Ring came the chime of the O’crock.
Having been sitting stupefied on the bed in the barracks for quite some time, Belle suddenly jerked. She reached for the stone around her neck and found it was already deep blue. She let it go, and it dangled morosely. Her eyes half-open, Belle looked out the window in a daze. She leaned against the headboard of the now-tilted bed and looked at the violet sky outside.
It was light out. The rain had receded when dawn came, and a chilly, damp breeze blew into the room. Belle sluggishly stood and discarded her torn, tattered clothes. She spat on the floor, trying to do away with the bitter taste filling her mouth.
Her mind felt strange, simultaneously wide awake and numb. The cold wind blowing in through the window felt like it was cleansing her body, but the unease clinging to her skin remained, and the crisp air only hurt her, making the purple bruises on her shoulders, neck, and chest ache. Her lips hurt, too. The bitter taste of blood was still on her tongue.
The clothes she’d taken off and thrown on the floor the day before yesterday should still be lying around somewhere. As she looked for them, Belle, still naked, walked up to the rack where Runding was hanging.
Suddenly, the touch of those rot-spreading hands on her skin flashed in her memory, and she felt like ants were crawling all over her. The moment that sensation reached the bruises on her stomach and crotch, Belle’s consciousness grew distant, and she violently snatched the sword.
The sword’s tip whirred through the air. Belle wasn’t sure what she was doing at first. The bed snapped in half right down the middle, shattering into wooden fragments. Splinters scattered the room, raining down on her. A cloud of dust blew up, and a strong breeze blew through the place.
Belle sneezed. Her entire body got goose bumps, and that bitter taste filled her mouth. Belle spat again and put on her spare clothes. Her limbs were heavy and wouldn’t move. It was like there was a disconnect between her mind and body. She was gritting her teeth without realizing it. When her eyes fixed on something, she could tell that she was looking at something but had no idea what it was.
I have to get back fast, Belle thought. I have to get away. Nobody will come here anymore. There’s no reason for me to stay here in this dump.
Belle absentmindedly headed home. She couldn’t remember where she went or what turns she took, but when she got back to her room, she slept like a rock, hugging her sword. The Guidance seemed to have been whispering in her head the whole time, saying something, but not a single word of it had reached Belle.
She just slept.
A few days passed.
Belle spent that time feeling oddly peaceful. It was a dry sort of serenity. Some damp feelings lingered in her heart, but they were enclosed in the dry shell of her thoughts. So long as she was like this, she could get by without having to risk any needless emotional turmoil.
Somewhere deep down, her mind was constantly numb, and every now and then she got terrible headaches. Owing to that, she got very sleepy, and once drowsiness overtook her, she couldn’t muster the strength to do anything.
During slumber, she was able to retreat into herself, cover up her heart and hide from the world, plug her ears and bite her lip as she slept.
But it was in the depths of slumber that the biggest threat to her emotional state lurked. Her heart stirred, and she woke up with a start. Her clothes were cold and sticky with sweat, the sensation of the fabric clinging to her skin waking her up. She would wash up in the bath and get back in bed, only to wake up again in the same state. Over and over.
If Kitty the Nothing didn’t show up to share a meal with her, she’d go to sleep without eating anything. The number of bubble fruit and water crystals she had was running low. Her clothes weren’t faring much better, either; at first she cared enough to have them washed, but eventually she just left them on the floor.
After a few days passed in silence, Belle finally wandered out of the room. One reason was that she’d run out of food, but the urge to swing her sword around after days of doing nothing spurred her on. Until then she just spent her days sleeping and bathing, and she got tired of living like she was infirm.
When she stepped out of the room, the warm air of the end of spring felt like it was scolding Belle for spending so long inside. So much of the season was already gone. It had slipped by without her even feeling it. Like it or not, she had to admit that at least. It felt like she’d been silently cast out into the real world, and she wasn’t sure if she could do anything. Or maybe the part of her that did feel like it could do something had gone into hiding.
Why do I feel so powerless? she asked herself.
She’d become keenly aware of this for the first time over the last few days but had tried not to think about it too deeply. She whispered the words softly in her mind, like she was careful not to call attention to the powerlessness she felt, conscientiously burying the words in the mire of her heart so as to not create any ripples. With this, the words wouldn’t threaten her anymore.
The Guidance was saying something, but Belle ignored it. It felt like it was clamoring about something important, though.
Belle walked through the townscape, hurrying to her destination. She was on her way to meet Guinness but was headed for Benet’s room. She assumed Guinness was crashing there, like he always did, and Benedictine’s female form flashed through her mind.
“Oh, it’s been a while. You’ve been keeping to yourself recently, but I knew you’d drop by sooner or later… Come on in. Belle…?”
However, of course, it was a male Benet who greeted her. He smiled softly, ushering Belle inside, but she was overcome with disappointment…and resistance.
“I couldn’t do it,” she whispered, standing at the front door.
The room went quiet. It was suffocating. Guinness and Benet both quietly took in the meaning of her words.
“The Door of Journey seems like a tough customer,” Guinness joked. “I mean, if it took one look at you and said no, Belle…”
There was some relief in his voice, Belle thought idly. She had forgotten why she’d come there in the first place.
“I was wondering what happened with you, but you didn’t show up. Though I did think there was nothing to worry about, knowing you,” Benet said. Belle was still standing at the door, and he gestured for her to come in. “Anyway…I’ll make you some flower tea. I have those maisen leaves you like, and I’ve some of that dried flower one left. Thank God, I’ll finally have someone to talk to other than this braggart of a tactician.”
“Oh, trust me, I’m tired of hearing about your dirty love stories…”
“Um, actually, sorry…” Belle waved a hand apologetically. “Rain check, okay? I…feel kinda sick today.”
“Belle…?” Benet drew closer, and she took a step back and averted her eyes.
“I have a favor to ask. Of you, Guinness.”
“Me…?”
“The next battle… When is it?”
“Soon. I’ll be putting the finishing touches on the script, and the first formation should be setting out in three days. It’ll be a heavy, two-layered composition, so in six days the rear formation will be setting out, and I’ll be with them. We’ll be departing from Lower East Town to the agricultural area and lake in Five Fingers…”
“Add me to that battle.”
“You, Belle…? Well, I could. But why…?”
“Just do it, Guinness,” Benet said suddenly, butting in. “Right now, you have the authority to make that call.”
He sent Guinness a signal with his eyes, then spoke in a kind, soothing voice.
“Listen, Belle, Guinness already went through most of the qualifications to become a Conductor. He pretty much has the authority to command. While you were away hiding, we made progress in our own fields. Any requests? He still has plenty of time to change the formation.”
“Thanks. No requests in particular. I just…need to swing my sword around. That’s all. I don’t care about anything else…”
“Yeah, I get that. You’re a Solist, after all. And we’d be glad to have you fighting by our side after all this time. Right, Guinness?”
“Yeah. With you, our victory is pretty much assured.” Guinness raised a glass with his one hand and gulped down his ale, almost too eagerly. “I’ll make up a reason in the Editor meeting. That you’ll be our symbol of victory or something. But why now…?”
“Because she’s a Solist. Right, Belle?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Well, with that decided, let’s revise the formations. Our members didn’t have enough offensive power, so having you will make things easier. Do you want to help?”
“No, I…”
Benet nodded casually. “The day after tomorrow, Belle. Come to the training ground at the yellow hour. And watch your condition until then.”
Benet was unaware of how much his words affected Belle. Why? Even she could tell how jerky and awkward she was being. She wanted to leave as soon as possible.
Belle turned around and left in a hurry, trudging back to her room with tottering steps, like she was hurt.
“Did you see how pale she was? And talking about swinging her sword in that condition…?” Guinness mused, looking at the ale in his cup with a bitter expression. “You already have some idea what’s wrong with her, right, Benet?”
Benet turned to look at the other man with a slightly sulky expression. “More or less. As do you.”
“Well… Yeah. If it’s something you’d catch onto, it’s gotta be something between men and women… That kind of intimate relationship.”
Benet shrugged, his sole eye fixed on the door Belle had just left through. He walked around the room for a moment, then said restlessly, “Why did she make that face? Why would you feel bad, Guinness? You have that Froggie girl.”
Guinness peevishly glared into Benet’s one eye.
“I mean… She’s special.”
Benet sighed. “We can’t tell how old she is, and she has no racial features. I’ll admit: I’m jealous of her. Beauty, ugliness, she’s above all that. And she’s so strong in a fight, too, but she’s not a typical Solist. I couldn’t fathom what formation to put her in, Guinness. The stronger I get at weaving barriers, the more unsure I am of how to protect and support her.”
“But look at her now… She’s hurt, like anyone with a heart. In terms of maturity, she’s probably still a youth. You can tell, can’t you, Benet? She’s always wavering, balancing on top of a huge set of scales. If I was treated like her, the world would have driven me crazy by now.”
The two fell silent again, sipping on their drinks wordlessly.