“W-What’s with that question? Of course I have friends. What do you take me as?!”
“Then spell it out for me.” Challenged by his demand, I begin counting with my fingers, until I freeze on spot when the terrible realization finally dawned upon knowing I couldn’t make it past five fingers.
What do you mean I only have four friends!? I could have sworn making so many along the way, unless you count acquaintances as friends. Or maybe they aren’t!?
But! Friends is not something defined with a specific number. You can have only two people in your life and you’d still be friends with them. In other words, I’m not friendless! In fact, there’s one person in my childhood who still considers me as a friend! Yes, we haven’t talked to each other in years but he did consider me and I do the same! Even more, he’s such an inspiring person that it moved me to be as diligent as him——
“...Sometimes I wonder how you are still alive.”
…And yet, The Master seems to think otherwise.
“Don’t look at me like that, I wish I knew too! Maybe I have some crazy luck, who knows!”
“Perhaps bad luck is a more accurate term to describe your life. Say, has anyone ever praised, compliment, commend you for surviving all of that?”
"My editor said I was amazing from surviving Loegria's unending rain."
The next thing happening, I feel a hand on my right shoulder. Master scoots closer but maintains a respectful distance. Then, he smiles at me.
“Great job for surviving up until now.”
Master has always been kind, but that was, by far, the most kindhearted eyes I’ve ever seen from him. For some inexplicable reason, my chest grows pleasantly warm at this development and my head feels slightly lighter, like someone had gone over and pushed all the boulders aside from clogging my mind. Whenever my editor praises me for what I do, I think of it as an indication of acknowledgement that what I did was enough for them. It makes me glad, but that’s all there’s to it.
But the one Master did was somewhat different. There was something beyond relief, and I think it’s… joy, pure joy.
“...Thanks.” My gratitude is heartfelt even though it doesn’t sound like one. I was too stunned to properly react. When he slowly retracts his hand, an unfamiliar ache settles inside me.
“Did you know,” he signaled me to look at Aide, “that he wanted to pat you the way I did?”
“Oh, really?” I found the idea cute enough, if he doesn’t kill me while doing it. “But, will he squish me with those arms?”
“Pfft, don’t say that, you’ll break his heart.”
“I’m just joking~”
We talk about other things afterwards. About Keeper, Cathures in general, and the upcoming Twilight Art Museum celebration. It's a tempting offer, really, but my unbridled anxiety is the one stepping before me. Master told me to consider, since we're only two days from the event night.
I need a whole lifetime to think about this.
After the announcing voice from the pub’s television that tells us the match has finally entered the final quarter, I know it’s finally the time for me to leave. After saying my farewells to both Master and Aide, I left the pub, carrying struggles to think of as my takeout.
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