Aisha walked along beside her father with faltering steps. She was starting to get tired of following along on her short legs. As she watched, she found herself staring at her father’s back.
It was the same back of the same gentle man she remembered. He had a sword wound on his shoulder that still made for a nasty scar all these years later. Aisha remembered her father being ticklish if she ever touched his scar.
Aisha should have been enjoying this nostalgic walk, but somehow, her heart wasn’t in it. She knew perfectly well what had cast this shadow over her—the person who was always by her side was no longer here. Aisha remembered her mistress sighing in disappointment as she left. She couldn’t get the image of those cold eyes out of her mind.
I hope Mistress doesn’t hate me now... she thought, clutching her chest tightly with her hand. It didn’t make her feel even a little bit less dejected. Aisha lived for the sake of her mistress. If Nacht no longer needed her, what value did she even have? That question was eating away at her, causing no end to her anguish.
“Say, Aisha,” said her father, speaking as Aisha remembered. “That girl earlier... Was she your friend?”
“No,” said Aisha. “She’s much, much more important to me than a friend.” If Nacht were with them now, how happy would Aisha be? To have her warmhearted father walking in front and her benevolent mistress by her side. But Aisha shook her head, dismissing the fantasy.
No, that’s not right, she thought. Mistress said my father was a fake. I’m sure she’s right like she always is, but she still gave me time to think it through properly...to see for myself. That was why Aisha couldn’t just let herself act like a child. As much as she would have loved to leap into his arms, nuzzle her head against him, smell his scent, hug him tight, and sob, she had to keep her wits about her. She wanted to cry out about how supremely sad she had been when her father died—about how much trouble she had faced, how lonely she had been, how she had wanted to die herself. But how would her father, who was supposed to be dead, react to such words?
“She was cute!” her father said with a playful grin. “Maybe she’ll make good wife material when she’s a bit older!”
Aisha knew her father was kidding, but she was in no mood for jokes. “No, papa! Mistress is—”
“Ha ha ha!” her father laughed brightly. “Ah, but I have Floria, don’t I?! If I cheated on her, I’d never hear the end of it!”
Her father’s mouth twitched. Aisha could sense pain and bitterness behind his jokes. He must have been laughing so that Aisha wouldn’t notice. She had never noticed that growing up. But now, Aisha was paying close enough attention to her father to notice his sadness. The jovial expression suddenly seemed like an act.
“Aisha...” Aisha’s father began. “Do you hate your mother?” Aisha’s father had asked her that many times. Whenever he broached the subject, his usual confidence would vanish, leaving him anxious and uncertain.
And Aisha would always say, “How would I know?! I don’t remember her, after all!” In all honesty, she did hate her mother. But she could never bring herself to say those words to her father, of all people. So she would change the subject, saying, “But I love you, papa! I love you the most in the whole world!”
Aisha wasn’t ashamed. After all, it was true. Even when times were tough, Aisha was happy living with her father. Their house was drafty and full of holes, but cuddled up to her father, she slept nice and warm at night. Even carrying water and doing farmwork were fun as long as he was with her. Her father had given her lots and lots of support. She had been certain that she could never love anyone more than her father.
But that was all just a distant, fleeting memory. Now, she had someone she loved at least as much as her father, or perhaps even more. So this time, Aisha couldn’t keep silent. On some level, she felt like answering her father would be failing Nacht’s test. But she took a number of deep breaths and forced herself to speak through the fear.
“Um...” she said. “Papa... I actually came here looking for mother. It wasn’t my idea, exactly, but I decided I wanted to do it myself as well. You died back in the village, and Mistress Nacht saved my life. We’ve had all sorts of adventures. And now we’re here...?”
Aisha expected her father to deny those words, but that didn’t matter. She was here to find answers.
Her father stopped suddenly and cocked his head. “Hm?” he said. “What are you saying, Aisha? Your papa’s right here! But if you’ve come to think fondly of your mother, that makes me happy.” His words sounded strangely mismatched, like they had been copied from other things he’d said and strung together awkwardly. It was a strange response, as if he was not truly having a conversation with the girl in front of him.
“Papa!” Aisha exclaimed. Now that she had breached the dam, the words wouldn’t stop coming. “I’m happy I got to see you again! I never thought I would! I had...forgotten, you know? How you always look like you’re in so much pain! I hated being alone! I hated not having you there to protect me! Even when I thought I was going to die, I thought of you the whole time! So...I-I’m very happy to have met you like this!”
“What are you saying, Aisha?” her father answered.
Her body shaking, Aisha hugged her father tight. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. Tears of joy and sorrow both. “Papa, do you remember our little house in the village? It was full of holes, but it was where we were together. You remember it, right?” Aisha knew that the person in front of her was only a stranger adopting her father’s form and mannerisms. She had tried to deny her mistress’s words, but in the end, her mistress had been correct. Aisha had simply been dreaming. But why had someone done this? Why had they used her father’s form and voice? Aisha racked her brain but found herself unable to think of anything.
“Of course I do!” said her father, combing through words from the past to piece together statements. “You were always playing in the river and coming home late. I guess you must have been admiring the water, but you always made me worry when you were so late coming home...” He sighed as if he were reliving his time together with his daughter.
“It was hard on you, wasn’t it, Aisha,” her father continued. “But...well, what brings this up now?”
That word, “now,” pierced Aisha’s heart. Her brain was struggling with the reality it was being presented with. She had never seen her father outside the village. It was unbearable to think that all the time she’d spent with him was in the past.
“Because you were so small and cute back then!” her father said. “How about we hold hands while we walk, just like we used to?” He held out his hand. Somehow, the gesture struck Aisha as ominous. His kind smile seemed twisted. So she ran, as fast as she could, away from her beloved father’s outstretched hand.
“H-Hey! Wait! Aisha!” her father called. But Aisha didn’t stop. She ran past the road to the special development zone and came to a network of smaller streets. She kept running, heedless to the world around her. She didn’t understand. This whole thing was beyond her comprehension. She’d left on a journey to find her mother, only to be reunited with her dead father. Her mistress had called him a fake and tried to kill him but was stopped, and now, she was gone. Aisha had seen for herself that he both was and wasn’t her father, and she, all by her lonesome, had run away.
She didn’t understand anything. She didn’t know what she should do or what she should believe. Her frantic thoughts were muddy like swamp water and running in circles. She didn’t have her father to support her. She didn’t have her mistress to pat her on the head. Nobody was by her side. She ran and ran until she was out of breath. Her throat hurt, but even so, she forced herself to keep running on unsteady legs, pressing on and on until she escaped the crowd and came to a place where she was alone.
Aisha passed through a back alley and came to an unused, disheveled open space, where she immediately collapsed. She looked up at the painfully blue sky with misty, tear-filled eyes. “Sniffle...” she wept. “Waaaah!” She wiped her eyes again and again, but her tears wouldn’t stop. The cries of anguish she had been holding back burst out of her.
She could do nothing but sob as she stared up at the sky, the agony of loneliness eating away at her chest. Eventually, she ran out of tears. The light stung her eyes, now red from crying, but even so, she kept wailing miserably.
Suddenly, Aisha heard a scraping sound, followed by the heavy thud of something slamming into the earth. Too miserable to stand up, she languidly turned her head toward the source of the sound. To her surprise, there was another person in the space at the end of the back alley.
“Are you sad...?” the newcomer said in a voice so weak and quiet that someone would have to strain themselves to hear it. But as small as her voice was, its clear tones carried her words into Aisha’s heart. Aisha’s face turned red from embarrassment at the thought that someone had heard her crying so loudly.
“Are you lonely...?” the strange girl asked. She had long bangs that partly covered her eyes. She seemed to be young—around the same age as Aisha. She was speaking cautiously, as if talking to people made her terribly anxious.
Aisha didn’t know what this girl’s intentions were in speaking to her, but before she knew it, she was sobbing out her feelings in a feeble voice. “Everyone’s gone...” she said. “I’m all alone...”
“Then you’re like me...” the girl said. “I’m alone too...” A breeze blew, shaking the branches of the solitary nearby tree and tossing the girl’s hair to reveal her eyes, dark like the night sky and twinkling with stars.
“Pretty...” Aisha muttered, captivated by the stars in the girl’s eyes. They were so beautiful that Aisha had said it out loud before she knew what she was saying.