My Status as an Assassin Obviously Exceeds the Hero's

"My eye power is past vision. What I see is all things past. Even knowing that, watching my husband weaken day by day and die, doing nothing but watching—that was honestly painful. My marriage was an arranged political match forced by our parents; I thought there was no affection between us."

Tsutsumi Kaminari let out a self-mocking laugh.

Then she lifted her face and looked at me.

"A shabby old man lying in a dim alleyway, filthy, finally unable to move. I kept seeing that same unchanging scene, and one day you lot showed up."

Amelia looked at me with worried eyes as I sucked in a breath.

I hadn't told Amelia what I had done as Morte. Still, she probably had a rough idea.

"I called you here today to thank you. The talk about my eyes was just a preface."

"...Thank you?"

The clack of the kiseru hitting the floor sounded when Tsutsumi set it down.

"Yes. For me, who only watched, that place was like hell. It was certainly that young hero who saved the living ones. But for a few who were already beyond help, it was you who saved them."

Tsutsumi pushed herself up slowly from the armrest, put her hands on the tatami, and bowed her head toward me.

"Thank you for freeing those who were there, and my husband Kagami Kaminari, from suffering, and for holding a funeral. Thank you for returning him to our family."

I widened my eyes and then scowled.

"No. I—"

I had steeled myself to be blamed by those I had killed that day and their bereaved. Maybe that's why being thanked felt weirder than being blamed.

Calming my pounding heart, I opened my mouth with a parched throat.

"If your eyes see the past, you must have seen Kagami's end."

"Yes."

"Then you know. I—I killed Kagami."

Amelia gasped.

"Yes, without a doubt. But you know best. He was already past hope. What you gave him was not death, but mercy. So I'm the one who thanks you in place of a husband who can no longer be thanked. Thank you. So stop blaming yourself."

"..."

"Listen, boy, humans die eventually. That's just the way of the world. Whether by old age or murder, when it's time, you die. Young or old, humans die when their time comes."

Tsutsumi's calm voice dissolved into the quiet room.

"If it were your own person, maybe you'd hold onto the death. But we don't have lives long enough to clutch at other people's deaths like treasures. Even the Elf race who live for thousands of years, thinking forever about life or death with no answers is a waste of time. If you've time for that, think about something constructive."

"...I'll remember it, even if I can't fully accept it."

"Hah! Stubborn boy. You could think more casually. Life must be hard for you."

I averted my eyes from Tsutsumi's steady gaze.

She smiled softly at that and leaned back on the armrest.

"Well, it looks like I'm bullying you. Anyway, that's all I came for. I couldn't come to you myself because of my position, so sorry for making you come here. If you have anything else you want to ask, I'll answer."

When Tsutsumi laughed lightly, the atmosphere relaxed noticeably. It seemed she really had only called me for that.

She packed the pipe with shredded tobacco and lit it.

"Then I have something to ask. Is there a shrine in this country? The one past the stone steps by the lake, with the white torii."

"You speak as if you've seen it. You shouldn't have come to this country."

"I saw it in a dream. Maybe my wish made me dream it, but Kagami was at that shrine being called 'father' by a young woman. Then she said, 'welcome home.'"

If that shrine actually exists, I'd like to visit it once.

"...I see."

"And why was Kagami Kaminari in such a place? As your husband and the current head's grandfather, he should have held some status."

Tsutsumi exhaled smoke and cast her eyes to the air as she began to explain.

The Kaminari family had served as the divine child's household since the time of the first generation divine child, Aitel's daughter. But for some reason, the current head, Miki Kaminari, was born not as a divine child but as a shrine maiden, and because of that several traditions that had continued for generations could not be kept. The chief example was the ritual 'divine possession,' performed at the annual shrine festival to transmit the voice of the god.