Episode 7
Whether or not Teresia was hiding something, there was no doubt she had her reasons.
Through all the long and short days of our journey, and before that too, back when she wasn’t yet a saint — just herself.
She never hid things without meaning to.
Of course there were inconsequential secrets — giving in to temptation and eating too many sweets, things like that.
But even those always had their reasons.
That much I knew through the bond of a childhood friend who had spent years by her side — and through the knowledge of the original story, as someone reincarnated into this world.
So even if Teresia was keeping something from me, I trusted there was a reason for it.
Well. To begin with, assuming she’s keeping something from me at all is just my own suspicious nature talking.
Unlike Teresia, I have a very ordinary person’s sensibilities — for better or worse — and I find myself doubting even my closest friend.
And yet, despite all that, she’s stayed my friend all this time.
…I’m grateful for that. Truly.
Anyway.
For now — I should go back to her room.
With that thought, I started toward Teresia’s room, passing my own on the way — and then paused, sure I’d heard something from inside.
“…?”
What could that be.
Wary, I eased the door open slowly, and felt the tension drain out of me.
The person inside was Teresia.
I could only see her from behind, but it was unmistakably her.
I was about to call out to her when I noticed: her body was trembling. Shaking?
And the sound reaching me was — sobbing.
“…Teresia?”
I called her name, carefully.
She turned around slowly, and she was crying.
Tears fell one by one, in soft, irregular drops.
Great heavy tears trailed down her face, and she turned dark, clouded eyes toward me.
“Yurina…”
In her hands she held a bandana.
It was a gift from Teresia — something I’d worn and loved for years.
But I almost didn’t recognise it as mine.
The colour was wrong.
The cloth was almost entirely black.
It only took a moment to understand why.
…Ah. I see.
“Teresia.”
I moved toward her to calm her, and she flinched — one small, involuntary step back.
“Y — Yurina. Wait, I…”
She looked so hurt.
…I couldn’t just stand there and watch her.
“Teresia, it’s alright.”
I drew close to her slowly, gently pulled her in.
Simply, softly — to warm her cold, trembling body.
“Teresia, I’m alright. I’m right here.”
“But — but there was so much b-blood — Yurina, so much—”
“It’s alright. I’m here right now. So it’s alright.”
Her teeth chattered together.
All I could do was hold her.
Wait for her to calm down. That was all I was capable of.
I’m just an ordinary person. The most unremarkable kind of human being there is.
That’s all I can give her.
…And slowly, gradually, the shaking in her body quieted, and her shallow, ragged breathing settled.
“Teresia.”
“…Yurina, I—”
“Yeah.”
“I keep going back to that day. I can’t stop.”
“…Yeah.”
“Yurina hurting herself — by her own hands.”
“……”
“The blood pouring out. Your face going still. I remember it. All of it.”
“…I’m sorry.”
This is my fault.
As something decided by this world’s story — its destiny.
Either way, she had witnessed what should have been my death that day.
Whether by her hand as the saint, or by my own choice.
But that’s all hindsight. And beyond that, it was knowledge only I had carried.
Teresia is the victim here.
Of the world. Of fate. Of the story. And of me.
…She’s the victim.
“Please don’t apologize, Yurina. The demon lord is to blame. Not you.”
She gave me a small, fragile smile.
“Yurina was just a girl who became the demon lord. You’re the victim too.”
“Then neither of us is to blame.”
“…Yes.”
I reached to gently wipe the tears from her cheek.
Before I could, she shifted slightly and looked up at me. “Um… Yurina.”
“Yurina… Could you hold me a little longer? Just a little.”
“Of course. Teresia, I’ll hold you for as long as you want.”
I held her the way she’d asked — a little tighter than before, so she could feel my warmth against her.
“Yurina, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I can keep going because you’re here.”
And then — she continued.
In a voice that had settled, finally, into something like peace:
“For you, here in this world — I’ll do my best.”