The Fork in the Road of Heavy Decisions
The Fork in the Road of Heavy Decisions
In the end, Canaria was the one who confessed plainly that the sheer excess of holding both divine authorities had broken her body. The incompatible natures of the Saint's authority and the Demon King's authority had been clashing inside her all along. Only then did Rosaria realize that Canaria's very lifespan was being steadily whittled away.
"...Why didn't you tell me something like this sooner, Canaria?"
"...I didn't say anything because I knew you'd make that face. I'm sorry, Rosaria."
Rosaria wore an expression that looked as though she might burst into tears at any moment. Canaria had known she would look like that, which was precisely why she'd kept it hidden all this time. Of course, she had intended to tell her eventually, but circumstances simply hadn't allowed it, and in many ways, Canaria had been out of luck. But the damage was already done, wasn't it?
Canaria had already received Serena's warning, and she had determined she couldn't go on living as she had. So, starting today, she would simply set out in a completely different direction.
"...Rehabilitation?"
"At any rate, you are unstable right now."
After all, Canaria had the talent to wield a single divine authority perfectly normally. And in the first place, the Saint's authority belonged to Rosaria. It was power she had received when there was no time to spare, and with nowhere to return it, she had held onto it as a shackle to bind Serena—never knowing when Serena might seize her body. But now, there was no longer a need for that.
For some reason, Serena had become docile. Not that Canaria wasn't accounting for the possibility of betrayal, of course... but that didn't matter. It wasn't as if Canaria acted without even that much thought. She was merely executing a decision she had made after assuming the worst-case scenario.
And so, from that day on, Rosaria's rehabilitation was planned. Rosaria agreed with the idea as well. However, since Fran was meant to be a place of leisure, they agreed to finish their travels here first and then begin the rehabilitation. Canaria simply continued to take Rosaria around here and there, sustaining the sightseeing trip that had entered its final stretch.
What was more, today was a day when Isabella and Zeke were absent. Not that the two of them were together, of course—Isabella had merely gone to find Mikel to apologize, and ever since Isabella recovered her memories, Zeke had simply been spending his time alone. And Canaria, having at last found an opportunity to be alone with her fiancée for eight whole hours (including sleep time), had taken Rosaria out in her wheelchair, eager to savor the occasion.
Naturally, going out just as they were would draw far too much attention. In a nation of eccentric artists, Rosaria and Canaria possessed looks that could ignite inspiration itself, so a degree of disguise was necessary. The solution they settled on was, quite simply, scarves.
Covering the lower half of the face could prevent such stares to some degree, and the outside air was in fact slightly chilly, so cold-weather gear was warranted—it didn't seem strange at all.
Of course, they could have simply changed their appearances with divine power and been done with it, but Rosaria forbade even that trivial use. It was a request to refrain from using it unless absolutely necessary and to instead tend to her body. And the patient Canaria merely followed the prescriptions of Doctor Rosaria.
Thus, the two girls with their faces half-hidden by scarves walked along the plaza of Fran.
The streets, having passed the year's end and entered the beginning of a new year, still bore a quiet, lonely atmosphere, as if uncertain how to spend the freshly started year. The faint strains of music drifting through the air seemed to embody that very sentiment. Canaria and Rosaria walked through those quiet streets of Fran. And of course, the fact that their remaining travel time was short also served as evidence that they had already tried most of what Fran had to offer. So, everywhere they went were places they had already visited, things they had already seen.
But for some reason, everything looked new. Canaria caressed the ring fitted on her finger. Her holy relic, which Rosaria had personally crafted for her.
Gazing upon the token of the day they pledged unchanging love and became engaged, the corners of her lips hidden beyond the scarf trembled and curled into a crescent moon. And so the world simply looked unbearably beautiful. The very air she breathed now tasted sweeter because she breathed it as a fiancée. The street artists who had once only irritated her now seemed profound in their own way, philosophical, like people possessed of a firm and unwavering worldview.
To Rosaria, of course, things looked very different. She was happy, to be sure, but the shock that followed upon it was far too immense. And to think it was all Canaria's sacrifice for her sake—that tightened her chest all the more. Rosaria thought of herself as nothing more than a coward who had only ever said she loved her, without ever once having sacrificed anything.
The cold air of the new year hung faintly heavy. She thought it fortunate that Canaria's mouth was covered, hiding the smile she must have been wearing. Naturally, Rosaria, like Canaria, found the life of a fiancée happy, but beyond that, she was simply afraid.
Because she had no idea how long this irreplaceable happiness would last. When she recalled the story Serena had told her—that if left alone, Canaria would die before reaching adulthood—Rosaria had been so shocked it felt as if her own heart had stopped beating.
What Rosaria wanted, as soon as possible, was to regain her strength and join Canaria in her divine mission—to help her, rather than letting her push herself alone. If only that were possible, she would let Canaria rest behind her.
In the first place, the reason Rosaria was the strongest among past saints after Solomon lay not only in her talent but also in the weight of the mission she was born with. Rosaria was the Saint of Saints, granted the divine authority to fulfill the mission of creating paradise in a fallen world; it was simply an immense authority bound to a mission grounded in an immense sense of responsibility.
And having also been given such a burden, even Canaria, who could wield the Demon King's authority without issue, could not endure it with her talent and vessel alone.
"...Looks like a wishing fountain, doesn't it?"
Just then, a fountain entered Rosaria's vision. Before it, she saw several people taking the customary position of throwing coins, demurely making their wishes. Men and women, young and old—all were crafting a single path there to guide their future selves.
In truth, that was the nature of a wish.
Because a wish was not something granted by another; it was something that came true when the person who made the wish strove to achieve it.
What she was seeing were people beseeching an imaginary being they had created on behalf of their unconfident selves, or entrusting that wish to their future selves.
After all, Fran was a nation of humanity that did not rely on gods.
And Rosaria, too, was someone who wished to rely on such a thing. At any rate, at this moment she knew nothing, and nothing was certain. One might call it irresponsible, but she wanted to entrust this weight to her future self.
She wanted to offer a prayer, to make certain the path she had to walk from now on. Naturally, since Rosaria was a saint, that prayer would be directed toward the Main God, but this act was merely a matter of observing Fran's customs while in Fran.
For a prayer, so long as it held faith and heart, did not matter what form the act itself took. At Rosaria's request, Canaria moved her steps toward the wishing fountain. Canaria read the heart contained within that gesture.
After all, simply by looking at Rosaria's eyes, Canaria could more or less deduce the thoughts within them. There was no way she could fail to read the thoughts held in those wavering eyes filled with unease.
And so she went along with this act, which was almost like burning the opiates of the weak. For possessing great power did not mean powerlessness and anxiety simply vanished. Canaria, too, was a person with her own private rituals for erasing unease, and so for the sake of Rosaria's ritual, she moved her feet.
Rosaria threw the smallest coin toward the fountain. It slipped in with a very soft sound as it struck the bottom, creating ripples in its shape. Then Rosaria, with the deeply familiar etiquette of the Holy Kingdom, prayed to the Main God and entrusted her wish to her future self.
Please, let this happiness never end. Rather, let it grow yet greater, and fill entirely the vast emptiness settled in Canaria's heart, broken by suffering. With that, she ended the ritual.
Then she turned around and urged Canaria to do the same. Having received a suggestion she could not refuse, Canaria likewise threw a coin. However, disliking the idea of her coin landing atop someone else's, she exerted superhuman senses and threw it precisely so that it would land atop the coin Rosaria had thrown.
A different sound, and different ripples than Rosaria's coin, which had touched the bottom, spread from Canaria's coin.
So long as no one disturbed them, the two coins lay together, close.
At the same time, Canaria likewise prayed. Let this happiness last a lifetime. And, let her create a world where Rosaria no longer need sacrifice herself for her sake... Likewise praying to the Main God, entrusting it to her future self, Canaria ended the new ritual.
Did the prayers of the two saints reach the heavens?
Did the prayers of the two girls reach their future selves?
It was not something they could know.
Even so, the two of them simply believed.
For a prayer was a ritual performed only when faith and heart were poured into it.
As ones who had become saints, could they possibly deny prayer?
Having finished their prayers, the two moved on to enjoy their date. They intended to visit a new restaurant Isabella had recommended.
Thanks to having set down the burden that had weighed so heavily on her heart, Rosaria laughed with pure delight. Canaria, looking into her eyes, laughed as well.
...Presently, some time after they had departed, the sun rising to mid-heaven shone upon the fountain. The two coins, not yet pulled apart, were reflected in the light shimmering on the water's surface.
Pressed tightly together, they looked almost like a single thick coin. The coin had achieved the life that Canaria and Rosaria wished for before they could. So close they clung that one might have felt jealousy toward them, had they not been coins.
It was fortunate that only the fountain's water and the small, flickering light bore witness to that truth.
*
Mikel's workshop was just as bustling in the new year. After all, the world of art changed with each passing day.