This story is part of the Wanderer series.
Opening her eyes, Nozomi saw nothing but darkness. The crackling continued, sounding less distant and more distinct this time.
Blinking, the stars of the night sky slowly came into focus. Dark shadows reached out from all corners, confining her view of the sky as they gently waved. The leaves subtly flickered orange from a warm source of light.
With a silent grunt and an outward breath, she turned over to her side and dipped her head down, adjusting her eyes to observe the center of their little camp. She drew her legs even closer and pulled the blanket up around her face, squirming a bit to nest herself deeper into the warmth. Settled, she grew still again, her squinted, languid eyes watching the fire crackle from where she laid, blanket wrapped over her head and around her chin. She aimlessly stared at the fire for countless minutes, neither roused nor lullabied by its dance, slowly breathing in and out. The forest produced not a sound that could rise over the crackling fire, as even the crickets were no match.
Feeling her head throb, she drew down the blanket from her chin, allowing some of the cold night air to flow in and cool her off. When even this was not enough, she finally turned onto her belly and crawled out of the blanket, standing up and leaving the camp.
The motion unknowingly stirred Rin, who slept right next to Nozomi. Turning her head with a lengthy inhale, blinking her eyes open, Rin noticed her sib was gone. Feeling her neck quickly strain, she turned the rest of her body over, pressing her cheek into the blanket as she drowsily stared at the empty spot, the warmth from Nozomi’s missing body gradually disappearing.
After some time, after nearly falling back to sleep again, Rin finally raised a hand out of her blanket, up to her flattened cheek, and palmed the ground, hoisting herself up. She glanced around, squinting at the bright campfire, seeing the curled-up bodies of the others sleeping nearby, but not Nozomi. Glancing backwards, away from the fire, over the wooden log she sheltered behind, and out towards the crest of the hill a meter or two away where the forest broke to reveal the distant mountains, she saw a pale silhouette sitting in the grass under the moonlight.
Stretching out of her slouch, Rin straightened her shirt and ran a hand through her ruffled hair. Getting out of the blanket, she sluggishly crawled over the log and started lumbering towards the lone figure.
As Rin approached, Nozomi turned her head, noticing Rin and shining a sheepish smile.
“Did I wake you up?”
“Mm,” Rin drowsily grunted, stopping by Nozomi’s side and sitting down with her.
Seeing Rin’s sleepy state made Nozomi more ashamed. “Sorry.”
“Well…” Rin rubbed an eye and yawned. “It’s all right.”
Drawing her knees in and slouching onto them with her elbows, just like her friend, Rin lazily stared out at the mountains, finding nothing particularly interesting about them. Nozomi simply watched her friend silently.
“Whatcha looking at?” Rin eventually asked.
Nozomi sat up slightly, realizing Rin was still focused on her. “… N-nothing, really,” she replied, words stumbling to get out of the gate. “I just… couldn’t go back to sleep.”
“Hm?” Now knowing that the scenery was not the true focus, Rin turned her attention to Nozomi.
Nozomi did not say anything else. Her gaze briefly dropped, then swept out towards the moon-lit landscape. Without much thought, Rin copied her gesture, returning to the horizon with her. She yawned again, slowly waking up, the fog gradually clearing out.
“Too much on your mind, huh?” Rin openly wondered.
Her sib did not immediately reply, pondering over the suggested explanation. Taking a deep breath of the crisp, fresh air, Nozomi slouched further, her thumbs gripping the nook of her elbows tighter.
“Just… happy to be alive, I guess…” She finally responded. Lightly chuckling as the words came out, she quickly added onto them. “It sounds silly, but that’s… the best I can think of… to describe it, the feeling right now.”
A quiet laughter bumbled out of Rin’s chest. “Those are words I never thought I’d hear you say.”
Nozomi giggled along with her. However, Rin abruptly stopped, rectifying her amused grin and becoming serious.
“Sorry… I know you’ve… been through a lot recently.”
Stopping as well, Nozomi turned her head, observing her friend as she stared at the ground, wearing an expression of pity. Breathing out, Nozomi shone a genuine smile at Rin’s sudden empathy. Facing the moon, rising higher over the mountains, she drew in her shoulders, then let them relax.
“It’s okay… I’ll have to accept it, sooner or later.”
There was an unmistakable tinge of sadness to her voice. The response only made Rin shrink further into herself. “It’s been non-stop reminders throughout our adventures, it feels like…”
Silent for a moment, Nozomi continued to stare at the moon, eventually blinking slowly. “Yeah…”
Rin did not say anything else.
“But… I have a new family to take care of me, now.”
Surprised, Rin glanced up, eyes flicking towards her hunched friend. Another smile broke out on her face.
“Hey, now,” she started. “When did you become a poet?”
Nozomi uttered an embarrassed laugh. “Well… it’s just how I feel.”
Rin reined back a little. “I’m just joking.”
Her friend did not seem to mind. “All of us, getting back together and traveling like this again… It really does feel like a family, all of us.”
“Yeah…” Rin sighed. “We’ve been through a lot.”
“It feels like we’ve been through an eternity.”
“No, we have,” Rin agreed. “We’ve wandered from continent to continent, back and forth, in a short amount of time. How many people in the world do that?”
“Right…”
“You could write a whole odyssey about our adventures.”
“You could, yeah,” echoed Nozomi.
Some silence.
“But,” she continued. “It’s been so much that I’ve forgotten some of the things we’ve been through until reminded.”
“Well, yeah, that’s going to happen. We’ll forget things as we get older. A lot of people do that.”
Nozomi sighed. “Such a shame.”
The two of them went silent again. Chirping crickets filled the absence of their voices, as well as the gentle rustling of leaves from the breeze above.
“You know…” Nozomi eventually continued. “I’ve been thinking about those memory stones that… Sen used…”
She slightly winced as she brought up that name. Rin noticed, out of the corner of her eyes, and kept her gaze forward, not wanting to put undue focus on her friend during a moment of weakness.
“… and wondered, maybe I should do the same.”
Rin tilted her head very subtly to the side as she thought. “To what? Record your own memories?”
“Yeah.”
Growing curious, Rin finally looked at her, judging her expression as she presented her idea. Nozomi returned Rin’s gaze, meeting her eyes.
“You know… To preserve our stories for hundreds, thousands of years.”
“Would you want that?” Rin questioned, almost to herself.
“Why not?” Nozomi chimed. “I think it would be fun, seeing our silly adventures, and happy moments.”
Rin glanced to the side, looking uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t be okay with that. Those are my stories. I wouldn’t want someone else peeping into every moment I’ve lived.”
“You wouldn’t have to record all of it. Just the ones you want to remember.”
Glancing away again, Rin did not seem convinced at first. Chin dropping, her gaze did not return as she thought for a while.
“I guess that’s all right.”
Nozomi kept her gaze on her friend, expecting her to have more to say.
“But I’d still want them for myself, when I’m old and can’t remember anymore.”
“That works too,” piped Nozomi. “Better than it being lost.”
“But just for myself and you,” Rin emphasized, meeting her in the eyes again.
Nozomi hastily nodded along. “Memory stones can choose who they interact with. It’d just be like a book we write about ourselves, except we don’t have to know how to write to write it.”
Taking in her assurances, Rin retreated to the scenery again, contemplating. With her disengagement, Nozomi faced forward too, releasing her grip on her elbows and leaning back, palming the earth and letting her sight reach higher towards the stars.
“… A book, huh?” Rin mulled. “What would you call it?”
Breathing in, Nozomi pondered on the question, tilting her eyes higher up the dark sky.
“I don’t know. Maybe a wanderer’s story.”
Her expression quickly changed, morphing from reflective into amusement.
“You know… as both a wanderer… and a Wanderer,” she added, with extra emphasis at the end.
Rin chuckled at the word play. “That’s a good one.”
Nozomi smiled to herself, satisfied with the title. Without an audible response, Rin’s expression did not last, quickly dying off, leaving both of them silent once more.
The breeze had come to a standstill, making the rustling leaves very faint. Even the chirping of crickets slowed, becoming sporadic and infrequent. It was quiet enough to remind the two of the campfire just a few meters behind them.
Letting her bent legs slide out a bit, Nozomi picked up where they left off.
“It’s really strange… how truly sad but fitting of a name it is for people like us.”
Reentering the conversation as a willing receiver, Rin did not offer more than an affirmative grunt.
“This special set of humans that the world treats differently… just because they are different.”
“Mm.”
“Not even because they are mages… because there are so many of them out there… but because we are special and powerful mages.”
“…”
“I’ve been thinking a lot… of what it means to be a Wanderer… What purpose is there for us to exist in this world… other than to contain powerful creatures from ravaging the land?”
“… That’s a pretty harsh way of putting it.”
Nozomi expelled a hasty laugh. “But that’s how the founders of this system put it as, isn’t it?”
“I’d like to think we are still people with lives to live, just like everyone else,” Rin countered. “I try not to think about the unfair system we are forced to be in.”
“I believe that too,” Nozomi clarified. “Because people treat us so specially, it’s even more important to remember we are humans too… We aren’t perfect, and we can make mistakes and be forgiven.”
“Mm,” Rin agreed.
“Especially, forgiven,” Nozomi emphasized. “That we’re not just uncontrollable monsters lashing out that need to be controlled somehow. We can learn, and adapt. We can master our power.”
Rin nodded along, not adding anything substantial. Nozomi paused her spiel, reflecting on her outpouring beliefs. However, not for long.
Hearing a creak behind them, they both turned their heads, glancing towards the fire. Chiara was laying over the wooden log, arms crossed with her chin tucked in, staring at them with an amused expression.
“You both sound so serious,” she mumbled through her flattened chin.
Rin seemed abashed by her sudden entrance. “How long have you been listening?”
“Hm?” she mumbled again. “How long have you been chatting?”
From behind her, Karin and Alisan straightened up from where they slept on the other side of the camp, awake as well.
“You two as well?”
Seeing Rin gaze in the direction behind her, Chiara pivoted her head to just enough to look with the corners of her eyes. “Mm? You’re awake.”
The two older girls smiled in their own way, Karin’s being astute while Alisan’s predictably timid as she usually was when suddenly given attention. She reached a hand up to rub her neck. “Sorry, I heard you two speaking, and could not return to sleep.”
“We are out in the forest,” Karin justified. “Someone has to stay alert, somehow.”
Nozomi sheepishly laughed, putting a hand behind her head. “Sorry. I’ve woken everyone up.”
They all smiled, breathing out as they expected no less from her at this point.
“What it means to be a Wanderer, hm?” Alisan reflected. “I would use a memory stone to teach the meaning to another Wanderer.”
Nozomi and Rin looked at her in surprise.
“I would teach another Wanderer like us about the journey we have endured. I think that is a worthy legacy to leave behind.”
Karin adjusted to lean to the side, her blanket flopping further down her abdomen. “What a fitting conclusion from you.”
Alisan smiled with some sort of self-consciousness.
“I would do something similar. Preserve all of the lessons I learned, and the techniques I developed.” Looking at Alisan in particular, she added, “And, of course, the people I met who taught me invaluable lessons.”
Knowing the event she was referring to, Alisan nodded. “No story lasts forever… but at least we could change someone’s life… Someone who’s facing the same uphill battle as we are.”
The group went silent as they contemplated these words.
Rin dipped her gaze to the ground. “Well, all right then. Maybe I could help another restless orphan like me with their pain and get them out there earlier.”
Giggling, Nozomi interjected. “Then you wouldn’t need someone like me!”
Stiffening, Rin immediately raised up to combat the assertion, even if she knew it was in jest. “No, I’m not saying it could replace you!”
“I know, I know!” she giggled mightily.
A hearty laugh passed around the campsite. Chiara, having tilted her head to lay on one cheek as she listened to the group exchange, motionlessly observed with just a tilt up or down with her eyes, being in between the two sets of sibs. When there was a lengthy pause, she finally spoke up.
“I don’t know what I’d do other than preserve my memories. There’s no great purpose I could teach that you guys couldn’t.”
“You need not compare your story to ours,” Alisan gently pointed out. “There is a lesson each of us can teach, given the circumstances of the beholder, no matter how small.”
Chiara silently sighed, pressing out her lips as she mused. “I suppose. I’d have to think about it some more, other than how to run away from your parents and get into trouble.”