Someone to Worry About
For the first time, the regressor had someone she couldn't stop worrying about.
Nothing moved through the wasteland but the sound of wind. The two of us walked on without a word, cutting through it, sometimes glancing around at our surroundings, sometimes trying to steady our breathing. The battle was over, but the fatigue it had left in our bodies refused to end with it. Every wound had closed thanks to Sapi's healing—yet the exhaustion settled deep beneath our skin, it seemed, was the one thing no ability could erase.
Every few steps, Sapi wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Red stained it each time. He never offered a word of explanation.
This time, neither of us spoke. Strangely enough, the silence didn't sit heavily at all. For the first time since the fight ended, it felt like we were finally catching our breath. The wind swept across the parched earth, and nothing filled the space between us but the rattle of small stones rolling over the waste.
How long had we walked like that? Sapi's stride suddenly lurched—hard enough that his whole body pitched forward. My hand shot out on instinct, then stopped halfway.
"Are you okay?"
The words were out before I knew it.
Sapi caught his balance and flashed me a smile like nothing had happened.
"I'm fine."
Fine, he said—but he didn't look fine at all. His lips were bloodless, his breathing uneven, and his shoulders trembled faintly with every step he took.
I couldn't just keep watching him like that. In the end, I spoke first.
"Let's take a break."
"Huh?"
"I said, let's take a break."
Cornered by my bulldozing insistence, Sapi gave in with a helpless shrug and trudged toward a huge boulder nearby. Leaning his back against it, he sank down slowly, let out one long breath, and tipped his head up toward the sky.
It wasn't a blue sky scattered with clouds. It wasn't storm clouds, either. Just an empty, hollow sky with nothing in it at all.
I was watching him when an odd thought surfaced. Come to think of it... I had only ever told him we were going north, for my revenge. I had never once said let's rest, or let's take it slow. I'd run myself ragged on nothing but vengeance. So why... was I the one suggesting we stop?
While I was still turning that over, he rummaged inside his coat and fished something out. An old can. The label had all but peeled away, rust blotching what was left of it. He held it up in front of me.
"Today's menu."
"..."
"Pretty luxurious, right?"
"Crappy."
"Eat it anyway. In this day and age, canned food counts as a luxury among ready-to-eat meals."
Sapi drew a small knife from inside his coat and pried the lid open with practiced ease. The screech of twisting metal rang out across the dead silence of the wasteland. Watching him work, I couldn't help asking.
"Sapi, you're better with a knife than I expected?"
"Ah... my main weapon used to be a blade, after all."
"Then why do you use a gun now?"
"No talent for it. The sword dumped me."
The lid came off, and the distinctive smell of ancient canned meat seeped gently into the air. It didn't look appetizing. Still better than starving, though.
Sapi didn't take a single spoonful for himself. He just slid the can over to my side.
"You're not eating?"
"I'm a very considerate man."
"Liar."
"You got me."
I nearly snorted a laugh and had to fight it down. In the end, I picked up the can and took a bite. Cold. The fat had gone solid. And yet, strangely, it wasn't bad. Maybe I was just that hungry.
A few bites in, a question rose up out of nowhere.
"Is this how you've always lived?"
Sapi shrugged.
"I was a drifter."
"Family?"
Sapi's hand stopped. His gaze, resting on the can, wavered—just barely, just for an instant—but that sliver of a moment stretched out impossibly long.
"...There used to be."
He fell quiet for a beat. Then he smiled, very faintly.
"And now I can't see them anymore."
I didn't ask anything else. It wasn't that I wasn't curious what his story was. But... it felt like a question I wasn't supposed to ask. Not now. Sapi had never pried into my past, either. He knew about my revenge, and about the countless people who had died along the way because of me—and still, he asked nothing.
Only then did I understand. Not digging into each other's pasts. That was the last line we had left to keep.
At some point the bottom of the can was showing. Sapi shook out the empty tin, dusted his hands, and rose to his feet. That was the moment.
A dry, rattling cough—and drops of red struck the dirt.
Sapi wiped his mouth on the back of his hand like it was second nature. As if it were nothing at all.
So at first, I tried to pretend I hadn't seen. He wouldn't give me a real answer if I asked anyway. But... his face looked even paler than before. More blood was running down the back of his hand than a moment ago. In the end, my feet moved before I could think.
"Are you okay?"
"Bleeding again..."
Sapi, of all things, laughed.
"Happened all the time back in the day. I'm fine."
"That just makes it weirder!"
"You get used to it."
"It's not the kind of thing you're supposed to get used to."
For no good reason, my chest felt tight. Without a word, I scanned our surroundings—and spotted a thin thread of water trickling through a crack in the rocks a little way off. I walked over slowly. His voice drifted after me.
"Where are you going?"
"Be right back."
"You're not running out on me, are you?"
He tossed it off lightly, grinning. I ignored him and wedged my canteen into the crack beneath the trickle, filled it to the brim, and came back. Sapi looked up at me, puzzled. I held the water out without a word.
"I'm not thirsty yet."
"Don't care."
I pressed the bottle into his hand.
"To wipe the blood off."
Sapi stared blankly, eyes flicking between the bottle and my face. Then he started to laugh, low and quiet.
"Sweet of you, Lebetri."
For a moment, I just stopped. It had been a long time since anyone had said my name that easily.
"I'm not."
"Hmm~ then what's this?"
"It'd be a problem if you died."
The corner of his mouth curled a little higher.
"I'm touched."
"..."
"I think I might cry."
I let out a sigh.
"Then go cry about it over there, far away."
"Warm-hearted as ever."
"What did you do, sell your ears?"
In the end, Sapi burst into quiet laughter. I didn't laugh with him. And yet... somehow, my steps felt lighter than they had a moment ago. The road to revenge was still long. The world hadn't changed one bit. But for this one moment, at least, the fact that I wasn't walking it alone was a small comfort.
The wind swept over the wasteland once more. After a short rest, we set out north again. Our bodies were still heavy—but something was different from before. The pace was slow, yet strangely, it no longer felt stifling.
Sapi led the way with his hands shoved in his pockets, his gait so carefree you'd never believe the man had been coughing up blood minutes ago. I watched that back of his for a while, then shook my head.
What a seriously strange guy.
He was clearly suffering, yet he never let it show. Coughing up what looked like enough blood to kill him, and still cracking jokes. What on earth went through his head, living like that? I was still wondering when, mid-thought, Sapi's footsteps stopped dead.
"Why are we stopping?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he was staring hard at something in the distance—and the corner of his mouth was curling up, slowly. It was a look I hadn't seen in a long time. Different in feel from his usual teasing.
"Lebetri."
"What?"
"Jackpot."
I turned my head, following his gaze. A small farmhouse gone to ruin. Between its collapsed walls, where weeds and vines had grown into a tangled knot, something round and green sat soaking up the sunlight.
"A watermelon?"
Sapi beamed.
"We've had lunch already. Which means it's dessert time."
Somehow he was already striding over, lifting the watermelon into his arms.
"Good condition, too... shall we?"
Sapi pulled a small knife from his coat.
Click.
The blade caught the sunlight and flashed.
"One sec."
He knelt and stood the watermelon upright on the ground, then slid the knife in with hands that knew exactly what they were doing.
Shhk.
The rind split apart. A slight twist of his wrist—
Crack.
—and the watermelon fell open into two halves. Red flesh showed itself, and sweetness rode the wind.
"..."
I wasn't looking at the fruit, though. I was looking at Sapi, cutting it. The hand gripping the knife, the wrist without a tremble—not a trace of hesitation in his fingertips.
He's good at that.
Sapi had said it himself once—his main weapon used to be a sword. Apparently that hadn't been a lie.
He carved the melon into wedges and slid one across to me.
"Eat."
"..."
"What, you don't like watermelon?"
"No... it's nothing."
Only then did I turn to my own slice. I bit in.
Crunch.
Sweetness flooded my mouth all at once. Seeing me eat, Sapi took an enormous bite of his own share to match. But why, I wonder... my eyes had gone to Sapi and stayed there.
The watermelon was sweet. But something was off—I couldn't hold on to the taste at all. Before the flavor of the fruit, it was Sapi, smiling across from me, that kept catching my eye.
"..."
My gaze lingered longer than I meant it to. I just sat there, quietly looking at him. When we'd first met, I never knew. That this guy was someone who could smile like that.
I bit into the watermelon.
Crunch.
Sweet juice filled my mouth—the first taste of sweetness I'd had in longer than I cared to remember. I chewed slowly, watching the person across from me.
Lebetri was holding her slice. She was eating it—undeniably—and yet her gaze wasn't on the watermelon. It was on me.
There it is again.
I'd lost count of how many times it had happened since earlier. At first I'd taken it for coincidence. It wasn't. The moment she'd first said we should rest, the moment she'd gone off to fetch water for me, and even now—her eyes kept drifting back and settling on me.
Pretending not to notice, I took another bite, then deliberately turned my face toward something else—just in case she minded being caught. A little while later, I stole a glance back over. She was watching me again. The instant our eyes met, she wrenched her gaze away.
I laughed quietly to myself.
Entertaining.
The Lebetri of before couldn't have imagined any of this. A girl who'd had eyes for nothing but her revenge, who trusted no one and couldn't be bothered to spare people so much as a glance. And now, in that stare once packed solid with vengeance, the smallest crack had opened—and I had begun to slip inside it.
Love, is it?
I rolled the word around in my head, then shook it off just as quickly.
No.
Not to that point. It wasn't that kind of feeling. But interest—unmistakably—had taken root. I was obsessed with her. The power to build a future anew... it was only that one thing, but that one thing had captivated me entirely. Still, someday, there was a chance she would move without me. So I had set out, by any means necessary, to become her reason for existing—a presence she truly needed. If I became a presence she truly needed, this girl would choose my side all on her own. No force required. No threats. No lies. All I had to do... was become someone she needed.
I looked back at Lebetri. The moment our eyes met, hers darted away. Lips jutting out in a pout, she took a bite of watermelon purely for the sake of having something to bite. A laugh slipped out of me.
Simpler than I expected.
It looked like things would run exactly according to plan—her feelings shifting precisely where I wanted them. I took another bite of the watermelon.
The corner of my mouth was still turned up, ever so slightly.