by Mamare Touno
“The music you play is wonderful. We know that. All of us. You’re the one who doesn’t understand.”
Rundelhaus interrupted Isuzu. A hint of frustration appeared on his face.
When his expression was tense like that, he seemed far more mature than usual.
It frightened Isuzu. She tried to gloss it over with an “Oh, come on, Rudy. You’re just being nice,” but as she started to open her mouth, Rundelhaus stopped it with a fingertip.
“Instruments, songs, performing… Sounds, scales—the forty-two are the forty-two.”
“Huh?”
“The forty-two.”
“Huh?”
“Music: The forty-two.”
“What’s the matter, Rudy?”
A significant amount of time passed. Then Rundelhaus gave a smile that was far too gentle, one that seemed to lodge right in the center of Isuzu’s heart. Quietly, he took his fingertip away, but Isuzu didn’t notice. All she could do was gaze at his face.
“Since becoming an Adventurer, I’ve learned several things. Adventurers have the divine protection of words, don’t you? You don’t speak the language of the People of the Earth. You merely hear the words and understand their meaning, and you respond in words the People of the Earth can understand. That is a magical power. The divine protection of translation.”
Isuzu nodded, although she didn’t get it.
She had no idea what Rundelhaus was trying to tell her.
“In the language of the People of the Earth, ‘music’ and ‘the forty-two’ are the same thing.”
He was probably talking about the automatic translation function. She understood that, but she didn’t know what he was attempting to say. Feeling uneasy, Isuzu tilted her head, puzzled.
“To us, ‘the forty-two’ is all the music there is. There are no other songs in this world. Our ancestors didn’t write any more of them, and we aren’t able to write new ones… Listen, Isuzu. The music you sing, all the songs you shout out so cheerfully…they’re precious to us. They make us happy, and we really, truly love them.”
1
“Oh… Huh?”
Isuzu heard a sound like a wordless sigh. It seemed to come from the man beside her.
Which made sense, because she hadn’t really understood the meaning of what Rundelhaus had said.
“That is all we have. All our music. We love our familiar old melodies, of course, but no other music exists. It’s been that way ever since I was born. I think it’s probably been like that for a very long time. I thought it was only natural, and I never questioned it.”
“Rudy.”
“When you Adventurers appeared, all sorts of things happened. Many of them were frightening and sad, but at the same time, lots of wonderful things happened as well. Food proved to have flavor, articles we’d never seen nor heard of filled the markets, and the sort of music that throbs in our chests and makes us want to shout came into being.”
“But that’s—”
“And you—both the Adventurers and you, Isuzu—went around giving it to us as if it wasn’t important at all. You played songs without discriminating between Adventurers and People of the Earth. Do you remember Bloom Hall? The serving girls who work there are all enthusiastic, but have you noticed that they change regularly? Among People of the Earth, serving in that hall is very popular work. That’s why they change at set intervals. Did you know there are several young elves who visit that hall regularly, drinking money in hand? They’re traveling bards. They learn new songs at Bloom Hall, work frantically to memorize them, and then spread them all across Yamato.”
Isuzu realized that she looked so flustered that even she could tell.
She desperately clenched her hands into fists on her knees, and they sat trembling. But even when her nails dug into them, the pain felt distant and unreal.
Yet the words Rundelhaus spoke drew her ears and eyes to him, forcing her to understand.
“Do you remember the inns and taverns we’ve visited since we began our journey? One modest song from you, and they were so happy they cried. Remember? They really were happy. We’d never heard such cheerful, noisy songs before. The kind of songs that raise our spirits and make us want to start dancing or break into a run. Or the kind that make us want to be with someone special, and to express our gratitude to those close to us. We’d never heard anything like them. You brought them to us, Mademoiselle Isuzu, and it made you a hero. ‘Thank you’ is an inconvenient phrase. It’s too simple, and no matter how grateful we are, we can’t find any better words. Even so, everyone was truly happy.”
“Ah, oh… Rudyyy.”
Fat tears were rolling down her face.
All sorts of emotions were swirling inside of her, but she couldn’t put them into words.
Of course it made her happy to be wanted. When people complimented her, she could tell there was a risk she’d get a swelled head over it. Still, when she looked at the big picture, that feeling was trivial—barely there at all.
The feeling of wanting to tell them they were wrong was much greater.
She felt guilty that they’d been so moved by an amateur performance like hers, that she of all people had made them feel that way. Isuzu hadn’t been the least bit serious about it, not in that sense. Of course she loved music. She’d nearly sung herself hoarse, had strummed her lute vigorously enough to break her arms. Still, she really couldn’t imagine that was enough to justify the gratitude the People of the Earth felt.
What an awful thing, she thought.
Having only forty-two songs ever since you were born? It was unthinkable.
A world like that was impossible.
In that case, what were they supposed to do on lonely nights? What about when they were congratulating their friends? Or when they were so happy they could shout, or when they felt crushingly inferior?
Without songs, how could they live?
Isuzu had simply had fun as she’d played gig after gig. That was all. She hadn’t had even a speck of the nerve or the resolve it would take to be that sort of person, to play music someone had never heard, to change other people’s lives, to change everything like that.
“I mean, I…”
She couldn’t find the words.
Everything seemed to have swelled and solidified inside her chest, and she didn’t know what to say. She’d spoken only because her tears had pushed her to. Rundelhaus simply met her gaze, quietly.
“I’m…a fake, and…”
She hadn’t meant to do it.
Up until now, she’d never even thought about what the People of the Earth were feeling.
Isuzu groaned miserably, wordlessly. Her fists were trembling disgracefully. “What I do isn’t like that. Those are songs from my world, and I’m…”
“But it is true that we were happy.”
She’d never meant to do anything like that.
She hadn’t meant to give them something so outrageous, so enormous.
She’d only sung songs she missed, familiar tunes from her father’s collection.
What Rudy was grateful for was her father’s property, not Isuzu’s.
In other words, Isuzu was just an amateur, and a cover act at that.
The shame and guilt wouldn’t let her stop crying. On the contrary, she sobbed harder. Isuzu realized she’d been deceiving crowds of people. They weren’t even her songs, but she’d gotten puffed up and sung them, had let herself be flattered and carried away, and this had been the result.
She’d never even imagined it, but it was only natural. Isuzu had stolen the achievements of the bands and singers she’d loved so much and had acted as if they were hers. To people who were hearing them for the first time, they had sounded like Isuzu’s songs, and on top of that, they’d even been grateful to her.
This world was far more of a blank than Isuzu had ever dreamed.
A world that, up until now, had had only forty-two songs.
Her heart felt as if it were being crushed, and her li
ps quivered.
That meant she was a horrible thief.
Isuzu had taken this pure, white world, where music was limited, and soiled it with her vanity.
“I mean, I’m a-an amateur, a cover act— So you’ve got it wrong, and…”
She was sniffling so hard that her nose hurt. It made her feel even more wretched, and more tears came.
The mucous membranes in her nose hadn’t been very strong to begin with, and they made audible snuffling noises.
She wanted to apologize. She desperately wanted to say she was sorry.
She just had no idea how to do it.
She had done something irreversible.
“Mademoiselle Isuzu.”
“I-I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t trying to trick…”
“Isuzu.”
He’d spoken firmly, and although Isuzu’s eyes had been on her hands, she looked up, startled.
Rundelhaus was there, right in front of her.
In the light that filtered through the window, the night wind ruffled his soft golden hair.
He was gazing at Isuzu, his usual clownish expression nowhere to be seen. His pensive eyes stared straight at her; the will and solicitude they held pinned Isuzu in place, and time froze.
Right now, Rundelhaus seemed more gallant than she’d ever seen him.
Abruptly, Isuzu realized something.
Rundelhaus was older than she was.
“Sometimes the People of the Earth assemble at the guild center in Akiba.”
“Waeh?”
The only response she could manage was a miserable one, choked with tears and snot.
“More and more People of the Earth are gathering in Akiba. It’s affluent, it’s safe, and it offers all sorts of excitement, so it’s a place they dream of going. It isn’t just the bards I mentioned; blacksmiths, tailors, chefs, and even simple servants and maids come to Akiba. By spending several months there, they can learn techniques they couldn’t learn in other towns even if they spent their whole lives trying. They can become all sorts of things.”
“L-like you, Rudy?”
“Hm. Yes. That’s right. I became an Adventurer. They have things they want to become, too.”
Isuzu’s question had been hoarse with tears, and Rundelhaus went on in a gentle voice, “However, living in Akiba is difficult for People of the Earth. The Adventurers are kind, and you aren’t unjust. You seem to be fair, and I think you are good neighbors, but that doesn’t mean there are no differences. There are all sorts of them, and worries and trouble besides. We gather in order to discuss those things.”
“I…see,” She scrubbed at the tears that were still falling.
When he put it that way, lots of things made sense. Once or twice a week, Rundelhaus went out in the evening. He didn’t seem to be adventuring or going shopping, so she hadn’t known where he went, but apparently he’d been going out to talk with the People of the Earth.
“It’s a formal group; advisers are sent from Water Maple Manor. That said, all we do is split into teams of about ten individuals and discuss our concerns over dinner. Since I live at the Log Horizon guild house as an Adventurer, I often advise others… At any rate, that is what the gatherings are like. What do you think we talk about most often, after our concerns?”
Isuzu shook her head, like a child.
Rundelhaus seemed to have gone far away. It made her lonely, and she felt as if she were a fool who understood nothing.
“We tell one another, ‘Such-and-such is amazing, really excellent!’”
He spoke firmly, smiling as if something made him proud.
Isuzu couldn’t follow the conversation, and Rundelhaus continued, explanatory. “Do you know the skill that involves folding iron and striking it? How about the method of sifting flour so that the grains are uniform? Did you know that if you put strong Black Rose Tea in a mister and spray it on your tomatoes, you’ll drive the bugs away? Have you seen the fishing gear that allows you to catch fish without using bait, or the sturdy futons that are resistant to dirt? There are so many, many new things. It’s a wonderful town. All that abundance, and the Adventurers don’t hide it. Of course the People of the Earth have a difficult time there, but they’re lucky, too. Every day, something happens. The things we couldn’t do yesterday might be possible today. Tomorrow will be different from today. In Akiba, those words mean exactly what they say. —And your songs are part of that brilliance, Isuzu.”
Isuzu couldn’t say anything.
She just kept her eyes fixed on the smiling Rundelhaus, and tears continued to roll down her cheeks. His words had cut her deeply.
His encouraging look had shaken something in her, something she hadn’t even noticed. The enigmatic, powerful, hot feeling that had been born inside her brought her very near to panicking.
Isuzu had thought that Rundelhaus was a great friend.
This was because he had clearly said that he wanted to become an Adventurer. When she’d learned that this friend—someone only a little older than she was, someone on the verge of changing from a boy into a young man—had decided what his future would be, Isuzu had felt a touch of respect for him. It had nothing to do with the results. She’d admired the strength it had taken to make that declaration. He had a firm sense of self, something she, a country high school girl, didn’t have at all.
Even as she blustered about puppy dogs and walks, on that point alone, inwardly, Isuzu thought she couldn’t measure up to Rundelhaus. Even if he was an easygoing, thoughtless, corny friend, she knew his true self was noble and proud.
But it hadn’t just been Rundelhaus.
It was likely that all the People of the Earth who gathered in Akiba were like that.
They all had something they wanted to become, and they spent every day working to get there. Apprentice blacksmiths, apprentice tailors, regular tradesmen and street vendors, probably even the salesclerks at restaurants—each of them had an image of the self that they wanted to be someday.
To the People of the Earth, the town of Akiba was something completely different from what it was to Isuzu. It was a shining place that could make actual dreams come true. Or, no, it was possible that this entire world required dreams and determination from the People of the Earth who lived in it.
They were said to be far weaker than the Adventurers, but their words and their spirit completely floored her. It made her terribly embarrassed that she—an irresponsible high school kid with no particular dreams for the future—had sung songs for people like that.
Isuzu had sung about dreams and hope and love. She’d sung about sunny tomorrows, and the counterculture, and highways, and even Snoopy. She’d sung without really thinking about it. She realized that she hadn’t given any serious thought to the meaning of the lyrics she was preaching.
That was so embarrassing, and so pitiful, that it made her want to run away.
The idea that she hadn’t given much thought to the songs she’d sung and their meaning came as a shock. She had said she loved music, but she hadn’t thought about what that meant.—even though the People of the Earth had seen their dreams in her.
Isuzu felt a fierce sense of inferiority and guilt.
She’d never felt this wretched before, not once in her entire life.
Heavy tears welled up endlessly in her eyes, as if she were a child.
The most miserable thing of all was that even then, Isuzu liked music. Even though she’d made such a horrible mistake—even so, songs echoed inside of her.
“Rudy.”
“What is it, Mademoiselle Isuzu?”
“I want to be alone.”
“……”
The words just weren’t there.
Isuzu gazed at Rundelhaus with red eyes.
She knew that unless she said something, Rundelhaus would stay with her the whole time. He’d probably give her words of sympathy and encouragement, too… But that would be too dishonest. Isuzu needed time alone, and she needed it this very night.
The
feelings of inferiority and guilt, the shame and the pain, were all hers. She had stolen songs, so these were natural penalties, and while she faced that pain, she wanted to be alone.
After all, even without that, Rundelhaus had given her many, many things.
“Go back t-to the room. I…have to do this myself.”
“……”
Rundelhaus watched Isuzu, concerned.
She knew he felt that way, but she stubbornly refused to meet his gaze.
“All right, Mademoiselle Isuzu.”
“Mm.”
Rundelhaus stood there for a moment. He seemed as if he was about to say something, but after a little hesitation, he left.
There, frozen in the night, Isuzu made up her mind. She would fight.
She had prepared to face herself, and for Isuzu, it was the first real battle of her life.
2
In the morning mist, Touya quietly slipped out of the inn, checked his surroundings, and drew a deep breath.
The town was still cold, but the pale light of early spring shone down upon it.
From far away, he heard a series of tiny shouts. People were fishing from boats in the river. When he looked around, he saw a group of People of the Earth walking toward the hills, probably for farmwork. It had been that way in Choushi, too: As a rule, the People of the Earth were very early risers.
That said, the town wasn’t filled with noisy energy, either.
Even if it didn’t feel that way to Touya and the other Adventurers, for the People of the Earth, mornings in March were still pretty frigid. They’d used up all their fuel over the winter, so in this season, the People of the Earth tried to maintain constant temperatures in their houses by keeping everything shut up tight. The people out on the streets were trotting instead of walking. Of course, this was because it was early morning; once things warmed up a bit, people would probably be drawn out by the sunlight, flooding the avenue. After all, Saphir was one of the biggest towns in this area.
Without settling on any particular destination, Touya began to wander around, arms crossed behind his head.
