Episode 31: “I’m Sorry”
“This commission really was a long trip, wasn’t it. I’m exhausted.”
The moment they stepped down from the carriage, Yuria let out a huge yawn.
The royal capital hadn’t changed at all in the few days they’d been gone, and yet everything she looked at somehow seemed fresh and new.
“…Yeah. Maybe we don’t need another commission for, like, a year.”
“That’s way too much time off. A week, tops.”
Having said something oddly responsible, Yuria suddenly came to a stop.
“What’s wrong?”
“Look, Fiine. There’s a street performer. Want to watch before we head back?”
In the plaza Yuria pointed toward, a street performer was putting on a show with a set of balls.
Nothing unusual — the kind of thing you saw fairly often.
“You really do love that kind of thing, don’t you, Yuria…”
“Well, it’s amazing, isn’t it? Look, juggling ten balls at once — normal people just can’t do that.”
“…I can, though.”
“That’s with magic! Doing it without magic is what’s impressive!”
The end result seemed the same to her either way, but apparently that wasn’t how Yuria saw it.
“…Yuria. There’s somewhere I want to stop by on my own before heading home. Is it okay if we split up for a bit?”
“You? That’s rare. Where do you want to go?”
Tilting her head, Yuria leaned in to peer at her face. But seeing Fiine stay silent, she straightened up without pressing further.
“Got it. See you later, then!”
Waving with a smile, Yuria dashed off toward the street performer.
◆
Once they’d parted ways, Fiine headed for the communal cemetery at the edge of the royal capital.
Every grave in this cemetery belonged to someone who’d died in war.
(It’s been a while since I came here…)
Not many people visited, but there was always someone around.
Some graves were polished to a shine; others sat coated in dust, faded and neglected.
She’d come here because of something Max had mentioned — that he visited his own grave every single day.
Steeling herself, she made her way to the one she’d come for.
Unlike the graves around it, this one showed no grime — not because someone tended it daily, but because Fiine kept a protective spell on it herself.
“…Sorry I couldn’t come at all, for so long.”
Saying it aloud, she found herself wondering, oddly, just who she was apologizing to.
There was nothing buried beneath this grave. No body lay here at all.
Bringing a body home from the battlefield was, in most cases, simply impossible. Which was why almost nothing rested beneath most of the graves in this cemetery.
She reached out gently and traced the name carved into the headstone.
Yuria von Cornelius.
The name of her one and only closest friend.
“…Yuria.”
What would she think, seeing Fiine as she was now?
Would she call her pathetic? Curse her for it? In a strange way, it might almost be easier if she did.
(Because Yuria — it’s because of me that…)
She bit down on her lip without meaning to. The taste of blood spread through her mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
She said it again, and rain began to fall, drop by drop.
See you again, she said, turning her back on the grave — only to find a familiar figure standing right in front of her.
“Burkhardt-san…”
Sharp jade-green eyes, black hair cut close and clean, without a wasted strand. As broad and powerfully built as ever — though somehow, he seemed to have grown just slightly smaller than she remembered. Maybe it was only her imagination.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
“Why…?”
Before she could say anything more, Burkhardt silently pressed his hands together in prayer.
“It’s not as though my letters never reached you.”
“…I’m sorry.”
He wasn’t scolding her for ignoring them. But the fact remained that Fiine had been failing him, again and again, and she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the face.
“Heard you opened a shop. Word travels.”
“…Yes.”
“You’ve gotten a little thin, haven’t you? Are you eating properly?”
“…Yes.”
She’d always tensed up in front of him, ever since she was young.
Wondering if he’d approve of her. If he’d praise her.
But back then, even while tense, she’d still hoped for his praise. Hoped he’d tell her well done, you worked hard, and gently rest a hand on her head.
Now it was different.
Because she knew, with certainty, there was no way the person she was now deserved his praise.
“…Hey, Fiine.”
“…Yes.”
Her whole body went rigid. All she could manage was a bare, stiff yes.
“The girl running the shop with you — that’s Yuria, isn’t it?”
Burkhardt took a single step closer. Fiine’s hands flew up to cover her ears on reflex.
“No, Yuria’s—”
I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to hear it!!
She understood everything — that she’d run away, that she’d ignored his letters, that he was only worried about her. She understood all of it, and still couldn’t bring herself to be ready to face the truth.
“…I’m sorry, Burkhardt-san.”
Bowing her head, she broke into a full sprint. She could tell he was calling after her, but she didn’t stop, and she didn’t look back.
◆
“Yuria—!!”
She shouted, throwing the shop door open.
The bell gave a single chime, but Yuria wasn’t in sight. Probably upstairs.
She climbed the stairs, footsteps loud and graceless. Hearing the noise, Yuria came to see what was wrong, and Fiine threw her arms around her with all her strength.
“Fiine? What’s the matter?”
“…Yuria.”
No matter how hard she pressed her head against Yuria’s chest, she couldn’t hear a heartbeat.
(I’m sorry, Yuria. I’m sorry, Burkhardt-san.)
She wasn’t asking to be forgiven. It would be fine even if she was never forgiven, not for the rest of her life.
(It’s all my fault, because I’m weak. I know that. I know it, but…)
She held Yuria tighter, with everything she had.
“…My Yuria.”
Her breathing grew ragged, her vision blurring.
The more she tried to calm herself, the less she could remember how to.
“Fiine.”
Yuria gently traced a fingertip across Fiine’s lips.
“I’m your Yuria. I’m right here, properly. So don’t be afraid.”
Gently stroking her back, little by little, her heart began to settle. Breathing slowly and deeply, Fiine kept crying into Yuria’s chest.
—Four years ago.
An incident occurred in which monsters surged into the eastern part of the kingdom.
The regular Magic Corps alone didn’t have enough strength to hold them back, and a call for reinforcements went out even to students of the magic academy.
It was, in practice, nearly compulsory. Every one of them was sent to the battlefield.
Yuria von Cornelius.
On the verge of graduation at the time, she was killed in action on the front line.