Chapter 145, Thoughts in Brushstrokes

Translator: Barnnn

 

By the time the trio began their climb, the mountaintop had already begun to bloom with color.

Their assigned area must have been fairly large, because even from halfway up, the fresh paint could be clearly distinguished.

 

“This is beautiful,” Ize said, gazing up. “Even just one section is enough to make you stop and stare.”

“It’ll be spectacular once it’s all covered,” Hal replied.

Fieda gave a low chuckle. “If you’re looking from far away, it doesn’t matter much if the artist’s hand isn’t… refined.”

 

Hal scowled, glancing between the number card in his hand and the sample image they’d been given. Fate, it seemed, had dealt him a cruel starting color: blue.

 

“Tch… If anyone laughs at my painting, I’ll make sure to laugh right back.”

“It’s a festival,” Ize said mildly. “A little laughter is a good thing.”

 

Ize let out an exaggerated, rumbling “Fwahahaha!” that echoed against the slopes. Hal shot her a look full of slow-burning grumpiness.

When they reached the middle of the mountain, a village official checked Hal’s number card and pointed him to a boulder near the path.

 

“Please paint that rock over there,” the man instructed. “When you’re done, return the jar and rented brushes at the foot of the mountain. Don’t discard them on the slope.”

 

Hal gave a curt nod, then stepped up to the stone. He swept away loose grit with the side of his hand, clearing a patch for his work.

Around them, the mountainside bloomed with an eclectic array of painted flowers: some a single, solid color slapped on thick, others shaded with painstaking detail. One artist had covered an entire rock face with a single oversized blossom; another had painted a bouquet’s worth of smaller ones.

 

Ize wandered closer. “Have you decided what you’re going to paint?”

“Yeah,” Hal said. “I’ve had something in mind for a while. I think I can pull it off.”

 

He dipped his brush into the deep blue pigment and, in the center of the stone, drew a single bold stroke of a curved, slanted line. Then he added another, facing the opposite direction. Then a third, overlapping the others.

As the lines multiplied, Ize’s brow furrowed in sudden recognition.

 

“You’re painting… a rose?”

“Correct.”

 

Whether it was pride or relief at being understood, Hal grinned and began adding petal after petal, his strokes gaining confidence.

 

“A blue rose,” Ize remarked. “That’s romantic.”

“Is it?” Fieda asked, tilting his head. He clearly had no idea whether blue roses were rare here, or whether they existed at all.

“On Earth, blue roses don’t occur in nature,” Ize explained. “For a long time, they were said to be impossible to create. Scientists researched for years before finally managing it.”

“You can MAKE a flower’s color?”

“Apparently. I don’t know how exactly, though.”

“Huh. Your world’s techniques really are something.”

 

The two of them spoke quietly while Hal worked, the blue petals multiplying until the bloom began to look… perhaps a little too full, verging on heavy. Neither said a word about it, choosing to watch in silence as the rose took shape.

Minutes later, a great blue rose unfurled across the stone, its petals spreading from edge to edge. Hal used up the last of the paint to give the blossom a final, rich layer of color.

 

“There. Done!” He stepped back, planting his hands on his hips.

“Ohh, impressive,” Ize said, clapping.

“It definitely is… a rose…”

 

Fieda took a step back, narrowing his eyes at the painting before giving a small, approving nod.

The initial lines had been no thicker than Ize’s fingers; now, the petals had grown to the width of Fieda’s forearm. Hal had worried the paint might run out midway, but he had managed to paint the whole thing with even depth and color.

 

“Not bad, if I say so myself.”

 

Hal wiped his brow with the back of his hand, then arched his back with a satisfied groan.

 

“A giant blue rose,” Ize murmured. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a wish, too,” Hal said, tucking the brush and empty jar into his Magic Bag. “You know, blue roses used to mean ‘impossible.’ But once they were finally created, the meaning changed… to ‘dreams come true.'”

Fieda raised his brows. “I didn’t know flowers had meanings associated with them.”

“And this is the first time I’ve heard about a flower’s meaning being changed,” Ize added.

“It’s rare, but… yeah. I figured I’d borrow a little of that luck.” Hal smiled, hands on his hips. “Here’s to dreams coming true.”

“Heh… What a romanticist,” Ize murmured half under her breath, before adding, “Well… yes. To health, to taking things easy, and to dreams coming true.”

“Health’s important,” Hal agreed.

 

All three of them stood there a moment, looking at the rose and speaking their wishes aloud. Hidden under Ize’s Stealth field, Hal quickly snapped a picture of the finished piece, then turned to Fieda with a grin.

 

“Okay, now it’s your turn, Fieda!”

“Green, huh…? Not many green flowers in the world,” he said.

“More of a leaf color,” Ize remarked.

“Seems like most people are painting leaves,” Hal observed.

 

As they made their way along the narrow path — which would serve as branches of the collective painting — they passed other painted stones. One bore a ring of tiny handprints, each painted petal-like in soft colors. Fieda smiled despite herself.

At his assigned plot, another official gave directions. Fieda planted himself before the stone, arms folded, rolling his neck with a few audible cracks.

 

“Green flowers… well, leaves it is,” he muttered, dipping the brush and, without hesitation, drew three bold strokes radiating downward like sunbeams.

“Wow! No hesitation!” Hal said.

“Looks very… artistic,” Ize added.

 

Fieda ignored them, steadily adding large leaves along the strokes. One of them, Hal noticed, had a very particular shape.

 

Sensing something familiar in it, Ize murmured under her breath, “Wait, is this Sato?”

Fieda nodded without pausing his work. “When you think ‘leaf,’ you think Sato, right?”

“True enough,” Hal said with a grin.

 

Beside him, Ize’s fingers curled lightly around her ring. Sato might have been sleeping in the Magic Bag, but here, in paint, it felt as though it were with them. The green spread in bold, sweeping strokes, as full of life as the real creature’s leaves.

Before long, all three of them were smiling without realizing it.

 

“There,” Fieda said at last, laying down the brush after using up the last of the paint.

 

Sato’s leaf was painted boldly across the face of the boulder. Standing before it, they admired the work, then gave a satisfied nod.

 

“May this year bring a rich harvest,” Fieda said.

“And may it be plentiful,” Hal added.

“Uhh… I hope we get to eat lots of delicious food,” came Ize’s delayed voice.

“…Doesn’t that sound a bit odd?” Hal asked.

“Well, if the crops fail, we won’t have any delicious food at all, right?”

“…Fair point.”

 

Ize’s confident logic won Hal over without further argument. After they posed for a commemorative photo just as before, Hal tucked the tablet away, his lips curving into a mischievous grin.

 

“Well then, looks like you’re up, Ize.”

 

Ize pursed her lips, her expression turning sour.

 

“Why did you two have to paint something so… respectable?”

Hal threw back his head and laughed. “Hahaha! That means the bar is set high for you!”

 

Giving him a frosty glare, Ize moved on, checking the number on her card against the rocks ahead. The main path — forming the trunk of the giant painted tree — was crowded now with people making their way down from the summit.

A little boy, his face and hands smeared with paint, laughed as he clung to his mother’s hand; she didn’t seem to mind the mess in the least. A father carried another child on his shoulders, letting the small hands smear paint through his hair without protest.

Watching them, Ize tightened her grip on the jar of red paint in her hand. Her own wish for a happy family… what shape would it take?

 

“Ize? Something wrong?” Hal asked, peering at her face.

 

Fieda, a few steps ahead, turned and looked back as well.

The reason she had chosen red — chosen “family” — first of all, was that it was more important to her than any other. She clenched the jar once more, lifted her head, and smiled at Hal.

 

“I just thought of the kind of flower I want to paint,” she said.

“Oh? Tempting to ask, but I think I’ll wait until I see it,” he replied.

 

As they walked on together, the foothills came into view. A ring of food stalls surrounded the central square.

 

“Hope there’s something tasty,” Hal said. “For flower-viewing, you can’t go wrong with dango.”

“They might have warm soup too,” Ize mused. “It still gets chilly at night.”

“No Dungeon in the area, though,” Fieda noted. “There’ll probably be more stews than skewers.”

 

They speculated on the stalls’ menus until Ize found the rock marked with her number. She cleaned a patch of its surface, sat before it, and dipped her brush. Scraping away the excess paint on the rim of the pot, she laid down her first diagonal stroke. Then, shifting directions, she painted a thin petal, as though drawing a tilted figure eight.

 

“Hmm? That’s smaller than I expected,” Hal observed.

 

In the center of the boulder bloomed a single red flower, no bigger than Ize’s palm, resembling a cosmos.

 

“Yes. This is just right,” she replied, and began another beside it.

 

Each flower took only moments to complete, but she placed them with care, balancing their positions against the rough surface. Now and then, she brushed away a grain of grit with a flicker of magic, painting on until the last of the red was gone from her jar.

Hal and Fieda stood silently, watching her work in concentration until the boulder was alive with red blooms.

Finally, Ize lowered her aching arm, stepped back a few paces, and smiled.

 

“All right,” she said softly. “It turned out exactly as I imagined.”

 

Hal, seeing her tension melt into that gentle smile, felt himself relax as well.

 

“So,” he asked, “what does it mean?”

She pointed to the first flower. “This one is you, Hal.”

“Huh?” He tilted his head in surprise.

 

Ize’s lips curved in a small, amused smile. She pointed to the next.

 

“And this one is Fieda.”

“Me?” Fieda sounded just as startled.

 

Ize seemed pleased by their reactions. She went on, pointing from bloom to bloom and naming them one by one.

“This is Sato, Hiro, and Take. Here’s Mister Iserdo, Deputy Guild Master Abrol… This one’s Mister Zoddoa, the craftsman. This is Miss Etta, and here…”

 

Hal recognized the names as she spoke them: people they had met on their travels, people who had shown them kindness.

 

“…This one is Lord Gruash, and Lord Loudipa, Mister Shezel… and here, Miss Rossalie,” Ize finished. She lowered her hand and looked up at Hal. “I’ll never see my blood family again, but you and Fieda became my family. If I hadn’t come to this world, I’d never have met you. That’s why I want to wish for the bonds of meeting — to treasure the people I’ve met, and to meet again those I wish to see someday. That is what ‘family’ means to me.”

 

Her mouth was set firmly, her eyes holding an unshakable will. She knew her definition was different from the usual, and she was braced for whatever others might say.

Hal turned his gaze back to the boulder. They weren’t just flowers; he saw the story of their journey across this magical world.

His lips naturally parted, forming a smile that spread across his face.

 

“…Ize,” he said at last, “you really are greedy.”