CHAPTER 1
A Certain Witch’s Stories
“And then, you see, she embraced me, and…I thought to myself, Oh, so this is where we part. I knew I would miss her, but I’m a traveler—a wanderer really—and she has to travel toward her own past and future now. That was why we had to go our separate ways…”
Chilly autumn wind rattled the windowpanes of the decrepit house.
No other residences were around it, and beyond the window, maple trees were turning red and yellow. Something was making noise outdoors, like an invisible force trying to obstruct her story.
It was grating to the ears. What I’d give for a moment’s peace…
But her long story was not over. On and on, the ashen-haired girl continued, recounting her previous travels. Reminiscing about the past made her lose track of time, but that was just inevitable, wasn’t it?
“……”
Upon scowling at the rattling windows, the girl with ashen hair realized the sun had long since set. She’d begun her story in the afternoon… Did that mean she had just spent half a day talking?
Oh no… Am I a blabbermouth…? she wondered.
After a bit of introspection, the witch turned back toward the girl sitting across from her. “…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk so much.”
All would wonder about the identity of this witch.
That’s right. She’s me.
“Don’t apologize. Let me hear a little more,” urged the girl facing me, cocking her head and swinging her hair—brilliant blue like shallow water in springtime. Her lips formed a tiny smile.
I hesitated ever so slightly as her crystal-clear eyes fixed themselves on me. She watched me snatch up my diary from the edge of the sofa and rustle noisily through the pages, searching for some kind of story that could satisfy her.
“Let’s see… In that case, here’s the story of a man who became overly muscular to search for his younger sister—”
“Oh, I heard that one yesterday.”
“……” Is that so? “Then, how about the tale of a country teeming with cats—”
“Heard that one, too.”
“……” Oh really? “Well, maybe a story about when I had my hair cut off—”
“Heard it!”
“……” What’s going on here? “All right. What have you not heard?”
I was starting to sulk, since she’d dismissed most of the material I had been keeping secret in my diary.
“I don’t think I can know what I haven’t heard yet.” She gave a forced shrug, looking exasperated.
“All right. Fine. Which stories have you heard?”
“Lemme see…” She placed a finger to her lips, looking up at the ceiling, and started to rattle off the stories I had told her.
For example, about the time when I taught spells to a novice in a country where only mages live, when I ran into her again, and when I spent time with my teacher. She recounted my travels to date, and the encounters and partings with people in the places I’d visited.
“…And the latest story with Amnesia was the last one, I think. Don’t you have any stories that you left out?”
“……”
To humor her, I thumbed through my diary again, but it seemed I had told her most everything I had recorded there.
I see, I see.
Things had happened since I parted from Amnesia, too.
My tale continued, even after the pages on which I had recorded my time with her. This girl wouldn’t have heard any of the stories that transpired after that.
“…I suppose I have more.”
“I thought so.” She nodded, as if she had known all along.
“Do you want to hear them?” I asked, just to be sure.
“Of course,” she answered immediately.
It was already getting late, and I was really hoping to avoid any more of this endless talking…
I was hungry. And very sleepy. And my throat was dry. And I was feeling sluggish.
“Elaina! Chop-chop!” She banged her fists on the table.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Well then, by your leave— I began to read my diary.
The tale was one that had happened to me recently, simply a memory of my travels, so there was no need to go to the trouble of opening my diary, but in any case, I lowered my eyes and looked down at the pages.
I did it to escape from her all-too-direct gaze.
The girl, whose pale blue hair was bound into a single sleek ponytail that hung down her back, was an ordinary person, the same age as I was. She wasn’t a mage or anything, just a totally normal girl.
If there was one thing that made her stand out from other people, it was that she was unreasonably interested in hearing the stories of my travels. Whenever I began speaking, her deep blue eyes always stared at me like she didn’t know her manners. She would nod over and over, looking slightly euphoric.
Like a maiden in love.
Like a sheltered girl who knew nothing of the outside world.
“…Um, Anemone? Could you not stare at me?” It’s embarrassing.
“Don’t mind me! Go on. Tell me a story!”
“……”
But I can’t not mind…
I guess nothing good will come of talking more. I seem to recall having this exact exchange several times before now. But she always gets defiant and says, “I can’t stop myself; it’s so interesting!”
I knew already it would all be a waste of breath, no matter how much I explained myself.
“…Sigh.”
And so, fed up as I was, I began to narrate my tale.
This is the story of coming together and coming apart.
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