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  Copyright

  SPICE AND WOLF, Volume 7: Side Colors

  ISUNA HASEKURA

  Cover art by Jyuu Ayakura

  Translation: Paul Starr

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  OOKAMI TO KOSHINRYO Vol. 7

  © ISUNA HASEKURA 2008

  Edited by ASCII MEDIA WORKS

  First published in Japan in 2008 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.

  English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo, through Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.

  English translation © 2012 by Yen Press, LLC

  Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  First Yen On eBook Edition: March 2017

  Originally published in paperback in December 2012 by Yen On.

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  ISBN 978-0-316-55906-5

  E3-20170225-JV-PC

  THE BOY AND THE GIRL AND THE WHITE FLOWERS

  Klass sat upon a flat rock by the road, just past a little hill.

  Without anything to obstruct the view, he could see quite a ways in every direction, despite the hill not being particularly large.

  Things looked the same in every direction, and although he had heard that the road continued all the way to the sea, he couldn’t see so much as a river.

  Klass, just ten years and a bit more in the world, could not begin to conceive of what exactly the “sea” was.

  But from what he had heard, it was not something that one could easily overlook while walking down the road, so it had to be a ways off still. He set the fat stick he was using as a walking staff down beside him and picked up a leather water skin. He wetted his lips with just a bit of the bitter, leather-flavored water. The breeze ruffled his brown hair, and he looked casually back over his shoulder.

  The house that had kicked them out was long since out of sight. Klass felt more vindicated than lonely at the fact.

  He didn’t know exactly why he felt that way, but in any case, the goal had entered his field of vision.

  He wondered if she’d stopped because of the white flowers that were in bloom there, and indeed it was so.

  Winter was over; its dry, freezing winds were at an end, and in the spring sunshine the scent of soft grass filled the air. Squatting down, gazing tirelessly, almost hungrily, at the nameless flowers, she looked not unlike a sheep.

  Her head was completely covered by a hood, and the hem of her white robe nearly touched the ground.

  He was close enough to see the places where the robe was slightly dirty, but from a bit farther off, she would definitely resemble a sheep.

  Her name was Aryes.

  She said she didn’t know how old she was, but to Klass’s frustration, she was just a bit taller than him.

  Thus he’d decided that she was two years older than he was.

  “Aryes!” Klass called her name, and Aryes finally looked up. “You promised we’d make it over four hills by midday!”

  Although he still didn’t know what Aryes was thinking generally, Klass had grasped a few key truths.

  One was that she would never do something just because he asked her to, but if he got her to make a promise, she would always keep it.

  Klass wondered how many times he’d thought about leaving her behind after she’d stopped midwalk before he realized that fact.

  Aryes sluggishly stood and dragged herself up the hill, looking back several times at the flowers as she went. Klass sighed at her and spoke.

  “Are they that rare?”

  He was still sitting on the flat rock and so looked up at her.

  With her hood over her head, her face was not visible unless one was very close or looking up at her from below.

  So it was that Klass had traveled with her for some time before realizing that while her expression changed little, the face beneath the hood was very lovely.

  “Those are…flowers, right?” asked Aryes, as though trying to confirm something very important.

  “Yup, they’re flowers. You saw them yesterday and the day before, didn’t you?”

  Her cool blue eyes were cast down at the flowers that grew at the base of the hill.

  Another breeze came up, causing a lock of blond hair that strayed out from under her hood to tremble.

  “But…it’s really odd,” said Aryes.

  “What is?”

  Aryes looked at Klass for the first time, cocking her head questioningly. “There were no vases beneath those flowers. Why weren’t they wilted?”

  Without so much as a furrowed brow, Klass looked down from Aryes’s face to the rest of her.

  “We don’t have much water, so don’t get dirty—didn’t I tell you?”

  Aryes’s hand was hidden by her sleeve. When Klass took it, he found that her fingers were dirtied with soil.

  It had even gotten underneath her fingernails—her clean hands now gone to waste.

  Klass was about to wipe them off with a cloth from his waist, but Aryes suddenly snatched her hand back and looked at him with suspicious eyes.

  “I was told that filth comes only from the heart,” she said. “It is not good to lie.”

  Klass tried to figure out something to say but finally gave up. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  The corners of Aryes’s eyes crinkled as she gave a small smile, and she nodded, satisfied.

  In the end, her promise was broken—they did not make it over four hills.

  However, once Aryes saw fit to preach on the subject of having broken the promise, they had lunch.

  As Aryes had been strongly opposed to eating breakfast, Klass wouldn’t have been able to stand not eating a big lunch.

  That said, in the burlap bag over Klass’s shoulder were seven slices of tough, tough bread made from horse oats, each slice big enough to hide his face behind, and some fried beans, a bit of salt, and one skin of water.

  That was all they had been able to get from the house when they’d been chased out, and it was soon obvious that if they didn’t eat the food carefully, it would be gone before they knew it.

  He’d take a certain amount of bread and beans out, but otherwise the bag stayed tightly closed.

  Fortunately Aryes ate surprisingly little. Today, too, she had but ten fried beans and one-eighth of a bread slice. Gradually, bite by tough little bite, she consumed the hard oat bread, offering prayers before and after she ate.

  For Klass’s part, he felt that since it was he who was giving her some of his precious food, thereby sparing her from traveling without any food at all, she should be thanking not God, but him. However, Aryes insisted that it was God who’d provided the food in the first place.

  Klass felt this was somehow unfair, but
he could think of no retort and was thus silent.

  He had been subjected to a wide variety of unreasonable explanations of her strange behavior, but if someone had actually suggested that such explanations made her clever, Klass would’ve shaken his head.

  Aryes’s most outstanding feature was her unbelievable ignorance.

  “Ah…,” said Aryes, looking up. When Klass turned to see what she was looking at, he saw a brown bird flying across the sky.

  As he mused that if he could catch it, pluck its feathers, and cook it, it would be tasty indeed, he remembered Aryes’s words when she’d first seen a bird and for a moment forgot how distasteful the bread was. It had made enough of an impression on him that he felt he truly knew what the word astounding meant now.

  Aryes’s inquiring gaze brought him out of his reverie and back to reality.

  “That’s a bird, is it not?”

  “Yeah, it’s a bird. It’s not a spider, and it’s not a lizard.”

  “And it’s…flying, is it not?”

  “That’s right.”

  He regarded Aryes’s face as he picked fragments of oat out of his teeth with his finger. She looked impressed, as though she’d been told a great secret—strange but sweet.

  When Aryes had first seen a bird, she said that it was a spider crawling across the ceiling.

  For a moment Klass hadn’t understood what she was saying. But as he listened to her, he realized that she thought the sky was merely another ceiling not far away and that the bird was a spider crawling across it.

  Despite his surprise, Klass felt that to make sport of her confusion would reflect badly on him as a man, and so he explained to her that the sky was held up by a very tall tree, taller than she could even imagine, and that the bird was actually flying through the air, below the sky.

  She’d been doubtful for a while, but as she watched birds take off from the ground and fly up into the air, she finally accepted this.

  Many things went this way.

  Asking why the flowers in the field didn’t wilt despite not being in vases was actually one of her less strange questions.

  Aryes had apparently lived in a building surrounded by high stone walls next to the mansion where Klass has been forced to work as a servant.

  She had never left the building that she could remember, and reading books was one of the few pleasures afforded her.

  As time passed, Klass had come to know of the people who entered and exited the building.

  From what he could tell from the rumors he collected, the master of the mansion had been tricked by people from a nation in the south into constructing the building, and those who came into and out of the building were also southerners.

  Occasionally he would hear from over the walls strains of a song, but he could not understand the words and wondered if they were in the language of the south.

  However, the master of the mansion seemed to have no love for his own land and spent the whole year traveling all over, and the head steward seemed not to know the particulars, or such was the collective opinion of the mansion staff.

  So it went, and Klass learned that the song the occasionally heard was meant to praise God only when he heard the fact from Aryes herself.

  He had heard the song about three times at close range.

  “Well, shall we go?” asked Klass, popping the last bean into his mouth.

  One day, suddenly, a large group of unfamiliar people came to the mansion. They brought a lot of supplies and livestock with them. When the mansion staff stopped their work to gaze at the newcomers, the finest-dressed, largest-bellied man among them introduced himself as the younger brother of the mansion’s master.

  “From this moment forth, you are no longer residents of this mansion,” he said. “Gather your things and leave immediately.”

  Evidently the former master of the mansion had died during his travels, and his younger brother had come to live in his place. Whatever it was he didn’t like, he kicked everyone out, including the people in the stone building.

  Some cried and wailed or were stunned into silence, some took it as a joke and tried to continue working, and some even clung to the younger brother (or whoever he was) himself. Of them all, only Aryes walked unsteadily away.

  Shortly thereafter, Klass ran after her, once he gathered up some of the water and bread that the mansion’s new master tossed out like so much chicken feed.

  Off he ran to catch up with the girl who tottered down the road that led to the sea, as though she were being guided.

  “Let’s try to make it over six hills before sunset. At this rate there’s no telling how long it’ll take us to get to the sea.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “Sure, it’s a promise.”

  Klass knew that Aryes would probably keep them from making it over six hills but that it would be his promise that was broken and the fault would lie with him.

  But in order to get Aryes to move, he had no choice but to make the promise.

  And if he was being honest, he didn’t mind terribly looking at her exasperated face as she lectured him.

  Compared to being yelled at and beaten while hauling water pails all over the mansion, Klass found traveling with Aryes to be relaxing and enjoyable.

  But there was one part of it that he found deeply nerve-racking. And that was nighttime.

  “The night is nothing to fear. Just as the day has the sun and the night the moon, God is always watching over us.”

  “…Y-yeah,” he answered in a hoarse voice, though in some strange part of his head he felt that the only things watching over them were the moon and the many stars in the sky.

  They lay atop the last hill they’d reached that day.

  Although he knew there was nothing and no one around, he was still a bit bashful.

  “This is what God said: A person alone fears loneliness and hunger and trembles in the cold. But with two, loneliness is healed and cold’s edge softened.”

  “…Yeah.”

  “Are you still cold?”

  Klass very nearly answered but only shook his head.

  However, Aryes did not seem to believe him.

  Her arms already encircled him, and she pulled him in with more strength, embracing him.

  “It is good to endure hunger. But God never wishes for us to be cold.”

  Though he’d now heard these words four times, Klass’s body still trembled with nervousness.

  At first he’d been unable to sleep because of it, and it was all the worse now that he’d noticed just how lovely Aryes really was.

  Removing her large outer robe and using it in place of a blanket, Aryes embraced Klass tightly.

  Though it was spring, the nights were yet cold.

  While the travel was no great burden for Klass, different only from his previous experience in that he was now sleeping outside most nights, Aryes seemed to consider the camping a trial sent by God and did what she could to lessen it—by using her body’s warmth.

  On the second night he slept soundly, thanks to his exhaustion from not sleeping the previous night. On the third night he somehow found his way past his nerves to sleep.

  By the fourth night, although he’d begun to get used to the routine, he noticed how sweet Aryes’s body smelled, and as he breathed it in his face reddened. It was sweet but not sweet like the smell of honey over fresh-baked bread.

  The situation inspired feelings of guilt in Klass—there was something he wasn’t telling Aryes.

  “—nchoo!”

  He heard her sneeze.

  Here she was worrying only about other people, but Klass was sure she was cold herself, too.

  She stirred slightly. “God may be angry at me for saying this,” she started to say. Klass couldn’t see her face, but he could nonetheless tell she was smiling. “But I don’t think I could have done this alone. I’m so glad you’re a girl, Klass.”

  Klass had never once in his life been mistaken for a girl, and if a hundred peopl
e were asked, surely all one hundred of them would laugh at the idea’s impossibility.

  But he was quite sure that Aryes sincerely believed he was a girl.

  After all, the single time they’d passed a horse-drawn cart, Aryes had turned pale and said, “Is that the animal they call man?”

  “I’ve gotten quite sleepy. Good night.”

  Aryes was quite deft at such things, and once she said she was sleepy she would soon be asleep.

  Klass deliberately did not reply and stayed silent.

  Once he heard the rabbitlike sound of her sleeping breaths, he very gently nestled his head into her bosom, praying nobody was looking at them.

  When he said, “Good night,” as though it was an excuse, it really was just an excuse.

  That night, he suddenly awoke.

  He glanced up at the sky and saw that the silver of a moon had almost crossed the entire sky.

  It was the deepest part of the night.

  The cold was considerable, and pushing away his shame, he put his arms back around Aryes’s body.

  He stirred for a moment but finally found a comfortable position and took another breath.

  It was very still all around, and the only sound was that of Aryes’s breathing.

  Back when he’d slept in the mansion’s barn, there was never a single moment of quiet.

  Rats were constantly scurrying around in search of overlooked scraps of livestock feed, and they’d come crawling into his clothes whenever they liked. The eyes of the snakes and owls that fed on the rats gleamed in the darkness, and those were hardly the only night visitors. There were foxes after the chickens and wolves after the sheep.

  When they sensed danger, the horses would stir and struggle, and the clucking and crowing of the chickens would reach a crescendo as they ran about.

  The nights he spent with Aryes were so quiet his ears rang with the silence.

  And when the sun rose and morning came, there was no one to work him like a dog and none of the endless chores. Falling asleep had never before been such a pleasure.

  While he’d been surprised to be thrown out of the mansion, he didn’t understand why the other servants had been so stricken by it that they’d wept. They didn’t have to do chores anymore.