The True Church of Harris preached the love of God to the masses, but in secret they hunted down and captured the alchemists and forced them to help the Church do miracles. Those in positions of worldly power were framed for crimes they hadn’t committed, allowing the Church to expand its influence. Dasa was among those who had lost her family to religion.
“In our case,” Yukinari said, “nobody was killing anybody. But it got to where she only ever thought about the teachings of her religion and hardly ever came home. She would go to her church building and we wouldn’t see her or Dad for days at a time.”
This left Dasa silent.
“So... Well, Hatsune and I sort of became each other’s only family.”
They grew close to each other... Very close. Their family had become a mere shell; they had to hold each other up lest their hearts become as empty as their home.
“Yuki, did... you love your older... sister?”
“I loved her. Sure I did.” The words came easily to his lips. “She was my family, and you love your family.”
It couldn’t be said that he had hated his mother or his father. But then again, it couldn’t really be said that he had loved them, either.
Even though they were his family.
“No.” Dasa looked somewhat perturbed. “I mean... as a woman. Did you love your... sister as... a woman?”
Yukinari was lost for words. He wanted to laugh it off, asked how she could be so silly—but he couldn’t.
Yukinari and Hatsune: two children abandoned by their parents, who were the entire world to each other. She had been his sister, and he her brother. They had been parent and child to each other, they had been friends, they had been teacher and pupil—and they had been lovers. Yukinari and Hatsune knew that if they had each other, they had everything they needed.
And that was why...
That was why Hatsune and I...
“You’ve always abided by Jirina’s... wishes. Is it because... she was an older sister, too?”
Yukinari didn’t answer. How could he possibly? Maybe he had been trying not to think about it.
For a time, Dasa looked at him from behind her glasses.
“I loved my older sister,” she said. “And respected... her. But there was one... thing I always... resented.”
“You, Dasa? You resented Jirina?”
It was a sudden and altogether unexpected confession. As far as Yukinari knew, Dasa had revered Jirina. The two sisters didn’t always seem very similar, but perhaps that was all the more reason they were so close.
“You can never be better than... the dead,” Dasa said flatly.
“Better?” Had Dasa and Jirina been in some kind of competition?
“When my sister... died, she became something absolute within... you, Yuki.”
He said nothing.
“And you can’t overcome the... absolute.”
“That’s...”
They say memory is a beautifying force. People naturally want to forget what is painful or unpleasant. So when we look back on those who have died, we recall only the best things about them. Forgetfulness shaves away their rough edges, until the person becomes more pure in our memory than they ever were in life. They become ever more favorable to the person thinking back on them—indeed, they do become something absolute.
“If even my sister,” Dasa said, still holding Yukinari’s hand, “if even she was just a replacement for your Hatsune...”
“What...?”
“Then I was never even... in the fight.”
“No, that’s—”
—not true, he wanted to say, but couldn’t.
He couldn’t deny categorically that just behind Jirina had lurked the image of Amano Hatsune, whom he had loved most in the world. Throughout his previous life she had been the ideal woman to him, and he had never loved anyone else.
Yukinari had believed that his feelings for Jirina weren’t those of a man for a woman, but were merely gratitude for the life she had given him. But was that only because Hatsune had remained in some corner of his mind? Trying to salve the grief of losing her, had he sought and pursued someone who reminded him of her? But then, learning that that woman was not Hatsune, did he find that he could love no one more than his former sister? Perhaps that had led him to cut off all feeling for the opposite sex.
“But... I am... now.”
“Come again?”
“I can fight now. Fight with Hatsune Amano.”
“You can’t just—”
“Yuki.”
Dasa reached out, her warm little hands enclosing his cheeks. She was still just a young woman; if he had wanted to break out of her grip, he had the strength. Yet he found he couldn’t move an inch.
First, the rim of her glasses bumped against his forehead.
And then her lips met his.
“......Mn.” Somewhere in the back of her throat, Dasa made a sound, not quite a grunt and not quite a groan. Neither of them did anything else, simply feeling each other’s lips and the warmth of their bodies pressed close to each other. The kiss was sudden, almost like an accident.
It really lasted only a few seconds. Maybe Dasa had been holding her breath with nervousness, because when she pulled her lips away, she almost bent double, pressing her hand to her chest and breathing deeply. It made her look more alluring than she ever had before—was it just that the kiss had shaken Yukinari that deeply? Or...
“Dasa...”
“I feel bad... doing that while Berta isn’t... here. It feels unfair. But...” She sounded almost apologetic, not lifting her eyes. “But I’ll fight. Not for your sake. For my own reasons, I’ll fight with your sister. So you don’t have to worry about... me. You don’t have to... be concerned. I have a rival... in love, and I will... kill her. I have... my own... reasons... I’ll steal... you from... her...”
Yukinari didn’t speak.
“So, Yuki, you don’t... have to... worry about me.”
Then she said nothing more, but her breath remained ragged and quick. She seemed confused, as if even she didn’t know what she was saying.
“I’ll see you later,” she said at last, standing from the bench. Maybe she now regretted saying all that she had said. Without a word, though, Yukinari reached out as Dasa left—almost fled—the room, and caught her hand. He pulled her back, rather forcefully. Dasa stumbled into Yukinari’s chest.
“Yuki?”
He reached out, took the glasses off the perplexed young woman’s face.
“Oh...”
She blinked in surprise. He put his hands on her cheeks to keep her from running again—and this time it was Yukinari who pressed his lips to hers.