by Nikita Thorn
Mairin glanced toward Ippei, who had also sat down casually by the fire. “They eat your food?” she whispered.
The samurai shrugged.
“Oh, right,” said Mairin, giggling. “Not a quester, ‘I wouldn’t know’?” She handed Ippei two more rice balls, as well as one to Iyo, who accepted it with a smile.
Seiki took a bite. Like Mairin said, it was just plain rice, with perhaps a tiny hint of vinegar. All in all, it was a little tasteless, but not bad. Seiki was starving, and he finished both of them very quickly.
You are now only severely Fatigued! 120 minutes until Absolute Fatigue.
The world got a bit brighter, and Seiki heaved a relieved sigh as he noted the absence of the heaviness on his limbs. Fatigue got exponentially worse, and at first he thought Severe Fatigue was awful, but after being in Absolute Fatigue for so long, this felt almost pleasant. Somehow, it reminded him of the first time he had woken up after the injury without an excruciating headache.
There turned out to be a 15-minute lockout on food. Apart from that, the plain rice was quite filling and Seiki found he could not physically eat any more of it straightaway.
“Unfortunately, this is all we’ve got,” said Ippei. “So we’re going to be here for another hour and you’re going to need six more of those.”
Seiki gave a weak chuckle, too tired to say anything, and his friends let him be. Ippei had eaten his plain meal and was no longer Fatigued. Iyo had finished her rice ball, and she was looking at Mairin again with an expectant smile. The kitsune blinked, before handing her another one.
“Stop,” said Ippei.
“We’ve got a few to spare,” Mairin said. “And, she’s with child, you know. You gotta think about the baby.”
Ippei quietly groaned. “And now she’s not even eating it.”
Iyo was slowly breaking the rice ball into two, squeezing them in her hands. She scanned the ground and found a straight thin branch, stuck it through the now-smaller rice balls and held them above the fire.
Out of curiosity, Mairin followed suit, before saying, “Oh.”
She picked up another straight small branch from the ground, poked it through two mini rice balls and handed it to Seiki. “Try it,” she said. She then did the same with Ippei, who said something about marshmallows.
Seiki complied. The fire crackled pleasantly, and the rice balls slowly browned on all sides.
You have made: Yaki Onigiri. 25 XP gained. Definitely better than nothing now!
Congratulations! You have reached Level 1 Cooking!
Achievement earned: Cooking! 75 XP gained.
Congratulations! You have memorized the Yaki Onigiri Recipe. Yaki Onigiri [Level 2 Recipe]. Grill any rice ball over a simple fire for 3 minutes. Required ingredients: Rice Ball [x1].
Ippei must have received the same notifications. “Maybe it’s an Easter Egg?” the samurai said. “The recipe does nothing.”
Iyo was now taking a bite off her grilled rice balls with a tiny satisfied smile.
“Makes it taste better, though,” said Mairin. “Now if there’s a bit of soy sauce, it wouldn’t be half bad.” She was not Fatigued, and did not need it, but was eating it anyway. “Oooh, I like the crisp.” She then decided to make more of them.
Seiki was still waiting for the food lockout to expire. The grilled rice ball was warm between his fingers and the brown bits no longer made them sticky to the touch. Even when it was still plain, tasteless, and very simple, the rice had somehow turned a little fragrant, and when Seiki finally ate it he found it was now a decent hot meal. In front of him, the fire was still burning, sending out its warmth to caress his skin whenever the gentle wind blew his way, in stark contrast with the cooler air in the Wilderness. As far as the eye could see, in all directions, was a fresh, endless picture of green, scored with the occasional phrase of a bird’s call, or a serene chirp from a hidden cricket. They would be here for at least an hour before he could get rid of Fatigue and, in this lazy lull of the afternoon, Seiki felt as if time had stopped.
Opposite him, on the other side of the fire, Ippei was trying to fit more than two rice balls onto one stick. Mairin was laughing as she aimed to grab them away from him, her golden bracelets jingling brightly, while Iyo sat in silence and stared off into the Wilderness apparently deep in thought. True to its description, the rice was better than nothing, and Seiki mused that what he had right now in an instant like this was definitely better than nothing. It was clear indeed that he had much more than he thought he did. In this moment of rest, he could almost feel the gentle, soothing embrace of time that stretched into the unseen eternity, and it was his to live through, filled with all kinds of good and bad and a sprinkling of little moments like these.
A wave of exhaustion hit him hard then, as if he had been putting off sleep for a very long time and it had finally caught up with him. The flood of tremendous relief that he felt seemed to surge through the whole Wilderness around, pushing the clouds in the sky a bit higher, and freeing up more space between heaven and Earth. For the first time, Seiki felt that he was going to make it out of this mess alive after all. Perhaps it was nothing more than the effect of slowly coming out of Fatigue, but suddenly Seiki had to put down the crispy rice balls and bury his head in his arms on his knees.
“Seiki?” asked Mairin.
“I just need a minute,” Seiki whispered.
All around him, the Wilderness was peaceful and perfectly still, and Seiki promised himself this was the very last time he was going to cry.
Chapter 18
Summoned mounts always matched their owner’s current speed. If you were running, the horse dropped to a gentle trot as soon as it reached you. If you were walking, the horse slowed to a walk once it was by your side. The main challenge lay in the fact that, no matter which side the horse was approaching from, in order to mount, you needed the opposite foot in the stirrup. And like Seiki, everybody’s normal instinct was to grab hold of the front of the saddle to lift themselves up, which was a rather awkward move to pull off. However, Ippei had explained that, when it came to mounting and dismounting, the movement algorithm allowed for a lot of leeway. So, the stirrup was guaranteed to always miraculously catch your foot at the perfect moment. Which meant that the best approach was actually to drop slightly behind the running horse, imagine an invisible step at the height of the stirrup, make that leap of faith and straddle your legs over the horse’s back.
At the beginning, Seiki was a bit skeptical, since the strategy went against every instinct not to be trampled. But after a bit of trial and error, it turned out to be much easier than he had thought, just like how people could choose to do a perfect back flip when being thrown by their horse and land on their feet, even without real-life acrobatic skills.
“Gotta trust the feel-good mechanism,” Ippei had said with a wink. Apparently, the samurai had had a lot of practice with mid-battlefield mounting during his glorious days in Beta.
Seiki also learned that, after smoothly landing on the saddle, the rein would also somehow make its way into his hands with only a tiny bit of mental effort.
Time seemed to stop in the instance, and the afternoon sun was now locked high in the sky, shining bright yellow through the tree leaves. At first, Seiki had thought he would need a long time to tell his friends what had happened after the kakigouri shop a few days ago but, when it came to actually recounting it, he somehow managed to finish the whole story in less than two minutes. He now understood why Tom had always said he was not a man of words.
Mairin had to giggle at the unexpected brevity of Seiki’s story, told factually without flare. “So, to conclude, after some clan invasion and a weird non-quest event thingy, you ended up with a Sheathed Blade, a puzzle poem hidden in a rare armguard borrowed from an outlaw, and the whole Rogami Clan coming after you?” She protruded her lips. “Could use a few more details, you know.”
Seiki could only smile apologetically at her comment. �
�Ask me questions. I’m usually much better with that.” His friends then discussed a bit about clan politics but, since neither Mairin nor Ippei had much experience out the East Gate, they could not shed any more light on the mystery of the invasion and betrayals and Mumei’s messages.
“Mumei is a real person, right?” Seiki had to make sure. “I mean, not an automatic bot?”
“Yeah, Mumei’s a player.” Ippei had been quite certain about that. “Just like Sasu, but no one has ever seen them and there are varying accounts of who they could be. Even the Society doesn’t know. They checked all the records for crafting, looting, and everything else, but these two apparently never crafted anything or looted anybody. And they seem to have down time when messages don’t get forwarded, which suggests that they do log out.”
After that, since they still had almost an hour to wait, Ippei had decided to kill time by instructing his friends on how to prepare themselves for a war event called the Battle of Kehara, or something along that line.
“You’re dismounted every three minutes, without your horse taking damage, but you have to keep charging at a gallop or you won’t make the timer,” the samurai had explained earlier. “Plus, this might come in handy when we phase out later.”
Of course, neither Mairin nor Seiki had a clear idea what exactly he was talking about. But Seiki had been thinking about learning how to mount on the go for quite some time, and this was a good opportunity.
Being a ronin came with an extra speed benefit and an added challenge. For Seiki, the fastest way to mount was to max out his ground speed by Sliding but, since he needed both feet on the ground to sustain the move, he had to learn how to end it at the very last second, and take one running step before leaping onto that invisible air stirrup.
“This would get you killed in real life.” Seiki laughed as he reined Fubuki to a stop and dismissed her in preparation for another try, dropping himself softly onto the lush grass. Ippei was right that this method had been designed to give people a very satisfying sense of speed and efficiency, and now that he was getting the hang of it he was starting to enjoy it.
“For sure,” Mairin agreed. Her case was different, since easy mounting turned out to be another one of kitsune’s random little perks. Coming out of fox form put you in the most favorable position for whatever you were trying to do. So, one second Mairin could be dashing beside the horse as a fox, and the next she would be sitting aright on her mount with both feet in the stirrups. As soon as the kitsune girl had figured out she could do this, she had given up practicing and had gone back to grilling rice balls.
Seiki took time to glance around and appreciate his surroundings. It felt like it had been months since he had left Shinshioka, and this was the first time in a long while that Seiki felt that nothing absolutely horrible was about to happen. And it was a surprisingly heartening feeling. It was like he had started a climb up a wobbly ladder and did not yet completely trust that it would not break, or that he would not let himself fall. So, in a way, it was hopeful, and a little fragile, and he was now filled with a strange kind of restless energy, which made him feel like he needed to be on the move.
Before he could call in Fubuki again for another go, Mairin held up another freshly made skewer of yaki onigiri. “Fifteen minutes’ up,” she said.
Seiki took the stick. Mairin had been making the rice balls smaller and smaller, and now on the stick were four tiny ones, with one of them fish-shaped.
“To give you some variety,” said the kitsune with a giggle.
Seiki smiled and thanked her. Even with Iyo’s secret recipe, each portion was still quite a sizeable quantity to eat, and ultimately there was no hiding the fact that it was nothing but plain rice. This was perhaps how they incentivized people to level Cooking, since higher-level food allegedly cured multiple levels of Fatigue in one bite.
“Young men need to eat,” said Iyo, encouragingly. She had been sitting with a little serene smile for a long time, nursing her very pregnant belly while slowly consuming the grilled multi-shaped rice balls that Mairin kept handing to her.
“Water would be nice,” said Seiki, but he had to admit that the smaller bites made it less of a chore. This meal would get his baseline to Slight Fatigue, and the notification flashed for him as soon as he swallowed the last bit of it.
You are no longer Fatigued! 239 minutes to Moderate Fatigue.
Suddenly, the world seemed bright and lovely, and it felt like waking up one day to find out that this chronic pain you had learned to live with had miraculously vanished. Combined with the effect of the fire, Seiki’s energy was now replenishing normally. “This is nice.”
“Don’t get addicted to that,” said Ippei. The man had also been practicing the mount to brush up his skills, and he was now sitting casually on his black horse, which was still unnamed at this point—much to Kentaro’s annoyance. “Heard of Fatigue junkies? They let themselves drop to Severe or Absolute, then they eat one of those Level 20 sushi and ride the ecstasy rush. It’s almost like leveling joy.”
“Like reversed drugs or something?” Mairin asked. “That’s kinda messed up.”
“The Wilderness attracts all sorts of weird people,” said Ippei.
“Including us,” said Iyo, perhaps as a joke, as she struggled to push herself up. Mairin rushed to her aid. “And we are now ready to go,” said the mother-to-be with an enthusiastic smile.
Ippei dismissed his mount and lifted his whistle as he prepared to call the horse in again for another go at mounting. “Sorry, lady,” he said. “We’ve got to be here for another fifteen minutes to get completely off Fatigue, then we’ll be on our way.”
Iyo pointed behind her. “But you said you would accompany me over that hill.”
Seiki was very certain the scenery had been nothing but flat forestland earlier. Yet, now, a small hill had innocently appeared in a direction none of them had been facing, looking as if it had been there all along, with a small dirt path, partially hidden under the thick forest growth, leading up its gentle slope and over the hill.
Ippei glanced at the modified scenery and then back at Iyo. “That’s not supposed to happen,” he said, sounding a little worried, before making a quick decision. “Okay.” He looked toward Mairin and Seiki. “We have to abandon this quest right now. We’ll stop later on the road if we get Fatigued again. Get your horses. When we phase out, we’ll need to make a run, in case Rogami decided to camp the whole area.”
Seiki whistled to Fubuki. Like Ippei had told him, he was the one being rescued here, so he would leave things to his friend’s judgment.
“Uh, what quest?” Iyo asked, looking at them for a moment, before it dawned on her. “Are you leaving me here?” she cried in horror.
“Sorry, lady,” said Ippei with an apologetic smile. “The quest is too high for us right now,” he said. “We’ll come back in a few levels.”
The pregnant woman closed her eyes and put her hands together as in a prayer. “Danna-sama!” she said in distress. “What am I going to do now? I thought these people agreed to help me.”
“Uh, who’s that?” asked Mairin.
Iyo opened her eyes. “My husband. He died fighting our enemies several months ago, only a few months after we learned I was finally with child.” She placed her fingers on her stomach as if to protect the baby inside. “Danna-sama, now these people are cruelly leaving me and our innocent child to certain death out here in the wilderness.”
Her very long hair had fallen about her waist in long messy strands, and her eyes were brimming with tears.
Ippei was apparently unmoved. “If we try this right now, we would all end up dead, including you and your innocent child. So let’s postpone this for a few months, all right?” He offered a weak smile. “I guarantee you better results.”
Iyo was still staring at them, looking completely horrified, and it was making Seiki feel a little guilty. But his friend was right that dying on a Level 16 quest did not see
m like the smartest idea at the moment.
Ippei turned towards his friends. “Ready?” he asked. Since he had been the one who had started the group, it was up to him to end the instance.
“Sorry,” said Mairin from her horse to the pregnant woman. “I’m sure there will be someone level-appropriate passing through soon.”
Ippei studied his surroundings. “We entered from this side, so the road should be there.” He pointed toward a direction, before taking a quick look at his limited edition golden pocket watch and adding, “Night should be falling outside, so once it starts phasing the light’s going to change.”
Seiki had to commend Ippei for his thoroughness. He had no idea whether Chise had noticed what they had done or if they would be facing an angry Rogami army as soon as they left the quest, but the thought of making a run was getting him a little excited. Especially now that he was armed with the knowledge on how to mount quickly. They had agreed earlier that there was no chance of fighting, so Seiki would still keep his Sheathed Blade equipped, in case they got killed again.
Eyeing the direction they were supposed to take, Ippei took a deep breath. “Abandon quest.”
Seiki tightened his grip on the leather rein. Beside him, Mairin seemed to be tensing up in apprehension, ready to kick her horse into action.
Seiki waited for the sun to start setting, but the Wilderness was still bright and merry. After a few seconds, it was clear that nothing was happening.
Next to their horses, Iyo watched them eagerly, as if hoping they would change their mind.
Ippei blinked in confusion. “End quest?” he said again, uncertain.
Still, nothing happened.
Ippei cursed as he looked around at the scenery. “This is bad,” he said. “Don’t tell me we’re stuck.” He cursed again.
“Hey, keep it clean around the baby,” whispered Mairin in slight disapproval.
The samurai frowned. “There’s no baby yet.”
Mairin shrugged. “They can hear—”
“Uh,” Iyo interrupted her. “I’m afraid there’s about to be,” she added with a slightly nervous smile, glancing down at her belly. “Pretty soon, too.”
