My Death Flags Show No Sign of Ending

Harold is surprised that Harold doesn't dream that his opponent, who had stripped him of his hostility before the game, is still only guessing that Itsuki's atmosphere has changed.

Well, I came to the extraordinary conclusion that I might have been in a good mood to know that I had won.

(Or I lost. What do you mean, "I'm not gonna lose”?

Besides, it is an unruly loss to the child opponent. It was more pitiful than losing normally.

What if this high-performance body is also good at flag recovery capabilities?

He shakes his head two or three times to dispel such a worst prediction that he has passed his head, and turns his foot outside the dojo in search of fresh air to regain his sinking mood.

I stepped out under the blue sky through a passage leading to the back of the dojo next to the dressing room instead of the front entrance that came in.

Proceed barefoot over a white cobblestone laid beautifully in a comfortable breeze on your sweaty body.

The view from the dojo, which houses a gateway on a small high hill, overlooked the city of Smeragi.

Spread beneath the cliff is a town that resembles the old Japan. There are no tall buildings that block the sky with all the wooden architecture. Nature abounds there, and peach petals shake to colour them.

It's not a landscape I'm otherwise familiar with, but it was definitely a view that still directly stimulated the Japanese's homeland.

Maybe that triggered it.

I've been in this world for about five months. It reminds me of my hometown, where I have not thought about not breaking my heart, my tear glands inadvertently loosen and my vision seeps.

A wave of emotions strikes Harold's heart one after the other, as if that were the signal of decimation.

Loneliness far from home, fear of the future awaiting you, the tension that has always kept you attentive, and the hard work that still piles up with endless elements of anxiety.

There are limits to how many games you like to enjoy, albeit in a very similar world. The mental anxiety of having to live as a character who is certain to die if he goes along with history without knowing why is not extraordinary.

Various emotions twirl around inside Harold. I couldn't stand it, tears finally spilled out of my eyes, creating a muscle of marks on my cheeks.

If it were true, he could have cried out in his voice mourning the irrationality that had happened to him.

But it didn't, and it must have been because of Harold's high pride that he stayed quietly in tears. Instead, I could also say that Harold was in a situation where he was so far cornered that he was in a situation where he was personable but crying that he would not admit to losing even if he died.

"... do you ever lose"

All I can say is these words while I am. Harold thinks that in a corner of his head where calmness lingers, it's already stunning to pierce the will so far without making a weak sound good.

Had it not been for this steel time mental, maybe Harold would have already crumbled.

and so on and look out over the city of Smeragi, where Sakura's petals dance with sentiments. While I was doing so, my mind slowly settled down.

I can speak up when I try to turn my heels back to the dojo about time.

"Dear Harold,"

My chest pounds in that voice. It's not for any reason whatsoever.

It's because of temper from contact from someone you weren't expecting at all.

There was an unmistakable look of Erica ahead looking back like a rusty brisket doll.

But Harold has no idea what Erica thought and came here to think and speak up. Because I'm supposed to hate her by the time she's completely skinless.

Well, I hate it, but the perception itself is wrong. Speaking of why she came all the way after Harold, she said to Itsuki, "He seemed depressed, and what if he came to comfort you? 'Cause they pushed me back.

To be honest, it didn't look like Harold was letting himself down. Even the impression of exchanging words with Itsuki was floating.

Yet Itsuki felt sexually regretful to speak with a mouthful that seemed to have perceived Harold's mood, and if he noticed, his leg was headed for Harold's.

But this was also a good time to apologize if you think about it well. I can't tell you that misunderstandings are solved by the intent of the task, but you should be sure to apologize for seeing a flat-handed one.

Erica saw it when she tried to walk over to Harold quickly.

Cover both eyes that were looking up at the sky with the palm of your right hand, but a glimmer of tears flowing out of the gap between your fingers to convey Harold's cheeks.

Erica's leg hardens as a vic. I instantly understood that I saw something I shouldn't have seen.

Neither the reason you're crying, nor the meaning of being in tears, can be inferred and measured by Erica. Because I don't know enough about Harold to do that.

A small grunt arrives at Erica, who lost her words in front of even the shocking sight of Harold crying.

Has Harold fought like this the whole time a boy his age?

With a strong and uncomfortable grin all the time, he may have crossed over with the grownups without even giving them such hearts and minds a bite in tears.

Just being strong isn't enough, just being smart doesn't win. You won't behave like him without an indomitable soul to remove adversity.

Oh, what my father was saying was true, Erica said for the first time at this time.

And I finally realize that I was making a mistake. I thought that Harold was a person who could face and easily overcome any predicament, and that his confidence was expressed as his usual arrogance.

But you can't only have strength with you. Harold is also a child of his age. I have the weak part, as a matter of course.

He just plays such a thorough and arrogant vantage image that he doesn't make his surroundings realize such a natural thing. There was no one to expose him to weakness, so he had to.

Coming to Erica's chest, which touched on such Harold's predicament, was a thought that guided him that he did not want to go on his own and be alone in an attempt to become lonely.

(... maybe this is what your father said about wanting to be a "person who truly understands Harold")

For example, what you want to do becomes obvious. I don't get lost anymore.

Even if you're still not qualified for it now, or if there's something missing, I'm sure I'll make you a person who can support that scratched back one day.

Today I engraved that determination into myself, the day of the beginning. As soon as I made that decision, I felt like I could grab my chest.

I guess that's why I could have spoken his name without any feeling.

Harold, voiced, turns around slowly. He had very frigid eyes.

I can also be convinced that given his state of mind, he would be such an eye-catcher. But Erica made a firm vow not to be frightened of that attitude anymore.

"Earlier it was a great stand-up. Neglect of swordsmanship has shown from me that Master Harold is strong."

"Have all your brothers and sisters come and salt your wounds?

"There is no annihilation. Lost a match, won a fight, something like that?"

"I see you've come to sell a fight, haven't you?

Harold loses that game against the rules. If you follow that adage, you lost the game and you also lost the battle.

It just seems to be stirred up with a pair of moves with a dazzling smile.

"Kusu...... I'm sorry. Words have passed."

Apparently Erica had that awareness, too.

But more than that, as Harold, it is inexplicable in itself that Erica will naturally come into contact with him. Plus, the current exchange isn't like her either.

"Well, if you want to throw up some nasty bullshit, just play with that servant."

"Please Wait"

Erica blocked Harold's whereabouts wanting to leave the scene as soon as possible.

Erica's reluctance to read her intentions irritates her and makes her tone tight.

"Out of the way, I don't have time to hang out with you. I'll crush everything, even if it does."

Then I can't talk to Harold properly.

"Oh, conveniently."

"Unfortunately, that's not how it works. Just give me your time now."

From Erica's standing, which until now had been nothing but flowery sophistication, somehow at this time I felt the swaying like a giant tree that had grown thick roots on the earth. Simply put, Teco isn't going to move.

Pressured that this was the pressure of the original character, Harold chirps his tongue and throws words with a full unhappy aura.

"... if you need anything, just get it over with"

"Thank you"

With that said, Erica breaks her hips and takes a deep thank-you stance.

"I'm sorry about the other day. It was a mistake to ramble, albeit with blood on his head, and raise his hand as well. Let me apologize."

"Ha, you came all the way out here to say that? Do something nasty."

Words are not awesome but they are not false as they are meant to be. Harold intentionally pissed Erica off, and that reaction is reasonable.

Normally, I wouldn't want to apologize or anything again. It's only because Erica is the one who comes to apologize there like this.

I'm pretty sure that kindness is her virtue. It would appear preferably to the majority of humans. In fact, that was true for Harold as a player.

But to Harold now, that excessive kindness just seems like a fierce fang. It's an abomination that can be fatal once bitten.

What a selfish gesture of kindness. My mouth was open when I thought so.

"Your apology is worthless. Rather, is it a real idiot to apologize within all that majestic barking and that tongue roots aren't dry? By and large, your kindness is a deception that comes from good intentions. It's just a lukewarm familiarity with having a head on top of poor quality. So you're free to dance as a clown, but stay out of my way. Don't come into my sight. I'm extremely uncomfortable with my eyesight."

In addition to the poor mouth of the original Harold, the depression that had accumulated against Erica erupted all at once. Spit out the poison and regain calm.

Totally overstated. Besides, it hits the girl eight times.

I wanted to cry in a different way than earlier.

Erica, who got rambled while in an apologetic position, doesn't make it slight. Did I make you cry, or did I piss you off?

Terrified to observe, Erica wakes up quietly.

It wasn't tears or anger that she was carrying. I wasn't even discouraged by being beaten down.

What was there was a serene expression, like a painted Virgin Mary, who took all the rumblings from Harold.

Erica was prepared in advance that Harold would show such an attitude towards her own apology. Because I found out he was a man of strength and rigour, and true kindness unlike himself.

I guess that word that cursed Erica doesn't contain lies. I had been made aware without being told that I was a negative being for Harold.

(You have too much missing for me. strength in the face of a difficult fate, as well as tenderness to scold the weak)

I miswore it from the beginning. Reaching out is not just kindness.

There is also tenderness to watch, push, and do nothing. for the person, so that the person can grow.

But in order to actually do it, you also need the strength to believe the other person. I'm sure that's the kind of person who can support Harold.

So accepting Harold's words, pointing out how harsh and immature they are, and growing them into food, is the first step towards becoming a existence that truly understands and supports him.

"... hmm"

Harold walks away from the scene like he's lost interest.

Erica gives words to his little back as he disappears inside the dojo.

"Please wait, I'm not saying. But I'll make sure you catch up. I will never leave you alone."

Her whining rode to the wind with Sakura's petals and melted into the blue sky.