He Who Forgot (5)
The Azure Spear was the most noble of knights and, as a bonus, the strongest. No one ever set out to compare the owners of the Azure, Golden, and Crimson Spears to each other, yet an unwritten rule always hovered over them.
Even in the Empire, they ranked the First Pillar, called the Empire’s First Point, above the other five Pillars; Londinel was no different.
The Azure Spear was the weapon bestowed on the strongest, most virtuous knight. It wasn’t awarded to someone who merely possessed a noble nature but to one who kept that nobility through every ordeal, and Londinel’s last Azure Spear was worthy of the name.
“Sadly, I can’t remember the details. It must have been an important memory, but I let it slip away. What I do recall is that he addressed everyone with respect. The lofty nobles of Londinel, the beggars scrounging in the streets, and even the tiniest creatures—he never spoke down to anything.”
“Everything in this world has value. Nothing should be spoken of with contempt.” Yes, he used that like a catch-phrase. “I don’t remember his face, his name, nor anything else, yet I still remember the words he gave me. Ah, how could I ever forget them?”
“They were spoken at the very moment when I—once called a liar, fraud, swindler, beggar, and coward—became a knight. I am certain the speech began like this, ‘Kirchhoff, do you know of the Azure Hydrangea?’”
“Najin.” Originally, the Azure Spear was a mayfly. Each day, he forgot everything, living and dying within twenty-four hours, his life a chain of broken, isolated days.
Thanks to Najin, he began, however imperfectly, to live a continuous life. Whatever he learned the day prior, Najin delivered to his next self, and a change occurred in the life that had repeated for over three centuries.
That change led the Azure Spear to pose a question. One day, he asked Najin, “Do you know about the Azure Hydrangea?”
The Azure Hydrangea? What was that? Najin’s rhythm faltered mid-swing. He couldn’t help it—it was the very thing Kirchhoff had once told him about. “The Azure Hydrangea?”
“Yes. According to the journal, I was called either ‘The Azure Spear’ or ‘The Azure Hydrangea,’ yet nowhere does it say what that hydrangea is.”
“Does it say anything about the Azure Spear?”
“It does. The Azure Spear is some sort of title. It doesn’t elaborate and just says that it’s a rank awarded to a knight who rendered distinguished service.”
It was hardly the kind of rank one would jot down so casually, but the Azure Spear was always like that—he never thought highly of himself. He was excessively modest in even the entries written before his amnesia.
“The Azure Spear isn’t a title you can describe so simply,” Najin said. “Sir Kirchhoff told me it’s granted to Londinel’s strongest and most virtuous knight.”
“The strongest and most virtuous?” The Azure Spear blinked. “You mean me?” he muttered, incredulous. “That… that’s astonishing. Was I really such an incredible man?”
“It seems you were, though I don’t know the full story.”
“Then what of the Azure Hydrangea?”
“First of all, it’s Londinel’s national flower,” Najin replied, recalling his talk with Kirchhoff.
“It represents Londinel, and incidentally, it’s also the shape Sir Kirchhoff’s Sword Aura takes.”
“Kirchhoff… That name comes up often.”
“He’s Londinel’s last knight, and he’s the only man left who remembers the kingdom.”
“The relief I feel on hearing that name must mean we had a bond.”
Najin chose to keep that bond to himself for the moment and instead explained the flower. “Azure is Londinel’s color, and the hydrangea stands for the knights who protect her. They say the order’s banner bore the hydrangea. If you were called the Azure Hydrangea, it probably means…”—he pointed to the spear—“you were Londinel’s representative knight, its most emblematic champion.”
“Most emblematic knight…” the Azure Spear mouthed, clearly unable to believe the title pointed to him. “Hah.” He laughed and shook his head. “I can’t be sure. I’ve lost my memories, but I doubt I ever thought that way. I’m not saying you’re wrong; I simply don’t think I saw myself like that.”
“Then how do you see it?”
“When I hear that I represent others or that I’m the best, I feel resistance. Those words imply specialness, do they not?”
Najin tilted his head.
The Azure Spear continued, “I don’t regard myself as special or superior to others, and I don’t wish to be viewed that way. In fact, I’d rather people look down on me and treat me lightly. I want to be regarded not as the highest but as the lowest.”
“Why?” Najin asked.
“Because then everyone can rise higher than I.” The Azure Spear smiled. “No one stays superior forever. Even a pre-eminent figure will one day be surpassed—someone will use his deeds as a stepping stone and climb higher.” He pointed at the sky. “The star that shines at the zenith must feel the same. It waits for someone to step on it and go higher.”
“The Star of King Arthur, you mean?”
“I don’t know who King Arthur is, but were I that star, that’s how I’d feel.”
Seeing the Azure Spear speak, eyes bright, smile serene, Najin recalled the words the man had once given Kirchhoff: “I am not the highest being, nor the greatest. Look down on me. Take me lightly. Freely plant your foot on me and climb upward. Kirchhoff, I do not wish to be a solitary light shining from the loftiest spot, I wish to be the step that later generations like you can tread to ascend.”
Three hundred years prior, with his memory intact, he had said those words.
“I would rather be a stepping stone that lets others vault higher than remain a solitary brilliance shining forever at the pinnacle.” Three centuries later, with every memory gone, his words were strikingly the same.
Not even oblivion could break that conviction, and Najin was stunned. “Are you sure you’ve lost your memory? You’re not faking it?”
“Eh? What do you mean, Najin?”
“You said exactly what you reportedly told Sir Kirchhoff three hundred years ago. Was that written in the journal?”
The Azure Spear shook his head. “No. The words just came to me…” He laughed, pure delight in his voice. “For the first time, my past self doesn’t feel like a stranger. It seems I thought the same then as I do now.” He grasped his spear. Night had already come. Watching the sand drain from the hourglass, he no longer felt fear. He drew a long breath and swung once more. “Please be sure to pass these words to me tomorrow.”
Najin did so.
Hearing what his yesterday self had said, the Azure Spear rolled the words around and burst out laughing again. “So that’s what I said? Remarkable. It’s the first time my former self has felt like me. Then I must leave a message for my tomorrow self as well.”
Taking the prior day’s words, he passed them to the next day’s Azure Spear. Thus, Najin built a bridge between one day and the next.
Sometimes, that bridge was spear technique.
“Your yesterday self asked me to relay this: ‘Stop wasting time hesitating, ask Najin questions the moment they come to you. Because of that dithering, we only managed two questions out of ten.’”
“I… I said that?”
“Yes, and you guessed your questions would be something like what Londinel’s streets looked like, what foods were sold there, what manner of speech your liege, the King of Londinel, used, and so on.”
Sometimes, the bridge was words and letters. The Azure Spear’s life lengthened, and the messages to the next day lengthened with it. He spent more time reading the journal, asking questions, and hearing answers than he did swinging the spear.
If you asked whether that meant he regressed, Najin would shake his head.
“Ah, like this.” In fact, the Azure Spear advanced. The more he understood himself and learned of his past, the more his doubts dissolved, the keener his spear grew, and the more his technique progressed day by day.
He no longer moved merely by habit. Instead, he understood why the movement had to be that way. Sharing each new insight, Najin’s own spearwork advanced at break-neck speed.
“This is the insight your yesterday self gained. Relax here; make the next cut crisper…”The spear cut through the air. “Like that.”
“I see! Ah, I get it. We can apply this not only here but to other sequences as well. Hold on—here—aha!” The Azure Spear was at once Najin’s teacher and student, each was both pupil and master to the other.
Thus, the days flowed on.
“Well then, Najin?” Yet another farewell. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, he closed his eyes, certain the next day would come.
Najin was just as sure. Slowly but surely, at that pace, they would reach a perfect ending.
However, the next morning, Najin had to face the truth…
It had all been his own illusion.
That day, when Azure Spear opened his eyes, he frowned at the journal lying beside him. As though unable to read the letters on the cover, he set it back down.
He neither read the journal nor turned the hourglass. Instead, he looked at Najin and asked, “Who are you?” He spoke without a trace of honorifics. “Do you know me?” he asked with eyes so transparent they seemed hollow.
“Nothing in this world deserves to be spoken of with contempt. Everything has value. Therefore I address everything with respect. That much, I have never forgotten.”
The Azure Spear who had spoken those words was gone. In his place stood a nameless man gazing at the desert with vacant eyes. Only then did Najin notice the cracks running through his body.
Wear…
For three hundred years, the Azure Spear had never deteriorated, yet he was eroding at frightening speed.
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