3 bar menu

Contagious Heroism – Part 02

The express train arrived, and people trickled through the ticket gates.

“Hey, Hino, Tamaru. This place is really out in the sticks.”

Seeing the editor emerge from the gate with a traveling bag, Hino cursed inwardly. The bag was large, not for a day trip, nor for one or two nights either. It looked like he was staying for a week. In other words, they would have to entertain the editor for several days.

“Sir, about Hikari, we’re the ones who found her.”

“Where did that come from?”

“I want my name on the article. We can get front page.”

“Stop counting your chickens before they hatch, you idiot. I like that, though. Youngsters from the society department stealing the front page of a national paper. Keep it up.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

Hino felt somewhat disappointed. He had thought the editor came to Fujinota to steal their thunder, but he was giving them a pat on their backs.

“So, what are you doing here, then?”

“I’m here because Tamaru can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Huh?”

“Listen. You don’t share huge scoops, not even with family. I’m here to supervise. If he leaks another one, I’m sacked.”

“Uh, I see. That makes sense.”

Hino was relieved to learn that the man was actually concerned about them. He glanced at Tamaru.

“…”

Tamaru was staring blankly at the ticket gate.

“Hey, Tamaru, what are you looking at?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. There was a cute girl, so… I’m into girls who don’t stand out, but are actually pretty upon closer look. Anyway, I feel like I’ve seen her before.”

“Don’t even think about hitting on her using some cheesy line like ‘Do I know you?’ Let’s go.”

“Ah, yes, sir. Let me carry your bag.”

“Don’t treat me like an old man. Just be ready to snap photos anytime.”

The trio hurried to the taxi stand in front of the station.

---

At the ticket gate, a girl looked around anxiously. She wore a pea coat and a fluffy scarf, which wrapped around her slender frame.

“This is the north exit, and this is the south exit. She said it’s within walking distance from the north exit.”

Hazuki, the girl who had caught Tamaru’s eye, made her way towards the exit opposite to where Hino and the others were headed.

Just then, she overheard the voices of two adults nearby.

“Weren’t those people from the Nitto Shimbun? And they’re from Tokyo too.”

“I heard them mention ‘editor’. No way an editor would come all the way here.”

“Maybe they stumbled on a huge scoop. They were talking about some Hikari person. Ring a bell?”

“Nope. Should we call the head office to find out?”

Hikari?

The name brought a smile to Hazuki’s lips. It was a simple feminized version of the name of the boy she knew, Hikaru.

Their voices eventually faded away. Hazuki didn’t bother to think about who they were or what they were talking about. Little did she know that the name Hikari would spread rapidly, becoming associated with the new otherworlders, and that not only Nitto Shimbun but other newspapers would start chasing the story. And that journalists would pursue her, along with Lavia, the person behind it all.

---

As the old man instructed, Paula returned to the abandoned church three days later.

He had promised to spruce up the church as a token of gratitude for her treatment, which Paula appreciated. As a devout follower herself, she welcomed the idea of more people showing love for the Church.

“Hmm hmm hmm… Hmm… Hmm?!”

Humming to herself, Paula stopped in her tracks as the church came into view.

Despite the darkness of the night, she knew the streets well enough to recognize the right location. Yet, this church seemed entirely unfamiliar to her.

“Wh-Wh-What in the world?!”

Walls coated a beautiful white. Sparkling new roof. Polished cobblestones paving the path that led to the massive, wide-open doors.

“Ah, Your Eminence!”

The old man, who had teetered on the edge of death just three days prior, raised his hand when he caught sight of Paula. He was surrounded by about thirty people.

“S-Sir, what is this?”

“I said I’d make the church shine, didn’t I? Believe it or not, I have plenty of friends!”

Was he suggesting they achieved this on their own? Paula wondered.

“Friends? You’re making my skin crawl,” said one elderly man.

“More like reluctant acquaintances,” another added.

“Shut up! I didn’t want to bring you foul-mouthed lot along for this very reason. Come, Your Eminence, please have a look inside.”

“Um, you don’t have to address me as Your Eminence. I’m not a saint or anything.”

“Such humility. While the church may not recognize you as a saint, to me, you’re certainly one.”

When put like that, it was hard to argue. The old man ushered the hesitant Paula into the church.

Inside, it was nothing like the abandoned ruin where the old man had collapsed. It seemed like an entirely different place altogether.

Pews for the faithful stood in rows, and a pulpit made of high-quality black wood stood at the front. There was an altar towards the back. The deity carving alone was the same as before—broken at the waist, with no semblance of its original form. Warm light from magical lamps filled the space.

“I was lying right here, waiting for death’s release,” the old man suddenly began. “I regret causing my sons such pain by bringing me to this place.”

His sons, tears welling in their eyes, nodded along. Everybody was listening intently, making interruptions inappropriate.

“And then, the saint appeared! As she took my hand, I was reminded of a legendary saint I’ve heard about. I trembled in her divine presence.”

Wait a minute, weren’t you trembling because you were ill? Paula thought. Besides, I was only lured by the smell of food.

The crowd erupted into applause.

“My current state should tell you how much of a miracle she brought about,” the old man went on.

“He was as pale as a ghost,” one chimed in.

“He got the face of a dead man already.”

“And now, he’s as lively as ever.”

“I-I didn’t do much,” Paula denied.

“Your Eminence, would you at least allow me to pray for you?”

“Wh-What?! Pray for me?!”

“I apologize. I know it’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for me, but it’s the only thing I can do.”

“I-It’s fine. Just renovating the church is more than enough!”

“No, it’s not. I tried seeking help from a real church, but they couldn’t do anything. Money can’t settle it.”

“Since you saved his life,” another said, “sprucing up the church is the least we can do.”

“We could’ve made it even grander if we had more time.”

Paula’s head was spinning. Things were spiraling out of control.

“Your Eminence! You go by the name Wandering Saint, don’t you?”

“Well, um…”

“Come now, let’s not dig into her identity. We respect the saint’s wish for anonymity. You must hail from a noble lineage, yes?”

You couldn’t be more wrong! I’m just a country girl from a little village called Cotton-elka. And I never called myself the Wandering Saint!

Paula had so many things to say, but the confusion tied her tongue.

“We want to make it clear we’re not looking to exploit your magic. With power like yours, some might pay a fortune, but it could also be abused.”

That hit the mark. Paula lacked Hikaru’s stealth skills, so she couldn’t go about unnoticed. She considered being the Wandering Saint, using her Flower Face guise to gather elemental magic stones and cast the spell for crossing worlds, but without Stealth at her disposal, her plan was not feasible.

Paula knew her healing magic was exceptionally potent, and though Hikaru gave her permission to use it however she pleased, she couldn’t act rashly without him. If caught and confined, she might lose contact with him forever—like when she got kidnapped in the Quinbrand Empire during the chaos caused by the Accursed Toxin.

She’d been wary of these old timers, but they were clearly good people and their gratitude was genuine. Unable to turn them down, she showed up today.

“Um, well…”

“That’s why we just want to pray. It should be fine, no? We simply wish for your safety.”

“O-Okay,” Paula gave in. “But please, direct your prayers to God, not me. Magic—and even I—are just tools for His miracles.”

Prayers should be fine. Since there were no priests or deacons here, she thought it best if it became a place for locals to offer prayers.

But she was mistaken.

Little did Paula know, the next day, visitors would surge to fifty, then seventy, and exceed a hundred the day after. Quietly, rumors spread—that this was the Wandering Saint’s sanctuary, with even the statue sporting a mask. Paula never imagined just how much emotional support the name Wandering Saint gave to those affected by the Accursed Toxin.

Thus, an organization inspired by the Wandering Saint, called the Society of Wandering Light, sprang forth, and those skeptical of the Church flocked to it.

“Thank you! Let’s all pray here!”

Watching the old man’s pure joy, Paula casually thought, maybe I should teach them how to pray.