~Lies My Soldier Told Me~
It would be easier if I had hated you.
"Don't worry,"
What are you saying?
"You can do it."
No. Stop. Don't go.
"Do your best, Alba."
Don't go.
"It was fun."
Don't go...!
"WAIT!"
In the blink of an eye, it seemed, he had crossed, no, flown the immeasurably wide distance gaping between them, fingers desperately outstretched to catch hold of something, anything—
"Don't go!"
"Whoa!" Lurching to the side as a gloved hand clamped down in a vicelike grip around his right wrist, Ros caught his footing just before the momentum of Alba's movement ended with both of them in a pile on the ground. He huffed indignantly, cast an annoyed look at the boy who had his head lowered, and attempted to tug his own arm away. Alba's hand did not budge. "What do you think you're doing, hero? Let go."
"I won't!" Alba looked up with shimmering eyes and uncharacteristic determination, tightening his grip to the point where it was painful.
"That's right, don't let him do it!" The alleged Demon Lord wailed, trembling where he was kneeling. "Or else I'll get sealed again by Cre— I mean Shii—"
"And that's enough out of you," Ros hissed, a dark expression flitting across his face. The almost murderous aura that suddenly emanated from the legendary hero made Alba shudder, and he watched in apprehensive fascination as Ros snapped his fingers, rendering the Demon Lord immobile with terrifying ease. "As for you," Ros said crisply, turning an equally dark glare on Alba. "I'll ask one more time. What do you think you're doing?"
"I…" He swallowed nervously, once, twice. "I…"
Words failed Alba as three months' worth of memories raced through his mind in an instant, faces and places blurring together with startling clarity. Only three months since they had started their journey together as hero and soldier, yet it felt as if an eternity had been compressed into that short time. Three months of traveling, of battling, of meeting new people, of seeing new places. Three months of putting up with the soldier's—with Ros's disparaging comments, of taking Ros's uncalled for sneak attacks, of retorting at Ros's general unhelpfulness, of puzzling over Ros's obliviousness to everyday objects and food and terms that should have seemed commonplace. Three months of glancing up, and occasionally, sometimes, catching sight of a distant look in Ros's red, red, eyes, as if he were seeing something far beyond Alba and their mission and the bright, lively world that encompassed them.
And Alba realized.
"I don't want you to go!"
The sound of silence was deafening.
"…I can see that," Ros replied flatly, briefly lifting his wrist where Alba's hand was still attached before letting it drop back down. "You know, I really was joking when I asked if you had a brain or not back then. I honestly didn't expect you not to have one."
"That's mean!" Alba yelped, but he shook his head furiously, relentlessly. "Please… don't go," he whispered, a tight feeling in his chest obstructing his voice.
There was a sigh of exasperation from Ros. "Now look, hero—"
"I know that I'm weak," Alba interrupted loudly, inarticulate emotions rising up like a tidal wave to push out all the words he wanted to, needed to say. "I know that I'm clumsy. I know that all I do is complain. I know… that I don't know anything about the world. Or about you." He inhaled deeply and straightened his back, leveling a clear gaze up at Ros. "…I know that I'm no hero," Alba said finally, the admission stabbing into his stomach. "All I've been doing is running around playing one."
Certainly, Ros often just watched nonchalantly as Alba, in a futile effort, would struggle to stop a Nisepanda or some other monster from stepping on him. But Ros could, and would fight, and he had never once truly let Alba's life fall in danger.
Certainly, Ros would always kindly suggest that Alba sleep on the floor whenever they rented rooms at an inn for the night. But Ros had taught him how to negotiate with the innkeeper, how to get rooms for a good price, and Alba had always found a blanket thrown over him in the morning, no matter how late he fell asleep.
Certainly, Ros delighted in serving dubious-looking mushrooms and other inedible plants and cheerfully announcing their lethality whenever they camped out in the wilderness. But Ros had never let Alba and Ruki go hungry, always somehow finding a way to make sure they all had enough to eat.
Over the last three months, as he watched and heard and learned, the thought had crossed Alba's mind more than once.
Soldier is more of a hero than I am.
"But I don't care who's who right now!" He was surprised at his own shout, even as Ros's arm flinched in his grasp. "W-We're still a party, aren't we?! We're supposed to look out for each other! We're supposed to stick together until we bring peace to the world… Until the very end! So why are you deciding to seal the Demon Lord all by yourself like that?! I might be weak and useless, but… At least a little…"
His heart had never pounded harder than now, and Alba inhaled sharply.
"Can't you rely on me?!"
Thump.
"Ow!"
The tears welling up in his eyes immediately became tears of pain as Ros brought his free hand down in a heavy fist on Alba's head. He looked up, eyes watering, ready to protest the injustice of it—
But Ros was laughing.
"I've never heard anything more embarrassing in my life." Wrenching his arm forcibly away, Ros rubbed his wrist ruefully, still snickering. "How long did it take you to come up with that, mister trash heap?"
Alba felt as if his face were on fire. "T-That's n-not… I-I mean…"
Another, softer blow to the same spot, and Alba let out a squeak. "Interrupting again, are we? Please let a person finish speaking first." But Ros remained silent for a long moment, his hand still resting on top of Alba's hair. His expression was unreadable. "Well, as long as you're offering…" Abruptly, there was a pressure on Alba's head and he found himself staring down at the ground, the force of Ros's hand keeping his face lowered.
"H-Hey, what are you—"
"Just lend me your ear for a while," Ros said quietly. "And keep your head down."
"…Okay."
Another moment of silence, and Ros sighed.
"I meant what I said earlier." The words, in Ros's voice, trickled out deliberately, one by one. "It was fun traveling with you and Ruki. I got to eat a lot of good food too. Like ice cream, and crepes, and cream anmitsu, and… Hm, what else am I forgetting…"
"…Is food all you got out of it?"
"Shut up for a second."
"Ow."
"Anyway, that was the kind of thing I enjoyed. You, however, are an entirely different matter."
"M-Me?"
He heard a soft, contemptuous chuckle. "Having the nerve to yell at me like that when we first met, running away from that tornado… It was interesting. And then after we started traveling, whenever I thought about how proud you seemed to be of being a descendant of the 'legendary hero', I couldn't help but laugh. You were hilarious."
"…"
"It's just as you say," Ros continued evenly, and Alba couldn't help but wonder what sort of expression he was making. "You're no good in a fight. You don't know the way anything works outside of your cozy village. Your only defining characteristic is your ability to make a witty comment about everything."
"That's got nothing to do with—"
"You also have an unhealthy fascination with prisons and little girls."
"I don't!" Alba shot his head up, only to be pushed back down almost immediately.
"That was a joke. Are you an idiot?"
"Ugh…"
A pause, filled with some inexplicable emotion, before Ros spoke again. "But I figure… If someone as good-for-nothing as you is allowed to call themselves a hero now, then the world must be pretty peaceful. That's the sort of peace you were talking about just now, isn't it? And the only thing standing in the way is this guy here."
The Demon Lord, of course.
"So you asked why I'm sealing the Demon Lord? Since it's for the sake of world peace, nothing would make me happier, obviously. After all… I'm the hero Creasion." He laughed derisively, a cold sound that sent chills down Alba's spine.
Alba's eyes widened. "But—"
"I'm not done." Ros's grip on his head tightened. "If you still want another reason, it's because of you. Honestly, you've been nothing but infuriatingly useless. I'm not your mother, or an older brother, and I'm sure you don't think I'm a friend. Getting away from you will be a relief."
Despite the abrasive words, despite the sardonic tone, there was a note of… something, in Ros's voice, that Alba could detect. Perhaps a lack of conviction, or a strange, strained fondness, or maybe both and neither at the same time, but the bleak sound made Alba's heart twist painfully in his chest.
"So whatever you do from now on, I don't ever want to see your face again."
Slowly, carefully, gently, Ros's hand lifted up at last, releasing the hold on Alba's head, and Alba looked up frantically.
Just in time to see the faint curve of Ros's mouth before he turned away.
"Thanks for everything."
Suddenly, it clicked.
"ROS!"
For the second time, Alba reached out in front of him.
His hand closed on empty air.
A dark spot appeared and began to spread on the tattered piece of red fabric that Alba hugged tightly to his chest. And then another. And another. Though he could feel choking sobs beginning to well up in his throat, he managed to utter a single, quiet word, nearly lost within the swirling wind.
"…Liar."
"Since it's for the sake of world peace, nothing would make me happier, obviously."
"Getting away from you will be a relief."
"I don't ever want to see your face again."
.
.
.
"Thanks for everything."
If you really meant any of those things, then why were you making such a face?