Anxiety
Anxiety
And that anxiety had bloomed, too, from the transfer of her divine power. After all, Canaria had stepped down one rung from being an existence close to invincible — a being who was both the Saint and the Demon King. She had become afraid of the countless variables that could arise from that tiny gap.
...Of course, the Demon King was still a powerful existence.
But she felt that was Serena's strength... not Canaria's. That twenty-percent shortfall in her talent — her inability to create a void space — kept drawing images in her head of countless variables branching out and scattering like the tips of roots, over and over.
And so Canaria's patience had worn thin.
"...I'm weak, Rosaria."
That was why Canaria had been anxious from the moment she realized she had to transfer her divine power to Rosaria. The instant a weakness appeared, she seemed unbearably frail and insecure to herself. And now, confessing her own imperfection to Rosaria, she poured out the monologue-like feelings she had been holding inside.
"...I'm just a half-rate who can't do anything completely."
What did it matter if she reached the first rank? The world was vast, and beings who had reached the true peak beyond that were scattered across it. And what was worse, the Saint's divine power didn't work on them. Hadn't Rosaria died because of an imperfection born from just such a gap? That was why Canaria wanted to allow not even the smallest opening.
As long as there was a hole, something would find a way to worm its way inside. And so Canaria had never felt anxious when she was wielding two divine powers.
Even as an eighty-percent Demon King and an eighty-percent Saint, she had overcome every weakness. She had been confident she would not lose to any existence that came for her. And in truth, she had never lost.
But now? She couldn't say that with certainty. The North was a land teeming with variables. More than that, the Magic Country still had not been fully subjugated. And what lay beyond? The Eastern Continent beyond the sea, the other unknown worlds further still, and worlds that might not even have been discovered yet... Canaria was simply anxious about the countless enemies waiting beyond the walls of the Holy Kingdom. Of course... most of them wouldn't even be able to reach her.
The Demon King was the Demon King.
No one could kill her easily.
And if it truly came to that, the being called Serena could...
...Every time her thoughts took that turn, it only made the anxiety worse.
Not trusting herself and relying on someone else — that alone was a wrong answer from the start.
Because Canaria was the kind of person who needed to trust herself.
She wanted to believe in herself and have certainty.
But right now, she didn't have that.
Her obsession with safety had given birth to anxiety.
She didn't deny that the training had begun as a way to forget it.
Because she had started it wanting to have certainty in herself.
"...That's why I was anxious."
And that was why she had rushed.
She wanted to build a pillar for herself.
She wanted an absolute mechanism for being aware of herself.
And that tied directly to her reason for living.
Canaria, who wanted that absolute proof that would never vanish.
"...It's a foolish thing to do, Canaria."
Tormenting herself over an unknown that might not even exist — maybe that was a foolish thing to do. Even so, Rosaria said nothing in particular and simply held Canaria, who was trembling with that anxiety.
She knew that even this feeling was something Canaria had created herself... she knew it was a sprout that had bloomed because of the death Canaria had chosen before her eyes that day. Rosaria knew, better than anyone, that this was why Canaria obsessed over perfection and longed to be invincible.
"...What you're saying is that you can't trust yourself, isn't it?"
Canaria nodded at that question.
"...Then trust me."
Saying that, Rosaria pressed a kiss to the anxious Canaria's forehead.
"The fact that you came to me for advice, Canaria — doesn't that mean you thought I was a greater person than you? That I stood above you, differently from yourself?"
That was correct. She wouldn't have sought advice otherwise. It was because Canaria had thought Rosaria was greater than herself, that she stood above her, that she had asked how to reach that place.
"...That alone seems like reason enough to trust me."
Rosaria brushed back Canaria's hair as she said it.
"So lean on me sometimes, Canaria."
Because there are hardly any humans who trust themselves completely. Most humans are born imperfect and carry emptiness within them. And what fills that emptiness is, in turn, the emptiness of others. It's only natural to search for someone with a different emptiness that can fill yours — like fitting together puzzle pieces.
...Fortunately, Canaria had such a person before her. And so Canaria leaned on Rosaria. The anxiety didn't vanish. She was still afraid that this warmth might disappear. The self-reproach and harsh self-assessment kept scraping away at the hollow in her heart.
But still, the trembling subsided.
"...When you were young, you used to lean on me all the time, didn't you?"
At those words, Canaria flushed. Of course, when she was a child, Canaria had leaned on Rosaria every single day. She had lain on her lap, leaned against the same tree with her, feeling the gentle breeze, playing and rolling around together under the cool shade. Every day, she had lived pressing her body against Rosaria's side, depending on her.
But now, she didn't do that.
Her sense of loss wouldn't allow it.
She couldn't easily lay her body against a pillar that had crumbled.
And above all, she held a feeling that she wanted to repay Rosaria.
Canaria wanted Rosaria to lean on her.
In everything, from start to finish — just as she herself had done back then.
"...Well, it's still kind of the same these days, though."
She hadn't changed.
Canaria still depended on Rosaria.
She loved being held by her, loved having her hair stroked. She wanted to stay by her side constantly, and she never forgot to come see her every day and press her lips to Rosaria's.
Even so, she didn't speak of her pain to Rosaria.
...Even that was exactly the same as when she was young.
Hiding her wounds, enduring the hurt.
She wasn't any different from the Canaria Rosaria had first met.
"...There's no way that's true."
Canaria denied it.
Because she had lived believing she had grown.
She didn't want to hear that she was the same as when she was a child.
Canaria had wanted to become someone Rosaria could depend on.
"...I've changed a lot since then."
And so she pouted her lips slightly, meekly rebelling against those words.
"...No, you're right."
Saying that, Rosaria pressed a kiss to the lips Canaria had pushed out.
"...Because Canaria is Canaria."
Clinging to her every single day,
hiding her own wounds,
loving it when her hair was stroked...
None of it had changed at all.
"...No."
But Canaria denied it.
And then she seized Rosaria's wrist and spoke.
Rosaria was slightly flustered by the sudden movement.
...But even so, she accepted it without protest.
"...Then show me."
What had changed, that was.
Rosaria gazed at Canaria with a benevolent smile.
At the same moment, something inside Canaria's heart snapped.
"...Show me just how much you've changed."
But Rosaria thought Canaria hadn't changed.
Because even this sulking was exactly the same.
Wasn't she still acting like a child, throwing a tantrum?
"...You'll regret it."
"...There's no way I will."
Canaria was trying somehow to calm her pounding heart. And so she had said it, hoping that Rosaria would stop her... but Rosaria only poured oil on the fire. She stoked Canaria even hotter, intending for her to burn freely, to untangle those knotted feelings as much as she wanted. It was an awkward provocation, one that didn't suit Rosaria, but to Canaria, it came across differently.
Canaria's eyes unfocused as her reason was consumed.
"...Even if you tell me to stop now, I won't stop, Rosaria."
And the moment those words left her mouth, she laid Rosaria down beneath her. Flushed cheeks, a smiling face, and the sound of swallowing — all of it brushed past Canaria's ears. The soft rustle of fabric and the tousled strands of hair, plus those slightly bashful eyes, were simply a bonus.
Just seeing that made every stray thought in Canaria's head vanish. What filled the space was her love for Rosaria, and, regrettably, the desire to consume her. Soon enough, her mind overflowing with nothing but Rosaria, Canaria began the foreplay as she always did — with a languid, suggestive lick across Rosaria's cheek.
Rosaria let out a soft moan.
"...You can throw as much of a tantrum as you like, Canaria."
But she kept provoking her.
Rosaria stroked Canaria's hair, treating her like a child.
Inside Canaria, the urge to make her change that impression surged upward.
*
...Only, Rosaria didn't know.
She didn't know just how well Canaria understood her.
Which parts to tease, and how — to make her feel it most intensely.
She didn't know that Canaria understood all of it with absolute certainty.
And so, when that touch came to an end...
when the act Rosaria called a 'tantrum' was over... the one who was defeated was none other than Rosaria herself. Because those sensations her body remembered came flooding back, unbearably unfamiliar and unbearably sharp.
"Haa... haa..."
Rosaria, thoroughly heated, was struggling to exhale. The fact that she had writhed in that pleasure to the point where even breathing was difficult only made her flush even redder. The sheets drenched in sweat, that suggestive fragrance soaked into her hair...
And beside her, Canaria, smiling a happy smile, wrapped her arms around Rosaria — who was blankly trembling in the aftershocks of pleasure — and asked her a question.
"...Do you still think that, Rosaria?"
Just hearing that voice made her body tremble faintly. Something imprinted deep inside her made Rosaria, swallowed by instinct, shudder. Even so, Rosaria was still Rosaria. Even though she had come so hard she'd forgotten to breathe, even though her mind had gone hazy and drenched in pleasure... she still hadn't changed her opinion.
"...You haven't changed."
The truth was, she might have known that Canaria had changed.
...But she also knew exactly how Canaria would react if she said this.
"...Is that so?"
Canaria's eyes twisted ever so slightly.
And then her hand stretched out again, reaching for Rosaria's weak points.
The moment that heated, warm hand made contact, Rosaria moaned as though she had been burned. Canaria simply began again. Rosaria simply went along with that tantrum once more. A spiral of an act without end existed right there.
...And so, another stretch of time flowed by.