2. Self-awareness
Whatever the case was, in regards to myself and what I was thinking, or how I couldn’t think at all, none of it mattered. When it came time to work, I had to do it right. Had to change gears. I didn’t need to be me, I could just commit to my role. In fact, I had to separate me from me. To pull out just the part of me that was a priest. I was not Merry. I was just a priest.
The clan Orion was famous. Their leader, Shinohara, was a likable guy, and the others were capable volunteer soldiers. Not a bad lot at all.
The white cape I was given bore the seven stars that were the symbol of Orion. When I wore it, I felt like I could become someone else. When Hayashi wore the cape, he looked like another person, too.
The people in Orion were considerate of Hayashi and me. We joined a party led by a woman named Tanamori, and we faced goblins in the Old City of Damuro. It was strange for a group of veterans led by someone like Tanamori to go to Damuro. It was clearly less a test of skill, and more a warm-up for us. It was like going to physical rehab.
Tanamori had a soft face, and yet she was taller than I was. She was built like a warrior, yet her weapon of choice was a short staff. She was a priest with experience as a warrior, and along with Yokoi the ex-thief and fighter, Shingen the mage, and the warriors Matsuyagi and Hayashi, we had a party of six. Matsuyagi took the front with Hayashi and Yokoi, while Tanamori and I protected Shingen. Yokoi was nimble and lightly equipped, so he could come back and cover the rear if the need arose.
Though, when they saw Matsuyagi, who was 180 centimeters tall, swinging around a bastard sword, the goblins were ready to run away. Hayashi and Yokoi would charge the anxious goblins, and Shingen would look for an opportunity to pummel them with magic. That decided most of our battles. Once the goblins broke, it was a matter of how to finish them off and keep them from escaping. At that point, it was a one-sided massacre.
There was nothing for me to do. I just watched as an unconcerned onlooker while Matsuyagi scattered the front-line goblins. Hayashi seemed full of life, even if not to the degree he had been before. Even that scene only felt like something I was watching in the distance.
The people in Orion were being considerate of us. It was too much to ask us to take part in an intense battle so soon after the shock we had experienced. First, they wanted us to take on enemies we could easily handle, in order to regain our confidence. At the same time, they were hoping to bring back our combat instincts.
They were probably doing the right thing. In their position, I’m sure we would have done the same.
It seemed to be working for Hayashi. When Matsuyagi praised him, saying, “Good charge,” he even smiled. It was a reserved smile, of course, and Hayashi glanced at me afterward, an awkward look on his face. But having always been a warrior with a competitive side, facing enemies and swinging his sword in earnest must have been the right road to recovery for Hayashi. He would probably get over this. I believed, wholeheartedly, that that was a good thing.
I in no way resented Hayashi for getting me out of there. I didn’t hate him.
Hayashi was my precious comrade. He was the only one I had left. I wanted him to cheer up quickly, and if there was something I could do to help, I wanted to do it.
Not that I could imagine there was.
Around the time we exterminated our third band of goblins, I was forced to realize something I hadn’t before now. I wish I hadn’t. I never wanted to know.
This was an irredeemably ugly part of myself. By having Tanamori, a priest far superior to myself, at my side, I became viscerally aware of how arrogant and wrong I had been. I had essentially brought that irreversible failure upon us.
Matsuyagi, Yokoi, and Shingen all trusted Tanamori implicitly. If anything happened, Tanamori would heal them. Tanamori was a firm presence behind them, occasionally giving short, precise directions. I didn’t doubt Tanamori, either.
Big, tough Matsuyagi who would move forward, but never to the point he was being careless, was the one Yokoi, Shingen, and even Tanamori relied on most.
Everyone counted on Yokoi’s quick wits, and all of Shingen’s comrades knew he would use his magic effectively, right where it was most needed.
Hayashi might not have had a full grasp of all their quirks yet, but he hung on with an inborn seriousness and diligence. His comrades looked fondly on Hayashi’s effort. They accepted him, and were trying to support him.
There was no place for me. I might as well not have been there. They didn’t need me.
If we were to fight more powerful enemies, I would have to do something. There would be something I could do. That much might have been true. But that wasn’t the issue. By being put into an unnecessary role, I had been made to realize something.
What I had been like before.
I thought I was doing an okay—no, if I’m being honest, I thought I was doing a pretty good job.
I tried to do everything I could. It felt wrong not to. The more I did, the more fulfilled I felt. Everyone praised me. I was needed. It made me happy. I was over the moon. I was doing it for everyone. For my comrades. For the party. For all of us. That’s what I thought. But I was wrong.
That wasn’t it.
I wanted to feel fulfilled. I wanted to be praised. I wanted to feel needed. I wanted that happiness. I wanted more and more of it. I searched for it, insatiably.
Michiki, Ogu, Mutsumi, Hayashi. Look at me. Hey, I’m pretty great, aren’t I? I can do this, and I can do that, too. I can do anything. Praise me. Like me. Love me. Give me a place to be.
It wasn’t for them.
It was all for me.
That was why when no one needed me, like now, I sulked. Enough. I don’t want to be here. I mean, these people don’t need me. That’s what I was thinking.
This was me.
Just a narcissist who wanted to be recognized, reaffirmed, fussed over, valued.
How disgusting.
I didn’t use magic once that day. I just stood there, watching. Tanamori and Hayashi tried to talk to me a few times. They were worried. I must have been in a worrisome state. I tried to cover it. But I had no idea what I could do to look normal.
“Why don’t we go into the New City tomorrow?” Tanamori suggested as we were about to part. The Old City was way too tame. This wouldn’t even work as rehabilitation unless we fought some more serious battles in the New City. That’s how I took it. It might have been exactly that. Maybe something would change for me tomorrow. I might calm down, and be able to act a little better.
I wasn’t expecting I would. But I had to get my act together. Had to do what I needed to. That’s how I felt.
I couldn’t sleep. I stepped into the New City of Damuro the next day without getting so much as a wink of it. It felt like I was tagging along. Hayashi quickly fit into the group, and I was the lone guest. Matsuyagi and Yokoi never did more than greet me, and Tanamori and Shingen didn’t know what to do with me. Hayashi seemed frustrated, too. You’ve got to know you can’t stay like that. That’s what it looked like he wanted to say.
If that’s what he thought, he should have said it. But Hayashi wouldn’t. He felt guilty. Hayashi was the one who had saved me. It was his only option, and Hayashi had done the right thing. He probably had no regrets. At the same time, Hayashi understood. That it wasn’t what I had wanted. Hayashi wasn’t responsible for this. He’d done nothing wrong. But I wasn’t grateful to him. I couldn’t say, “Thank you for saving me.”
The goblins of the New City were armed just like the human volunteer soldiers. They acted in an organized fashion, and when they were outnumbered, they were guaranteed to call for backup. We only entered the very edge of the New City, no farther. Even that was enough to bring on battles on an entirely different level of intensity from before, but it wasn’t enough to wake me up. I used Cure after battle several times. Aside from that I just stood by Tanamori’s side, not moving, and unable to even follow the situation. Even though I was doing nothing, when I saw Hayashi trading blows with a goblin, my breathing became ragged. I got short of breath, and there was a tightening in my chest. I couldn’t bear to look at Hayashi. But if I looked away, where was I going to look? Hayashi was fighting. What was I doing? Hayashi was trying to move forward, but what did I want to do?
For three days, I went to the New City of Damuro, and became aware of the fact I’d become a useless priest. I told Hayashi I was leaving Orion. Then I apologized to Shinohara, and lied, telling him I would try things on my own for a while.
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