IBTRFL Chapter 37

Aer tilted her cup. Dried fruit beside it.

White wine and fruit. Acidity against acidity—refreshingly, they didn’t harmonize at all. Unlike before, the wine's only function now was to add a touch of luxury to the occasion.

Until yesterday they'd been at the fortress, so supper had been lavish enough. Soup made from salted meat, pickled vegetables, biscuits that were somewhat less hard than actual stones.

The fine white wine she'd been given as a gift had rounded it out into something that would have made even the Pope's table envious.

Aer swirled her cup and stared at the person sitting across from her.

Tangled, unkempt hair. Blue eyes gazing blankly at the fire. The hostility of their first meeting had been worn down by time, but an awkward distance still remained.

"Um……"

Kardo held out his cup toward her, shifting a little. It still had all the wine in it—he hadn't touched it once.

"Do you—do you want some?"

"No."

Aer answered without a pause. Kardo closed his mouth quietly and drew his hand back.

She watched him through half-lidded eyes. He tucked his chin down, turning the cup over in his hands. Cowed, maybe.

The man who looked like the picture of harmlessness had, until just that morning, carved through dozens of chaos beasts.

Standing alone beside the pile of remains he'd made—the sight of him had never stopped being extraordinary.

But the man in front of her right now was someone who hated peas and put his shirts on inside out.

The person who'd said that careless, ill-omened thing to her the first time they met—where had that one gone.

The longer the time they spent together, the wider the gap between her memory of him and the reality grew.

Aer spoke before she thought about it.

"There's something I want to ask you."

"Sure. Go ahead."

Kardo looked up immediately. Aer set down her empty cup.

"Why do you go so wooden around people? You were the same way when we first met."

"Oh……. That—the thing is……"

He hesitated a long time, then looked down.

The lips that had stayed firmly closed shifted, and a voice came out like a thread pulled thin.

"People scare me."

"……What?"

Aer frowned and leaned in. Kardo squeezed his eyes shut.

"People scare me. Strangers especially. When I'm standing in front of them, the words won't come out right, and I just go stiff and freeze up……. I—I don't even know what face I'm making. I don't know what I'm saying."

Both big hands flew up and covered his face. Between the long fingers, just visible, his face was flushed red like someone who'd been drinking.

Aer stared at him with an expression that had gone entirely vacant. Those broad, solid shoulders she'd always counted on were drawn in small.

"……So when you ignore people's greetings."

Kardo nodded.

"When you say things that come out wrong."

Another nod. The hands covering his face hadn't moved.

He was shy? A man who could tear a chaos beast apart with his bare hands?

It was a narrow-minded thought, and she knew it—but it fit as well as the words “kind tax collector”—a combination so wrong it had its own special wrongness.

Laughter took her completely off guard. She didn't know why. It was just—funny.

Breathless laughter rang out over the quiet plain. Aer was slapping her own thigh as she laughed, and then she was curled on the ground holding her stomach.

Kardo lowered his hands, slowly.

Aer, beside herself, had small tears caught at the corners of her eyes.

"Ha—god, my stomach."

After a while she wiped her eyes and caught her breath.

Wet violet eyes, still catching the light, held the image of Kardo sitting there with a dazed look on his face.

"So then……"

"Yeah. Yeah."

"What was it—what did you actually want to say? Back then."

A slightly teasing question—but the blue eyes caught it and brightened. His eyes curved into a gentle arc. The corner of his mouth held a quiet smile.

"Your swordwork. It's—really something."

Kardo smiled.

"That's what I wanted to say."

Oh.

Perhaps from that moment.

The eyelids that had been closed so completely opened, slow.

Sunken violet eyes moved this way and that, taking in their surroundings.

A strange ceiling. Strange furniture. A pain that was savage beyond description. The effort of breathing was agony when it felt as though her organs were being crushed.

"uh—ah."

Unlike the sweetness of the dream just past, reality hurt far too much. She wanted to call for someone, anyone—but only the sounds a dying animal makes leaked out.

What kind of situation even is this. Against pain she had no way to hold, the consciousness that had barely returned began to grey out.

Fine. Better to sleep. Aer had given up and was about to close her eyes again when—

"Goodness!"

A voice she'd heard somewhere before knocked against her eardrum.

Aer forced her closing eyes back open and watched the person rushing toward her. It was Mela—Fons's mother.

"I'm sorry, I'd just stepped out to fetch the medicine—"

Mela shuffled back and forth and pulled out a small wooden bottle. When she opened it, a thick, bitter, astringent smell drifted out.

Oh, I don’t want that. She thought about trying to shake her head somehow, but couldn’t find a way.

Everything below her eyes had been carved away, it felt like—no sensation anywhere.

All Aer could do was blink rapidly and watch the bottle approaching her lips.

Mela tilted it carefully. A strange liquid, dark green shot through with red, ran out.

The stream touched her tongue. Aer, who had been bracing herself with her eyes shut tight, opened them calmly.

Not bad. Tastier than a soul stone.

"The pain should ease in a little while."

Mela picked up the jug on the bedside table. She poured water into a low ceramic bowl and let it run into Aer's mouth.

The throat that had been shriveling up drank in the moisture. Once her throat softened enough to move properly, she could almost manage something that sounded human.

"Th—thank."

"Not at all. You protected our son and our whole village. I didn't get to say it when there was so much happening—but let me say it again properly. Thank you. Truly. For saving my son, and for saving our village."

Mela's eyes filled as she bowed her head.

I weighed it myself and made my own decision. She wanted to say she didn't need the gratitude. She stopped herself.

She already knew these foolishly simple people would do exactly this no matter what.

'You could live a little less honestly, you know.'

"Are you feeling any better?"

Aer closed her eyes briefly and opened them again. In the short time between, the pain had visibly dropped.

The medicine would wear off eventually—but breathing didn't hurt anymore, and she could move things other than her eyes at least a little.

Aer nodded. Mela's face brightened as she pressed a hand to her chest.

"Thank goodness. Even so—you can't move for a while. It's a serious enough injury that you were out for four days."

"……Four?"

Violet eyes that had gone wide rocked with something she couldn't believe. Four days…… She must have been in worse shape than she'd thought.

Damn earth lizard. She made a private vow that if they ever met again somewhere in hell, she would chew him into pieces.

"The doctor said your recovery rate is very fast, for what it is."

Aer blinked without much energy. Of course. After recognizing her soul, she could no longer really be called a normal person.

If she hadn't recognized her soul, that one blow would have folded her flat as clay.

Mela carefully unwrapped the splint on the right arm. The arm, drained of color and gone a deep bruised blue, was swollen like something that had been stung by bees.

Even stripped from a grave and stitched onto someone else's shoulder, it wouldn't look more wretched than this.

"Just a moment."

A generous layer of crushed herb paste was applied over it. The cool, heat-drawing sensation as it went on was not unpleasant.

"Is it uncomfortable?"

"……No."

"That's something, at least. This old man was sitting on thorns the whole time."

A gruff voice broke in. Djite had closed the door and was walking toward the bed.

For a man visiting a sick patient, the chill on his face didn’t fit the occasion at all.

"I'll head out, then. Fons needs his lunch."

Mela smiled, gathered the things from the bedside table, and paused to murmur something low as she turned.

"I was here during the days, but the elder sat up with you through the nights. He's been working on the village repairs on top of it—cutting into his own sleep. He complains, but don't be fooled."

"……Right. Yes."

Though that expression makes it a little hard to believe. She wanted to ask her not to go. But Mela had already slipped out.

Aer swallowed against a dry throat and looked at Djite with a certain wariness. The violet eyes, still somewhat unclear, had a small brightness in them.

"Why are you looking at me like that."

"……You look—well."

"Well! What's well about a half-dead old man!"

The scoff came out sharp. But it was obviously true.

Flesh had filled in the face that had been all edges and hollows. The sallow complexion had found its color again, and the brown eyes that had been so full of grief shone with a quiet warmth.

What stood out most was the beard. The white beard that had been growing unattended for a long time, like weeds left to themselves, had been cut short and shaped into something neat.

"Ten years—younger."

"Quiet!"

Djite snapped it with poor conviction and dropped into the chair beside the bed.

"What's your name."

"Ra—na."

"No. Your real name."

Aer started to refuse, then closed her mouth instead. The set of his eyes told her he wouldn't accept a lie.

This is why elders are frightening. With very little to go on, they see straight through you. Still a long way from that, herself.

"It's—dangerous."

"I'm a hunted man myself."

A name should be all right. After a long moment's thought, her lips moved.

"Aer."

"Aer. A good sound to it."

"……"

A faint smile crossed Aer's face. Djite promptly began clearing his throat, patting the air, rearranging himself.

Then he looked at the space above her with a complicated expression, and opened his mouth as though he'd made up his mind.

"Your sword is broken."

"……"

"Your sword—I'll make it again for you."

Something moved in the startled violet eyes, like a ripple spreading from a pebble.

Aer shook her head as fast as her body would allow.

At the sight of it, Djite let out a flat laugh. Large, rough, callused hands moved with care to smooth the tangled hair back from her face.

"It's all right. It's entirely my own decision."

"……"

“You are—…no. Rest.”

Djite patted her once and stood. She reached out to catch his hand, but her body wouldn't listen.

Her voice wouldn't come either. Only a deep, overwhelming drowsiness ate into her mind.

Djite's hand was on the door handle. He left behind one short sentence—then made quickly for the outside of the door.

Just for an instant, she caught a glimpse of the back of his neck, gone red.

"……Please, it was nothing."

Aer closed her eyes, her face at peace.