Chapter 13

It wasn’t the loud roar from before but a low, gentle rumble. No… It wasn’t a sound. It was a voice. “Long has it been, people of fire.” “Wh-what was that…?” yelped Yuui as she looked around, searching for the source of the voice. But she found no one other than Ix, of course. “No, Yuui. It’s not up here.” “B-but then where…?” “There,” he said, pointing into the crater. “The voice came from there.” “From the bottom of the crater…?” “No…not from the bottom of a ‘crater.’” Ix brought his hand to his mouth and shook his head. He realized his hands were quivering. He’d had so many “theories” since he’d accepted this request. Ix hadn’t even told Yuui about the most unrealistic, fanciful hypothesis he’d had. But now it was coming true. “What does that mean, Ix?!” shouted Yuui. “It’s a dragon.” “What?” “What we’re standing on right now isn’t a mountain… It’s a dragon. Agnas isn’t the name of a volcano—it’s the name of a dragon,” asserted Ix. He took a few unsteady steps and shouted, “Am I right?!” “…You are indeed,” confirmed the voice. This time they could hear it clearly. It was a deep, calm voice, but it spoke gently to them. “We are what you call a dragon, we are what you call Agnas, we are what you call Fulmeninia, and we are what you call a mountain.” “The mountain…is a dragon?” Yuui shook her head over and over in disbelief. “…I was about to say it before,” said Ix, almost to himself. “Yuui, you posited dragons were still alive but hadn’t been seen in a while because they had shrunk or turned invisible. That last hypothesis struck me. Just like if they became so small you couldn’t see them, what if dragons had grown so large as to be nearly invisible?” The agnasite veins never ran out. Fragments of agnasite poured from the fissures in the abandoned mine. Ix had thought dragon heart, some sort of strange gemstone, had produced those lesser gems… But there was a far more natural explanation than a stone creating a stone. Put simply… …the dragon heart was a heart. It sent something throughout the mountain, the dragon’s body. Whatever circulated throughout its massive form crystallized when it bled out. “It wasn’t a coincidence that the compound core made of shinee aletts and agnasite was similar to the dragon heart. Of course they would be similar—they’re both partway between a mineral and a living tissue. That strong thumping I felt before wasn’t just in my mind…” Even though he was the one saying this, Ix also couldn’t believe it. Not even fairy tales would depict a mountain who was a dragon. Who would believe such a childish fantasy…? “…I have awaited your arrival. When last did you come…?” Agnas inquired, slowly stringing the words together. “Th-there aren’t any records of dragons in the past thousand years,” Ix stuttered. “A thousand years… We understand little of the calendar used by the people of fire… But that would seem to be quite some time.” “Y-you understand our language?” asked Yuui, also quite frightened. “Yes, we do.” The air rumbled every time Agnas spoke. “Our eyes see to the horizon, and our ears hear every feather that glances off the water’s surface. If we wish to speak with you, we can even know your hearts, regardless of the distance.” “Dragon magic…,” murmured Ix. Dragons had unlimited magic and could create anything they could imagine, so what Agnas was describing shouldn’t have been a surprise. Ix felt as if his knees were on the verge of giving out, but he resisted sinking to the ground and said, “You told us we came before. What kind of people were they? Do you remember?” “We are unable to tell apart you people of fire… Yet, yes, they only ever came alone. Though, at that time, we were smaller than we are now.” “W-wait,” interjected Yuui. “You were smaller? I’ve never seen a record indicating Mount Agnas was smaller. Why did you get bigger? Just how long ago are we talking?” Her shout echoed across the summit. There was a pause afterward, and the mountain started trembling. They were hit with small, quick vibrations accompanied by a strange noise. Agnas was laughing. “…I see now. You know not of us,” it chuckled with some amusement. “There are a number of legends, but…,” started Ix. “I at least have never met someone who’s seen a dragon.” “I see, I see.” “Um, Agnas, would you please tell me something? Why are you here? What did you mean when you said you became bigger?” “As you wish.” Agnas quickly agreed to her request, but Ix still couldn’t wrap his head around the situation. To a dragon, humans would be nothing more than insects crawling across its skin. So why was it being so kind to them? Ix suddenly imagined an old beast who’d calmly accepted its death. “Are you certain, though? We have the time, but you people of fire are given so little of it,” warned Agnas. “Well, if you could just give us a brief overview,” said Ix, to which the dragon laughed again. “How amusing… The other people of fire who came here did not converse as you two do.” “I-I’m sorry, have we offended you…?” asked Yuui. “No, no, all is as it should be. That is why I am here.” And so, Agnas began its story. “Not even I know from whence we came. I am the last of our generation. When my eyes first opened, we soared through the skies, and we made our homes in the forests and mountains—in distant jungles, dark woodlands, great crags, mountain chains, and this very rock here.” “In the forests and mountains…?” murmured Yuui. “Yes. At the time, we were not so large as we are now. We had a relationship with you people of fire, and we granted you what you desired. And how different the things you lusted after were. At times, it was gold; at others, knowledge or life—I have even granted swords and the like.” That sounded almost like the kind of treasure a hero got when killing a dragon or when a priestess beseeched a dragon. “Wait a second,” interrupted Ix as he held a hand up. “You gave them what they wanted? What do you get out of that? Even helping humans—” “It is not only the people of fire whom we assist. We fulfill the wishes of other peoples as well.” “O-other peoples?” “The people of black wings, the people of blue scales, and the people of twisted horns, which you two met before. There are many other peoples besides our own, and we draw on the energy they release. We give them what they covet so that we may return the favor. Though you, the people of fire, were the first to come to us wanting something other than sustenance, the first to come and speak with us…” “You draw energy… Is that the source of your power?” asked Ix. He and Yuui had discussed this before: Where would dragons get the energy to sustain their infinite magic and massive bodies? If they had the ability to absorb the magic that living creatures gave off, then you could truly call that infinite. As long as it didn’t have a cap… “You people of fire were intriguing. There were those of you who actively engaged with us, while there were others who attempted to sever their connection with us. It was particularly amusing to interact with you through the medium of language. There were those among you who spoke of many things. That was the first joy I knew. And yet…” Agnas’s words ceased for an instant, and white smoke blew from the crater. “…an eternity had passed since we began. Many of us were tired. At one point, one of our kind decided to sleep and become one with the earth. When they did, others wished for that same respite. However, one of you people of fire happened to learn of our coming slumber and made a request. Said they, ‘We will be lost without you. Would you find a way to continue trading with us?’ Thus, we selected one of our youngest and tasked them with all future interactions.” “And that was you, Agnas?” inquired Ix. “It was indeed. That person of fire was unusual. We agreed upon a signal to be used at each visit, and we promised we would not speak outside of those times. Their kind always came one at a time. In accordance with their wish, I oversaw all engagements. The others of my kind were relieved. They drifted to sleep on top of me, one after another. Our bodies combined, and I became we. Even those of my generation eventually tired of life and sank into a torpor. And then we became longer and larger still.” In other words… …it wasn’t just Mount Agnas. The entire mountain range that stretched far to the northeast was a dragon collective? “I know not how long ago that was on your calendar. That is the answer to your question.” “Are you not…?” started Yuui. “Are you not tired?” “I will not tire, so long as the people of fire come. I was chosen because I find a particular joy in our interactions. However…” Smoke billowed from the crater again. “From some point onward, you no longer came. We no longer engaged in conversation; you only wished from the foothills. And even that came to an end. There are a small few who come this way and a number who dig into my body, but they give no signal, nor do they wish for anything. A very few have reached these heights since, only to go far away. I simply continue to wait. I gather the carved material from inside my body and spew it from my mouth. Sometimes I doze. Yes, since this has become the norm…I suppose I have become weary.” The records stated that dragons went extinct over a thousand years ago. At some point, interactions with Agnas had morphed into town festivals, and now even that had gone. How long had Agnas been biding its time? It had become an immobile mountain. It had endured years upon years of waiting with no end in sight. “Why?” Ix couldn’t stop the word slipping from his lips. “What do you ask?” “Why…do you still continue to do the task you were assigned? I get that the other dragons entrusted it to you, but you’ve done plenty. You’re tired but refuse sleep, even though humans don’t visit you. No one would even notice if you went back on your word now. What reason do you have to keep waiting here by your lonesome? To keep doing what a bunch of people who aren’t here anymore told you to…?” “Ah,” said Agnas gently. “So long as I have what I was entrusted with, then I am we, person of fire. I am never truly alone.” “…Oh, I guess so.” Ix shook his head a few times, then slowly spoke again. “Agnas…the steps to interact with dragons, that signal included, haven’t been passed down. Nobody knows that you exist, that you dwell here.” “I see… I had suspected as much.” A strong wind blew away the smoke. “Yet, you have remembered. People of fire, you have not forgotten me. You came here and gave the signal and conversed with me. If you have, might not others as well? Might they not visit me, as they did in the past? Is that not possible?” “…It’s not, Agnas.” “Ix!” Yuui glared at him. “I’m just speaking the truth. We made it here essentially by accident. I don’t think others can do the same.” “We just need to spread the word!” “We don’t have that kind of power,” Ix countered firmly. “So we might be able to spread the word to the few people who are near us. But who’d believe us? And even if someone does, that kind of knowledge is fragile. In the grand scheme of things, we’re going to die soon, and anyone we tell would die soon. That’s why the people made a festival so long ago; they knew people would forget eventually. That way, the story would be passed down to future generations and internalized, even if they would forget most of the details… But as strong a method of passing on information as it was, the festival was still lost. And now, those who only barely remember it are going to disappear soon…” Ix shut his mouth. “…I see,” murmured Agnas. “You will no longer come.” “Agnas, I will—,” started Yuui. “No… It is fine, person of fire.” Smoke rose again from the mountaintop. The distant view faded as white fog settled in. “So if that is the shape of things, then my task has been fulfilled. The wants of the people of fire have been fulfilled…and perhaps that is fine. I will slumber, and we shall bring a brief chapter of history to a close.” “But that’s…,” started Yuui. Her shoulders sagged. “It’s like a chapter of a book that no one ever read or was even aware of, so it simply rotted away…” “What’re you talking about?” asked Ix. “No, it’s nothing…” She smiled quietly. “Are there no other dragons awake besides you?” “There are not. I am the last.” “……” Agnas’s gentle voice came from the direction of the white smoke. “Tell me your desire. No matter your wish, I shall grant it.” Ix and Yuui exchanged glances. They nodded to each other, and Ix raised his hands. “I wish for your…for a dragon heart. About as big as I can carry is fine,” he stated. “Understood. So you shall have.” “I-is that okay?” Yuui couldn’t help but ask. “It’s your heart…” “There are a number of hearts within my body,” replied Agnas. “If there were not, they could not carry the warmth throughout its entirety. Losing one or two is simply a fragment of the whole, so it will do no harm. Here.” From the center of the smoke rose a gemstone so large, you could wrap your arms around it. It was red. Steaming. Something between a mineral and the flesh of a living creature. It was a dragon heart. “There was one other before who also asked for one of my hearts…,” noted Agnas. It floated to Ix and settled in his arms, weighing them down. “It’s heavy! And hot!” he shrieked. Ix nearly tossed it aside but somehow managed to hold on to it without letting it go. He looked at the glimmering red object in his arms. He felt as if he could hear a faint thump, thump. He finally had it. As he gazed at the dragon heart, a grin spread across his face. With this much, he could craft wands to his heart’s content. “Now, tell me your other wish,” said Agnas. “…Huh?” said Yuui. “I—I thought…it was only one wish?” “There has never been such a restriction. There are two of you. Therefore, I shall fulfill two wishes. Speak, person of fire.” “I-Ix…,” stammered Yuui as she looked at Ix with unease. “Ask for what you want, Yuui,” he insisted. “But the dragon heart is for me!” “No. What you wanted was for the wand to be mended. Needing a dragon heart for it was merely something for myself.” They were each reflected in the other’s eyes. Eventually, Yuui nodded. “…All right.” She wetted her parched lips. “Agnas…are there people inside you?” “Yes, there are many.” “Um, not those ones. I mean, any within your body who are trapped? There should be three of them.” “Hmm… I am not certain if they are unable to leave, but some have not moved in quite a while. But there are indeed three. They are caught partway down one of my vessels.” “Are they…s-still alive?” “They are. It is weak, but the flame of life still burns within them. All three of them.” “Oh, thank goodness…” Yuui let out a sigh of relief. “Agnas, please, please rescue those three!” “Is that what you wish?” “…Yes.” “Understood. So shall you receive.” “Th-thank you!” She bowed. “No…it is I who should thank you.” The smoke slowly cleared. It vanished to reveal a clear blue sky. “I would thank both of you, people of fire, for remembering me, for journeying here.” “N-no, thank you so much. I pray from the bottom of my heart that your slumber is peaceful,” said Yuui. “Slumber is, by its nature, a peaceful thing. But your kindness brings me joy.” “…I-Ix, don’t you want to say something?” “Hmm? Oh, yeah.” He seemed unsure of what to say until Yuui prodded him. Then, suddenly, he began with, “…Hey, Agnas.” “Yes?” “Do dragons also become dust when they go to sleep?” The mountain momentarily shook in delight. And then the voice of the last dragon came no more. Yuui and Ix lingered on a mountaintop scene that was just as it had been when they’d arrived. 6 Yuui and Ix descended the mountain. They climbed down the rocks, passed through the underbrush they had cut away, and marched down the forest trail. No magic beasts appeared on their trip back. “By the way…,” Yuui said to Ix as they walked. “Was Agnas’s answer helpful?” “What answer?” “Why it still did what people who were gone had told it to.” “Oh…no, that wasn’t really what I meant by my question.” Ix looked upward slightly. Perhaps Agnas had realized the question had been intended for Ix himself. And Ix had understood that as he’d listened to Agnas’s answer. The sadness he’d felt as he left the shop back then—it wasn’t sentimental attachment to the home he’d grown up in… Ix sighed, hiding his emotions from Yuui. And so his reason had been the same as Agnas’s. As long as he had something that had been entrusted to him, then the dead were not truly gone. That contract had filled the hole left by his master’s death. But Ix wouldn’t share that with anyone. He sealed his reasoning deep within his heart and did not think of it again. It was too painful to acknowledge. He felt like a child. “By the way, why did the townsfolk make that agreement with the dragon?” Yuui wondered aloud, changing the subject as if she’d been deliberating over it. “Whatever you wished for, the dragon would grant you. And yet, they limited it to only a single request from a single individual a year…” “You’re the one who said it was probably so the priests could monopolize on the profit, aren’t you?” “Well, yes. But…” Yuui brought a hand to her mouth. “What about this? If something could conveniently grant everything you could imagine, then people would overuse it. Perhaps they were trying to protect the dragon from humans by hiding it behind a ceremony…” “That would be ironic, considering it was because they hid it behind a ceremony that people forgot the original intent and stopped climbing the mountain.” “Agnas is too kind. It even granted the wishes of people who didn’t climb the mountain…” Yuui sighed. “We’ve researched so much, yet there are so many riddles still left. For instance, how did the New Order so completely eliminate the old faith?” “We’ve gone over it before.” Ix nodded slightly. “Because the townspeople were angry that the priests hoarded all the treasure from the festival.” “But the opposite is also possible. If they actually took that treasure and spread it throughout town, then the people would get rich. They all happily held their faith, and so the New Order had to come down hard.” There was a loud flapping of wings, and a black bird flew over their heads. It quickly disappeared behind the tree branches. “Documents… If we search, we might find records about that,” posited Yuui. “We’re out of time. We couldn’t find out why.” “Sigh… There’s so much we don’t understand.” “That’s normal.” The only thing that spoke of the past were records. So they would learn nothing else of this place. How lively was that lost festival? How kind was the dragon they had sung of? No document could tell them that. 7 When Ix opened his eyes, a ray from the morning sun peeked into the room. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. He moved Morna, who was sleeping on the pile on top of him. She let out a groan when she hit the ground. Ix yawned and went to the front of the shop. Excited by the opportunity to work with the dragon heart, he and Morna had stirred themselves into a frenzy. For the past few days, they’d labored until their bodies couldn’t, sleeping only when they passed out from exhaustion. When Ix entered the hallway, Yuui turned to him. With her hands on her hips, she said, “Good morning. It’s already noon.” “Mm, morning.” “It’s not good for you to go without rest—you know that, right?” “My body will tell me its limits.” “Really…” Ottou was there but didn’t look toward Ix. He was engrossed with cleaning the shop. With his small grin plastered perpetually on his face, he took the scattered materials and furniture and put them back in their place. Ix sat in a chair and bit into a hunk of bread. The wand repair was going well, since he also had Morna’s help. It seemed they might just be able to finish it in time for Yuui’s next semester. “Anyway, please stop pushing yourself so much,” insisted Yuui as she pulled her hood far down over her face. “You going out?” asked Ix. “Yes, I have a promise to—” Just as she was about to open the door to leave, someone opened it from the other side. “Hello!” came the high-pitched voice. A young girl stood in the entrance. She had long golden hair and wore high-end clothing, though her outfit was slightly oversize. It appeared that a daughter of a noble family had somehow wandered into their filthy hole-in-the-wall. She beamed a smile as bright as the sun and looked at each of the three people in the shop in turn. “Shigan Aym,” said Ottou immediately. She spoke again before Ix could ask how Ottou knew her. “You figured me out even like this… Interesting.” The girl brought a hand to her chin. “We should assume my appearance didn’t tip you off. Perhaps my posture or my accent allowed you to determine my identity…” Ix was surprised by the sudden change in the girl’s tone, and then she quickly began to expand. There was an odd popping sound as each of the bones in her body warped. Then an old man stood before them. He was quite tall and of bony build, but he had perfectly straight posture. He resembled a narrow beam. The wrinkles cut deep into his face, and his eyes glinted like a hawk’s. His white hair was cut short. Standing next to him was Yuui, who suddenly had to look up at him. “Uh…P-Professor Shigan?” she asked. “Hmm? Are you a student at the Academy?” Shigan raised an eyebrow. “Y-y-yes… My name is Yuui Laika.” “Yuui… The study abroad student from Lukutta. Have you come for a wand order as well?” “No, I have requested a wand repair…” “I see. Ms. Morna’s skills are top class. To excel at magic, you must first find an excellent wandmaker. You have quite the potential.” “Th-thank you.” “Are you a student as well?” Shigan turned his eyes toward Ix. “No.” His denial was blunt. “Oh, h-he’s a wandmaker as well,” clarified Yuui hurriedly. “His name is Ix. He’s actually the one I asked to repair my wand.” “Ah…Munzil’s last apprentice?” “…Yeah,” answered Ix. “Ix, you’re being rude!” “No, it’s no problem. Wandmakers place wands above people. As they should,” said Shigan before turning to look down at Yuui. “Anyhow, were you about to leave?” “Oh, yes, I was, but…” “Pay me no mind, then. Feel free to go. We shall meet again at the Academy.” “Y-yes, sir.” Yuui looked between Shigan and Ix and vaguely bowed her head. “I-I’ll be taking my leave, then…” As that was happening, Ottou had brought a staff over from the rack in the shop. It was painted completely white, with a blue gem embedded in the top. “Here it is,” said Ottou as he handed it over to the professor. “Mm, thank you, Ottou.” He took the staff and slipped it into his inside pocket. It disappeared from sight, though there was no way it could have fit. His eyes swept the shop until they came to settle on Ix again. “Ix, would you mind taking a walk with me?” he asked. “Huh?” “I have something to speak with you about. Come with me.” Shigan opened the shop door as if it was a given that the other person would do as he ordered. “Ottou, please express my thanks to Ms. Morna.” “Okay.” Ottou nodded. Shigan tucked his chin in slightly, then turned and left. Not knowing what else to do, Ix also left the store. Shigan was apparently a fast walker, as he’d already moved some distance down the street. Ix jogged to catch up and fell in beside him. The sounds from the busy main street drifted to where they were. “Munzil did a lot for me,” noted Shigan with no other introduction. “Many of the wands and staffs I own were crafted by his hands. He was the greatest wandmaker in history. His death was a terrible loss for the magic community.” “Uh-huh.” “However, instead of wands, he left behind excellent apprentices, Ms. Morna being at the top of that list. I have already availed myself of her services on several occasions. The staff I received this time is also of superb craftsmanship.” “Morna would be happy to hear it.” “I will order from you in time as well.” “No point. I’m just half a craftsman.” “Is that so?” Something suddenly struck Shigan. There was a large brown stain on his clothes. Ix looked down the street to see a group of poor children who seemed to have hurled a ball of mud at him. They noticed Ix glaring at them and fled as quickly as possible. But Shigan’s eyebrows didn’t even budge. He kept walking at the same pace, staring ahead as before. The complete lack of reaction made Ix wonder if he’d even noticed the mud ball. Ix caught up with him again, and the professor said, “I met you once before. Do you remember?” “No.” “Really? It was you who gave me the wand.” “I gave it to you?” Ix’s brow crinkled for a while; then he murmured quietly, “…Engraved number 9889, Transmitted?” “Ah, there’s that memory. It was excellent even back then. I went to pick up the wand I had ordered, and Munzil called you over, just a little child. All he said was ‘Get the wand.’ An absurd order. Yet, in no time flat, you found the wand and brought it out from that horrifically cluttered shop.” “It’s not that big a deal,” countered Ix, frowning. “It might have looked cluttered, but it was organized. Everything was sorted how Master liked it, by crafted date, core material, wood material, disposition, engraved number. It was easy as long as you knew that.” “But for a child so young he could barely speak to have that kind of memory?” “I was an abandoned kid. Anyone could do that if it ensured their survival.” Shigan nodded, then said, “This is a conversation we couldn’t have had while Munzil was alive, but… He often talked about who among his apprentices had the most talent. He told me it was his last apprentice… That it was you, Ix.” “…That’s ridiculous.” “No, it’s true.” “Impossible. I don’t have magic. I can’t even use test magic. Even if I go through all the effort of making a wand, I can’t test its abilities myself. Talent isn’t even part of the equation—I’ve been half-baked from birth.” “It was because of that that you were peerless. Your greatest talent is the fact that you are unable to use magic.” “What are you saying?” “Listen, if you wish to push a wand to its utmost potential, you have to see it from the outside. You can’t go inside. Imagine if you were inside the belly of a massive beast. All you could see from in there would be the inside of its stomach. What you could understand would be only a fraction of the whole. You don’t even know what the beast looks like, do you? It’s the same for all kinds of things. If you look at something from the inside, all you can glimpse is a tiny portion of it. If you go outside, you can finally grasp its true nature. Using magic means you are trapped within its stomach. Once that happens, it doesn’t matter how much you improve your skill—you will never be able to escape that viewpoint. In that regard, you are unblemished. Because you cannot use magic, you, and you alone, can observe it from the outside. You have a talent that no one else does.” “Who would say—?” “Those were Munzil’s words.” “Master…?” The two continued, walking away from the main road. The hubbub died down, and they finally returned to a quiet alley. “I don’t believe you. I don’t have that kind of talent,” Ix said. “Hmm, you really think so?” “Of course. What can I even do?” Ix glared at Shigan as if challenging him. “It’s because I’m untalented that—” “You fixed Ms. Yuui’s wand, did you not? That wand.” Shigan’s eyes showed a brief sparkle. “Could any craftsman besides you have accomplished that?” Ix suddenly came to a halt. Shigan didn’t seem to notice, and the sound of his footsteps grew distant. “Shigan, you know about that wand…?” asked Ix. The professor gave no reply. Ix looked down the road, but there was no sign of Shigan. Ix continued on, alone. Shigan’s words swirled through his mind. Master? Really? He’d actually said that? To look from the outside, not the inside? “Ah… For the love of… It’s this kind of thing,” Ix muttered to himself, a hand to his forehead. “It’s way too late for advice now…” 8 Curiosity was plastered on all the faces of the people gathered on the main street. They were staring at the Lukutta delegation in the middle of the road where a group of people walked—their skin brown, their hair black, and their clothing unfamiliar. They were likely treated as some sort of strange exhibition when they’d arrived in the capital as well. It seemed they drew quite the crowd. Yuui sighed. A person in the mob would cheer, then another would jeer, and then it would devolve into a huge ruckus. You couldn’t tell if they were taunting the delegation or welcoming them. All Yuui knew was that if her hood hadn’t been on, she would have been treated exactly the same. Separated from the crowd, Yuui stood facing another person. “…How have you been feeling afterward?” she asked. “Ah, no problems. Dann and Rozalia seem good, too. That all happened, but it’s so weird…,” said Tomah with a bewildered smile. “Actually, I say ‘That all happened,’ but I don’t even know what ‘that’ is. We broke the wall in the abandoned mine and fell into a river, and it’s blank after that.” “I’m just glad you’re not hurt.” “…But really, what was that?” By the time they’d come to, Tomah, Dann, and Rozalia were collapsed on the sand mound in Agnasruze for some reason. It caused an uproar, since there was the question of how a group who had supposedly met an unfortunate end had gotten there, but there had been other reasons for the commotion. For one, despite the square’s heavy foot traffic, not a single person saw the moment they arrived. It wasn’t as if they fell from the sky or came up from the ground. They just appeared in an instant, as though they’d been there from the beginning. Another strange thing was that they had all been coated in blood, from head to toe. They’d been dyed completely red, worse than you would even expect from a mangled corpse. Yet, there also hadn’t been a single identifiable wound on their bodies. They’d undergone harsh interrogation about whose blood it belonged to. In the end, with some help from Tomah’s family, they’d returned to Leirest without incident, though the questions only grew from there. Even Yuui wasn’t sure how they’d gone uninjured. Either they’d been unbelievably lucky or someone had wished for their safety, and their wish had been fulfilled. “…Anyway, Yuui. Thanks for taking the time to talk,” said Tomah. “I did promise.” “Then let me just get this out,” prefaced Tomah, sobering up. “I’m sorry for the insensitive things I said back then. It was my fault. So…why don’t you come and be an adventurer with us again? I know I’ve hurt you, and if there’s anything I can do to fix it, I will. I know I’m being selfish, but please. We need you.” “Aren’t you being a little too flattering?” chided Yuui gently. “Is this proposal meant for my own good?” “Yeah, well, I won’t deny that I’ve got a selfish desire to help you, but I meant what I said. You are excellent both in your studies and in magic. I have no idea how many times you’ve saved our bacon. So…please, will you help us?” “…Tomah, thank you.” “So—” Tomah’s expression brightened. “But I’m sorry—I cannot accept,” Yuui admitted, holding up a hand. “I am grateful for everything you three have done for me since I arrived at the Academy. You treated me with such kindness, even though I came from an enemy country and could barely speak your language. Truly…I couldn’t repay you even if I worked for my entire life to make it up.” She paused and shook her head. “But I can’t be with you. For the sake of our happiness,” she said. “I know I—” “Please don’t misunderstand. Tomah, I don’t hate you. And I don’t hate your father. This won’t change the fact that we will still be classmates. The person I hated…” She looked down and touched her earring. “…To be honest,” she mumbled, her voice low, “I planned on getting revenge.” “Huh? O-on whom?” yelped Tomah in a panic, and he looked left and right. “It was…,” started Yuui, and she smiled sadly. It was before the wand broke. She spoke with Tomah at the Academy, and she felt despair. She despaired at her own stupidity. The one she’d thought foolish was herself. And then the delegation… How they, like her past self, so optimistically believed they could come to understand one another if they talked. Yuui had wanted to show them how foolish that sentiment was. And to do that, she would show them her revenge. She would exact vengeance. On whom? On the liar. The liar who’d told her he had no desire to die yet never came back. She would get revenge with the wand he’d placed in her hand. He told her to live, and so she would get her revenge. She did it as soon as she thought of it. Brought the wand to her own throat. Closed her eyes. Then there had been a shattering sound. But she knew now that the liar hadn’t lied. She’d realized it when she’d glimpsed that wandmaker apprentice’s face. “It was…an immoral thing. I can no longer do immoral things,” admitted Yuui. “I don’t really understand…” Tomah crossed his arms. “Yuui, you’re not the kind of person who can do something immoral.” “So it seems to you.” Yuui adjusted her hood so it wouldn’t be blown off by the wind. Then she looked straight forward and stared at Tomah. “Tomah, we cannot come to understand each other. Just as there are some things you can never grasp no matter how much you research, no matter how much we talk things over, we are two people who cannot empathize with each other. That is why we can’t be together. We can chat at school, and we can learn side by side. But…it’s still impossible for us to be together right now. Neither of us did anything wrong; it is just a simple fact. We’re never going to see eye to eye.” “But, Yuui!” shouted Tomah. “You said ‘right now,’ yeah? Does that mean I can hope we will understand each other someday?” The crowd grew louder. If that was to happen, she thought. If that was to happen, it would be far in the future. Once the beginning had been forgotten and only a festival remained. When they weren’t just two countries, allied in name only but connected by true discourse. On the day when the delegation from the east could walk down this street and meet a joyous welcome. Even someone who’d refused to speak to anyone, just to uphold an agreement, had gotten their wish granted after many years. “Yes. Yes, you can,” said Yuui. She had a truly happy smile on her face. “It may be a hundred years from now, or maybe a thousand, but someday we will.”