Chapter 32: Inheritance / A Story

Dragon Era 559

I hate Sensei.
He’s indecisive, timid, easily pressured, and pathetic.
I absolutely hate that kind of Sensei.

『You don’t have to put it like that.』

Ignoring that voice ringing in my head, I swing my sword again today.
When I’m doing that, I can forget everything.

「Hey, you’re working hard, Asaka.」

And yet the moment I hear that irritating voice, my chest starts to stir.

「Not really. I'm of the Sword Clan—of course I am.」

Without even looking at his face, I answered curtly.

「You don't need to overdo it just because you're of the Sword Clan.」

I don’t answer his gentle words.

「Hey, Asaka.」

Even when I ignore him, Sensei keeps talking to me in a calm tone like it’s nothing.

「I was thinking of going to see my wife. Will you come with me?」

No.

「Okay.」

That’s what I thought, but my mouth answered on its own.

「Thanks.」

Sensei’s smile—like he knew I’d say that—was downright infuriating.

We arrived at two stones sitting companionably side by side.
Standing between them, Sensei pressed his hands together.
I watched in silence.

Because they’re just stones. There’s nobody there.
Putting your hands together or polishing them won’t make anyone happy.

『Um, I’d be happy, though.』

Even so, at that voice echoing in my head, I picked up a cloth.

「What’s wrong?」
「Nothing.」

Ignoring Sensei tilting his head, I polish the headstone.
Not that it needs my polishing—it’s already gleaming.
Of course it is—there’s an idle dragon right here who polishes them on rainy and windy days alike.

「Thank you, Asaka.」
「…It’s nothing.」

I suddenly felt irrationally irritated and scrubbed the stone all the more carefully.
Watching me, Sensei gave a soft wry smile and started polishing Ai Onee-chan’s gravestone beside me.

「…Sensei.」
「Mm?」

I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the words slipped out by themselves.
I shouldn’t have made any volume to speak of, but the sharp-eared dragon picked it up perfectly and chimed back.

「…Was it really okay? In the end, she died.」
「Hmm. Well, I wouldn’t call it ‘okay.’」

When I asked that in spite of myself, Sensei wore a complicated expression—half troubled, half smiling.

「It is sad, yes… but I don’t regret it.」
「…I see.」

I answer like I don’t care and sigh.
Whether that’s exasperation, anger… or something else—
—I don’t even know myself.

「Also, somehow… I feel like she’s still by my side even now.」
「You actually believe that kind of promise?」

Blurting that out, I saw Sensei look a little surprised.

「You know about it?」
「…I heard it.」
「I see. You and Yuuki were close.」

I nod.
From where I stand, Aunt Yuuki was my great-aunt—my grandfather Amata’s little sister.
She’d play with me a lot when I was little.

I loved the stories Aunt Yuuki told me.

A dependable, gentle, laid‑back elf like a mother.
A Lycos Centaur like an older sister—kind, but scary when she got mad.
A mischievous lizardman like a little brother, and a lively mermaid like a little sister.

And a story of love and youth spent with my beloved Onii-chan the dragon and the others.

Aunt Yuuki’s skillful storytelling felt so vivid it was as if I’d lived it myself.
I don’t even know when it started that I could feel the colors, sounds, smells, and tastes, too.

「I’ve heard everything. Even all your pathetic, uncool parts, Sensei—every last one.」
「Ha ha, that’s scary.」

Maybe he thought I was speaking figuratively; Sensei laughed.
But it isn’t a joke.

Aunt Yuuki’s memories are all inside my head.
Even the parts she never told—every bit.

That’s surely the last magic she left behind.

—That’s why.
The squeeze in my chest every time I see Sensei smile, and the way my heart pounds helplessly whenever he talks to me—those must be Aunt Yuuki’s.

I hate Sensei. I tell that to myself.

「…Because Aunt Yuuki really loved you, Sensei.」
「Yeah. I know.」

Sensei nods as if it’s obvious, and my chest gives another stab of pain. I could never bear it. I don’t have her kind of resolve.

But of course I know—she started out that way, too.
She tried to keep her distance, tried to avoid him—
—and still couldn’t help falling in love.

I’m sure I have my own story.
It might cross her path, or it might follow something completely different.
For now, I want to be the me who hates Sensei.
Knowing full well it’s probably a useless resistance.

『I’m sorry.』

A faint voice echoes in my head. It’s nothing but an illusion I made up.
Aunt Yuuki died five years ago.

『Thank you.』

Just my imagining—what she would surely say.

…But I’m sure I’ll tell the story.
To my children, to my grandchildren. To my nieces and nephews. I’m sure I’ll tell it.
And they’ll pass it on.

Because it’s a very important promise.
The promise that she’d always stay by his side.

It’s the story of a girl who lived her short life with all her might.

A memory I carry in my heart.

The story of Tsurugibe Yuuki.