Chapter 12 _ A Sage Reduced to a Squirrel, or the Proper Use of Power
When I returned to Frey’s domain the next day,
something was… off.
“…Frey?”
No answer.
Instead, from the pile of books I heard—
Rustle. Rustle.
“…?”
Peering closer, I saw it.
A small squirrel sat atop the books,
cheeks puffed out, tail twitching impatiently.
“…Why are you staring at me like that?”
the squirrel said.
“…Frey?”
“Yes. It is I.”
“…Why are you a squirrel.”
She puffed out her chest proudly.
“I am conducting an experiment.”
“On what?”
“On myself.”
“…Why.”
“Because,” she said matter-of-factly,
“transforming into small animals consumes far less magic.”
I rubbed my temples.
“So you turned yourself into a squirrel
to save magical energy.”
“Correct.”
“And this was the best option.”
“Obviously.”
The squirrel crossed her tiny arms.
“Observe my efficiency.”
“…You’re eating my snacks.”
“I require fuel.”
“You’re stuffing them into your cheeks.”
“I am conserving resources.”
“That’s hoarding.”
She ignored me and continued chewing.
After a moment, she spoke again.
“…You are staring.”
“Because it’s ridiculous.”
“Hmph.
For someone who claims to be serious now,
you laugh very easily.”
“…Says the legendary sage turned squirrel.”
“This form is tactically optimal,” she snapped.
“Also… it is comfortable.”
Her tail swayed lazily.
“…Do you dislike it?”
“No,” I admitted.
“It’s just… hard to reconcile with how terrifying everyone thinks you are.”
“…That is their problem.”
She hopped closer, peering up at me.
“You are afraid of me?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She smiled—
somehow managing to look smug even as a squirrel.
“By the way,” she added casually,
“you still haven’t praised me today.”
“…We’re really doing this every day?”
“You agreed.”
“I said I’d try to keep you from getting clingy.”
“And I agreed to try to control it.”
She tilted her head.
“This is progress.”
“…You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” she said lightly,
“you came back.”
That shut me up.
I sat down on the floor, leaning against the bookshelf.
“…You know,” I said,
“you don’t have to keep acting strong around me.”
She froze.
Then slowly, she looked away.
“…I know.”
Silence filled the room.
After a moment, she climbed onto my shoulder,
light as a breath.
“…Just for a little while,” she muttered.
“Do not misunderstand.”
“Of course not.”
I stayed still.
For a being who commanded time itself,
she felt surprisingly warm.
Later, as I was leaving, she called out:
“Mario.”
“Yeah?”
“…Tomorrow as well.”
“…I’ll come.”
“Good.”
By the time I turned back,
she was already pretending to be deeply absorbed in a book.
Still in squirrel form.
