The Third life and Thereafter – 1

“… … My child, where is he?”

A voicesounding like it was absentmindedly dreaming was risen amidst the sunlight.

“Iria? What’s wrong?”

Soleil’spair of eyes tinged with a trace of harshness seized me. Silvia, who hadappeared much later than the appointed time, had just settle down on theprepared seat. She tilted her head with perplexity and called out “Big sister?”While keeping her figure at the edge of my vision, when I blinked once, Irecalled the scene of Soleil and Silvia exchanging words while gazing at eachother. The two of them sitting side-by-side and crossing their gazes, Iremembered that this made me felt like I was about to cry while thinking it wassome kind of mistake. I just looked on as Soleil’s pupils were reflectingSilvia and he was smiling gently.

         … … What is this? What on earth areyou saying?

As if toshake that floating sensation that was lingering at the back of my eyelids, Icasually put down the cup I was holding on its saucer. The porcelains strokeagainst each other and made a big resounding noise, the overflowing black teaspread on the tablecloth. Even though it was my own hand, I couldn’t move itthe way I wanted. The greatly shaking fingers grasped at the air. A lady shouldnot conduct herself in such a manner. But I didn’t care about that.

“Where is my child? Who took him?”

            Myown voice sounded distant. The scene spreading out in front of my eyes, wasthat tea party where Soleil and Silvia met. No, that’s wrong. That was alreadyover. I gave birth to a child. Soleil’s child. I wonder, is it a boy, or agirl? Which one is it? But I’m sure of it, I certainly did give birth. I,sticking it out through the pain and suffering that were enough to die, I wasblessed with mine and Soleil’s child.  

“What are you saying Iria?”

            Soleilstood up and seized me by the arm. No, I hate it, it hurts, let go. After sucha long time I finally have a use. Leave me alone. I gave birth to the child bymyself.

            Whilespitting out incoherent words, I shook off Soleil’s hand and pulled thetablecloth, searching for my child whose name I didn’t even know. The maids musthave taken him. Even though I told them to not use a wet nurse, was my opinionnot taken into account at all? Or did my parents in law put their hands in thematter ahead of time and took him away?

I haven’theld that child yet. I haven’t even seen his face.

“Give him back, Give me back mychild …  … !!”

            Confrontedwith my screaming voice, Silvia lost her bearing and called out “Big sister!”in confusion. As she was calling me with her usual sickly-sweet voice, sheasked me “What happened?” while clinging to my body. But with her too slenderarms, she couldn’t hold me back as I was struggling in madness. 

“Let go! Don’t touch me!”

            Yet,at the moment my swinging arm was about to hit Silvia’s face, my instinctkicked in and told me to not injure my little sister. While I was stillconfusingly holding my arm stopped in mid-air, my lips arbitrary words out:

“Or is it you, is it you whos.n.a.t.c.hed my child?”

“What are you saying… … ?”

“While stealing Soleil-sama from me,you also took my child right…!”

            Givehim back, give him back, give him back! Give me back everything you stole awayfrom me! While screaming I grabbed Silvia thin arms. When I reflexivelyloosened the strength of my fingers after seeing Silvia’s face distorted inpain, this time it’s my arm which is twisted up by Soleil. Was it Silvia whoraised a scream, or myself?

“Stop it, Iria!”

            Youhaven’t been married yet, you haven’t given birth to a child yet. n.o.body hasnever stolen anything from you either. The admonis.h.i.+ng words Soleil said whilelooking at my face pa.s.sed through my ears. In his eyes that normally shouldn’thave been lit with the desire to clash with me, at some point a color ofcontempt that I knew well had risen to the surface. I certainly saw the momenthis clever gaze was dyed by hatred.

“Give me back my child! My child,this child is mine!”

            AsI was screaming without any concern for my own appearance, somewhere inside myheart, one of me quietly muttered. Iria died. And then, it started onceagain. 

“… … That’s not true! Different!It’s different! It’s false! That’s not it!”

“… Iria!”

            Myseized arm made a crisps sound. I remembered that gesture devoid offorgiveness. In order to silence that shouting mouth, Soleil’s big hand grabbedmy neck. Even if he didn’t squeeze, that violent action was enough to kill myimpetus.

“… No, I hate it, I’ve had enough, Ican’t, somebody, someone,”

            Myvoice couldn’t form the words “help me.” Just like that certain day, my sobsswallowed down such words. It was always the case. I was whole-heartedlyscreaming. Help me, someone help me. Rescue me from here. But, that voice neverreached anyone.

            …… That’s right, that’s how it was.  

            That’swhy I died. My words never reached anyone. My thoughts and emotions wereentirely crushed. Without having hold my child in my arms, without havingbestowed him a name, abandoned by the person I loved, all alone, without anyoneat my side I died… …

            Myvoice made a shriek as I swallowed my breath and it resounded among that teaparty that had regained its silence before I knew it. Soleil kept grasping myarm and was staring at me who had suddenly stopped moving.   

“… here is, why, I, on earth?”

            Itshould have end. I should have finished everything. Yet, why.

            Whyam I standing here again?

            Iremember the color of the sky. And the sensation of the lawn, the full bloomedroses too, the pattern of the tablecloth, and also the tea, and the preparedpastries. The figure standing closely next to Soleil, the figure of my lovely littlesister who had come late, I remember it too. My eyes are burning these sightsinto my memory. It’s “that tea party”. The beginning point. And also, thepoint that spell my ending.

“Why, why?”

            Thosescenes that are not a tiny bit different from my memories, that they could be adream was maybe no more than my faint hopes. Illusions seen on the verge ofdeath, perhaps only a dream. However, my loudly pounding heart thrust on me thereality that I was certainly alive here and now. At the instant I became awareof this, abruptly my body temperature fell down. Even I knew my lips lost alltheir colors.

“… Iria?”

            Soleil’sperplexed voice called out to me. When was it? When was it that I thought thathis voice calling my name was truly lovely.

“… Big sister?”

            Iwondered when was it that I became unable to straightforwardly look in thepurple eyes of my little sister who admired me. My memories and thoughts weretrying to steal my consciousness.

            Mybody staggered violently and fell.

            Inthat interval, my escort who has been here since who knows when appeared withouta sound and hold me up in his arms while saying “Forgive me for my rudeness.”Soleil who had been the one closest to me didn’t even support my body andreadily let go of my arm. In a tone of voice that didn’t change from usual norwas lacking in calmness, my escort said, “Since my lady seems to be feelingunwell, please grant her the permission to take her leave first.” That voicesounded distant as if I was hearing it while diving at the bottom of the sea.

            BothSoleil and Silvia only watched as I left my seat.

            Evenin my faintly shaking vision and absent-minded state, I kept repeating thewords “give me back my child.” I thought I should stop, but my lips kepta.s.sembling words on their own accord. The hand of my escort which wassupporting my back rubbed it up and down in a gentle and soothing manner anynumbers of times. This was surely reality. It’s the reality. But I cannotrecognize it.

            Icouldn’t block the view of that tea party that was getting away, the view ofSoleil consoling the trembling Silvia who was lost in a daze. It would havebeen enough to even blink once, only lowering my eyelids would have been sufficient,but I couldn’t do it. The two persons cuddled close together. Their overlappingsilhouettes. Many, many times over I’ve been shown off that scene, and eachtime it was burnt into my eyes.   

“… Al, where have you been untilnow?”

            WhenI muttered this with my eyes opened wide, his answer was returned without a traceof doubts.

“…I’ve always been at your side.”

“No, you haven’t. I, called you.”

“If my lady calls for me, I willcome rus.h.i.+ng even if it’s from the other end of the world.”

“No, you didn’t come. You didn’tcome. I, was lonely, I gave birth by myself, and I died alone.”

“… My lady.”

“n.o.body was here. Besides me, no one,was here.”

“… My lady, at all times, I am atyour side.”

“No, no.”

            Iunderstood my escort knight was matching his answers to my words. Even thoughthey were words devoid of any gist, he conscientiously answered them without advocatinga different opinion, without disregarding them. My head was able to understandthis properly. However, my mouth was arbitrarily uttering words different frommy thoughts. It was a sensation of having my heart and my flesh completelydetached from each other. Ah, I’ve already gone mad, concluded some part of mewho has remained clear-headed.  

“But that’s not good, Al. You mustn’tbe at my side.”

“… Why mustn’t I?”

“Because, cos.”

            “You’lldie if you’re at my side,” tried to say my mouth, but the past me controlled it.“I’m a human who should have already lost her life.” It warns me it’s somethingthat mustn’t be said. If he hears a disturbing thing such as “you might die”,this too serious and kind escort knight will surely worry about it, there is nodoubts. And then, far from distancing himself from me, he’ll surely commithimself to stay closer than ever. “If I might be in danger, then my mastermight be in an even greater peril.” He is a man who would thing that way. A manwho, above all, pride himself in wielding his sword for the sake of protectingsomeone. That’s why, in my first life, he got unavoidably dragged into his master"s troubles.

“… My lady?”

“Again, it has started. I, again…”

            Again,I’m incorrigibly in love with that person. Although the steps of my escort whois heading to the mansion are constantly getting faster, in the opened air gardenthey are no obstacles which would obstruct the location of that tea party.Despite the fact it was getting away, I clearly saw Soleil’s hand hovering throughthe air as if to touch my little sister. Although it should be a scene I alreadybecame used to seeing, I got hurt every time.

“… My lady is probably exhausted. Ifyou rest in your room, you will get better.”

            Al’svoice became distant. While I replied “That’s right” and “Since it’s you whosay it, I’ll surely get better” like it was somebody else’s problem, I knew amoment when I’d be alright would never come. No matter what, theself-confidence to claim “it’s the third time so this time everything will gowell” will never erupt. My previous life, and the one before too, had been morethan enough to overwhelm and beat me down.  

“But, if, if it’s not good, then…?”

            Mymuttering voice tumbled down on the lawn.

“Al.”

“…”

            Myescort who no longer wanted to answer used his fingers to gently brush off thehairs that are covering my face. When I looked up to see his face, it wastinged with a clear anguish.

“Al, Al, please.”

“… What is it?”

“If I’m, If I say I’m already nogood”

“My heart, crush it.”

“My lady,”

“So that I’ll never feel anythingagain.”

            Sothat, never again, it’s wounded by someone.

“… Such a thing, I cannot do it.”

            Icannot do it, never. My escort’s voice that muttered so became hoa.r.s.e. Justlike that other time, like that day he told me he would take me and run away.

*
*

            Mynew life that had started this way, was always buried in confusion.

            I,who had exposed a more outrageous disgrace than at the tea party in my firstlife, was reprimanded by my parents and furthermore put under house arrest inmy room. While feeling a sense of déjà vu when I gazed at the cold glare mixedwith disappointment my parents directed at me, confined in my own room, Isimply spent time single-mindedly sorting out my memories. As I was persuadingmyself this was reality, I reminisced my first and my second life and felt likeI was watching some dreams, and I hammered into my head the things I must do.  

            Andthen, after a week had pa.s.sed, things completely returned back the way theywere before. No, I ought to say I succeeded to act like the me from before. Onthe surface, I played the usual Iria, I behave as Soleil’s fiancé and served asSilvia’s older sister.

“I apology for the mess I made atthe tea party. I am glad you were kind enough to let me atone for it.”

            Evenwithout making a conscious effort, those words extremely easily overflowed frommy lips. It was probably due to the experience I cultivate in my lives up tillthere, but I thought I was truly doing it well.      

            …… On the surface that is.

           Forexample, when I was alone at night or when I was out of anyone’s line of sight,that irrupted suddenly.

“You, you killed Silvia, right?!”

            Myformer lives were revived vividly inside my head, blending together. When I wasin the darkness devoid of any light, when I remembered that narrow prison, mybody trembled and I shrank on myself, unable to move. The metallic soundsreverberating from far away were the other prisoners’ voice drawn in madness. It’sthe sound of their yell begging to be released from here while they jolt theiron grill. Suddenly, from head to toe, everything disappears. I notice novoice comes out even when I try to raise a scream. Even a pathetic gulpingsound vanish in the dark.  

            WhenI think it’s over, the crying voice of a newborn infant echoes from somewhere.

            Evenif I shout, even if I scream, even if I angrily roar, even if I jeer, no matterwhat I do, the baby crying voice won’t leave my ears. It’s probably, surely,the voice of the child I lost. That child must have grown well. But, at themoment I died, I eternally parted with him. No matter how many times I repeatmy life, meeting the child I gave birth to that day will never happen for alleternity.

            Mybeloved, dearly beloved child. But I don’t even remember his face. No matterhow loved, precious and desired his existence is, my wish to grasp that child’shand will never come true.

Butsometimes, in my dreams or my phantasms, I’m holding my child in my own arms. Ormaybe I’m just copying the action of holding him.

            I’m broken. Somewhere in my head, I clearlycomprehend this. But everything is not broken. I was sane enough to comprehend thefact I was broken.  

“That’s right, you are sane. When comparedto me, it’s an outrageous sanity.”

            …… And then, as I kept going back and forth between dream and reality in that mannerit came along to my side. Trespa.s.sing from the window of my room, at first it imitatedthe figure of a bird. It had black feathers, and a body considerably biggerthan the small birds you would catch sight of on early morning. It was an existencewhich seemed it would melt in darkness if you didn’t concentrate your eyes onit. At the beginning, it just flew around without a sound under the dark sky.I didn’t know whether it had an aim or not. But, without I knew it, itrecklessly flew in and trespa.s.sed in my room.

            Beforelong, it walked on the ground, and one day suddenly, it talked like a human.

“What’s your name? Ô captiveprincess?”

            Itspoke to me with the voice of a young boy.

“Princess, do you now my name?”

“My name is Crow.”

            Withits small head tilted on the side, its yellow eyes were looking at me.

“The bird portentous of ill omen.”