At Chalice’s unexpected words, Turner smiled with a visibly uncomfortable expression and gave a small nod. It wasn’t an expression Rodeo recognized as the Turner he knew.
“Running into you like this — seems the timing wasn’t great. Rodeo, I’ll see you again.”
Turner, looking as though he’d just arrived — not a drop of sweat on him — headed straight for the exit and disappeared just like that. Rodeo raised one eyebrow, watched his retreating figure, then turned his head with a distinctly suspicious expression.
Were the two of them not close?
The thought that briefly passed through his mind felt strange.
An eleven-year-old Esper and a thirty-three-year-old high-ranking Guide were close?
He found his own thought strange and tried to search his memory — but he couldn’t recall ever seeing the two of them together. And yet an odd sense of déjà vu lingered.
Someone… said something about it before, I think…
Just as a faint dizziness began to creep in, Chalice walked over with steady, deliberate steps, turned his back to where the other people were, and stood facing Rodeo. The moment Rodeo met that blue gaze coming at him head-on, everything that had been filling his mind seemed to vanish in an instant. Feeling exasperated with himself all over again, Rodeo silently looked Chalice up and down.
The layers of clothing he was bundled in made it clear he hadn’t come to work out — which meant that for whatever reason, he must have used the location tracker to come find Rodeo himself. Uncomfortable thoughts kept trailing one after another, but not knowing what business he might have brought with him, Rodeo couldn’t simply look away.
“What is it you wanted to say?”
As Chalice settled at a fairly close distance and his demeanor appeared grave, Rodeo consciously put his guard up and asked in as flat a voice as he could manage.
“…I’m sorry. I think I overstepped yesterday.”
The apology was being made — yet it somehow felt like a wall being erected. The voice was laced with genuine regret, but it fell in such a composed, polished tone that it sounded like a news anchor making an official statement. Rodeo added certainty to the conclusion he had already reached, and replied with a jab.
“Why. What’s there to make a fuss about now. Roll around with someone and think about it after, and sure, it might leave a bad taste.”
“It’s not like—”
“Chalice, and other Guides too… they’re the ones who get tangled up, and then they seal their lips like it never happened, acting disgusted as if I did something on my own. I’m so tired of it. Did you think I’d never seen this before?”
“…….”
Chalice started to speak, then tilted his head slightly to the side and narrowed his eyes. His gaze was fixed on Rodeo as if trying to catch hold of something.
“It happens plenty, so don’t worry about it. I didn’t know Chalice was immune to all this — but the ending turning out like this wasn’t something I failed to anticipate.”
“…Quite generous, with all that experience of yours.”
Chalice had hardened his face without realizing it. The shower hadn’t been enough to shake the strange feeling on his skin — he’d gone so far as to draw a bath — and finding himself being compared to nameless Guides was bringing up an unconscious, considerable irritation.
“…!”
Then all at once, a bolt of guilt and responsibility struck through him.
A panorama of memories passed through him — losing so many Guides through the years of pain. Chalice bit down on his lower lip and furrowed his brow. His own expression said he couldn’t believe what he’d been thinking.
“I can see that you understand — so why does he have to split his own lip.”
“…….”
“Ah — I said it wasn’t the Guide’s fault and all, but is it that you find it dirty and unclean, having been in contact with an Esper who’d rolled around with all sorts of people?”
For a jab, the tone was rather gentle. Rodeo caught a glance of the lip being worked raw, then found his gaze drifting without meaning to, briefly resting on the skin — smooth, as if Chalice had already shaved early in the morning.
“It wasn’t that I felt bad — it was that I was flustered, and there were things I was worried about. I’d rather there be no misunderstanding.”
“Worried? What is there to worry about. As you said yourself, back then it was—”
“Right. That was back then.”
Rodeo’s mouth slowly closed at Chalice’s complicated expression.
“That something like this isn’t accepted as normal anymore… you must know that.”
“…….”
“And I… back then I think I was fairly composed about these things. Even if I’ve grown composed about death — this, honestly, this is so long ago that… I was flustered. I know it’s strange coming from me when I was the one who did it first, but as you know, the situation was urgent.”
“…Right. The situation was what it was, and I was the one who said it like a provocation — so, well.”
Rodeo blurted out something that sounded too understanding by half, then scrunched the bridge of his nose slightly.
“But… could you not say things like that?”
“What things?”
“It’s not an era where death is commonplace, is it.”
“…….”
“You grow composed about death? Of course I’m not downplaying the suffering — I’ve seen with my own eyes how hard that thing is on Guides — but it seems like you have a habit of talking as though you’re terminally ill. That’s not exactly a pleasant premise for someone listening, is it.”
Rodeo shook his wrist, and a jingling sound rang through the space. Chalice’s dark brows and eyes grew subdued, and he smiled faintly with a troubled expression. It was the face of an adult who had finally resolved to tell a child that Santa isn’t real — but was still hesitating.
“I’m sorry if it was unpleasant. But I can’t help it, so I hope you’ll understand.”
“Can’t help it?”
“There were times when news of a Guide’s death was a common enough story on the evening news, and times when picking up a call after a long silence meant holding your breath and hoping it wasn’t a death notice…those aren’t so far back.”
“Pardon?”
“Before the usage restrictions were put in place, every Guide was effectively living on borrowed time — so it’s only natural that habits form.”
Rodeo’s brow furrowed, and the smile on Chalice’s face gradually faded.
“The most deaths would have been in the early days of the Decorker’s distribution, I imagine. No one understood the severity of the situation back then, and with everyone gathered together at the facility, they were all using it in groups.”
“…!”
“If the usage restrictions hadn’t been put in place… before Guides became harder to find and their numbers dwindled the way they have now — they might have all been wiped out in a mass death.”
Chalice gave a nod and finished the thought with the detached manner of someone conducting an analysis. Rodeo sat with his mouth open, saying nothing.
“Of course I’ve been hospitalized a fair number of times — but I have good stamina and a high energy capacity by nature, so I was never really in a critically dangerous state. As you said, I probably didn’t have it hard enough to develop a habit of talking like I’m terminally ill.”
“…No—”
“Still, being confronted with news of deaths more than a few times does leave a mark on the way you think. There’s probably still some of that resignation left in me, so I’d ask for your understanding for a while.”
“What kind of thing is that to say—”
Rodeo bristled and stepped forward, planting himself directly in Chalice’s line of sight. A firm voice followed.
“The fact that you were hospitalized alone tells me it was serious — even someone who wasn’t there can see that. Unless you’re deliberately trying to make me feel guilty — don’t say things like that. I came from a world where Espers were dying too. I know better than anyone that some things don’t get lighter no matter how much you try to treat them lightly.”
Even as Rodeo pressed him with considerable force, Chalice simply smiled brightly. It was the kind of rich, composed laugh you’d hear from a leading man in a classic film — so polished it made you lose track of what was even being discussed.
“Ha ha — but hearing that I talk like I’m terminally ill based on experiences that mild is certainly a case of me being overly dramatic—”
“Hey.”
Whether he was trying to shift the mood, Chalice kept going in a half-joking tone. It wasn’t until Rodeo finally set his expression straight, stepped in one more time, and grabbed his wrist outright that the artificially bright voice came to a stop. Rodeo immediately filled the empty space the words had left behind.
“Looking at you now — you’re the one who needs counseling. Calling it being overdramatic after going through that hell — are you not right in the head?”
Chalice rolled his eyes and shrugged. He made no remark about the blunt tone or the drop into informal speech — but he raised an eyebrow, gave the captured wrist a small shake, and sent a look that clearly said let go.
But Rodeo only gripped the wrist in his hand harder — and the smile Chalice had been wearing quickly fell away, his face returning at once to that of a soldier.
“This is exactly what I mean is a problem.”
The gripped wrist was swung lightly through the air.
“Don’t tell me no one’s explained it to you. Physical contact between an Esper and a Guide is nothing more than a bizarre, perverted act now.”
It was fairly strong language and a pointed word choice. Rodeo looked back at him with an expression mixing shock and displeasure, as though he had never imagined hearing something like this from Chalice. Chalice’s wrist was still caught in his hand.
“I only grabbed your wrist.”
“You know I’m not talking only about this.”
“…….”
“Ha…”
Rodeo, with a stubborn look on his face, tightened his grip on the wrist he’d deliberately held and pulled Chalice’s hand close to his own face. Chalice let out a sigh with the look of someone developing a headache — and at that, something defiant stirred in Rodeo, and holding Chalice’s blue gaze directly, he pressed his lips to the back of that hand without hesitation.
“Are you out of your—!”
Chalice finally snapped, wrenching his wrist back and fixing Rodeo with a glare — and Rodeo simply shrugged as though it were nothing, meeting his gaze with an expression that said and what are you going to do about it.
“Telling someone not to do what needs to be done just because of other people’s eyes — very fitting for someone who’s spent their whole life wearing a mask.”
“Do you think I’m doing this to protect my own dignity? It’s for you—! I’m telling you not to do it for your sake. Does anyone care what a Guide does anyway?”
Chalice said it in a rushed whisper — but the words came out fast and agitated with frustration, impossible to slow down. Fortunately there was no one nearby, because if anyone had seen, they would have swarmed over in no time and troublesome rumors would have spread far and wide.
