by Mamare Touno
At those words, Shiroe felt as if his vision had gone pure white.
He sensed no sincerity from the woman in front of him.
He felt instinctively that she was made up of lies and sin. However, even though he knew, the temptation was enough to dazzle him. Even he thought his immunity to women was far too low.
Still, no one’s ever told me I was more extraordinary than Soujirou before, so… I’m so lame.
“…You won’t?”
“No, because it isn’t true.”
“…I wonder.”
Nureha spoke in a low voice, her eyes downcast.
The aura that had seemed to twine around Shiroe until now disappeared, replaced by a faint, fragile atmosphere.
“Then if I tell the truth, will you come to me?”
“I can’t make that decision until I’ve heard the truth.”
“The truth isn’t a nice thing, you know.”
With her expression as fragile as aged pottery, Nureha gave a husky laugh.
“…Very well. Because it’s you, Master Shiro. Because you’re special. Because you are special. Because there’s only one of you. I’ll have to show equivalent resolve, I suppose. Yes, I know. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long, long time…”
Nureha’s words continued, like a curse.
“You see, Master Shiro, I’m…a homely woman.”
“Huh?!”
“I’m honored by your surprise, but it’s true. I was an ugly child: My eyes were large and staring, I was skinny and poor—all I knew was how to look up hungrily at those around me.”
Shiroe’s surprise was only natural. The beauty in front of him did have eyes that tended to be too intense, but if asked, anyone would have said she was bewitching.
However, her tale unfolded in a direction Shiroe hadn’t even considered.
“When I was in elementary school, I really was too thin. It wasn’t just that my ribs showed; it went far beyond that. The bones in my arms and legs showed, too. My hair grew long and unkempt, and my clothes were grimy. I was a dirty girl, more than an ugly one.
“When I began middle school, I grew, but I didn’t gain much weight. I was as skinny and bony as ever, and I looked up through my bangs at those around me with saucer eyes. That’s the sort of creepy girl I was, I think.
“That changed when…I believe it was in my second year of middle school. I happened to get my hands on a little money, and I finally started to eat proper meals. At first, even then, my body was reluctant to accept them, but ever so gradually, I gained weight… However, I was still skinny, just the same. I’d only gone from having a creepy body that showed its bones to being thin.”
That’s…
Shiroe thought it might have been some kind of abuse.
He also wondered whether the story was really true.
Even if Nureha had begun her tale by saying, I’m going to tell you a true story, it was far too late for him to trust her: Oshima wasn’t here. Through some unknown method, Nureha had gotten the information about Oshima’s meeting with Shiroe out of him, and she had gotten there ahead of him. That was an immutable fact.
Besides, no matter how gentle her voice was now, this woman was the guild master of Plant Hwyaden, the single guild that controlled Minami.
However, on the other hand, even if he’d been told, This story is a lie, he couldn’t have taken that at face value: If a liar told nothing but lies, they might just as well be honest.
Liars were beings who could tell the truth.
“I’d begun to care about my appearance, but even so, I was the sort of poor girl you’d find anywhere. Flat chest, skinny arms and legs. An ordinary face, except that my eyes were large. The most common evaluation I received at the time was ‘unlucky girl.’ Fu-fu-fu! I think it wasn’t simply my appearance they were speaking of. There was probably something inside me that couldn’t help but be called that… Still, even so: There were people who wanted me just because I was a middle schooler, just because I was young. I won’t excuse myself by saying I did it to live, or that I had no choice. Having people flatter and fawn over me made me happy, and I felt as if I were walking on air.”
In response to what he was hearing, a creeping revulsion assailed Shiroe.
Was it true?
If it was true, being in close proximity to something like that was unpleasant.
Is it a lie?
If it was a lie, then the woman who was going out of her way to tell him a story like that was unpleasant.
“Master Shiro?”
By the time he noticed, Nureha’s eyes were startlingly close. Nureha was looking up into Shiroe’s, smiling darkly.
“You see? The truth is dull, isn’t it? What purpose does this story serve? And in any case, what of this world is true? These bodies and the skills they hold are all nothing but lies, and in this world, the truth has less value than rubbish. Master Shiro. If you come to me, I’ll be your lover. Would that not please you? I have this body now. This white, warm body everyone admires. …Or don’t you like women like me?”
Shiroe tasted something salty in his mouth and realized for the first time that he’d bitten his lip.
His temperature was rising, and his face was hot.
The curves of her white bosom that showed through her black satin dress. The slim fingers that moved constantly, as if beckoning. A coaxing expression, melting tones. A fragrance like shortcake, so sweet it would make you want to eat it even when you knew it was poisoned.
“I had to please gentlemen with a meager body, so I’m practiced. …I’m good at lying, too, you know. If you only close your eyes to the fact that it’s a lie, I believe I can make you happy. Yes, until you’re satisfied. I’ll be at your side at sunrise, sunset, until the world fades into twilight…”
“Why?”
“…Are reasons necessary?”
“If I can’t think it’s real, there’s no point.”
“As I said, just accept that it’s a lie… Or fiction, in any case.”
Words so sweet they might have been smeared with honey fell from charming lips like pale pink jelly, pouring slowly into Shiroe. His eyes saw Nureha’s imploring, teasing, enigmatic smile and her swaying fox’s tail.
“…Fic…tion?”
“Yes. It’s fiction. That’s right. A made-up story—the story of a friend of mine, an older girl… One day, that girl encountered Elder Tales. It was a pastime far removed from the world in which she lived. Even so, she became fascinated by it. Do you know why?”
Shiroe didn’t.
He couldn’t answer.
“Because, in that game, she could have her ideal body. If she only had that, she’d be protected, and wanted, and be given things. The happiness she’d wanted so badly she’d nearly vomited blood would be hers. Because, in that world, she could have a beautiful face and a body that captivated the opposite sex. But you know… That’s funny, isn’t it? After all, it was only a game.”
Shiroe’s tongue was gummy; it seemed to be stuck to the inside of his mouth, and he couldn’t speak. Nureha went on.
“She…isn’t popular. It’s as though she was ugly, even in the game. Even with a matchless body and beauty, she hasn’t gotten what she wanted. —Well, it is an MMO: Just being a woman is enough to guarantee you a warm welcome, to some extent. It’s enough to ensure you praise. Still, even so, she doesn’t have as much as she wanted. For some reason, the people she wishes she had, the people she wants to make hers, won’t give her the time of day. Why do you suppose that is? There are women whose looks are much more ordinary than hers, and yet they’re far more popular. Just because they’re cheerful and optimistic, everyone protects them. There are girls like that, and yet…”
Nureha’s eyes seemed to have become jet-black caves that were trying to swallow Shiroe.
“She did her best, even so… She learned how to speak like a lady, so that men would be pleased with her. She studied the sorts of gestures men like. She tidied up her clothes and her ha
ir. It’s silly, but she dressed up and went out, even on her days off. Just pitiful, isn’t it?” She snickered at that. “But still, it did no good. Oh, please don’t look like that. It wasn’t completely useless. You see, I can use the skills I acquired that way to entertain you, Master Shiro… That’s not a bad deal, is it?”
It was sweet, fragrant, gentle on his ears, enchantingly beautiful—but it was rotten. Yet Shiroe was fascinated by that illness.
Even though Nureha’s offer was fatally warped, it was dizzyingly appealing, and it had enough magic to captivate his soul.
“About my friend… Even so, one day, a day when she was in the depths of despair, someone spoke to her. ‘You’re very skilled,’ he said. ‘Even though you’re a solo player. You have my respect.’ …Another Enchanter said this to her. Well, Master Shiro? What do you think? Can you be satisfied with a make-believe story like this one?”
“That’s…”
Was it real? Shiroe couldn’t ask. He had no memory of any such conversation. However, he couldn’t declare that she’d made it up. He’d forgotten until he’d met her again just now, but he really had teamed up with Nureha to fight several times.
Because he’d had the Tea Party’s reputation behind him, Shiroe had often been called in by others to assist them in raids. It had probably been the same for Nureha. Enchanters weren’t all that necessary on ordinary adventures, but raids were long, and that made their MP recovery abilities very useful.
He couldn’t say they hadn’t had that sort of conversation when they’d met at one of those times.
Of course, the fact that he didn’t remember meant that, even if he had said those words, he could guarantee he hadn’t meant anything special by them. Shiroe wasn’t the type to try to win women over with words like those. He didn’t think he was that smooth of a guy. However, precisely because that was the case, it was possible he’d said that to her because it was what he really felt, without meaning anything in particular by it.
Shiroe couldn’t ask whether it was true or not.
Having forgotten seemed like a cruel betrayal.
“Master Shiro, please. Come be with me. I’ll prepare a place for you at Plant Hwyaden. I’ve asked the House of Saimiya, and preparations to grant you the title of Scrivener are already in place. The House of Saimiya eats out of our hand. You almost understand it, don’t you, Master Shiro? The Fraction. Our return to reality.”
At her words, in spite of himself, Shiroe gulped.
“Ah-ha! I knew it; you did react! You really are extraordinary, Master Shiro. We know, you see. How to return.”
There was no telling how far Nureha had read Shiroe. Whispering those words, she licked her red lips lightly with the tip of her tongue. When Shiroe averted his eyes from the seductive gesture, she giggled like a little girl.
“We’ve discovered a way to return to the real world.”
“You can’t prove it’s a way to return… Since you can’t prove it, you’re only making people disappear.”
“With your cooperation, Master Shiro, we could make it so that isn’t the case, could we not?”
To be honest, at this point, Shiroe was very near to agreeing to Nureha’s proposal.
It wasn’t because he’d been captivated by her.
It was because he was interested in the techniques and information Nureha had obtained. Nureha had unified the West. If he was with her, he’d be able to acquire far more information than he would by staying in Akiba. Whether it was acquiring information or developing new technologies, everything would be much easier to obtain if he used the power of the enormous organization Nureha had created. In terms of returning to the real world, it was an efficient path. It might be all right to call it the path that would benefit all Adventurers.
No, that logic was only an excuse.
What Nureha had held out to him was far too attractive.
Not her own body and beauty. Having someone call him extraordinary had firmly awakened a forgotten loneliness inside Shiroe. Having people need him was Shiroe’s weakness. That weakness had once made him a guest at many guilds, and at the same time, it had hurt him.
Nureha was crazy and dangerous: That was as clear as day. However, for that very reason, Shiroe almost accepted her invitation. Whether what she said was true or not, wasn’t he the only one who could stop her? There was a sense of danger about that, but at the same time, it was a sweet temptation that tickled Shiroe’s self-consciousness.
Shiroe felt responsible.
Even if Shiroe had no personal responsibility, the ache he felt, the one that resembled guilt, was an emotion with roots in responsibility. It was like a sense of guilt without an actual crime. The worst of it was that Nureha understood this as well.
“—In any case, Master Shiro, you don’t have a reason, do you?”
“A reason?”
Shiroe echoed the words. Nureha was gazing at him intently, feverishly.
“Yes, a reason. You are…a person without a reason, aren’t you? You have no internal reason for supporting Akiba, and no reason for supporting the People of the Earth, do you? A vague sense of ethics… Isn’t that all you have? No, it’s fine. That has no bearing on my desire for you, Master Shiro. However, I think it’s painful for you. So…”
At a distance so close they could have touched, so close he could feel her warmth, Nureha put her lips next to Shiroe’s ear.
“Make me, Nureha, your excuse, Master Shiro. If you do, you’ll be able to release your power completely, won’t you? You’ll be able to give full play to all that ingenuity, without being a slave to restrictions and regulations. All I want is you, Master Shiro. That means you can use me as a reason, as an excuse, to do all sorts of selfish things.”
The decisive words of temptation were also a farewell.
Give full play to his ingenuity. That was a big temptation. To Shiroe, who had abruptly found himself pulled into another world one day, had been dragged into deteriorating public order and trouble, and had made it through the panic of one danger after another, the desire to use that trend as a pretext to make his power felt had been as enormous as the stinging desire to touch the beautiful woman before him.
It wasn’t Shiroe’s fault they’d come to this world.
That feeling of blame was the scream of the souls of all the Adventurers who’d been summoned to this world: They wanted to know why. They wanted justice to be guaranteed. They wanted there to be meaning, somewhere, in fighting. It was likely that this anger at injustice blazed in the depths of the soul of every Adventurer.
Nureha had been right.
It was a temptation in the correct sense of the word.
However, he couldn’t view reasons and excuses as the same thing. That would be showing contempt for the results of those actions.
The contact of their fingertips, grateful smiles, the nightlong banquet that had been so much fun, having desserts pushed at him from all sides, adventuring across vast plains together… It would mean cheapening all these things.
If he felt any good will toward Nureha, if he felt even a little of anything that was the least bit like love, he shouldn’t use her as an excuse.
That was something Shiroe could state positively only now that he’d gained a “reason.”
It was something he was able to declare because he had Log Horizon.
“Oh…”
Shiroe had pushed Nureha away. As she looked at him, the fox ears that adorned her black hair moved as if perplexed.
“I’ve decided to believe all of the made-up story you told me. However, I can’t go with you.”
Frozen, Nureha gazed into Shiroe’s eyes as though she hadn’t given up completely. Her lips were trembling. As if clinging to him, still despaired: “Why?”
“Because it’s probably more in line with your wish to have me as an enemy than an ally.”
Staring into Nureha’s eyes of his own accord for the first time, Shiroe spoke each word clearly, as if verifying his own will. As he felt
the words stab Nureha like swords, and the pain of them, Shiroe touched her cool cheek.
“I’ll be your enemy, when you look for a reason someday.”
Shiroe’s words became an invisible chain that linked the two of them.
Before long, that chain would lead Akiba and Minami to the Sky Labyrinth of Imbrium, and on to the Sea of Soma.
AFTERWORD
Hello for the first time in two months. This is Mamare Touno.
Thank you for buying Log Horizon, Vol. 5: Sunday in Akiba. This is the last Log Horizon of the year. Boy, was this a long year. Well, it’s over now, anyway! …As much as I’d love to say that, as far as the publishing industry’s concerned, it’s already 2012. Not only that, but it’s spring.
Those of you who work may know what I’m talking about, but it’s normal for the times when you make things and the times when those things appear in stores to be out of sync. For the people who’ve picked up this book, it’s probably December already, but Touno’s physical body is currently trapped in the October Country.
Little by little, the days are getting colder, the sunlight is getting more welcome, and I’m missing my blankets more and more. That’s right: The season demands naps. They say “autumn is for eating” and “autumn is for sports,” but for Touno, autumn is for sleeping. Even the most important one for writers—“autumn is for reading”—can’t win out over naps.
Now then, as if having had my books outed to my family in Volume 4 was a load off my mind, I began living the NEET (“Not in Education, Employment, or Training”) life at home. I was pretty much a NEET already, but now that I have books out, I’m a professional NEET. Authorized, company NEET (international first-class), married NEET (international second-class), and now professional NEET (domestic first-class, restrictions partially lifted).
NEET life means days as free and easy as Moominvalley. I thought it would be a blissful life where I got to write every single day, but I was unable to hold up under the pressure from all directions, and I’m being made to clean the house from top to bottom because this is “a good opportunity.” Making a NEET do physical labor is a violation of the International NEET Charter, you know. Of course, that “from all directions” euphemism was me being politically correct, and what I meant was “violent compulsion from Sister Touno.” *Cough, cough*
