Career Counseling (Physical)
Career Counseling (Physical)
"...So you came to me?"
Canaria had already been given a rough summary of the situation. Of course, she wasn't unaware of why Isabella had come. From Isabella's perspective, Canaria was both a close friend and, unlike Rosaria, possessed a certain cold rationality; perhaps she had hoped for a more multifaceted and sound judgment.
...And beyond that, Isabella felt a sense of guilt toward her. The guilt that came from having stubbornly insisted that her memories be erased, the instinctive atonement born of it—that might have been what drove Isabella to Canaria.
At any rate, Isabella had sought her out for a consultation of her own, to determine what choice was right. But Canaria's expression was far from bright.
"...Why should I be the one to decide something like that?"
"Because Canaria's smarter than me...?"
Naturally, Isabella didn't say all of it aloud. She swallowed it down, trusting that Canaria would understand, and because explaining it with her own lips was too painful for her to bear. She didn't let it show outwardly. With an "ahaha" laugh, Isabella tried to smooth things over however she could. That was when Canaria grabbed her by the shoulders and asked again.
"...Act like yourself, Isabella."
Her voice was somewhat dark.
"...Because the Isabella I know would never say something like that."
The Isabella of their childhood hadn't spoken or acted like the one of now. She decided all her own actions and choices. She didn't rely on anyone else. She was certain of what she wanted, and to achieve it she never sought advice, asked for favors, or cared for the opinions of others. Put kindly, she had a firmly established sense of self; put unkindly, she was an immature egoist who feared no one. That was the fundamental portrait of the person called Isabella.
In a way, one could say she had matured. After all, far more time had passed since then. Her environment had changed, and the people around her had changed. One might think she had learned how to live while residing in a foreign land and had changed... but Canaria didn't accept it that way at all.
Because her eyes were wavering. Guilt was forcibly shaking them. And Canaria didn't fail to recognize its cause. So for Isabella's sake, she offered her advice for the first time in a long while.
...After all, Canaria had been jealous of Isabella. She had envied Isabella for having been Rosaria's friend before her, and she had envied Isabella, who unlike herself possessed a single definite talent and pressed forward toward it. ...Of course, Isabella had also envied Canaria, who had talent in many areas, but from Canaria's perspective her own talents were ambiguous ones that stopped at the level of a mere first-rate or Expert. She only envied those who had the talent to aim for the summit above that.
And so, in her childhood, Canaria had confined herself in the shadows of those two people who could reach that summit. No matter how much of a genius she might be, she knew the fact that she couldn't wield holy power better than Rosaria or excel in art better than Isabella. That was why she had been jealous of Isabella, and it was a habit born from a somewhat childish, competitive desire not to lose that kept her speaking informally only to Isabella.
And now, Canaria was watching the fall of that friend she had once envied in childhood. She saw the collapse of her self-confidence, the breaking that left her unable to even choose what she wanted. Even more, knowing that the cause was the guilt Isabella felt toward her, Canaria offered advice for the sake of those past aspirations.
"...What kind of person is the Isabella you know?"
She asked her old admiration the same question. Isabella, asking because she wanted to know how she appeared in those eyes—not the self reflected in her own mirror, but the self reflected in someone else's gaze.
"Bullheaded, tomboyish, imperious, a stupid fool."
It was a list of words that weren't particularly pleasant. But Canaria hadn't said them with any intent to badmouth her. She had just been describing the Isabella she herself had thought of and looked upon in childhood.
Bullheaded, because once she decided she would become an artist, she did truly nothing but art. Tomboyish, because unlike the other children she acted tough for her younger siblings. Imperious, because she spoke of her dreams unfiltered, believing with all her heart that she could truly become the greatest. A stupid fool, because what Canaria wanted was for her to live happily, and even knowing that, Isabella tormented herself with self-made guilt and asked to have her memories erased.
"...Aren't you being a little too harsh?" "That's because you wouldn't listen if I wasn't harsh, you idiot."
Canaria flicked the forehead of a pouting Isabella. It was an attack laced with mana, so it was immensely painful. At the moment of impact, Isabella clutched her forehead and reeled backward under the surging pain. Tears even slightly welling up, Isabella let out a "Kyaak—" and screamed in agony.
"How is it, does your head feel a little clearer?" "I—isn't there a hole in it?! How can it hurt this much! Hgh—...!"
"Hrgh..." Isabella groaned and suffered. But thanks to that, the dark-hued emotion that had settled over her heart was gone. The effects of the Saintess's benevolent physical therapy were tremendous. Though, since immense pain accompanied it, she had no desire to re-enroll. At the same time, Isabella thought to herself. It had been a good choice to come to Canaria, but next time she would absolutely not. ...After all, a pain that felt like a hole being drilled through one's head was more than enough once.
And she resolved that in the future, she would only mess around when it was truly safe to do so. A direct hit seemed liable to send her crossing the Jordan River.
"...Anyway, make your choice properly. Since we have to return the day after tomorrow."
There was a schedule to keep. The group couldn't leave their posts empty for too long, so it was time to end this leisure and return to their respective nations. Besides, they had already seen all there was to see and enjoyed themselves to the fullest wandering around Fran, so there wasn't much left to do. Though, of course, that wasn't the entirety of the reason.
"...Well, I'm sure you've already decided."
Isabella's expression had changed. Her eyes now held that light Canaria had once been jealous of. Brown eyes gazing far into the distance. Isabella was there, wearing the eyes of one who looked toward an end point and headed for it—the kind of person Canaria, who thought she herself could never reach it, had envied.
"Thanks for the counseling, Canaria."
With those words, Isabella made to leave. But something occurred to her, and she asked Canaria.
"...Come to think of it, where's Rosaria?"
It had been so natural that she'd forgotten. Isabella only now noticed Rosaria's absence.
"...I think it's best you don't go."
Naturally, Canaria was not unaware of where Rosaria was. But explaining it to Isabella would be somewhat problematic, so Canaria thought it over for a moment. And Isabella, having roughly grasped the meaning behind that hesitation, recalled that face again. At the same time, her instincts rejected it.
"...Urrp!"
Isabella dry-heaved.
"Why is she... urrp! ...together with that guy?"
She hadn't built up an immunity yet. Just conjuring Zeke's face in her mind was enough to make the nausea crawl up semi-automatically, as if striking her knee made it reflexively kick out. Canaria, seeing Isabella's reaction, let out a bitter smile. Multiple emotions passed through Canaria. But strangely enough, the last one was amusement.
After all, the two were close enough to tease each other often. But the ratio of preemptive strikes had been overwhelmingly on Isabella's side. In terms of odds, it was Isabella 8, Canaria 2, or perhaps even more. Now that many problems had been resolved and they had returned to an amicable relationship, Canaria found it amusing because she felt she had mastered a finishing move that could defeat Isabella in a single blow.
Worry was worry, and teasing was teasing.
And so, for the sake of that ordinary feeling she had found again after so long—that same sensation they'd shared back then—Canaria played a mean prank on Isabella for the first time in a long while.
"...Why don't you ask your husband about that, Isabella?" It was just that its effect was stronger than any other prank.
At that, an unprecedented shock came over Isabella. She turned redder than ever before, a flush of shame and rage boiling up. She shouted in a somewhat raised voice. "Who's a husband?!!!" Isabella, blushing fiercely, writhed in agony. Canaria found the sight quite pleasing and teased her again. "Who else but Zeke... no, was it Kreed?" The moment she heard the name Kreed, Isabella's life flashed before her eyes. Because a second attack was always a critical hit. Isabella, shattered to pieces, began to tremble violently. She was boiling over as if she might burst. Twisting her body this way and that, she went mad with suffering. Seeing that sight, a good idea came to Canaria. "Well, if you beg me to stop, I'll lay off for today at least." It was as good as saying she'd tease her again tomorrow, but when a person needs salvation right now, they become unable to properly account for such distant future costs. Like a person on the verge of dying of thirst in a desert offering a thousand gold for a single sip of water. So, for the first time in a long while, Isabella took Canaria's hand and begged. "...Please stop, Lady Canaria." With half-glazed eyes, Isabella trembled and even used formal speech. Canaria, feeling a strange sense of triumph, let out a soft laugh.