Terra Intercontinental Endeavor was a 24-year-old woman. On this day, she had gone out to fish with another woman and discarded an astonishing catch of 315,000 tonnes—a catch certain to bring them a fortune. It had been a strange experience, one that was out of the ordinary for her.
Only three days earlier she was fishing with men, not women. In the end, she had been a catch that was thrown away.
“Oba-samaaa…!”
World’s End Board was a family-style beer hall in the Endeavours’ base ship, Idaho. Many families enjoyed dinner at its rows of fine wooden tables. The antique bar counter was adorned with militia-themed carvings; at it, changeover crews and surface run sailors on their way home from work tipped back their heads and downed their pints.
A tall woman staggered into the amiable atmosphere. She wasn't just casually tall, she eclipsed both the front waiter and bartender. She wasn't lanky, either. Her chest and hips had a build to match her stature, and the way they preserved an overall balance between size and slenderness made her height ridiculously impressive.
It wasn't just her impressive height that stood out. Her appearance did too. The Endeavours in the family beer hall were . In contrast, the young woman wore a social dress and white bodice that was decorated in lively spring green laces and frills. Her straw-blonde hair was fixed up with a floral ornament. Despite that, it was hard to say she looked elegant, given the large suitcases she carried in each hand. She wore enough makeup to be mistaken for a supermodel, but it had gotten a bit messy.
She had arrived from a party but looked like the sole survivor of a platoon.
“Terra-chaaan! Over here! What’s with that look, don’t tell me…”
A married woman got up from a round table to greet her. It was her aunt, Mora Intercontinental. Even though she was 20% shorter than Terra, she had double the age, vitality, and ability to pamper others.
Whimpering “Aah, oba-sama…” Terra finally arrived at the table and—slam—fell prostrate on it, waving a white handkerchief.
“I’m sorry, I’m moving back in...! This was our last formal ball, and we broke it off. I’m really, really sorry.”
“Straight from the ball? Wow, you got this far and it still fell through...” Mora took an exaggerated look at the ceiling. A pitiful sigh came from the seat beside her.
After Terra lost her parents, Mora had taken her in. Terra was only 18 when they passed away in a sightseeing ship accident. As a result, she didn't have the same close relationship with Mora as with the parents who had raised her from a young age. But still, it had been a signficant event in Terra's life, and Mora and her husband hadn't just stood by.
The marriage interview had been for her clan's sake.
“My, my, rest now, you gave it your all. So, if you wouldn’t mind telling me, what went wrong?” Mora asked Terra as she seated herself. Her husband, Rubal, passed Terra’s order to the waiter. “I thought the Secretarius family’s third son Elephas was a good match, but there were things you didn’t like about him, weren't there? Did he step on your foot during the dance?”
“Thanks for the concern,” Terra lifted her face and looked at her aunt, dark green eyes drowning in exhaustion. “But I didn’t turn him down, he turned me down. Ah, he didn't step on my foot though.”
Her shoulders tightened apologetically, and she began to explain. “Yesterday we went out for a net throwing trial, and I didn’t meet his standards. We followed the usual approach a few times, but none of our attempts went well. I thought that we just needed to keep trying until we got it, but at the party he said ‘your nets are too complicated for me’...”
“Oh my, if only he had been a more skilled twister...”
“No, no, he wasn’t bad at all.” Terra said while she removed her hair ornaments and lace sash. Now dressed more casually, she mixed in a sigh as she said, “It was my fault... I made a tunnel net with, um... eight arms.”
“Eight arms for a tunnel net? That’s a lot. Why?” Rubal Minuteman asked from the side. He was Mora’s husband and Terra’s uncle-in-law. He had already put away two pints, and his boorish, unshaven face had a ruddy glow. His appearance gave the impression he worked as a water miner or in an outer-boat factory, but in reality, he held a rather dull job as a clerk for the Council of Elders. Much like his wife, he valued justice and a virtuous mind, and his only real problem was that he didn’t have much of an imagination.
Upon hearing her husband’s question, Mora pompously shook her head. Terra answered with a forced smile.
“Well, I guess it was something I came up with myself… Since the besshu were going to go this way, and also that way, naturally I changed the net to compensate.”
“Usually, no one would think twice about it and just trawl with a typical two-arm tunnel net, yeah?”
“Yeah, haha...”
Rubal’s blue eyes blinked in astonishment. While he didn’t mean badly by it, Terra could only muster a bitter smile in response.
It was up to Mora to save the situation. “Not thinking is... difficult for this girl. There's no reason why she's like this, all you can say is she's just that kind of girl. It’s like how not everyone can cast a net just because they’re a woman.”
“That so, Terra?” Rubal asked Terra, who nodded.
“How do I put this… It’s like Oba-sama said. It’s true I’m bad with nets but, it's not because I can’t make them. I go way overboard instead...”
“You have trouble reining in the fine details?”
“Well, I guess you could say it’s something like that.” In proper agreement, Terra nodded.
“Let’s go back to our conversation!” said Mora. “I'd like to understand your tastes a little better. So! How about it? If you give me the okay, I could be of assistance again, don't you agree?”
“I’m not saying no, but isn’t the Bow Awow already over...?”
“Hmm, that might be true, but it may help with the next candidate. Don’t you think some details would be useful? I really don’t know your type...”
“Do I have to spell out what I like for this to work? Honestly, I just want a twister so I can sail my boat!” Terra said with a gentle smile, but it had the opposite effect.
She had hurt her aunt, who replied, “My, that may be, but...” and awkwardly averted her eyes. “We can arrange something! As much as we can to meet your expectations—also, although I'm already quite certain, I just want to make sure... but you haven't had any issues with their looks this whole time, hmm?”
“Well, I guess not.”
“Let’s start there, then. What did you like?”
“Looks, huh...”
Truthfully, Terra didn’t think that she had a type for men at all. She couldn’t just say it that bluntly though, so she had no other choice other than to say what she didn’t like.
“I think they were a bit too tall.”
“Eh?”
“Your choices so far have all been taller than me... so you picked them for their height, didn't you, Oba-sama?”
“Yes, I did but... hmm... huh, wait, you don’t...?”
“If I had a choice, then it’s fine if they’re not that large... That's how I feel.”
“Huh…?! Really?”
Surprised, Mora looked at Terra, whose younger face was fifteen centimeters above hers. Terra opened her arms with a wistful smile. Almost two meters separated the tips of her left and right fingers. “As you can see, I don't need anyone to protect me, don’t you think?”
Her aunt and uncle looked at each other and nodded.
“Now that you mention it...” “You’re right.”
Although the Endeavour clan was more permissive than other clans, it still had its old-fashioned customs, like the expectation for men to lead women. Mora’s upbringing led to the natural assumption that Terra required a companion befitting her height.
“Oh no, I messed up. My judgment was way off...!”
“That’s because you’re too headstrong sometimes.”
“Didn't you say you had no issue with him since he was a Secretarius?”
“That was just common-sense speaking. I thought that you understood Terra better.”
“So you signed off on him because you don't understand Terra either, huh?”
“Uh, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry! Oji-sama, Oba-sama, it’s all my fault. I’m sorry.” Terra timidly interrupted their stare-down and the two immediately started smiling again.
“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong, Terra. It’s that man's fault for not accepting you!”
“That’s right, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn't receive any complaints before now, did you?”
“Yes, yes, thank you...” She hadn't been sure that would help settle their argument, but it worked somehow. Now deep into her own thoughts, she sighed.
Why is marriage like this? Is this struggle really absolutely necessary?
Of course, she understood it was all for the sake of preserving the Circs, but...
The hidden reason for all of this was the pillar boat she had inherited from her parents, which made her an owner-decompa. If she wanted to fly, it was necessary to marry a twister from another clan. However, since she was single and not already engaged to a man capable of becoming a twister, there wasn't any choice but to compromise and start searching for an eligible bachelor among the singles from other clans who were socializing while the base ships were convened.
While that was possible in theory, there weren’t actually that many men who fit the age and clan criteria. As a result, the search for a suitable partner within the 16 Circ clans had become a major hassle.
“Please don’t worry about it. It'll be my pleasure to set you up with a husband, I promise.”
Despite her promise, matchmaking was an undoubtedly difficult job, even for the childless Aunt Mora. Although correspondence could be exchanged and arrangements made in advance, face-to-face meetings were only possible during the month-long Bow Awow.
Naturally, Terra’s selling point was her unusual height. Larger builds weren't subject to marriage limitations, but since one could set their height preferences in the search network, most took one look at Terra and excluded the outlier from their results.
Making matters worse was Terra's excessive imagination, which fueled her habit of devising odd tools like the eight-arm octopus-shaped tunnel net. It was a clear flaw to twisters, who desired a decompa that made nets following their orders.
So all told, she felt incredibly guilty around her aunt and uncle.
The floundering atmosphere at the table was saved by the waiters, who had finally arrived. The scent of juicy, sizzling beef-like steak filled the air, steam rose from the soft mashed potato-like, and the cauliflower-like side dish was a vibrant green. They were only printed foods with extra cooking, but their flavors were the pride of the manager and rivaled their equivalents from the common era. All three were impressive Endeavour clan specialties.
“Oba-sama, the bill...”
“What are you talking about? Does anyone worry about their wallet right after they’ve returned from a trip? It’s fine, eat up!”
“That’s right! ‘Stuff your guts and squash what's bugging you’, cheers!”
“Ah, right, cheers!”
Repeating one of the clan’s popular idioms, the uncle made a toast. At the very least, Terra sincerely shared the sentiment, and pint glasses filled with beer-like met each other with a clink, yellow bubbles fizzing. The three ate and drank to their hearts' content, and once they had finally cleared their plates, returned to their talk.
“Well, that’s the thing, you know. We can handle things one way or another with food, and it's not like we're running out.”
“Mhm, that’s right. You're not the only one gathering resources. Even if your boat is grounded, the others will keep doing their best. There are other twisters and decompas.”
“Mora, that’s not... Ah well. At any rate, our clan’s got a bit of a surplus in storage, so no reason to worry about one or two grounded boats.”
Although they would have been better off not saying anything, Terra tried not to be bothered by it, since they had only intended to give her peace of mind. But no—if anything, they had said it for their own peace of mind.
In its own way, Terra’s failed engagement was a serious situation. It wasn’t just a matter of happiness eluding Terra yet again. The Circs survived on Besshu caught from the gas giant. They didn’t eat the Besshu directly, but first processed it through recycling equipment they’d constructed. That equipment also processed the planet's unique AMC Clay for export to the Galactive Interactive. However, each clan possessed no more than ten fishing boats.
An individual pillar boat was perfectly capable of feeding 10% of the almost 20,000 Endeavours, or a little less than 2000 people per boat. However, since Terra was unmarried, her pillar boat was grounded and unavailable for fishing. It was constant dead weight moored at Idaho’s dock, to put it another way
Mora was correct when she said the other boats could cover it just fine. They could manage the burden as long as there were other fishermen, even if they retained a percentage of their catch for themselves. That said, the pillar boat had been grounded for six years following the death of Terra's parents, and she remained unmarried. It wasn't an emergency situation, but it wasn’t a pleasant one, either. The Council of Elders had already approached Terra three times to request she sell the pillar boat to them if she was going to let it sit idle.
Her aunt and uncle never touched on that subject. While they had their flaws as caretakers, they were fundamentally two very virtuous people. It made Terra feel incredibly guilty. She turned her face away, her body shriveling.
Through the beer hall’s side window, the planet was visible against space.
Ah, the Left Eyeball is smiling today.
Her attention was caught by one half of a duo of perpetual anticyclones, and it carried Terra’s thoughts away with it.
From orbit 6000 kilometers away, one couldn't observe the gas giant's full globe. Like a mural, its red and orange belts and white zones morphed into innumerable fractal swirls. The scene, which could be described as the pinnacle of beauty, was adorned with an overwhelming amount of detail.
Until she became an elementary cruise-school student, Terra watched the sight through a telescope until she fell asleep. In those ever-changing vortices, she saw faces, icons, and various animals. Hearing her parents tell twister and decompa stories about that cloudy world from her parents allowed her to believe she would descend there herself one day. However, these days Terra had another reason not to let go of her pillar boat.
As the Idaho spun, so did the scenery through the window. The striped planet glided towards the right, and from the left large cross-shaped wings extending from a pitch-black bird came into view. The tips of the cross were supposedly tied together by rotating rings, but those weren’t visible to the naked eye. Its center was short and stout, and running down its long, narrow body were portholes which blended into a beautiful rainbow gradient.
The window removed any sense of distance, creating the illusion that it was floating ten meters away. In reality the beast, measuring sixty kilometers end-to-end, was anchored one hundred kilometers away.
Modern Circs didn't have the capacity to craft such a complex spaceship.
The Dàxúnniǎo was an interstellar trade ship from the Galactive Interactive. Among its passengers were dignitaries, some of whom might be better described as envoys from hell. It traveled from star to star within the 4000 lightyear-wide domain of humanity, selling beautiful treasures and curiosities from distant systems like an ancient merchant caravan traversing the desert.
Much like a pillar boat's cockpit, the Dàxúnniǎo was equipped with high-tech gear, allowing it to retrieve data from the local star system. It would depart once finished with the exchange, carrying local commodities and emigrants along with it.
Letters sent by the emigrants arrived in a variety of scripts and formats, but their senders rarely returned—and if they did, it was often only briefly. As a result, some of the more suspicious folk claimed the emigrants had been victims of clone fraud or even human traffickers.
Terra fixed her gaze on the black ship. The Dàxúnniǎo and the pillar boats were both spacecraft, but beyond that basic comparison, they were totally different. A marvel of applied cosmology, the bird flew between stars at faster-than-light speeds by punching tunnels between gravitational equipotential surfaces using the Guāngguànhuán Drive. If the Dàxúnniǎo were to descend 3000 kilometers though, the gas giant’s atmospheric molecules would probably pluck it clean and turn it into a charred, crumbly chicken.
Pillar boats wouldn't burn in that environment. They could only travel 30 km/s, but the convecting exterior of heat-resistant AMC Clay allowed them to fly through the vast skies while glowing at a temperature of 3000°C.
That’s what Terra wanted to fly in, but she couldn’t fly alone. To do it, she absolutely required a partner—someone who would dress in gorgeous deckwear, someone with whom she could share a deep mutual trust, someone willing to look into the abyss with her and make an unwavering vow.
Who would that someone be? Would they be like that young man from the QOT clan, who despite being as tall as an antique bookshelf and having the width to match, lacked courage and only knew how to apologize?
“...Mm.”
Terra knit her brows and stopped moving her fork. She lost her appetite thinking about the single time she had boarded with him, but thankfully the memory didn't make her hurl outright. Compared to his time as his partner, she had far worse experiences.
She wouldn't call having to put up with marriage trials her biggest anxiety, but the fact it was an unavoidable part of life still made it a deeply ingrained one. It was only natural there were experiences she would have to put up with in life, and there was nothing to be done about it.
Not being allowed to leave the table until she finished the vegi-like cubes she hated. Having no choice but to clean the blood leaking out of her panties without knowing how. Writing things in her free time, unaware she was the only one who did. Showing her off own fantastical drawings of imagined ecosystems to her entire class only to be met with disgust... those were all experiences she had been forced to put up with, and they were just a part of life.
That was why she felt there was nothing else to do except set about boarding with a total stranger for now—“Terraaa, youuu did it agaaaain, and— and—and here I wuz thinking it wush gonnaaa to go great this whole tiiiiime…”
“Wahya!”
At some point her aunt had emptied her fourth pint, and she drunkenly clung to Terra. Mora tapped Terra’s shoulders, sloppily massaged her arms and tightly hugged her belly before suddenly and forcefully lifting her breasts.
“Even though you haaaave... noooo flaws... and—and these vaaaaluable big parts…”
“Wai—sto-stop, Oba-sama! Oji-sama, do something!”
“Hahaha, it’s fine. Cute, ain’t she?”
Terra desperately tried to push her aunt off her while Rubal merely laughed. If she had to point to a flaw with her aunt, it was how she always got way, way too drunk. Her uncle would say that wasn’t a flaw at all, especially since all Mora ever did praise others effusively, but Terra considered that viewpoint a matter of spousal favouritism.
“This isn’t the time to be messing around. Get a grip, Oba-sama!”
Terra’s resolve had hardened. Shaking her aunt’s shoulders, she raised her voice. “I’m going to try again. Is there anyone you can introduce me to? Actually, there’s no time left. Which clan should I hop over to and leave with, then...?”
What kind of nonsense am I spouting? Just as Terra was about to voice that thought, a determined voice barged in from beside the table.
“That marriage interview, could it wait?”
Terra sat her aunt back down at the table and turned around. A small and slender doll was standing there.
No—she resembled a doll, but she was a girl who looked to be about fifteen. Her silver hair was pressed under by a head cover, and she wore a silver-purple formal minidress with lace fringes. Terra saw legs as smooth as a candle. Blue eyes. A slightly oversized gray rucksack on her back made her look like a refugee. The girl’s skin and dress were sharp, cold and gorgeous; only her eyelids were tinged with a faint warmth. Her small chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.
In an unfashionable clan's beer hall, she stood out even among the younger men and women. Her aura was clearly different from its very foundation. There could be no mistake that she was from another clan.
Her origin wasn't the the main issue at hand, though. It was the lack of time. Terra and the others could relax because they were home, but that definitely wasn't the case for someone from another clan.
Before the girl could continue, Rubal looked at the big clock and asked, “You’re from another clan, ain’t ya? It’s time for Purge, there's... twenty minutes left before the fleet disperses. You gonna be okay?” Even after 7000 years, that clock remained in use. Its hour hand pointed almost straight up.
The Bow Awow only happened every two years. Sixteen base ships, which normally flew separately, aligned their orbits and docked together in something akin to a large congregational festival. While the permanent Council of Elders held general meeting, the youth would trade, fight, hold concerts, and dance with each other—but most importantly, they frantically sought a spouse. They were all serious about it, too, because the moment the clock struck midnight on the 30th day, it was time the ships to disperse at Purge.
After the ships dispersed, they returned to their separate orbits. The reason was simple: fishing ground distribution. If the entire fleet orbited in a single ring, they would overcrowd a small zone of the planet. The sensible action, then, was to equally space the clans around the planet by placing them in their own orbital inclinations.
Only ten minutes remained until the Star Horn loudly signaled the end of the festival and initiated the process of separating the docking clamps joining the sixteen base ships. By agreement, the ships would only reconvene after two years orbiting Fat Beach Ball’s 140,000 kilometer diameter by themselves. Once that happened, the girl would be unable to return to her own clan.
“It’s fine.”
It definitely wasn’t fine, but she spoke calmly and stepped forward to center herself in Terra’s sight. Then she stared at Terra, her gaze slowly falling from the top of her arranged hair to a stopping point at her chest, which her dress adorned as splendidly as the bow of a large boat. Terra suddenly caught a whiff of sweet botanical smoke, like a flower or bark being burnt.
“Are you Terra Intercontinental Endeavour-san?”
Getting called by her real name like that made Terra a little nervous. She nodded. Others found it way more convenient to engage with her as Terra Tell-Tale, so not being called that could be seen as respectful.
It's okay for us to talk if it's just for a bit.
“Y-yes... and you are?”
“I’m Diode, from the first letters of DIE-Over-Dose. Please call me that, if you would.”
“Die? Diode-san?”
“Correct.” She nodded and continued her rapidfire speech. “I’m 18 years old and my mother is called Rock. She’s the captain of the Sōfu-iwa, Tsunami Search-class. Its name isn't in the register because it didn’t join the Meteorological Observation Association, but it received a rescue medal at the Bow Awows in 290 and 299. It has search capabilities and can issue alerts on coordinates. I lived with my mother and watched her pilot a dual-use air and space ship for 15 years, so I can manage one. I also have 9500 hours of cruising experience.”
“Huh? Rock? Sofi?” Terra asked, bewildered. Diode’s introduction wasn’t just filled with details, it also shattered the rule of introducing yourself with your name first. Given the current situation though, there was something even more critical to get out of the way.
“And what’s your clan? Your fami-”
“Terra Intercontinental Endeavour-san!” Diode raised her voice as much as possible and bent forward. “My apologies for being so sudden—it’s our first meeting, and I haven’t even properly introduced myself, but there’s something I’d like to request—would you allow me to fly your boat?”
“Huh?” “Eh?” “Uoh?”
Terra and Rubal’s eyes shot wide—even Mora, who was dead drunk and face-down on the table, cracked open her eyes.
In the span of three seconds, a volcano of ideas erupted within Terra’s mind. Her face turned incandescent to the very tip of her ears. Her eyes moved from the girl’s slender fingers and settled on her small, soft lips.
That phrase, asked by a girl who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, normally had a very forward meaning.
“My boat? You want to fly, at night? You? You’re a girl right?!”
“Yes—ah.”
Diode nodded, then quickly covered her mouth. Her cheeks turned a faint red, not nearly as deep as Terra’s, and she waved her hand saying, “It’s a misunderstanding! I’m sorry, I know I just blurted that out, but I didn’t mean like in a marriage. I meant it in the literal sense—please allow me to be the twister of your pillar boat.”
“A twister?” Terra couldn't believe her ears. “Like I thought, you are a man, aren’t you?!”
“I told you, I’m a woman. I'm a woman and I can pilot.”
“Just... what do you mean?” Terra asked, confused.
Diode started to explain. “Yesterday, someone was netting apple prawns for marriage trials around the 60-degree belt. I saw it on the SearchView. They didn’t use the usual tunnel net, but an eight-arm one that unfurled the sixteen otter boards like petals. Usually, no one would dare cast an eight-arm net like that because it would end up in a tangle, but that person handled it splendidly. It was you, wasn’t it? The telop said that it was Terra from the Endeavour clan.”
It had to be the net of all things. The net was the reason why Terra had been dumped. She wanted to disappear.
“You saw... that?”
“Yes, and when I peeked into the ball this evening and saw you, I came running.”
“Please, just go back.” Dejected, Terra averted her eyes. “Did you really need to go through all this trouble just to make fun of me? I know my nets are weird.”
“What? Making fun of you? Not at all!” Diode’s eyes and voice sparkled with enthusiasm. She edged even closer to Terra. “The prawns scatter in every direction instead of fleeing the from the boat in the same direction like big besshu. So, the more the net spreads out, the less risk you have of losing the whole catch. I thought the eight-armed net wasn’t a bad idea at all. What’s more, its radial symmetry was precise as a diagram. I’ve never seen such a beautiful net with that many arms, not even from the Sōfu-iwa. It was incredible.”
“It was... incredible?” Terra definitely wasn’t used to hearing that word, and it may have even been the first time it had been said about her. She shyly lifted her face. At that moment, Diode took tight hold of Terra’s hand.
“Hafue?!”
Terra’s voice squeaked out. She wondered why Diode’s slender fingers were as cold as an icepop. She brought the refined features of her face close to Terra’s, near enough for Terra to peer deep into pupils shaded by silver eyelashes. Terra was seated, and at that height, Diode didn’t need to look up.
“Please pair up with me as a decompa, Terra-san. You need a twister, don't you?”
“But you're a girl, aren't you?!”
“That’s right, I’m a girl twister!” Diode was shouting nonsense on par with ‘a square star’, but she didn’t back down. “I have total confidence in my skill, I just don't have a boat. I don’t care about catches or profits at all—my only wish is to fly, really! Please!”
The tiny girl, so small her weight and height were only around one-half and two-thirds of Terra’s, respectively, courted the much larger woman with zero hesitation. Among the Circs, with their repressive social customs and etiquette, making such a laser-direct proposal was unheard of.
At first, Terra was totally stunned. Her head felt empty, but she noticed she was enjoying herself in spite of everything.
“Diode-san the twister... Whose mother is called Rock-san, right?”
“Yes.”
“My mother was named Nora Intercontinental. My was father Adon Runplotter. Both have already passed away. I'm a decompa whose engagement was broken off by someone in another clan today. That wasn't the first time, it was the fifth. Do you understand what that means...?”
“I can’t say I understand, but that's only because I just found out. I’m completely fine with it.”
Should I return the grasp of the small hand holding mine? Should I let go? Before Terra could decide, Aunt Mora, who had kept quiet to that point, suddenly sprang top.
“Stooop right nooow! Why are youuu acting like you’re getting engaged, Terraaaaa?! Youuu should be, be... marryiiing a twissker! A man!”
“Yeah, she should just jump over to another clan, shouldn't she?” Diode retorted with a faint grin. Pressing the back of her left hand, she brought out her minicell, the time glowing on its display. It was exactly 00:00.
—Whoooh…—
“Pah.” “Ah.” “The time…!”
The Star Horn signaled the Purge as it loudly echoed through the base ships of all sixteen clans.
“The next marriage interview won't be for two years.” The 148-cm tall girl puffed her chest in pride and closed her eyes. “But I can board starting tomorrow.”
To the girl standing firm on her decision, Terra asked, “You cut off your own escape and made this request... Aren't you being a bit unfair?”
“Please don't worry about me. This is just to show my determination. If you refuse, then..." She glanced at the ceiling, then smiled awkwardly. “Well, there’s no other way. I'll wash plates for two years and go back.”
“...Like I thought, that’s so unfair.”
With a troubled smile, Terra joined their hands again.