other viewers even if it hadn't been Seoyeon. Han Seoyeon smiled and reached over with her left arm to pat her shoulder. If only she weren't driving, Ninomae would have leaned into her. A little sorry for that, she rubbed her cheek against Seoyeon's forearm.
Not even a full day remained until Mary Tepes's birthday live concert.