Paradox-Roid | Chapter 20

[healingbonds]

Chapter 19 << | index


Owen: Akira!

Akira: ............

Cain: Hey, I told you not to wake him up!

Owen: He’s already awake.

Cain: ......Ah, Akira! Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?

Akira: .......I......

Rustica: Sir Akira. I’m glad you woke up safely.

Figaro: Here, have some water. The fumes in the Forest of Dreams really got to you. That place is pretty harsh for humans.

Bradley: You passed out while you were hanging out with Owen.

Owen: It’s not my fault. It was Sir Sage who said he wanted to go on an adventure.

Snow: Would the Sage really say that?

Chloe: In any case, I’m glad that you’re okay...... Sir Sage, you were calling out everyone’s names.

Heathcliff: Were you having a nightmare?

Akira: Um......

I look around at each of their faces, and feel myself breaking into a smile.

Akira: I had a curious dream. Owen, Chloe and I were machines, and......

Owen: Huh...... You wanted to become scrap iron? With me?

Akira: Th-that’s not it.....

Heathcliff: The Sage as a machine...... That sounds interesting. Were you kind of like an automaton?

Akira: Rustica and Figaoro were both very shy.

Rustica: If I got to meet you in your dreams despite being a shy person, I must have been happy.

Figaro: Don’t they say that dreams are a manifestation of your desires? Is a shy guy more your type? Should I practice?

Both of them are their usual, self-assured, sociable selves; looking at their smiling faces, I can’t help but hug them tightly.

Akira: Please stay the way you are.

Rustica: Oh my, this makes me happy too.

Figaro: Wow, how bold. Maybe you’re feeling shameless because you’re just recovering and yearn for some bodily warmth?

Rustica and Figaro laugh delightedly.
I turn towards Owen and Cain, gazing at their mismatched eyeballs almost nostalgically.
The pink of the sakura, and the colour of the morning sun after the day breaks.

Akira: Were you calling me by my name?

Owen: I only did because Sir Knight was saying your name. It caught on.

Cain: You were calling our names too, Akira. What kind of people were we in your dreams?

I think for a while, and answer.

Akira: You two were friends.

Owen & Cain: Eeeh.....?

Both of them make a noise of disbelief at the same time.
And immediately they stare hard at each other, like they’re surprised by the other person’s disbelief.

Cain: What do you mean, “eeh”?

Owen: Right back at you. That’s quite a rude reaction coming from you, Sir Knight — you’re usually so kind to everyone.

Owen pretends to sigh and mischievously narrows his eyes.

Owen: Ah, how horrible. I’m so hurt.

Cain purses his mouth, his expression agreeable.

Cain: Hang on, then I get to say the same. We’re both guilty here.

Owen: You’re not hurt. Because there’s no way you’d want to become friends with me.

Figaro: That’s true.

Bradley: Yeah.

Snow: No objections.

Owen: You piss me off...... You’ll comfort me, won’t you, young master of Blanchett.

Heathcliff: ......Um......

Cain: Hey, don’t drag Heath into this.

Cain looked like he wanted to say something, but he laughs instead, giving in to the infectious atmosphere in the room.
Owen also looks like he’s swallowing his words, and then he averts his gaze.
His eyes don’t cross paths with anyone’s — not mine, not Cain’s.
It feels like the world in my dream was a lie.

Rustica: Well then, shall I play a cheerful song of joy and camaraderie for the two hurt young men?

Chloe: That’s a great idea, but how about later? Sir Sage just woke up, after all......

Chloe says hesitantly to Rustica who tries to take out his violin. Owen turns his back on us and walks away.
I call out at his retreating back.

Akira: Owen.

He turns around, seemingly disinterested.

Owen: What?

Akira: Um...... If you’d like to, won’t you have tea with me afterwards? We can share some sweet desserts.

Raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow, Owen flashes me a lopsided grin.
Much like a lethal dessert that is at once terrifyingly poisonous and sweet, he murmurs with a charming smile.

Owen: No.

It’s not a blade of severance.
That is the first word to fly his flag of freedom: a word to notify the world of his personhood.
And thus he carefreely disappears into the afternoon sunlight.

Chapter 19 << | index