| Author: Sasaki Ichiro | Original Source: Syosetu |
| Translator: Mab | English Source: Re:Library |
| Editor(s): Silva | |
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.
—Christina Rossetti—
♦♢♦
Why did Ashimi decide to stay there? He wasn’t quite sure himself. Was it simple curiosity, sympathy for the girl who shared his kindred blood, or just plain nosiness?
At any rate, leaning against the wall in a spot a little ways off, he observed the girl’s behavior—probably for about two to three hours, he reckoned. During that time, the number of coins tossed into the chipped wooden bowl amounted to three. All of them were copper coins, accompanied by seven scraps of garbage and leftovers.
As the sun began to tilt toward the west, and her throat grew somewhat hoarse, the girl finally ceased her singing. Then, leaving behind two copper coins in the bowl, she stowed the rest into a tattered pouch retrieved from her pocket.
“—There’s a blessing to have a few coins in here rather than leaving it empty, you know.”
The girl preemptively revealed the reasoning behind her doing, addressing Ashimi’s unspoken question.
“…More importantly, aren’t you bothered by touching copper coins?”
When it came to mixed-metal human coins, which could quickly cause the skin of elves to blister horrendously upon contact, Ashimi and Pryui typically avoided carrying cash altogether. In cases where they had to make purchases, they would borrow small gemstones, minerals, or magic stones from Jill (despite Jill refusing repayment, considering it as “salary,” Ashimi still saw it as borrowing). Observing the girl touch the coins without any apparent discomfort, Ashimi felt a slight disdain and superiority, thinking that half-elves were indeed closer to humans than elves.
“I’m not okay with it. Look, my fingertips are already cracked and bleeding, see? But it’s okay because they’re wounds that naturally heal.”
As the girl showed her swollen, bleeding fingertips, still smiling, Ashimi felt more creeped out than touched by her determination. He gulped before he could squeeze out his next question.
“…Why are you able to smile in spite of that? Anyone in your situation should feel sad or lament their fate.”
Well, as a half-elf, there’s no changing her birth, so it’s hard to say if she can find ordinary happiness in the future. As long as there’s elven blood in her, she’ll just keep suffering—
“I smile because crying or feeling sad won’t fill my stomach. Besides, I’ve honestly forgotten what it’s like to feel sorrow or misery. Just by smiling a bit, I can improve my earnings, so all I can do is smile.”
“That’s twisted. It goes against the natural order.”
Ashimi retorted with a spiteful remark, but he couldn’t help but feel foolish and ridiculous for his typical, narrow-minded elven perspective.
Without saying anything, the girl smiled and started walking towards the gate, bowing to the guards before leaving the city. Ashimi found himself following her without any particular reason. After a few steps, the girl turned back and tilted her head curiously.
“What’s the matter, mister?”
“…Nothing in particular. Just strolling as the mood strikes me. Don’t mind me.”
“I see. Well, here in the slum, an elf like you would only garner some curious glances at most since they probably would think you have your own circumstances. But since you’re dressed nicely and carrying a fine sword, you might be seen as an easy mark, so be careful of pickpockets and thieves.”
After delivering this warning, the girl continued walking barefoot, seemingly indifferent and without looking back.
♦♢♦
In fact, as warned, his pockets were targeted eight times. He was accosted by thugs six times. Countless times he was pestered by beggars… Despite not having walked a significant distance, Ashimi was utterly exhausted.
It was almost a miracle that he hadn’t resorted to drawing his silver sword or employing extensive spirit magic.
“…Guess I’ve mellowed out too.”
Had it been his former self from when he was in the village, he probably wouldn’t have been able to endure it. The past year or so of living had taught him patience and tolerance, and the fact that most of the people around him were sickly beastmen or injured demi-humans was a major reason.
Eventually, the girl stopped in front of a dilapidated shack.
Constructed from a combination of debris and trash, it was inferior even to a doghouse. However, what set it apart slightly was the thin chimney from which a thin wisp of smoke rose.
Ashimi wondered if it might serve as a bath or kitchen, but he quickly dismissed the idea, thinking the girl would likely take better care of her appearance if it were either of them.
(Then what is the smoke for…?)
Before Ashimi could voice his question, perhaps sensing their arrival, a short, middle-aged man opened the low entryway—not a door, but a curtain of straw mat. Even before confirming his unmistakably quirky face with an unruly beard and his disproportionately muscular physique despite his childlike stature, “Hmph… a Dwarf, huh?” Ashimi’s voice unconsciously sharpened.
“Back already? Hmm? Oh, I see, so the smell of grass ‘coz there’s an Elven whelp around. No wonder I’ve been sneezing and my nose won’t stop running.”
Staring daggers with his sunken googly-eyes, the Dwarf deliberately sneezed and spat to emphasize his attitude. Without hesitation, Ashimi pressed his nose and retorted.
“That’s my line! I can tolerate the stench of this town, but the metal odor of a Dwarf is enough to make one’s nose curl!”
“What did you say, you reclusive green-leafed youngster!”
“You cave-dwellers are better suited to live with moles!”
They exchanged insults, each displaying their racial animosity with foul language. The girl watched their exchange with a slightly troubled expression, smiling all the while.
“—Oy, why did you bring this guy here?!” The Dwarf, his face red with anger, yelled at the girl.
“He just followed me on his own. Also, this is today’s earnings,” she said, shaking her head as she presented a pouch. The dwarf accepted it as if that was natural.
“Hey, Dwarf! That’s money the kid earned begging on the streets! How low can you get to take it like it’s nothing?!”
“Hah. This is rent, lad. I’m giving the half-elf lass a shelter from rain and wind, she’s got no reason to complain. Or what? Are you suggesting you’ll take her in and raise her out of kinship solidarity?”
“…”
“I thought so. You’re just some naive kid touched by cheap sympathy. What you’re doing is the same as feeding stray cats on the roadside out of pity. If you can’t handle the responsibility or the risk, it’s better to just leave them alone from the start.”
Those words cut deep into Ashimi’s heart. Although he had no cash on hand, he did have some provisions and dried fruits he planned to give after confirming the girl’s living conditions—literally, just feed for temporary relief—so he couldn’t find the right words to argue back.
“I provide shelter and safety, this girl pays rent and helps me out in return. It’s a fair deal,” the Dwarf man declared haughtily, with one arm missing. It was only at this moment that Ashimi noticed he was also dragging one leg.
While a Dwarf like him could find plenty of work with his forging skills, it would be difficult with his current condition. This is probably the reason why he was in a place like this, and why he was helping a girl who has the blood of an elf, his kin’s mortal enemy.
“—Well, fine then. I’m hungry anyway, let’s make it a meal. …Though I’m sure we used up all the ‘taters last night,” the Dwarf, now looking away, glanced back at the girl, who nodded in agreement, looking troubled.
