A Sunday in Akiba

by Mamare Touno

  As Minori gave wing to her fantasies, she was abruptly pulled back to reality.

  But still, we’ll be eating cake together, so…

  Wearing a drab outfit really would be a problem, too, so…

  Technically, unless Shiroe coolly solved a town issue or gave a rousing speech, his reputation in Akiba wouldn’t change so easily. However, Minori was optimistic.

  Shiroe is dashing, so that won’t be a problem.

  This was sheer personal preference, but Minori seemed to have let that slip past her entirely. There was also the question of whether this “dashing Shiroe” Minori mentioned was a maidenly delusion, but there was no one to answer it.

  In general, at this point in time, there was no one who was particularly concerned with the identity of the emotion inside Minori.

  Nobody knew whether it was trust for a guardian, a pastel adoration, or something more definite.

  This was because even Minori, the person in question, hadn’t given a name to what she felt.

  2

  Meanwhile, Akatsuki had noticed her own symptoms.

  Like Minori, she’d retired to her room. She was sitting on the tatami, as silent as a figurine, but internally, she was badly shaken.

  When she sat like this, kneeling formally on a floor cushion, Akatsuki looked adorable. Her long, glossy black hair spread out behind her, and her small, seated shape had the air of a small, elegant animal about it.

  However, even if she was short, she was a university student. The amount of information she had was decidedly different from what Minori, a middle schooler, had. The fact that she couldn’t state positively that her amount of experience was different made Akatsuki sad, but she was fully aware of that fact, and it made her agitation all the more violent.

  Why do I have to feel pressured by a middle schooler?!

  Akatsuki writhed in agony, hugging her knees.

  On top of having no experience with romance, she had many uncalled-for complexes, and there was no possible way she could keep her cool under the circumstances. Self-control didn’t accumulate as easily as age did.

  It was all because she was short. That was the root of the trouble.

  Akatsuki heaved a big sigh and thought back, touching her bangs with a fingertip.

  Things had been fine when she was in elementary school. She’d been an elementary schooler who looked like an elementary schooler.

  Then she’d become a middle schooler who looked like an elementary schooler.

  Even in high school, she’d been no more than a high school student who looked like an elementary schooler.

  When she started college, people had finally begun mistaking her for a middle schooler, but by that time, she no longer had the energy to talk back.

  She didn’t think her appearance was all that bad, but in any case, she had no experience with love. The only people who approached her were men with certain interests who’d gotten the wrong idea. You couldn’t even hope to date in an environment like that.

  Of course, she had had someone confess to her seriously. But.

  That was…

  Akatsuki’s shoulders slumped.

  The year she’d started university, a neighborhood middle schooler had told her he liked her. He seemed to be under the impression that she was a middle schooler from another district. She’d turned him down, of course, but it had been such a shock that she’d come down with a fever, and even now, the psychological trauma remained.

  That said, it wasn’t as though Akatsuki herself had wanted romance no matter what. Of course, as a woman of a certain age, she’d been interested in boyfriend-girlfriend relationships, but she hadn’t been so desperate she would have fallen for just anyone. She’d thought that adoration without a definite object was foolish.

  What Akatsuki was starved for was a much drier relationship, one built on abilities. Her cute looks and short stature meant she’d been treated as a mascot at all times, wherever she went. Even at home, her own little sister had treated her like a little sister.

  For that reason, she’d idolized “partner,” “collaborator,” and “colleague” relationships. If not those, then “subordinate” or “follower” would have been fine. The sort of relationship where each acknowledged the other’s skills and made up for the other’s shortcomings.

  After all, no one had ever treated her that way.

  She was a hard worker, and when she was working toward a goal she was determined to reach, she had an earnestness that was capable of single-minded focus and dogged effort. However, because of her adorable appearance, that effort had never had a chance to be evaluated fairly. That was why, in the world of Elder Tales, she’d pretended to be a taciturn male Assassin.

  Even that only lasted until the Catastrophe, though.

  That horrible incident had changed everything.

  In the midst of that hellish chaos, her one stroke of luck had been her connection to Shiroe. Shiroe, and after him, Naotsugu and Nyanta. Then Log Horizon, the guild she could call home.

  In Elder Tales, after it had become another world, Akatsuki had gained true friends—something she’d never managed to make on Earth—for the first time. Human relationships in which people didn’t make fun of Akatsuki for her short stature or make a pet of her.

  Of course, she was still treated like a mascot sometimes.

  Her looks were a part of her, so that probably wouldn’t change in the future, either. There was no help for it, and she’d grown able to permit it. This was because she knew that, in this world, skills and abilities could be seen just as clearly as appearance.

  The fact that these were shown in a clear way to those who looked for them—the fact that level existed—had been welcome news for Akatsuki.

  In parties, if she pursued her own role seriously, she could win respect from everyone. There were lots of frightening and painful things here, but Akatsuki thought in that one respect, this other world was wonderful.

  When Shiroe had given her his Appearance Reset Potion just after the Catastrophe, she’d called him “my liege” because she’d wanted to repay him. She’d insisted on being his subordinate, because she wanted her skills to be acknowledged.

  No matter what, she hadn’t wanted to be saved for free because she was a little girl.

  However, Shiroe had been an even better liege than Akatsuki had imagined. His open-mindedness, the certainty of his tactics, and the strength of will to foresee a range of events so vast it was beyond Akatsuki’s imagination and then in turn to choose a future from it: Being able to be Shiroe’s partner was affirming.

  On top of that, Shiroe had an ideal flaw: his combat abilities.

  At the very least, his attack power was so low that he couldn’t put an end to a battle. Akatsuki was able to assist Shiroe on that point, and he also seemed to acknowledge her craftsmanlike plays.

  As a modern person, risking her life in battles with monsters frightened her, but she had studied kendo when she was little, and it was nothing she couldn’t overcome. At the very least, it seemed far better than the humiliation of never being treated like a full person no matter where she went.

  To a bystander, she might have seemed like a ninja who didn’t have a shred of loyalty, but to Akatsuki herself, there was reason enough behind her actions to suit her own objectives. …Though, of course, there was a strong component of hiding her embarrassment within her actions as well.

  It didn’t seem to have taken much time for that feeling to deepen beyond trust. Even Akatsuki didn’t know what had triggered it or when it had started, but being near Shiroe was slightly embarrassing and pleasant.

  Maybe it’s because of the griffin?

  When she remembered what it was like to ride on its back, her face softened.

  The feeling of acceleration, as if she was plummeting straight down in the midst of strong wind and thrills. Spending that time clinging to Shiroe’s back or wrapped snugly in his arms gave Akatsuki a powerful feeling of excitement and comfort.

&n
bsp; It might be what people called the suspension bridge effect, but it charmed Akatsuki so much she didn’t care.

  At this point, just being close to Shiroe made her happy for no reason. She was so hooked that she’d gotten serious about practicing silent walking and sneaking up behind him.

  It embarrassed Akatsuki to give that feeling a name, even if it was just inside her mind, but in a word, it was affection. Akatsuki was aware that it was the sort of affection that had to do with the opposite sex.

  That said, Akatsuki would have been perfectly happy never to realize this.

  What she’d wanted was the partner seat. To be respected and acknowledged as a comrade. Even if she felt affection, there was no need for that affection to be returned in kind. Most of all, Akatsuki had noticed that comfort only recently.

  Just having this feeling growing inside her, like a vibrant flower or silent music, made her days overflow with happiness.

  …But then Minori had appeared.

  She had no grudge against Minori herself. Minori was earnest and considerate, intelligent and hardworking, and there wasn’t an atom of her that was worthy of reproach. Akatsuki thought she was a good companion and an adorable junior member. What depressed her was her own bad luck.

  …Or was it good luck?

  She’d escaped from the prejudice of being seen as a middle schooler and encountered a friend who, at the very least, seemed likely to see her as a person in her own right. Her feelings had been stirred by that friend. That was a good thing. A very fortunate thing. Akatsuki somehow knew that at the very least, that friend didn’t dislike her, either. The experience was exhilarating.

  However, the rival who’d appeared at that point had been an actual middle schooler. What ill-starred fate was this?

  Rrgh… Am I really that much of a Loli staple?

  It made Akatsuki want to throw a cushion and Assassinate it.

  Come to think of it, that might not be…too bad. Maybe.

  Akatsuki had a complex about her looks. She might be cute, but it was a mascot kind of cuteness, and she couldn’t rid herself of the doubt that no one would ever see her as a candidate for romance. In that sense, it might be a good thing that Minori was her rival. After all, the other girl was an actual middle schooler. She wouldn’t have a handicap as far as figure went. That said, the idea made her feel as if she’d never escape the middle-schooler category, no matter how far she went.

  When her thoughts had taken her that far, Akatsuki abruptly raised her head.

  Earlier, she’d felt as if she’d been issued a challenge, and since she’d had the same flyer, she’d taken it out on reflex, because she’d been riled. However, would this be a date? If so, there were probably things she’d need to do to get ready.

  Suddenly ill at ease, Akatsuki began to fidget on her floor cushion.

  If it was a date, wouldn’t she have to dress properly? Impossible! Akatsuki shook her head. It really was “Impossible!”: The only clothes Akatsuki had were as black as black oxide. On Earth, in order to function in society, she’d had a few feminine outfits, but in the world of Elder Tales, all she had were dark-colored Assassin clothes.

  As a ninja who served Shiroe, there hadn’t been a problem with that, and she hadn’t needed anything else.

  However, it really wouldn’t be a good idea to wear them on a date.

  Wait, what if I went as a ninja accompanying my liege on his incognito outing?

  Akatsuki nodded. Shiroe was going to go eat free cake. In that situation, she’d have to go along as his bodyguard whether she wanted to or not. Phew, she thought, but immediately shook her head violently. No matter how she thought about it, it wouldn’t work. After all, she was the one who’d dragged the bewildered Shiroe out, impelled by a feeling of rivalry toward Minori.

  If, tomorrow, she were to say, “You wanted to go eat, didn’t you, my liege? I’ll guard you,” Shiroe would look at her as if she were someone to be pitied. If worse came to worst, he might even be disgusted with her.

  In that case, I could have Henrietta coordinate something…

  She considered that idea as well, but she was reluctant. Even if she put up with being petted and fawned over this time, Henrietta’s extremely girlish taste would be a problem. It might be all right in other situations, but Minori was a real middle schooler, and she’d be at too much of a disadvantage against her in little-girlish clothes like those.

  In the end, if she needed to get some sort of outfit ready, it would probably be safest to pick it out herself.

  On that thought, Akatsuki sprang to her feet.

  Outside the window, the rain gently enfolded Akiba, but the evening was still light enough.

  If she went to the central plaza, she should find for sale lots of the handmade clothes that were all the rage lately.

  3

  The town of Akiba was enveloped in slightly giddy commotion.

  At this time, with the festival nearly upon them, the Adventurers who would be exhibiting at the festival were hard at work getting ready, but the exhibitors weren’t the only ones.

  Even without looking at Akatsuki’s and Minori’s cases, if there was a festival being held, there would be people who wanted to do something at it. On top of that, this was a huge event that involved all of Akiba. It wasn’t only players with production subclasses: All the Adventurers who lived in Akiba, and even the People of the Earth, were busy making preparations.

  For example, those who intended to cook some sort of special dish on the day were looking for ingredients, and those who were planning banquets were buying up food and fruit. As a result, materials were running low, which meant traveling merchants were welcomed, and the number of Adventurers who went hunting in hopes of getting drop items skyrocketed. And like Akatsuki and Minori, female Adventurers were thinking about buying stylish clothes.

  Even without going that far, work to remove rubble and expand the plaza was being conducted in Akiba to coincide with the festival, and officially authorized work quests from the Round Table Council were issued day after day. At the very least, it was Japanese human nature to think that one should clean the entryway and walls of one’s own guild house at times like these.

  Jobs for Carpenters and furniture artisans increased, and the workshops bustled for days on end.

  Even in Akiba, the busiest place was the Production Guild Liaison Committee, and at its center was Calasin, guild master of Shopping District 8.

  Swearing all the while that he’d been cursed several different ways, Calasin continued to field telechats.

  Calasin thought that, although he’d always liked talking to people and had many acquaintances, he’d never dreamed he’d be this swamped with inquiries: So many telechats were coming his way without a break that he was unable to leave the room. It was all the fault of that young man with glasses and unpleasant eyes.

  Although the Adventurers of Akiba called them the three major production guilds, the truth was a bit different.

  Shopping District 8 hadn’t originally been a production guild.

  It had been a chat guild.

  Just as the word implied, chat meant “talking.” When this world was still a game, there had been a certain number of users who had used the game to chat. They’d adventured, too, of course; they’d also leveled up, collected items, and produced things. However, they’d done so because it gave them things to talk about with each other. To them, the game’s greatest pleasure had been chatting.

  Elder Tales’ noisiest time had been from eight PM until the middle of the night—aka after dinner. During that time, many users had logged on for a leisurely chat with their friends.

  These “chatter” fans were the polar opposite of “raiders,” who enjoyed the game’s hard challenges.

  Shopping District 8 was a guild created by chatters. The commerce was simply there to create opportunities for conversation. Shopping District 8 conducted business because it enjoyed entertaining customers.

  They were somewhat differe
nt from the Roderick Trading Company, which collected fantasy-class recipes and attempted to create rare items, and the Marine Organization, which had begun when Adventurers who’d ended up in production classes had begun to purchase materials as a group.

  Naturally, as the leader of that guild, Calasin’s position was different from that of either Roderick of the Roderick Trading Company or Michitaka of the Marine Organization. Calasin was no more than the leading member of the merchants affiliated with Shopping District 8. He wasn’t a ruler with vast authority. He was its representative, its face, and he was respected by its members, but no one pledged their loyalty to him.

  However, he was the leading member. The central figure of a guild of chatters. He had 980 names registered to his telechat list, a number very close to the system’s limit.

  Calasin was putting that contact network to good use and receiving reports in rapid succession.

  “Aye-aye. Got it. I’ll tell † Koumei. † ”

  “Hm? Ah. That’s probably too expensive, don’t you think?”

  “Brzzzzt! No, none of that, thank you. The Liaison Committee doesn’t play favorites. You’ll get the stall location you drew in the lottery. We expect strict compliance.”

  Even as he switched between telechats, Calasin was quickly jotting down several notes on the papers in front of him.

  The desk held an enormous amount of plans and applications. The disorder was just as bad as it was in Shiroe’s office.

  “Hey.”

  “Ah, Michitaka.”

  The huge man who’d entered the office was Michitaka. He was holding a bundle of papers under his arm. Setting them down on the desk, he looked around the area.

  “C’mon, now. You’re doing this all by yourself?”