23 A Moment Of Respite

Hana's pleasant journey through dreamland was abruptly brought to a close as Zagiha jerked away from her, causing to fall, right onto the dirt.

"Ow!" she said. It didn't really hurt. She just said that to let him know how rude that was. Standing up, she watched Zagiha dust himself off.

"To think I fell asleep in the leaf litter! Outside! I basically just went camping!" He muttered and tried to wipe the dirt off the seat of his pants, with little success. "I never camp. And I never sleep! I bet a spider crawled in my ear and it's now raising its nasty spider family inside me…"

"Ahem!" said Hana. She felt it best to bring up the elephant in the room, the unexpected cuddlefest last night. "Is there something you want to say?"

"Of course!" Zagiha looked around. "Look in the sky! The sun! It's morning! We wasted so much time by sleeping!"

That's what he wanted to say?

"There was no helping it," said Hana. "You were in awful shape. If you lost your form, we would be in even worse trouble. And…"

"And?"

"Those things you said last night?"

Zagiha looked at her in confusion. "I said things to you last night?"

So he actually was delirious last night? Did he really not mean all the nice things he said? Well, being that sweet was way too out of character for him. She didn't know what she expected, and she didn't know why she was disappointed.

"Okay." Hana sighed. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I let you get under my cloak. After that, nothing. Did I say anything important?"

"No, not really," said Hana. "Can Gods get sick?"

Zagiha abandoned his pants and turned to smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt. "Normally, no. But if we overclock our powers, we… well, it's not 'sick' as in the way you know it. We can't get diseases. But without enough magic, our physical forms deteriorate, which can affect our consciousness."

"Are you feeling better now?"

Zagiha paused. "I can get to Minumna," he said. "But I'm on borrowed time. If I keep using my magic, I'm toast. My regeneration just can't keep up with my usage."

That was a satisfactory answer. So by getting her out of Modrica, he just reopened his wounds and bled himself dry again. How many times could he keep doing that? She doubted he'd stay in Minumna and rest, too.

"Oh, and…" He gave her a look. "Why were you hugging me?"

"That was y--!"

"You're so gross," he said. "Do you think I'm your personal pillow? At least maybe the spider in my ear moved into your ear instead. Because spiders are nasty. And you're nasty."

"There are no ear spiders!" Hana slapped her palm against her forehead. "You're the nasty one. You took my… my…" She stammered, trying to find a witty comeback. "… Cuddle virginity?"

Zagiha almost blew snot out his nose. "That's not a thing. Cuddle virginity is not a thing. You're just being nasty again. See? You're nasty."

She could look at it this way. If he was back to his same old rude self, he was well enough to travel. Hana just hoped he would let her live this down.

Zagiha took out his trusty pendulum and asked it which way to Minumna. It swung in one direction, and they started off on their flight again. Zagiha flew noticeably slower than Hana. She debated offering him a ride on her staff; by her estimations, he'd be insulted if she did. Luckily, they weren't far from the village. Battling the harsh winds of the high mountaintops, they descended into the Minumna valley. And soon enough, the little town came into view, quaint and vibrant.

"Aww, look at this place," said Zagiha upon landing. He looked around at the shop fronts and the people bustling about. "It's a traditional Worker village. It reminds me of the old days!"

Hana also looked around, but for different reasons. Minumna was nicer than last time. The buildings coated in fresh paint, the window shutters nailed back on straight… change took place here. But she didn't have much time to ponder as another thought popped up in her head.

"Now what?" she asked.

"What?"

"We're in Minumna now. Where are you going to hide me?"

Zagiha's eye twitched and he stumbled over his words. "I, uh, didn't think that far ahead. I was so busy trying to get you out, I panicked."

Hana glared at him.

"It's no big deal!" he said. "I'll just get you a room at the inn and leave you with some money while I fetch the others. Come on."

Zagiha took her arm and jerked her in the exact opposite direction of the inn, only turning around three minutes later.

Minumna's only inn was also a tavern, with the rooms on the second floor. It wasn't a fancy place, but it wasn't a lost cause. It was clean, and none of the patrons seemed unsavory. They looked for a front desk, but upon finding none, approached the woman at the bar.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Uh…" said Zagiha, taken aback by her brusque demeanor.

"Kids can't sit at the bar. Take any table you want."

"W-We're not here to eat," he clarified. "We want to rent a room. Or two, since we're expecting more people."

The woman rolled her eyes and started polishing a cup. "They're all full, sorry," she said.

"What do you mean they're all full?" Zagiha crossed his arms. "How many people vacation in this Podunk little town?"

"Ever since the Workers got control of this place, quite a lot," said the bartender. "We fixed the town up, and now people come here on relaxing mountain retreats. So that's why all the rooms are full. I can't help you."

"You HAVE to give us a room!" Zagiha argued. "Do you know who I am?"

"Don't!" Hana hissed in his ear. "You can't just demand people get kicked out of their rooms!"

Zagiha puckered his lips, but didn't argue. He knew she was right.

"We'll have breakfast," said Hana.

The woman shoved a couple menus in their faces. "Knock yourselves out. Sit wherever and shout me when you want to order."

"What are you doing?" asked Zagiha as Hana sat him down at a table. "I don't have time for breakfast. I have to get back to Modrica."

"You're getting ahead of yourself."

"Well, sor-RY if I'm getting ahead of myself! People are rioting in the streets, the Prime Minister's been kidnapped, and we have a national crisis on our hands! When I bring your uncle and Rory back here, I'm headed straight to work to get the PM back safe!" He wrung his hands. "I need to get Astrid, too! Oh, I have so much to do… How will I manage this…?" He grabbed a paper bag from his pocket and hyperventilated into it.

"Why do you have a bag?" asked Hana.

"IT'S MY PANIC BAG!"

Hana ripped it away from him. "You're having an anxiety attack! If you act while you're not thinking straight, you'll screw things up! I know you don't actually have to breathe, but breathe!"

Zagiha took a deep breath, and exhaled.

"Do you really think three brilliant people won't be okay for one day? Pull out your Message Crystal. Are there any messages?"

Zagiha obeyed, and he exhaled again. "Rory messaged me a few hours ago. They're okay… but that was a few hours ago! What if they're not okay now?"

"Ugh! Um, miss?" The bartender came over. "I'll have the fresh-baked rye bread with cheese, and he'll have the bilberry pancakes." She didn't write it down. She just left.

"… You ordered for me?" He sunk into his seat. "Oh no, I'm rubbing off on you."

"But you said you wanted to eat pancakes, right?" Hana raised an eyebrow. "The Prime Minister knew what he was doing was risky. They won't kill him, because he's the only one capable of giving them what he wants. Right? And don't you think other government officials are negotiating for his return?"

"Well, I…" He reached for the panic bag, but decided against it, bringing his hands back to his lap. "But I can't fail again. I messed up with the Continental War so much. I can't make another mistake. I have to be perfect. I told myself I would be perfect from then on. I promised I was going to dedicate myself to helping the people. To be someone they look up to. Who they can go to in time of need. I have to be perfect! Not for my sake, but for them!" He stopped, and covered his mouth, breaking eye contact. Zagiha's expression bore raw shame.

"You really hold yourself to that high a standard, huh…?"

"Is it really you?"

A lady interrupted them. Zagiha ruffled his feathers back into place and smiled, assuming his tenuous grasp on an air of dignity.

"Now, now," he said, "there'll be time for autographs after I eat…"

"It IS you, Hana!"

Zagiha balked at the woman as she bypassed him entirely, going for his companion instead. She clasped Hana's hands in her own and smiled brightly. "How wonderful to see you again! I'm sure everyone will be happy to know you've returned. Let me know if you need anything!" And with that, she left them alone.

"What was that?" said Zagiha. "You? She went for you? Why?"

Hana sighed and regaled him with the tale from three years ago. She told him about Silvio's meddling in the town's affairs, and how she had to bail him out when he challenged the Lord Superior to the magic duel, ultimately freeing the townspeople from the influence of greedy Sorcerers.

Zagiha chewed on his pancakes, listening intently. Maybe he had it in him to be quiet for five minutes after all. "That was you?" he asked, incredulous. Never mind, scratch that. "You went shoving your nose in adult business when you were so long and you came out on top? What?" He blinked. "Not that I'm complaining about that. Your actions put me in a favorable position to Isaana."

His Message Crystal vibrated in his pocket and he took it out, flipping it open. He sighed with relief at the message he read. "Your Uncle and Rory managed to escape the city on their own," he said. "And they're bringing my babies!"

If they had a hard time finding a place to stay, now they definitely did with dogs on their hands. But of course, Zagiha lacked the life experience to know that.

"… The Prime Minister is confirmed alive," he continued. "But nobody's been able to talk to him. We don't know what the Unforgivables are doing, or even if they plan to strike."

"Do you feel better now?" Hana asked.

"Barely. Eating's not going to recover my spiritual power!"

"That's not what I mean."

Zagiha leaned back in his seat. "I'm calm… er. But I don't like sitting around like this! I haven't taken a day off in over eight hundred years, and the moment I do, everything goes to hell!"

"Do you even have the energy to make it back to Modrica?"

And Zagiha folded his arms like a petulant child. "… The little magic I do have left is going to life support. I don't even have enough to fully heal my wounds."

"Exactly. And if you keep expending more and more?"

"Then my physical form will crap out and I'll be completely useless. All right." He sighed. "You must've been a lawyer in your past life. Point taken. I could meet the men at a midpoint, but I need magic, fast."

Hana looked out the window, reading the shop signs on the other side of the road. They were in Eastern Gesmauran, which she didn't understand, but they sparked an idea.

"The Gem Emporium!" she said. "They know all about magic there! Surely there's someone who knows Ffion's magic transfer spell."

"It's worth a shot." Zagiha slammed the payment on the desk and stood up, swaying like a reed in the wind. "Do you know the way?"

"I think I remember. I could lend you some of my magic, and then you can pay me back when you've generated enough."

"Human mana replenishes itself too, you know," he said. "But sure, I'll take you up on that. Lead the way."

Zagiha followed her out the door like a nervous puppy the first time on a lead. The Gem Emporium was next to the dog yard, she remembered, so the best course of action was to follow the sound of their barking.

But predictably, the moment they stepped into the street, the villagers were upon her. Minumna was so small, news traveled fast.

"Hello, Neiti Hana!" greeted one villager.

"Where's your brother at?" asked another.

"I just finished baking a fresh loaf of bread. Do you want a piece?"

And they went on and on, spinning them like a whirlwind into the market. It was a remarkably effective sales strategy; the vendors showered Hana with little samples and trinkets, pushing her to buy more. Hana wasn't swayed (she spent many a family beach holiday battling tourist traps), but if there was one thing in the world that calmed Zagiha's boundless nerves, it was material goods. Shiny things distracted him, and spending exorbitant amounts of money seemed to be the sole joy in his life, so she let him have it. She wasn't in a hurry, anyway. Hana knew how clever Uncle Crowe was, and she had more faith in the human government than Zagiha did—hopefully, she wasn't being naïve.

"Oh, look!" he said, perusing the fruit stand. "Fresh strawberries! I wonder if they're wild. Traditional Worker cuisine is so simple, but so good for you. I wonder if they also have crayfish… It's that time of year for crayfish parties, after all. Last year I went to one held with my former in-laws and it was terrible! Astrid's mom is such a bitch. Always making passive-aggressive remarks. Who does that?"

Hana pretended to be distracted by scarves.

"Oh my goodness!" he squealed, picking up a basket. "Traditional Worker basket weaving. Wait a minute, I need this to hold the strawberries." One second later: "Do they have it… they do!" He hopped up to a giant kayak, painted with bold floral pictures and waterproofed with otter skins. He took a picture on his Message Crystal. Ah. He looked just like a tourist. Even his neuroticism was no match against the little town's charm. "Hundreds of years ago, these used to be all over the place. This town is such a blast from the past." Zagiha zoomed over to a clothes hawker, swiping a dress off the rack. "Isn't this precious? You need it. I'm buying it for you."

Hana took one look at it. "It's kind of tarty," she said.

"Kind of tarty?" he sputtered. "It's not tarty, it's cute. Not that you'd know cute if it kicked you in the face. Whatever, you needed a jacket, right? We can get you a traditional parka. And traditional boots. And no outfit would be complete without a traditional Gesmauran headdress!"

He nicked a headdress, but not one on the rack. Absentmindedly, he snatched it right off someone's head.

"My headdress!" cried a familiar voice. A flash of red and a re-snatching later, Mica Rebane, the helpful miner, stood in front of them, putting it back on. "The feather," he said, patting the side of the headdress. On the other side was another feather, tucked behind his ear. He sifted through the dirt.

"Is this it?" Zagiha held up a dirty, broken feather. Mica took it.

"Why, yes, it is, Your Holiness!" Mica flashed him a large smile. "How kind of you!" Hana remembered now. Mica had that way of talking where he made it impossible to determine whether he was taking the piss or being genuine.

"You recognized me?" Zagiha turned to Hana and crossed his arms. "You didn't know me, your parents didn't know me, but this hick does? What's your excuse?"

"Of course I know you," said Mica. And then he totally ignored him. He shook Hana's hand. "Neiti Hana! I almost didn't recognize you. It's been so long; you've grown so much!"

"Not really," said Hana. "You haven't changed a bit." It was true. Mica didn't look a day older than the last time she saw him three years ago. His hair was the same length, his body the same weight, and even his mannerisms mirrored the past. She had no idea if it was his skincare routine or what, but the years were exceedingly kind to him.

"Sorry about your feather," said Zagiha. So he was making an effort to not make a completely horrible first impression. He took their past conversations to heart. The dilemma was, then, if he could keep it up without descending into frothing rudeness.

"Don't worry about it," said Mica, "it was a just from a red-necked phalarope."

"That's… good to hear, uh…" Zagiha squinted at him. "What are you?"

Ten seconds! The record was ten seconds!

"Pardon me?" said Mica. "I'm Mica!"

"No… are you a boy or a girl?" Zagiha clarified.

"I'm Mica."

"Gah! I mean, what's in your pants?"

Mica turned his pockets inside out, revealing some pocket change, a few wrappers, and a piece of lint. He shrugged.

"… Never mind," said Zagiha. He returned to Hana. "So, Hana, who's your ambiguous friend?"

Hana sighed. "This is Mica," she said. "Play nice."

"Enchanté. It's so good we met you!" Zagiha clapped his hands. "I was wondering how I was going to carry all my bags without a servant. Pick up my stuff and let's keep going, Worker. Oh, but maybe stay a few meters behind me? Thanks."

Oh, no.

Oh. No.

Hana grabbed Zagiha's cloak and yanked him back.

"Ow!" he shouted. "What was that for?"

"Mica is an equal," she said between clenched teeth.

Zagiha chuckled. "Don't be silly, Hana. That's a Worker. They're here to serve us. We don't even need a room at an inn. We can just make one of these Workers share their house!"

Hana yanked him again.

It was like taking a dog to the pound and then the dog failed the reaction test. Sure, he got along with them up until now, but that was because they were doing something for him. Hana was speechless, although she didn't know what else she expected. He always made a big stink about her looking "poor," so it made sense he didn't look at Workers as anything beyond "the help."

"This is a Worker settlement!" she whisper-yelled. "The Workers are Rirasiru's people, and you're in his territory, so show them some respect."

"That Rirasiru is an odd duck…" said Zagiha. "Fine, I'll play along, but I'm not going to be buddy-buddy with him."

"I think you've accomplished that already."

"My sincerest apologies," said Zagiha to Mica, "carry my stuff if it pleases you."

"No," said Mica, wide smile not faltering a bit.

Zagiha twiddled his thumbs, now visibly shaking. So now he was realizing the impact of his fat mouth. "I was mean again, wasn't I?" he muttered beneath his breath. "O-kay!" He stepped back. "You know what, I'm going to let you two lovebirds catch up for a few hours and I'll bury my head in the sand! Bye!"

And he sprinted to an undisclosed location, somehow also managing to shuffle his feet at the same time.

Hana kneaded her temples. "I'm so sorry. Zagiha is…"

"I'm used to it." Mica took one of Zagiha's abandoned strawberries and ate it. "He's someone so obsessed with his reputation he ends up pushin' people away."

"Huh." Hana pondered that. "You just psychoanalyzed him in one second."

"Rich folks are like that," said Mica, popping more strawberries. "Especially ones who've been waited on hand and foot for all their lives. He's like a little child, I think. But he never got the opportunity to mature out of his awkwardness, and bein' as old as he is, old habits die hard. So I can't be too mad at him. I think if he gets to know the world better and stops obsessin' over being the perfect God who keeps the perfect company and conforms perfectly to society's expectations, he'll be okay." He smacked his lips. "Wanna strawberry?"

Everything Mica said was true. Hana was astounded. Zagiha said he wanted to be a nicer person, but his personal growth stagnated. He just clung to his shell like a crutch, only poking his head out sometimes, but then retreating back in, curling up in a defensive ball. He couldn't commit himself to throwing it away. Hana thought she chipped away at it a bit, but… it was frustrating.

And she didn't know why she cared so much. To her, Zagiha was barely more than a stranger, but he opened up to her like they were old friends. And he listened to her more now, and despite his thorny comments, he was overall more considerate of her needs. But being able to show vulnerability and kindness to one person wasn't enough. She wasn't enough, but she didn't feel that in a self-defeating way. Somehow, she was happy to support his accomplishing his goal for some reason, but in the end, it was Zagiha's responsibility to face his fears and flaws head-on. And if he didn't want to, well, that was on him. But she also believed, deep down, he had the power to do this.

Yep. She bet that's what made them friends and not acquaintances, their bond forged through fire. Lots and lots of literal fire.

She was stuck with him, gross.

Hana accepted the strawberry.

And then she remembered they were supposed to go to the Emporium.

"What's wrong?" asked Mica.

Hana explained her wild week, from her trip to the slums to the Prime Minister's abduction. She told him about his attempt to protect her from Isaana and the citizens from the Unforgivables, which led Zagiha to his predicament and her idea to get him out of it. She also talked about Silvio and her quest to find him.

Mica rubbed his chin, pensive."If these 'guns' you've told me about brought down a God, we're in big trouble," he said. But as usual, there wasn't a trace of emotion in his voice. "And the Prime Minister, too! Minumna's so isolated we don't get the news 'til several days later… I had no idea."

"My former teacher cast a spell that transferred some of her power to him," said Hana.

"I've heard about somethin' like that," Mica nodded.

"Do you… know what it is?"

"Nope!" he chirped. "Why don't you just rest here for a while? Silvio was confirmed alive, right?"

Hana shook her head. "Zagiha took me here to protect me… but what if Silvio's one of the fighters?"

Mica paused. "Ah, he WOULD do that, wouldn't he?" Watching Hana's reaction, he added, "but haven't you done enough already?"

"What do you mean?"

Mica motioned for her to follow him, and he led her down the street, pointing out the improvements made to the town. The morning air was crisp and cool, and he brought her to a pond. He picked up a stone and skipped it across the water. "Everything you do affects something else," he said, skipping another stone. "Like skipping stones across a river, one action causes a chain reaction. By tryin' to find Silvio, you got wind of the Unforgivables' attack. More people surely would've died if you hadn't intervened when you did. And not to mention you helped all those people find shelter, too. By doin' one good thing, you've set off a sequence of further good things happenin'. It's one of the karmic principles."

"Huh. So you're saying…?"

"The fate of Gesmaura doesn't depend on one person, or one God, either. It takes many people connecting and doing their part to get past hard times. Besides, Zagiha-sa would be very sad if you died."

Hana snorted. "I don't know about that."

"Hmm?" He tossed yet another rock up and down in his hand. "His Holiness wasn't rude to me because he hates Workers. He was just mad I interrupted your date." He lifted his hand to his mouth and chuckled at Hana's expression.

"What? No, no…"

"The way I look at it, he's hopelessly in love with you."

"He's definitely not." But that wasn't as declarative a statement as she wanted to make. Hana remembered last night. He was delirious due to the loss of magic, but maybe he… wasn't? She didn't want to think about it too much. If he did, that explained a lot, but… who fell in love with someone in two weeks? And wasn't he still hung up on Astrid? Mica must be teasing her, although she wasn't sure he was the type to do that sort of thing. "Besides, he gets crushes on everybody."

"Hana! Hana, look!" Zagiha ran up to them, with the corgis in tow. Winston wore a cute little bow tie and Buttercup sported another precious dress she hated. Just behind him were Crowe and Rory… and Rory had the tarty dress. Great. He bought it for her anyway.

"You made it out of Modrica!" said Hana, shocked.

"It was hard getting past the Sealing System, but as soon as we were out of city limits, we were able to pool our magic and teleport here," said Crowe.

"The Sealing System…" Mica muttered through his teeth. Then, perking up: "Herra Crowe! How wonderful to see you!"

"Good morning, Mica," said Crowe.

"Have you been taking care of the child and Hana?" asked Rory.

"What do you by--?"

But Mica cut Zagiha off.

"Hana filled me in on the situation. To think they used the Sealing System to close the city borders…" Mica shook his head. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about that in public. No use gettin' the villagers all riled up until the news officially gets here. I know!" He clapped his hands together. "Why don't you come to my place to regroup?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Mica," said Crowe.

"Are we seriously going to his house?" said Zagiha.

"I have books about magic. Don't you have some curse to be undoin'?" Mica flashed him a big smile.

"… Fine."

And with that, they headed out the town and into the woods to Mica's little log homestead.