* * *
What was taken and what was not.
There was a time in her life when the world was dichotomized by such simple things, without the bells and whistles of cause or justification.
To prefer hard bread to soft bread, summer to winter. Feeling more secure when sleeping on the cold floor than in a cozy bed.
All of these things were remnants of that tenuous time, salts deeply ingrained in her skin.
Even now, with a thick veil wrapped around her body, she hadn't been able to completely wash away the fleeting images of that day that clung to the inside of her own eyelids.
If you don't take it away, it will take it away.
A truth she realized as she watched the cat munching on a field mouse with only its head left, her consciousness blurred by hunger.
For a time, it had been her life's guide, her orbit, her reference point.
Abigail.
Meaning to be a joy to God.
The day she first realized her name meant that. The first words her cracked lips uttered were.
''You're saying fuck you.''
Triana Abigail, age 12.
Few people know that the woman who would later be hailed as a heroine was once the greatest bad girl to ever grace a small town.
◈◈◈◈
''I'm so sorry for the trouble I've caused you!''
It was only natural that all eyes in the room would turn to the distinguished voice, which had the innocence of a mate-seeking bird, but also the ferocity of a beast.
But no one in the room had the slightest inclination to respond to the vigorous voice.
Nor could they, for they could only marvel that a door they had thought would remain firmly closed until the end of time had been opened so openly.
Everyone in the audience, except for the voice, had to cover their mouths with their hands to hide the ugliness of their gaping mouths.
''Warrior, you've been cooped up in your room for days, do you realize how worried we've been?''
Dauna said in a worried tone.
Even though he normally had a bloodied appearance that could be knocked out with a tap, his face was noticeably more gaunt than it had been just yesterday.
In the monastery, the most likely place for the missing priest to be hidden, a warrior caught his scent and was convinced that he was in residence.
The disheveled look on his face when he realized he'd missed his mark was enough to paralyze even the most intelligent of minds.
If not for Apis's restraint, Downa would have ripped open the door to the doorway where the warrior was holed up and tried to visually acknowledge the warrior's condition.
''Hey----. Are you okay----?''
Apis was calmer than Downa, but there was no mistaking the worry that seeped into his words.
He was a warrior whose strength and discretion had proven him to be the undisputed strongest in the party, nay, in the system.
But inside, he was still immature. It was no secret within the Party that his mental faculties were still developing.
Both Downa and Apis were somewhat aware that they were treating her like a precious younger sister in their dealings with the warrior.
''Thank you for your concern, Apis and Downa, but really, truly, I'm fine, and I'm ashamed of myself for not being worthy of the name of a warrior!''
A stiff, brawny posture. A booming voice. A beaming smile.
He was his usual self.
He was arguably the most correct form of a warrior she could recall, and his appearance was as flawless as if she were looking at a perfectly put together puzzle with no missing pieces.
But for those of them who had witnessed such perfection shattered only yesterday, this pristine image of a warrior was an abomination to their growing unease.
They knew. They couldn't not know. How desperately he had searched for the priest over the past month. Worried. Missed him.
When he had first left the party, the warrior had tried to calmly accept the reality that if the priest had left the party of his own free will, they had no cause or right to hold him.
Ever since the suspicion that something untoward might have happened to the priest, he has changed as if his personality had been reversed.
The ferocity with which the warrior pointed his sword at the noncombatant, even though it was directed at the man who might have kidnapped the priest, was a sight that would have been dismissed as a falsehood had I not seen it with my own eyes.
To them, accustomed as they were to the warrior's innocent demeanor, it was like a bad daydream.
It was for this reason that even at the moment when Big Team grabbed the hilt of the warrior's sword and stopped the murder from happening, they, the heroes of the Reversal Grind, were not fully prepared for battle.
''I would love to visit Sister and offer her my sincere apologies, but even if my intentions are good, as long as I am the aggressor and she is the victim, anything I do face-to-face could be an act of violence against her, and that would be unacceptable!''
It was an orderly logic, a calm tone that could hardly be believed to have come from the mouth of a human who, only yesterday, had lost his temper, swung a sword, and finally fell asleep exhausted from crying.
Downa and Apis's gazes met for an instant.
It was clear that there was a lingering uneasiness, a dull discomfort, beneath those two eyes.
''Therefore, I decided to convey my apology through a letter, and fortunately, I had some experience with how to express my sincere and heartfelt apology on paper before, so this was the perfect opportunity to showcase my new art of 'warrior handwriting', which I had perfected based on that day's experience, or so I thought!''
The warrior who had been holding a luxurious letter envelope in his arms suddenly raised his voice.
His majestic gesture was so dazzling that the fluttering paper seemed for a moment to resemble a legendary holy sword.
The light seemed a little duller than usual, though not enough to deceive those accustomed to the warrior's flamboyant behavior.
''I was just wondering what you were up to after being locked up all night----.''
Downa spoke up, breathing heavily.
Now, the warrior's pure white face and hands were stained with the thick black of ink, and the view through the wide-open door into the room he'd been locked in was almost impossible to see through the piles of papers stacked so tightly together that the floor was barely visible.
It's not hard to imagine the warrior's head wrapped up in paperwork, his mind wandering over and over again, as he was a man of few words when it came to matters not related to battle.
Downa's nerves seemed to loosen ever so slightly at the sight of such a gorgeous woman.
The ever-cautious Apis was still watching the warrior's next move with a hint of suspicion.
''So, Downa, if you'll excuse me, would you please deliver this letter to the monastery on my behalf? ''Unfortunately, my current state is one of mental exhaustion, and I'm in need of a good night's sleep!''
''You always talk too much when you should just say you're sleepy----. I see. I'll take charge of this letter and deliver it to the monastery, and you go get some sleep.''
''Thank you!''
Taking the letter from the warrior as if she couldn't resist, Downa tucked it under her breastplate and began to walk outdoors.
''Ugh!''
Apis said quietly to the warrior, who was slowly performing kijiji jutsu, stretching his creaky joints with light gymnastics.
''Hey. Warrior.''
''Um, what's wrong, Apis!''
''You. Are you sure you're okay?''
''Yes! I'm fine!''
The warrior replies cheerfully as always.
However, I wonder if it's the aftermath of a long night's sleep.
Normally, the warrior would have turned his head in the direction of the voice and responded to the conversation face to face.
For some reason, for that moment only, he turned his back on the voice calling him, and spoke in a hushed tone that could not easily define the emotion behind his words.
''Because I am a warrior.''
◈◈◈◈
It was grim and devastating.
Even when the redhead had been banished from her home village for the ridiculous reason that she was a fire-caller, she hadn't felt this way, Apis reflected.
A month. A month is barely a moment in his hometown's time, barely a toll.
But now that most of that month had been wasted, Apis was acutely aware of why his people divided their time into such short increments of three or four days.
It was a grace period that the warrior himself had vowed to devote to the search for the priest, a bombshell declaration that he would set aside his warrior duties for the time being.
With that period now only a few days away, Apis was nervous and anxious every minute of it.
As much as the party had been convinced, from prior circumstances and the evidence and testimony they had seen and heard, that the priest would be in the monastery where the saintess was enshrined.
Now that those expectations had been so spectacularly shattered, the waves of despondency that crashed over their minds were indescribable.
''I see you're still as good as ever at hiding behind sluggish subjects----.''
Try to catch me somewhere.
Pushing his resentful thoughts to the back of his mind, Apis headed for the small bookstore near his quarters.
It wasn't for information.
It was part of her routine to collect the rare tales of her people from the small and large bookstores throughout the islands, a way to calm her own turbulent mind.
It was when he first began to long for the world outside of his village that he stumbled upon a stack of fairy tales washed up on the river.
He joined the party because he saw in it a glimpse of the hero he had once seen in a storybook.
For Apis, therefore, the fairy tales of his people were the spark of his life, the guide of his soul, and, to put it mildly, his life's guide.
''Huh? Apis?''
''Huh?''
''Yes. It was definitely not an exaggeration.
* * *