What could possibly require two people?
Two people? Late at night?
A late-night snack?
Lightweaver finishing her late-night patrol, and the two of them sitting in the shop.
Biting her straw and staring at the moon, chatting about this and that.
There was no need to call her out specifically for something like that, but what if she just wanted someone to eat with?
A late-night movie?
The lights dimming, the light and shadow from the screen flickering across their faces.
Lightweaver holding a bucket of popcorn, occasionally reaching over to grab a handful.
She would tilt her head, whispering to ask what the previous shot meant, her breath brushing against Shizuru's ear, carrying the sweet scent of caramel.
After the movie, they would walk back side-by-side along the empty streets, chatting about plot holes and funny scenes, neither of them in any rush to fly away.
Ugh... be realistic!
A rooftop patrol?
The night wind was strong, but standing next to Lightweaver, she wouldn't feel cold at all.
Her mana flickered in the darkness like another parallel galaxy.
No words would be needed; an occasional exchange of glances would be enough to know which direction to take.
Sitting on a rooftop together to watch the moon, with Lightweaver falling asleep against her shoulder...
Or maybe...
Shizuru realized her imagination was running wild.
She pushed those chaotic thoughts down one by one, took a deep breath, and shifted her scythe to her other hand.
The handle of the scythe was slick with sweat from her palm. She wasn't quite sure what face she was making right now, but Nuomi wasn't on her shoulder, so there was no one to poke the back of her neck with a tail and tease her that her ears were red.
“...What are we doing?”
What could it possibly be?
A combat mission would be the most proper, yet deep down, she secretly hoped for a more personal request.
Either way, she had said she needed two people.
Being alone together late at night was already enough to make this evening special.
“...We're digging up dirt.”
Lightweaver pulled her phone out of her coat pocket, tapped open a photo, and held it out to her.
The photo showed the roots of a ginkgo tree, with a circle drawn in highlighter next to them, labeled "around here."
All of Shizuru's fantasies—patrolling side-by-side, late-night tea parties, sleeping against her shoulder...
Every single image popped like a bubble, vanishing in an instant.
She looked up again, staring at Lightweaver with an extremely complex expression.
What?
Did she really hear that right?
Being called out in the middle of the night, she had thought there would be some unusual task, or perhaps a more personal request.
And it turned out she was just here to do manual labor?
“The thing you said required two people... is digging up dirt?”
“Yes. It's too slow if I dig alone. Besides, if we don't dig it up tonight, the school festival will start in a few days. With so many people around, it'll be even harder to do.”
“Why are you digging up dirt at school in the middle of the night? Is this some kind of new mission?”
Mingyue was still trying to frame this as an official mission.
“It's not a mission, it's personal. I'm helping a friend dig up a time capsule she buried. Her legs aren't very mobile, so she can't come dig it up herself.”
Shizuru lowered her head and fell silent for a moment.
That friend must be very important to her, important enough for Lightweaver to scale the school walls in the dead of night.
She suddenly felt a bit envious of that friend, accompanied by a faint, inexplicable twinge of jealousy.
Did that friend even know Lightweaver was doing all this for her?
“So... will you help me, Mingyue?”
Mingyue was pulled back to reality by Lightweaver's words.
“...What did you call me?”
“Mingyue,” Lightweaver repeated, a bit puzzled. “You are Mingyue, after all. What's wrong with me calling you that?”
Shizuru's heart quietly quickened its pace.
Lightweaver rarely called her by name. Most of the time, she just got straight to the point or addressed her as “you.”
Let alone in this kind of tone.
It was as if she thought I would refuse, yet hoped I wouldn't.
“...It's nothing. Where is it? Lead the way.”
“Let's just use your scythe to dig. The blade is sharp enough and the handle is long enough. It'll work better than a shovel.”
“Scythes are meant for battle, not digging up dirt.”
“Tools are dead, but people are alive.”
Shizuru looked down at the scythe in her hands, which had accompanied her through countless battles, and fell silent for a moment.
She remembered how many Erosion Bodies this blade had sliced, how many fatal attacks it had blocked, and the countless perfect combinations she had executed with Nuomi.
She looked up into Lightweaver's clear eyes, bright under the moonlight, and resignedly shifted her grip on the scythe to a more comfortable position.
“...Just this once. Bring a shovel next time.”
Shizuru followed behind Lightweaver as they slipped through a gap in the sports field's chain-link fence.
She held the scythe horizontally, its tip pointed downward, ready to accept the humiliation of using it as a shovel.
Lightweaver walked ahead. After scaling the perimeter wall, it took her only a moment to find the row of ginkgo trees.
“The third one.” Lightweaver crouched by the roots of the tree, brushing aside the fallen leaves to reveal the damp soil underneath.
She checked the photo on her phone, drew a circle on the soil, and looked up at Shizuru. “Right here. Start digging.”
The scythe gleamed coldly in the moonlight, the dark blue ribbon wrapped around its handle fluttering gently in the night wind.
“Are you sure this is the spot?”
“Positive. The trunk of the ginkgo tree in the photo has a crooked bend, just like this one.”
Lightweaver patted the dirt off her hands, stood up, and took half a step back to give her room to dig.
Mingyue took a deep breath and raised the scythe to eye level, her own eyes reflected in the blade.
She knelt on one knee, adjusted her grip on the scythe to apply more leverage, and aimed the tip at the circle Lightweaver had drawn, about to scoop into the ground.
“Wait.” Lightweaver caught her wrist.
Mingyue looked up. Lightweaver pulled two small trowels from behind her back—the most ordinary kind from a gardening shop, with promotional price tags still stuck to their wooden handles.
“...You brought shovels.”
Mingyue looked at the trowels, then at the scythe in her hands that was ready for action.
She looked back at Lightweaver, her voice carrying a suppressed emotion.
“You brought shovels! Then why didn't you say so earlier? You even told me to use my scythe—”
“I wanted to see if you would actually use your scythe to dig. Your expression when you raised the blade was so serious, I couldn't bear to interrupt.”
Lightweaver stuffed a trowel into her hand, crouched down, drew a smaller circle in the dirt with her own, and looked up at her.
Mingyue gently leaned her scythe against the trunk of the ginkgo tree, crouched down opposite Lightweaver, and pushed her trowel into the dirt.
“...You always find ways to tease me.”
Her voice was muffled, but she dug faster and more efficiently than anyone.
Qiluo watched Mingyue work, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
That was enough teasing. Since Mingyue was being so supportive, Qiluo had to show some sincerity in return.
Even though Qiluo always complained about things being a hassle, how could she actually come completely unprepared when it came to helping a friend?
Mingyue had actually been willing to let her precious scythe bite the dirt; Qiluo had received that sentiment loud and clear. But if she had actually let her do it, Qiluo Tian Gong's conscience would have pricked.
But Mingyue would surely understand that Qiluo bringing the shovels meant she had never intended for her to use the scythe in the first place. That was consideration, not teasing!
Mingyue dug quickly.
Perhaps it was because she was used to wielding a scythe as a weapon, or maybe it was something else.
In any case, she looked extremely adept at it to Qiluo.
Soon, with a sharp clink, the trowel struck something hard.
Rate on N.U.
