by Mamare Touno
Copyright
Log Horizon, Volume 8
Mamare Touno
Illustration by Kazuhiro Hara
Translation by Taylor Engel
Cover art by Kazuhiro Hara
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
LOG HORIZON, VOLUME 8
The Larks Take Flight
©Touno Mamare 2014
First published in Japan in 2014 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.
English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo, through Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.
English translation © 2017 by Yen Press, LLC
Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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First Yen On eBook Edition: February 2020
Originally published in paperback in June 2017 by Yen On.
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ISBN: 978-1-9753-0991-6
E3-20200204-JV-NF-ORI
1
Isuzu stepped onto a stage that was about twenty centimeters high, holding her lute to her rapidly beating heart. As she advanced with deliberate slowness—torn both by nearly unbearable nerves that threatened to tense her shoulders and butterflies that urged her to run away—she made eye contact with Touya, her partner for the day. He smiled at her brightly, then, as a greeting, lightly kicked the improvised drum set made out of lashed-together cans and boxes.
Isuzu sent him a fearless smile—or at least she thought it was—then raised her lute slightly. It was an An Die Freude, made by Marielle and modified by the Roderick Trading Company.
Standing in the center of the minuscule stage, she looked out across the room. The space was about ten meters square. This was Bloom Hall, one of the many eateries on Akiba’s central avenue.
The abandoned buildings in this area had originally been ruins, but the Marine Organization had done experimental remodels on them, and they’d eventually passed into the hands of various Adventurers. This shop had been renovated several times after that, and it currently belonged to the Seventh Marching Band. Yet, that said, most of the staff who actually ran the shop were People of the Earth. The Adventurers were busy; they didn’t have time to get involved with shop administration or clerical work. In fact, at present, most of the establishments in the town of Akiba were managed jointly like that—symbiotically.
This shop’s interior was rustic, but brightly and lavishly illuminated by Magic Lights. In the midst of those lights, Isuzu bowed her head, and applause welled up loudly.
There were probably around seventy seats, and nearly all of them were filled.
Sturdy sofas upholstered with sailcloth. Toffee-brown tables. Menus posted on the walls. Handwritten event schedules here and there. It was a shop that had been created and tinkered with, through a process of give and take, by the Adventurers and People of the Earth who coexisted in Akiba. There was no generic, bland interior decoration or construction that prioritized efficiency, as there would have been in the old world. Each and every individual guild hall, residence, and shop was handmade.
This shop in particular, with its cluttered atmosphere, had a stage the size of a small balcony, and it was run as a cross between a restaurant, fast-food joint, and music club. In fantasy novel terms, it probably would have been called a tavern, but unlike adventurers in works of that sort, the Adventurers of Akiba didn’t drink enough liquor to bathe in. They were eaters more than drinkers. This place reflected that trend, and the atmosphere was lively.
As Isuzu looked out over the shop’s interior, trying to ease her tension a little, she found a few familiar faces in the audience and steeled herself.
Being nervous was a good thing. If she learned to enjoy it, she was bound to improve.
Resolutely, Isuzu strummed the first note.
Her scattered thoughts would last only until she began playing. After that, she knew, she’d feel as if she’d been set free.
They’d given her enough time for six songs. Thirty minutes. Long enough that any dream might come true, yet so short that she could blink three times and it would be over.
Isuzu’s heart was racing so fast with delight and anticipation that it seemed as if it might jump out of her throat.
Smiling at her pulse, which seemed to be in perfect sync with the rhythm of the drums Touya played, Isuzu scattered eighth notes through the air.
Amber Dragon’s Claw, a production-class item Shiroe had given her, slid over the strings. It wasn’t how lutes were conventionally played, but it made for a showier performance.
In a corner of her mind, Isuzu thought, It’s like I’m at the beach, swaying in the sound of the surf.
And indeed, happiness surged over her in waves.
Each time she strummed the perfectly taut strings, the resistance and vibration traveled from her fingertips to her wrist. The sensation was like fizzing soda water, amplified hundreds of times. To Isuzu, this was joy.
Just having an instrument in her hands made her expression soften into a smile. That instrument was responding to her wishes and uttering its first cry—a sharp, clear riff. It was Isuzu’s job to help it grow.
Feeling as if she was congratulating it on its birth, Isuzu let the first word leave her lips.
Her voice, which should have been completely ordinary and mediocre, echoed in the room with more clarity than she’d expected. There was no electronic loudspeaker technology in this world, so her voice was unamplified. Yet even so, it was enough to fill a small venue like this one.
This always gave Isuzu a very odd feeling. She was just a country high school girl, the sort you’d find anywhere. Had her voice always been this resonant?
Naturally, Isuzu had begun performing here only a month ago. She could count the number of times she’d been onstage on one hand, and of course she’d had no similar experiences in the suburban town where she’d lived before the Catastrophe. The closest thing she’d known were the freight container–esque karaoke boxes that sat along the highway, surrounded by vacant lots and fields.
As a result, every time, the fact that her own voice was this sweet and carefree startled her.
However, that only lasted for the space of a breath or two.
In the blink of an eye, both thought and hesitation were swallowed up in the flood of sound.
She moved her arms, which were trembling feverishly, in short, sharp motions, summoning the biggest voice she could muster from her tense, quivering throat.
It was just a rock number, a song that had been very common on Earth.
It was a melody she’d learned from her father’s collection, one she’d heard ever since she was little.
Isuzu played and sang the familiar tune with reckless ab
andon. Touya, who was filling in as the drummer, was enveloped in Isuzu’s Bard aura, but there were no other instruments. It was an ad hoc show, put on by a group that common sense in their old world would have considered too small to call a band.
Still, in the face of the joy that welled up like a summer thunderhead, even that feeling of mild shame was meaningless.
Isuzu was singing on a stage of her own.
The experience was far more vivid and moving than she’d imagined it would be.
In the glare of the Magic Lights, Isuzu became somebody else. She stopped being the frizzy-haired high school girl with the boring body: just plain thin and short on curves. She became Isuzu the Bard, who strummed her lute with a self-confident smile.
Explosive delight cleared Isuzu’s vision.
All sorts of people were watching her from the packed seats.
They were all smiling.
The venue’s dwarf manager, who had become an acquaintance of hers, had set his big mouth in a grumpy line, but even so, he was cheerfully tapping his toes to the rhythm. Feeling as if she was returning his salute, Isuzu leaned forward, thrusting her lute out, and sent an F note arching toward him.
Nyanta and Serara were seated at the counter, twisting back to watch the stage. Serara’s cheeks looked flushed, and Nyanta was smiling as if he was watching over her. Serara, whose small, trembling hands were clenched into fists in front of her chest, was really adorable. She was the most feminine girl Isuzu knew. Nyanta, calm and gentlemanly, was waggling his silver whiskers slowly and seemed to be enjoying the show.
The gentle atmosphere that hung around the pair flowed into Isuzu, lending an extra sparkle to her lute.
The first song ended. Most of the people in the room had been thumping on the tables in time with the drums, and the echoes were strong, almost as if the place was one big percussion instrument. Right now, Isuzu was in the belly of a bass drum. Chasing the tip of her braid, she spun once, jumping and kicking up her feet, and got ready for the second song.
She felt frustration and a keen sadness.
Was her happiness getting through to everyone?
Even in the midst of a fierce giddiness, her lute managed to spin accurate phrases, and she was grateful to it; this lute was her partner.
Isuzu had found the instrument at the Crescent Moon League when she’d been released from Hamelin but hadn’t known what to do. Apparently it was an item that the guild master Marielle—who was a Woodworker—had made a long time ago. The lute had been changed and remodeled all over the place, to the point where it didn’t resemble its original self at all, but even so, it had soothed the loneliness of being banished to another world.
By now, Isuzu and the lute were a single entity.
This world had no schools or club activities, so her daily life consisted entirely of doing chores at her guild, going hunting with her companions, and playing her lute.
In a world with no TV or Internet, no cable or movies, if she wanted to hear music, she had to play it herself.
At the end of ribbonlike cables that stretched from her trusty partner, tiny spheres pinched between two shells raised their voices. These were man-made spirits that picked up the vibrations from the lute’s body and amplified them. They were devices from the Roderick Trading Company: modified Siren’s Shells, low-level items that made it possible to summon servants. By nature, the lute had a delicate, graceful sound, but these devices instantly expanded its range of expression, evolving it into a specially made mystery instrument. But that was exactly what Isuzu loved about it.
She made eye contact with some of the Magic Lights; they blinked and smiled in return.
I’d forgotten. Thank you.
Isuzu nodded, filling the gesture with those feelings.
What number was she on now? She didn’t really know. She felt dizzy. She thought she’d played three songs, or maybe four.
Her feverish body seemed about to fly away. She didn’t feel the slightest fatigue. It was as if she’d grown wings.
Was this due to the increased strength she got from being an Adventurer?
…That didn’t seem quite right.
It felt more as if there were a cord connected to her back, recharging her energy. The sounds that filled the room— feet stamping, the drumbeats marking time—were a joy like a dangerously rampaging avalanche. Isuzu sang a cheerful, silly rock number. It was one of the oldies from her father’s collection.
This probably isn’t a good performance, she thought.
After all, Isuzu didn’t have any musical talent. Her father had told her so dozens of times as she was growing up.
When all was said and done, Isuzu was a country high school girl. She could play instruments well enough to perform a little at school festivals, and her singing was at an “after-school karaoke” level. She hadn’t had special training in either, and she couldn’t hope to match her musician father.
However, even so, none of that had anything to do with this shining moment.
After all, joy wasn’t an emotion.
It was nothing so nebulous. It was real, legitimate energy.
This power—which was colorless and transparent as a rule, neither visible nor palpable—lay dormant in everyone. It was in Isuzu, Touya, Nyanta, and Serara, and in all the people who were gathered here.
It had overflowed and rained down over the stage and connected with Isuzu, encouraging her to continue playing her lute… And so talent really had nothing to do with it. As proof, it was fun, she was happy, and everyone was enjoying it.
Beside the shop entrance farthest from the stage, Isuzu saw a gleam of gold.
The puppy-dog prince, his cheeks flushed with excitement, was waving both his arms at her.
That sight alone created an even clearer sound from her lute, and it soared past its limits with ease.
Filled with too many feelings to understand, Isuzu gave up on trying to keep herself from smiling, broke into a big grin, and brandished the neck of the lute as if returning his wave. She felt awkward and embarrassed, and there was nothing she could do about it. Notes that had blushed pink seemed liable to overflow.
The next number was bound to put her in a mood good enough to send it all flying, too.
It was a slow ballad, the sort that Isuzu’s ally and colleague and personal porter and walking group guard and prince, Rundelhaus Code, loved.
There’s really no help for it. I’ll give this song to Rudy as a reward, Isuzu thought, drawing a deep breath.
In the midst of the glow from the Magic Lights, which had read the mood and lowered their brightness, Isuzu began to sing the next number.
Even for that day, it was a particularly special performance.
2
“The evening appurrs to be a bit warm.”
“Yes, Nyanta.”
Even so, once they’d left the shop and walked a little ways, Akiba’s night showed its true, hushed face.
In this other world, there were no electronic media, no cars or railways, so city noise was completely alien to Akiba. Things were different during events like the Libra Festival, but at this time of year, right at the beginning of February, mornings and evenings were still very cold, so the streets were quiet at night—even on a relatively warm night.
Having left Bloom Hall, Isuzu, Rundelhaus, Touya, Nyanta, and Serara started back toward their guilds, smiling. Firefly Lamps shed milky light here and there on the avenue, but the group traveled with Rundelhaus’s Magic Lights ahead of them, too.
Everyone was in high spirits. Rundelhaus, who was walking at the front of the group, talked animately with Touya. Meanwhile, Serara and Nyanta seemed to be having fun together. Bringing up the rear, Isuzu followed after them, enveloped in a light, airy happiness.
Touya and Rundelhaus were carrying heavy loads, but all Isuzu held was her lute, hugging it to her chest. Since they were only walking around town, everyone was in ordinary street clothes and lacking any weapons. Isuzu had lived an unsettled life just after
the Catastrophe, and when she’d first joined Log Horizon, she hadn’t had many clothes or personal belongings. However, since she’d been given a room at the guild house, she had more regular apparel now. Come to think of it, it was just over half a year since the battle for Choushi…
“Mademoiselle Isuzu, are you all right? You’re not fatigued?”
“Not a bit. I’m bursting with energy!”
Isuzu was walking slowly, and Rundelhaus, worried, had turned around to speak to her.
Apparently she’d given him the wrong impression.
She’d only wanted to watch everyone while she savored this feeling of satisfaction.
“Let’s remewve ourselves to the guild house before we take a chill.”
“Our bellies are full, too!”
With that exchange, Nyanta and Touya crossed a small intersection.
As her companions traveled along the dark road, they all seemed to be at peace.
By now, both Rundelhaus and Isuzu felt completely at home in Log Horizon.
Log Horizon was a tranquil, comfortable guild. In particular, Isuzu had also become close friends with Minori, who was currently elsewhere. She felt as if she’d known her brave, earnest younger friend for years. It was the same with Serara, who walked beside Nyanta, wearing a rapturous smile. Isuzu was really fond of that girl.
Isuzu’s sworn ally Rundelhaus also seemed to have relaxed the tense expression he’d worn in Forest Ragranda. As the younger boys in their guild, Rundelhaus and Touya had also become friends. When the two of them were together, things got really noisy. Isuzu had realized, once again, that when guys moved in groups, their mental age came down.
Gradually, she’d also grown close to the guild’s older members: Shiroe, Nyanta, Naotsugu, and Akatsuki.
Nyanta, the oldest member, was a very easy person to make friends with. He was a calm, fashionable dandy, and the guild’s kitchen was his domain. He’d gotten ahold of the younger group’s vital point—their stomachs—and they’d gone crazy for him in no time.
Through Touya and Rundelhaus, she’d also come to understand Naotsugu by degrees. Among the older members, he was the life of the party, constantly bantering while they were talking, but Isuzu thought he was an unexpectedly considerate person. If they found any problem with the guild’s interior or equipment, he was the one to talk to.
