While breathing was technically irrelevant for an energy-based lifeform like a Flügel, Jibril instinctively held her breath the moment she saw the opening of the letter. Her entire body went taut.
In a few swift movements, she unfolded the letter. The words—frozen in time to prevent yellowing or decay—appeared before her eyes. Her gaze moved rapidly yet cautiously across every line, not missing a single stroke of the pen.
(The following is the text of the letter):
[To be honest, this is the fourth sheet of paper I've used. I've been agonizing over how to address you... Dear Jibril? Dear Jib? Dear Little Jib? Jiji? Haha, I hope you aren't mad.
Think says I'm acting like a lunatic, but I actually feel pretty good. Uh, it would be better if she wasn't sitting behind me watching me write, though... I have a very bad feeling about it. I should be fine, right?
Probably fine... You know how Elf stares are. They're terrifying when they aren't smiling. Ahem, I'll hide this part with divine power so only you can see it (whispering quietly).]
"...Hah." Jibril looked up, her mind drifting back to the past. Recalling that Weed's tone and mannerisms, she couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at the man's agonizing over such trivial details.
It was classic "him." She wasn't surprised in the least. Shaking her head, she continued reading.
[Beyond the greeting, I've been struggling with what kind of tone and attitude to use for this letter. I have no desire to use the power of the One True God to peek into the future or observe your thoughts; I'm sure you wouldn't want me to do that... but, it's been over a decade since we last saw each other, hasn't it?
For humans with their short lifespans, even childhood friends who grow up together can drift apart after only four years away at university. Even if they see each other every holiday, the long separations and the lack of shared experiences eventually create a rift.
In the eyes of long-lived beings like you and Think, this might seem trivial—just another proof of human weakness. But that is how our society works, and even humans are accustomed to it.
Because of that, I'm even more concerned about this. This hesitation has nothing to do with the power I now hold; perhaps it's because you are special... Ah, Think glare got even sharper after I wrote that line, but I won't hide it here.
To break down this hesitation—or to put it bluntly—there is only one thing I care about: In your eyes, what is the relationship between me, Think, and you?
I can never forget those two beautiful years we lived together, and I still maintain they were the happiest days I've had since coming to this world. What about you?
Now, over a decade later, what are your thoughts?
I hope you don't feel guilt or pain because of your actions at the end of the war, when you intercepted us by that blue sea of Elementals. Think may still harbor a grudge, but I have never felt resentment toward you for it. Likewise, I hope you don't feel... guilty.
Yes, guilt. I never thought I'd use that word in relation to you; you will always be that proud Flügel in my heart. But the more I think about it, the more I fear that emotion has taken root in you.
Flügel can cry. I don't know why the God of War added a tear-duct function to a lifeform made purely of energy, but I actually like that way of expressing emotion. It's a proof of being alive. When Think was struggling to carry me as we leaped into the Sea of Elementals, did you—with your back to us—shed a tear?
I want to know, yet I can't bear to know.
As I said, I never blamed you or held a grudge for standing against us. The Flügel were born to fulfill the God of War's wish; how could I ask you to abandon your innate mission and disregard your own thoughts?
In any world, loyalty is an admirable quality.
When the war is over, we can still be friends. We can still be... family.
Maybe I'm being a bit presumptuous. After all, these sentiments only apply if you really do feel guilty, as I suspect. There's always the possibility that you don't feel that way at all. Given your personality, it's unlikely, but if that's the case, please forgive my self-importance. It's a bit shameless, isn't it? Haha, sorry, sorry~]
"...That... IDIOT!!"
The words were squeezed out from between her clenched teeth. Jibril palms instinctively wanted to ball into fists, but she stopped herself the moment she realized she was crumpling the thin paper.
This guy—this idiot dared to be so—
"He really is an idiot, isn't he? Honestly, if he had just—"
THUD!!!
Tet, who had curiously sat cross-legged on the bed, began to shake his head with a sigh of mock-helplessness. Before He could finish his sentence, the noble One True God was struck squarely on the head by the vase Jibril had snatched up and hurled without hesitation.
Amidst the sharp thwack, the One True God slumped over onto the bed.
It was hard to believe such a malicious assault could occur in a world where war and violence were forbidden. Perhaps it was because the perpetrator held no genuine "malice"?
Smile.
Gaving the "playing dead" Tet a fierce glare, Jibril gritted her teeth and turned her attention back to the letter. The man's thoughts were not yet finished.
[You must have been conflicted as well, right? In those years before the war ended, did you ever want to see me and Think again? Yet you couldn't take that step because of your position.
For me, at least, I thought of you often. You, Think, and I—it had nothing to do with sides or anything complex. It was just simple, pure friendship. I miss those times... Or rather, when the pain of having my flesh stripped away and the grief of seeing heroes die hit me, the only thing that could comfort my broken soul were those rare, candle-like memories.]