Extra: Rafinha vs. Leon
Faint moonlight shone through a round window, and a throbbing hum echoed from far away. Closer to Inglis, there was faint breathing and a feeling of warmth. Rafinha was the source of both. They were aboard the Steelblood Front’s battleship, en route to Karelia, spending a quiet night together.
That was unusual. Typically, Rafinha’s energetic snores made nights quite lively. Inglis had gotten used to it, but others had quite the hard time bearing it. When sharing rooms on their expedition to Alcard, Leone and Liselotte had needed earplugs to get through the night. When they’d camped out, even Lahti, a tent over, had complained.
Rafinha only slept this quietly when going through something painful or sorrowful—when her mental state was unsettled. Having grown up with her, Inglis knew this quite well. As much as Rafinha tried to seem like she was taking things well, she must have been anxious about the impending danger to Rafael. Resting, those thoughts grew even worse, and her worries made her energetic snores disappear.
“It’s okay, Rani. It’ll be okay. I’ll make it all better.” Inglis lay beside Rafinha, stroking her hair. Rafinha was using her as an overgrown pillow, hugging her and resting her head on Inglis’s chest. They still often slept in the same bed, but Rafinha only clung to her so quietly in times like this when something troubled her deeply. If Inglis could ignore those troubles, she wouldn’t mind that much. This was the only time when she could see Rafinha’s calm, quiet sleeping face.
“Brother... We’ll do our best...” Rafinha was talking in her sleep. She must have been dreaming of fighting hard to save Rafael.
“Yes, we will. Let’s do our best.” Inglis rubbed Rafinha’s back and was about to close her eyes—only to feel something creeping along her chest. The culprit was Rafinha’s hand.
Inglis sighed. Unconsciously reaching for Inglis’s chest at times like these was a habit Rafinha had had since long ago, quite possibly one she had had since Inglis’s aunt Irina had rocked her to sleep as a baby. Rafinha had done this to Inglis even before Inglis had had anything there to reach for. Surely Rafinha didn’t realize that she still did it, and Inglis did not particularly reject the sleepy habit, recognizing that it helped Rafinha feel at ease. Perhaps that was why Rafinha still did it. In any case, to Inglis, the usual snores were a bigger cause for complaint.
“Maybe they got this big because of you doing this...” Inglis laughed wryly, and closed her eyes. She wondered if maybe that thought had just come to mind because of Rafinha’s persistent efforts to grow her own via massage in the bath.
Rafinha squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed, like her hand had become more energetic. No, both her hands. Inglis felt those smooth hands slide inside her clothes. “Mm... W-Wait, Rani... Not that hard... Nnn!”
Maybe I’m just too exhausted. Inglis figured her cousin was probably doing the usual, so she opened her eyes...
They met Rafinha’s, which were wide open.
“Ah?! Rani!”
“Oh? Ah, you’re awake. Did that get you a little excited?”
“A-Absolutely not! I wasn’t even asleep yet! And don’t do weird things when you’re awake! Sheesh!”
“Eh, when I woke up your chest was right in front of my eyes, and you weren’t complaining, so I thought I’d have some fun! ♪ I had a bad dream, so I wanted something to lighten my mood.”
“What was the dream?”
“We were all at Rafael’s funeral.” Rafinha’s voice wavered a bit.
“Rani...” Inglis hugged Rafinha tightly. “Just this once, okay? Get that bad dream out of your head. But do try to be a little gentler.”
Rafinha chuckled. “It’s fine. I just want to see how much you’ve grown. It’s not like I’m a baby.”
But you have been doing this since you were a baby. Oh well, if you don’t realize it, there’s no reason to actually bring it up.
“But, mmm! I’m wide awake now. I don’t know if I’ll be able to fall back asleep.” Rafinha slid from the berth. The moonlight from the window still showed no sign of dawn.
“Maybe get some exercise, then?” Inglis asked.
“Yeah. That will help distract me—and it’s an excuse for a midnight snack!”
“So down to the hangar, then?” It was large enough for a workout, and it was acting as storage for Fufailbane’s tail, which they’d brought along as one whole piece. They could cut a little bit off for that midnight snack.
“Yeah. Let’s go, Chris.”
They weren’t alone, though.
Clang! Bash-bash-bash!
As Inglis and Rafinha headed toward the hangar, loud noises echoed from within, as if someone was banging on something.
“Leon!” the two called out at the same time.
Leon was striking the dragon tail in the hangar with his Artifact gauntlets. Inglis could have sworn those weapons looked to be shaped a bit differently than before. In any case, the loud echoes told of the intensity of the strikes.
“Hm? Oh, hey, you two. Couldn’t sleep? You should make sure to rest when you can though.” Leon wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled.
“Yeah... Make sure you rest too, Leon,” Rafinha replied. “Are you training? It’s so late.”
“I guess... Sorry, but I’m borrowing this thing you brought. This is a dragon’s tail, right? The scales are incredibly hard—they’re perfect for punching.”
“I don’t mind—but wouldn’t a moving target do you more good?” Inglis grinned as she called out to Leon.
“No thanks. I don’t think I’d hit that target no matter how much I punched at it, and it’s liable to hit me back so hard I’d be throwing up blood. Don’t wanna get myself too hurt to do anything when we’re about to go fight a Prismer.”
“Oh, really? A lady finally works up the nerve to invite you to a late-night dalliance, and you turn her down? That’s unkind... And I was so curious about your new Artifact too...” Inglis was literally open-mouthed in anticipation.
“I don’t think most ladies have quite the definition of ‘dalliance’ you do...” Leon laughed wryly, and went back to punching the dragon tail. His blows were intense—but uneven and desultory. Not like him at all. Inglis thought she might know why.
“This brother of Lahti’s, Prince Windsel, that’s commanding the Alcardian forces approaching the camp where Leone and the others stayed behind—is he strong?” Inglis asked with a smile, and Leon stopped punching again.
“A few of us have infiltrated Alcard too. They were just there to gather intel, of course.”
The Prism Flow didn’t fall much on Alcard, so damage from magicite beasts was limited. Therefore, Alcard’s dependence on Highland was limited, and the Steelblood Front, organized to oppose Highland, didn’t consider it a significant theater of operations. However, Highland’s increased activity, first through Evel and then Tiffanyer, must have convinced them that they needed eyes on the ground there. “But yeah, about Prince Windsel, their commanding officer...rumor is he just got a special-class Rune.”
“Special-class?!” Rafinha gasped. “Like Rafael’s or yours?! I thought that was something one was born with!”
“Well, I’ve heard of lower-class Runes improving to middle-class. It isn’t unheard of for them to grow—though it does take another pass through the baptismal tabernacle. But this is the first I’ve ever heard of one turning into a special-class.”
“B-But then...they have to fight that strong of a knight? Oh, then—!”
Leon waited a moment for her to continue. “Then, what?”
Rafinha shook her head. “Oh, nothing...”
She must have felt it would be insensitive to say any more. And she was right. Inglis agreed. This was why she had asked Leon the leading question she had. Leon wasn’t sleepless like this because of worry about the upcoming fight with the Prismer. He was worried about Leone. He was a former holy knight: he knew the truth behind hieral menaces, and he was a warrior with firm convictions. Rafinha’s suddenly bringing up the situation wouldn’t sway him from his path. He was worried about Leone, but he had to face the Prismer. He was caught between a rock and a hard place, and it was clearly eating him up inside, but he couldn’t be swayed from his course.
“Hey, Leon, how about sparring with me instead of Chris? I couldn’t sleep, so I came down here for a workout.”
“Hm? I guess I don’t mind.”
“Thank you! Should we bet something on the results?”
“Like what? Hmm, how about a meal? You eat a lot more than me, so either way you kinda win that one.”
“No, something else. If I win, you get off this ship.”
Understanding Leon’s feelings—you can’t just point them out, you have to give him the excuse he needs, Inglis thought. That’s how to do it. Nice thinking, Rani.
“Ohhh! And if I win?” Leon asked.
“I’ll cry,” Rafinha replied teasingly, sticking her tongue out.
“Hey, c’mon, I don’t wanna be the kind of guy who makes little girls cry.”
Rafinha chuckled. “I believe you won’t be so mean.”
“Uh, Inglis, gimme a hand here or something...”
“In that case, I’ll be the referee,” Inglis offered. “Begin!”
“Hey, hey, c’mon! This is cruel! You’re forcing me into this!” Leon protested. But his expression was an embarrassed grimace, not anger.
“Then, get ready! Here I come!” Facing Leon, Rafinha drew her Artifact bow.
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