The capital of a country at war.
“It’s still lively.”
Despite the war, the capital of the Kingdom of Lunoa remained full of life.
“Cheap potatoes! Come and buy!”
“Hey, young man with the girl! Why not buy her a gift?”
“Fresh, delicious grilled beef skewers!”
Business continued, and numerous stalls lined the main street.
“Mister, one skewer.”
“Right away!”
Even meat was available.
I took the skewer from the vendor and held it toward Sister Shia, who walked beside me.
“Oh? May I have the first bite?”
“Go ahead.”
“Hehe! A fine attitude. Thinking of your sister is precisely how a little brother should behave!”
Sister Shia leaned toward me and bit into the skewer with only her mouth.
“How’s it? Good?”
“Yes! Delicious.”
“I’m glad.”
I smiled at her satisfied nod, then took a bite myself.
“…Yes. It’s good.”
One couldn’t expect a proper meal on the battlefield.
Only in the interior could I eat something truly delicious. Even headquarters near the front served exactly the sort of meals one would expect.
Lunoa’s military rations were properly terrible.
“So, where are we going next?”
“I haven’t decided. Do you know somewhere good?”
“Hm… Somewhere good? That’s a difficult question.”
“I suggested touring the capital, but choosing what to do is surprisingly hard.”
The city wasn’t unusual to us.
It was like living in Tokyo, crowded with foreign tourists, and being unable to enjoy sightseeing there yourself.
“There must be something if we look.”
“Perhaps, but any place we choose will feel rather belated.”
As we wandered and wondered where to go, the sound of an instrument reached us.
“…A bard.”
Looking toward it, I saw a man playing a guitar.
“Today I shall tell of the hero of the western front—the hero who overturned a battlefield’s disadvantage alone and drove the front forward. Let me tell you of Noah Willard.”
“He’s singing about you! Let’s listen.”
Attracted by his introduction, Sister Shia started toward the bard.
“Got you.”
Standing on tiptoe behind her, I covered her ears.
“We’re leaving.”
“Mmph!”
I opened a tiny gap between my hand and her ear, told her we were going elsewhere, and forcibly changed her direction.
“This should be far enough.”
Only when the bard could no longer be heard did I uncover her ears.
“You could have let me listen! I wanted to hear it.”
“No. It’s embarrassing.”
“Hmph. There’s no need to be embarrassed. A big sister wants to know about her little brother’s achievements.”
“Even so, no!”
Letting her hear the bard would be dangerous.
To make the story dramatic, I had included many details about sacrificing my body: being shot in the abdomen at the head of the line, burning my wounds closed to stop the bleeding, and other shocking material.
I couldn’t let Sister Shia hear that. She looked as though she was recovering, but it was only an appearance.
“……”
“Hm? Why are you staring at my face?”
“…No reason.”
At the Willard estate, she had acted like her usual self whenever I was beside her.
But according to the servants, whenever I left her—even to bathe—she returned to her earlier dangerous state.
She wasn’t getting better.
“Let’s do something else. There’s no need to obsess over sightseeing. It’s enough to enjoy a day off together like we used to. We’ve eaten only that skewer, so let’s stop at a restaurant and then go shopping.”
“I would rather return to the bard… but very well. That will do.”
“Thank you. Let’s go.”
I wasn’t a psychiatrist.
I didn’t know what I could do for Sister Shia now.
But I wanted to remain beside her, so I tried to spend as much time with her as possible.
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