Face to face
Erza walked to a small wooden table in the corner of the tavern.
Her movements were still firm, but fatigue showed through. She picked up a jug and poured a small amount of mead into a cup.
The golden liquid reflected the soft morning light.
She placed the cup on the table.
The sound was dry.
Controlled.
Erza pulled the chair and sat down slowly.
Her eyes never left Daichi.
— Sit.
Her voice was not a request.
It was a calm command.
Daichi obeyed.
He sat across from her.
For a few seconds… no one spoke.
The silence was heavy.
Carrying everything that had happened.
Erza then rested her arms on the table.
Her fingers intertwined.
But there was tension in them.
— Tell me…
She began, lower.
More direct.
— How…
A small pause.
— And where did you find her?
Her eyes trembled slightly.
But they did not look away.
— I want to know everything.
The air seemed heavier at that moment.
— Every detail.
She gently pushed the cup of mead toward Daichi.
— Drink.
— You’ll need it.
Silence.
Her gaze sharpened.
— Because what you say now…
— Will decide what I do next.
The wind blew outside.
Slightly lifting the tavern curtain.
And in that moment…
The conversation that would begin there…
Would not be just about the past.
But about what would come next.
Daichi took a deep breath before answering.
His gaze drifted for a moment, as if organizing his thoughts.
— I… just found the basement.
A short pause.
— And… a door.
He looked back at Erza.
— We opened it… and she was there.
His voice lowered.
— Lying on the ground.
The silence between them deepened.
— We helped her…
He swallowed dryly.
— I don’t know what happened to her in that place.
Another short pause.
The weight of those words lingered in the air.
Then Daichi raised his gaze, firmer.
— But… what do you intend to do now, Erza?
His eyes did not waver.
— She… is your daughter?
Erza lowered her gaze for a moment, as if reliving every second of that day.
Her hand gently touched one of the scars on her arm.
— She was only 8 years old when she was taken…
Her voice came out lower.
Heavier.
— We fought…
She took a deep breath.
— Rin’s father… was gravely injured that day.
Her fingers slowly tightened.
— The soldiers wanted servants…
A pause.
Painful.
— And one of the girls… was my daughter.
Silence spread through the place.
— It was on that day that I got these scars.
She lifted her gaze again.
— After that… I was told she had died.
Her eyes trembled slightly.
But she did not cry.
Not now.
— If I had known she was so close all this time…
Her voice faltered for a second.
— I would have done something.
She looked directly at Daichi.
With sincerity.
With weight.
— I owe you a great debt… boy.
Before he could respond—
A sound came from the room.
Faint.
But clear.
— …Da… i… chi…
Erza froze.
Daichi stood up immediately.
The two exchanged a glance… and ran.
The door was opened carefully, but without hesitation.
Rin was awake.
Her eyes were still weak… but alive.
She looked directly at Daichi.
— Daichi…
Her voice came out low.
Almost a whisper.
Erza brought her hand to her mouth.
In disbelief.
— Rin…!
She stepped forward, but stopped when her daughter slightly raised her hand.
— Mom… I… I’m okay…
A faint smile appeared.
But then—
She turned her gaze back to Daichi.
Something different in that look.
Deeper.
— Can I… talk to him alone…?
The room fell silent.
Erza hesitated for a moment—
But nodded.
— Yes…
She stood up slowly.
— I’ll be right outside.
With that, she gently closed the door.
Now…
Just the two of them.
For a few seconds, no one spoke.
Rin looked at him.
As if confirming something.
Then—
She weakly reached out her hand.
Daichi stepped closer and held it.
And in the next moment—
She pulled him in.
Embracing him tightly.
Even without strength.
— Daichi…
Her voice trembled.
— I thought… I would never see you again…
Daichi froze for a second.
Surprised.
But then—
He hugged her back.
Carefully.
As if she might break.
— You’re safe now…
He said, quietly.
Rin rested her face against his chest.
Taking a deep breath.
As if that was the only safe place.
And then—
She whispered:
— Daichi…
A brief pause.
— Where… is this place…?
The world seemed to stop again in that moment.
Because that question—
Confirmed one thing.
She… did not belong to that world.
