⊱ ────── {.⋅ 11th of Jin, 984 G.E ⋅.} ────── ⊰

̶D̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶d̶i̶a̶r̶y̶,̶

̶H̶e̶l̶l̶o̶!̶

̶G̶r̶e̶e̶t̶i̶n̶g̶s̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶s̶a̶l̶u̶t̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶s̶~̶

I don't quite know how to open this. Zozo got me this journal today and I've been dying to use it. Problem is, I haven't an iota of a clue on what to write about.

So perhaps I'll start by writing about myself and what I've been up to. That's what journals are for after all, right?

̶T̶o̶d̶a̶y̶ ̶I̶

That seems kind of dull though.

What was the last interesting thing to occur to me?

Oh, it's easier to think when I'm jotting my thoughts down. Maybe this is how I'm supposed to use this?

No, that doesn't seem right.

Well, in regards to interesting stories, there was one tale that stood out to me recently. It happened two days ago—the same day I was accepted as Mr. Potternuggets' second apprentice.

Ah... but I've already marked this entry with today's date. It'd be queer to fill it out with details from the day before yesterday.

What to do..?

Actually, what do I care? This is for me, and me alone. It's not like anyone's going to read this or anything.

Okay! I've decided! I'll talk about what I want when I want, and I won't be bound by any silly and arbitrary rules!

As for the interesting tale I had in mind...

⊱ ────── {.⋅ 9th of Jin, 984 G.E ⋅.} ────── ⊰

It was late afternoon.

Zozo and I were finishing up the errands Mr. Potternuggets assigned us to. They were menial tasks, with the intention of sprucing up the store prior to the grand reopening.

Our current task was polishing the armor pieces. Chestplates, pauldrons, greaves—anything shiny or metal was subjected to a thorough waxing.

We were sat in a room dedicated to just that: armor polishing.

A long reinforced wooden table was situated in the middle of the room. At the back were shelves containing an assortment of tools.

From whetstones to prongs to sandpaper—the room was practically a fully-functional burnishing workshop. The only difference was, that the people using it were anything but professionals.

I sat on the far side of the table, while Zozo sat opposite me.

We were quiet for the most part; this protracted period of silence would be interspaced with the occasional grunt or frustrated groan.

But that aside, we were alone together, consumed by stagnant air.

Vigorously sanding the rusty iron bracer on my lap, I'd periodically and subconsciously steal glances at Zozo before swiftly averting my stare.

A peculiar emotion accompanied these furtive looks, one that tightened my chest and muddled my thinking. It was as though an illness had befallen me after I'd shortened my hair.

The more I thought about it, the harder it was to focus.

Lorenzo was quick to catch my strange demeanor and called me out.

"Um, Mel?" he worriedly said.

"Y-y-yes Zozo..?" I replied, stuttering as I got the words out.

"You doing okay?"

"W-why wouldn't I be?"

"Well... for one thing," he continued, "your face is so red I can hardly distinguish it from your irises."

I squeaked in mortification as I desperately tried hiding my bright pink countenance.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

And foolishly, I followed it up with a hamfisted attempt at allaying his concerns as I cast my gaze to the floor.

"I-I-I'm fine! Really!" I lied, unaware of the ailment besetting me.

Suddenly though, Lorenzo appeared before me and touched his forehead against mine. I hadn't noticed him leaving his seat until he was mere centimeters from my face.

"I've never seen you get sick before but," he muttered, "maybe your reckless behavior yesterday has finally caught up to your health?"

The sensation of his breath against my already-tingling visage caused me to recoil in shock.

In pushing myself away from him, I found myself on the rim of my chair and I clumsily fell off as I lost my balance.

"M-Mel?! Are you honestly alright..? If you're not feeling well I can take over your share of the work, you know? It's no biggie..!" Zozo exclaimed as I landed on the ground.

His kindness only further flustered me, and I could only but stare at him with this warm feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Ahh... what is wrong with me..?" I thought to myself repeatedly.

Whereas Zozo treated me as he always did, I could no longer look at him without losing my composure.

He briskly approached me and outstretched his hand.

Without thinking I reached out to grab him, only to learn how addicting his touch felt on my skin.

His palm, firm and calloused from months of rigorous training, was unbelievably comforting to grip.

And I kept holding onto him, unable to stand up, hoping I could stay like this forever.

"Uh... are you gonna—?"

"Zozo," I hesitantly interrupted him, "did you really mean everything you said at the rooftop..?"

I don't know what I was thinking, asking him such a question. Perhaps I sought to cure this malady by having him revoke his promises.

I felt as if my heart would be set free, should such a thing transpire.

As the thoughtless inquiry departed my lips, however, Zozo released my hand and staggered back onto the chair behind him. Looking down at me, he sighed.

"I figured you'd eventually say that," he wistfully mouthed. "I didn't exactly console you properly last night huh..?"

"W-what gave you that idea?" I backtracked, stunned by his remorseful attitude. "Your declarations yesterday, while certainly harsh and self-centered, did bring me to my senses. Brutal honesty was what I needed then, and you delivered... in the most Zozo way you possibly could've done it."

"Don't know whether to feel insulted or praised. But if you say you're happy, then I guess that's all there is to it..."

With my derrière firmly planted on the floor, I brought my knees to my chest and hugged my legs closer. And I buried my face in my thighs as though I were hiding from the boy before me.

Another thought had surfaced, and my throbbing heart had not calmed down.

"Say," I let out a muffled voice, "don't you have something else you want to ask me..?"

Half-expectantly, I peeked at him through the crack between my legs. He stroked his chin and ruminated for about a minute before returning with, "No, not really..."

I took a deep breath and rose to my feet.

"Alrighty! Let's not dilly-dally any further! I'm feeling much better now!" I stretched and forced a broken smile to hide my disappointment. "I'll go grab some more polish from the shelves."

I turned away from Zozo, only to hear his voice from behind.

"Your past," he uttered, peering through me as if I were clear glass. "I mean, that's what you were hoping I'd say... right..?"

I paused for a moment, before whispering to myself, "Say it sooner if you knew the answer... dummy..."

"What was that? I totally heard you calling me a name..."

"Mm-mm," I nodded gleefully, "I was just surprised you remember is all..."

"Well... I was planning on asking you about it after we finished our work. I don't think it's the kind of topic to be talking about with busy hands..."

"A-ah... that's true..."

In my haste, I hadn't taken that into consideration. The shame almost immediately overpowered the uneasiness in my breast. And I nearly cursed at myself out loud.

I was an absolute mess...

But what Zozo said afterward made it all worth it in the end.

"Oh, Mel?" he called my name in a solemn tone.

"That's me, I-I'm Mel..!" I pivoted on my foot towards him and awkwardly eked out a retort to conceal my embarrassment.

"You haven't changed one bit. I'm glad to have you back."

What followed was another lull, shorter than the last. And I felt all the blood rush to my cheeks. It was a blush more intense than the ones that preceded it.

"W-w-where did that come from?!" I cried in disbelief at his unprompted sentiments.

"I spent the entire day worrying about you. But now it's clear, there was no cause for concern."

"I-I never asked you to worry about me..."

"Do I need your permission to worry about you?"

While I didn't hate his insistence, it was still seriously bad for my heart. Sometimes I'd wonder if he was aware of what he was doing.

As this was Zozo though, I highly doubt he harbored ulterior motives that didn't involve money.

"Have I really not changed..?" I twirled what remained of my tresses.

"Eh... on second thought," a smug smirk replaced his earnest expression, "you are slightly more dumb than I remembered..."

"Hah?! What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Exactly what it means, dummy!"

"Takes one to know one!"

"So you admit you're dumb!"

"That means you're dumb too!"

And we endlessly bickered like children until the sun went down. Not a spot of work was done that day. The armors pieces stayed dirtied and rusted as we exchanged insults.

Mr. Potternuggets was naturally displeased with our results, and the rest of the night was spent him chewing us out. Our paychecks were even slashed in half as punishment.

Yet, funnily enough, we didn't seem to care. After the long lecture we were forced to endure, Zozo and I, standing out in the hallway, looked at each other.

There was no sign of contrition or regret between us. All we had were content grins. Beams as though to say: We've missed these carefree days.

An amusing tale is it not? I thought so.

Later that night, I'd tell Zozo all about my past. The parts he knew, and the part he hadn't learned of till then.

But to write that here would be going against what I've decided to use this journal for.

Yes—I'll reserve this book only for my happiest stories!

It'd do me no good to write about the bitter and sour memories. So... why not write about the sweet memories?

I'd much prefer that.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ End ⋅.} ────── ⊰