Shirayuki laughed lightly, but her eyes seemed heavy with loneliness. I finally began to understand why Yokaze accepted Suzune and me so willingly. Shirayuki hadn’t met her mother once in the three years we’d been here, and likely hadn’t seen her for many years before we came. I didn’t quite understand what a shrine maiden guardian was, but I understood Motoharu could see Yokaze every day, while Shirayuki never could. Being a young child, she probably missed her mother and felt it unfair she was left out. So, she wished for more family to make up for it.
For the first time ever, I saw how vulnerable the girl who saved me could be. I said, “It’ll be all right. I’m with you.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll be with you, always.” I couldn’t tell her I’d banish her loneliness. I wasn’t conceited enough to think I could erase what she felt. But I wanted to stay by her side. Even if there wasn’t anything I could do for her, I wanted to at least make sure she didn’t suffer alone.
“What the heck?” she asked, giggling.
“…You don’t have to laugh,” I said with a blush.
“How can I not?”
In hindsight, what I’d said was pretty stupid…but I wouldn’t take it back. It was a hundred times worse to take back something you meant.
“Jinta.” Shirayuki looked me straight in the eye. My heart leaped in surprise. Her clear black pupils seemed to see straight through me and into my soul. “Thank you.”
She felt so transitory in that moment, like a candle flame about to falter and vanish. Her usual spirited self was gone, as was the air of dependability she always had. I had to say something. Something to make her feel better. I ventured, “Um, Shirayuki… I—”
“Jinta?”
“Whoa!”
My words of comfort never made it out. All of a sudden, a young girl with a bandage over her right eye and hair streaked reddish-brown appeared next to me. I stammered, “O-oh, Suzune.”
“Good morning, Jinta,” she said with a sweet, sunny smile, oblivious to my racing heart, still going a mile a minute. I had almost said something incredibly uncool in front of my own younger sister.
“What were you about to say?” Shirayuki asked with a knowing, impish grin.
“Nothing!” I raised my voice in embarrassment. I couldn’t even defeat Shirayuki, never mind Motoharu.
“Jinta, what’s wrong?” Suzune asked, thinking I was angry. She pressed a finger to her lip in wonder.
Shirayuki’s grin widened, amused by Suzune’s actions. “Don’t worry about it, Suzune,” she said. “Let’s go eat something, then play.”
“Mmm…okay! What’re we doing today?” Suzune asked.
“How about we explore the Irazu Forest?”
Although the two looked nothing alike, seeing them chatter together like this made me think they could pass for sisters. That made me happy but somehow also a little sad. How nice it would be if they were sisters for real.
“You’re all right with that too, right, Jinta?” Shirayuki asked.
“What if I said I wasn’t?”
“Then I guess we’d just have to drag you along.”
It appeared I didn’t have a say in the matter. But that was as expected. I consented to the plan, and the two beamed.
“Shall we go, then?” Shirayuki said.
“Let’s go!” Suzune said.
The two held out their hands, wearing those same smiles that had once saved me. Since I was holding my wooden sword, I could only take one of their hands.
Without much thought, I made my choice.
Her palm was small and warm. I put a little strength into my grip, not enough to hurt but enough to make my hold true.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
We smiled as three and ran off.
It was a morning like any other. The warmth of her hand felt so real then. I didn’t yet know it would one day leave me.
A memory from the time when I was still “Jinta,” she was still “Shirayuki,” and Suzune was still “Suzune.”
…I remember it even now.
When I was young, I asked Motoharu to teach me the way of the sword. He was strong; I never did end up landing a strike against him. Shirayuki would watch and cheer me on, then console me when I inevitably lost. Afterwards, we would go play. My younger sister would join us, having finally woken up just in time to decide what we’d do for the day.
We were a real family, then. But the years sped past, and our happy days were gone in the blink of an eye. What was once everyday life became but a memory that gradually faded. I grew taller, and my voice lowered. I took on more responsibilities and became unable to play like I once could. Even my speech grew more reserved.
But even now, occasionally, ever so occasionally, I reflected on those happy, heart-warming days of my youth. And when I did, I wondered about the decision I made back then. I held a wooden sword, so I could only take one of their hands. If I had taken the other hand that day, what would have become of the three of us? Would things have been different now?
Sometimes I found myself dreaming of what could have been. But I’d soon realize it was meaningless and cut myself short. No matter what regrets I might have, it was too late to change the path I’d chosen for myself. And as long as I couldn’t change my path, there was no sense in entertaining what-ifs. All I had left was the fragmented way of life I clung to, and this blade that I couldn’t abandon.
With a pop, our transient days burst like bubbles along the water’s surface.