Violet Evergarden, a young girl formerly known as "the weapon," has left the battlefield to start a new life at CH Postal Service. There, she is deeply moved by the work of "Auto Memories Dolls," who carry people's thoughts and convert them into wor...
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Benedict Blue
We'd held hands in the darkness. The only proof that we were alive had been our body temperature. Whenever she'd say that she was scared, I'd reply with, "It's all right". "Your Big Bro will do something about this," I'd tell her.
The one who'd affirmed my existence was my little sister. I'd managed to get courage from the fact that I could be relied on. That, yeah, I was an older brother. That she was no good without me, so I had to keep on living.
But I didn't remember. I didn't know.
Had someone broken me? Had I broken on my own? I didn't know.
Still, she definitely existed. If I met her someday, I'd know it was her for sure. Even if I had forgotten, even if I couldn't remember her, I'd recognize her if I saw her. I wished the same to be valid for her.
That feeling alone stayed inside me like a bonfire.
-
Whether the continents scattered around the world were big or small made no particular difference for the people living in them. Any place was the same should there be humans living in it. They would plow and grow. Harvest, build and color. Create and fail. Hide, interact, destroy, starve, succeed. Become depressed. Shed tears, coerce. Sparkle, act immoral. Repent, depart, worship. Acclaim, breed, mourn. Become idle. Become nostalgic. They would love each other and kill each other.
And so would he.
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Back when a certain continent put an end for once to a war that had extended for a long time, the "Continental War", battles continued happening in another continent as if it were natural. On the topic of occupations that had deep ties with so-called "wars", there were mercenaries.
Although there existed different types of them, the mercenaries who wandered that continent were in majority freely warriors who would join any faction depending on the pay. They would head east today and west tomorrow. It did not matter if, for instance, a fellow mercenary with who they had drank together turned into an enemy. They would also not care for whatever happened to the head of the lord whose favor they had earned, or to the village of the woman they had slept with, depending on the money.
And right now, too, a single mercenary was being led to the death that would certainly come to many others.
"So cold."
Sandy blond hair swayed in the wind mixed with ashen dust. A man with looks that would be a waste should he perish in such a place lay collapsed the way he had been born. His ivory skin, in which golden hair stood on end, was exposed mercilessly to natural threats. The man groaned amidst his clouded memories, asking himself how on Earth things had turned out as such.
