by Mamare Touno
It was just like Dad said. I didn’t have talent. Worrying about whether or not I had talent meant it wasn’t rock at all.
A little laugh bubbled up inside her.
“Isuzuuu!!”
Their group had grown. Nodding to Serara, who’d come running up to them with a pure white wolf, she swung the head of her lute around. She heard the sounds of combat rising all over: weary sword strikes and attack spells chanted as if they’d lost sight of the way home. Even so, dyed by the fading light, the town was beautiful.
“Mademoiselle Serara!”
“Thank you!”
Serara stumbled clumsily two or three times. Even so, as Rundelhaus’s flight spell levitated her heels and she hopped up and down with an earnest expression, she laughed a little to hide her embarrassment. Isuzu felt warmth building inside her.
“It’s all right! I checked all the buildings from this point west with Wolfie’s nose. We’ve evacuated all the People of the Earth.”
Isuzu, who was still playing, wanted to shout for joy, but she put her feelings into the song instead.
Suddenly, light filled the sky.
The glow belonged to a spell they’d never seen before, and as the three of them stared in its direction, they immediately understood.
They’d heard the loud yell across the party chat, and they launched themselves into a run. Roe2 and Minori—and probably Touya—were under that light.
Isuzu understood Touya’s pain: There’s no way in hell this world is the real thing. Touya had heard that heartrending scream; Isuzu and the others had heard it as well, over the party chat. The voice had been excruciatingly sad, as though even the one who’d screamed it had been hurt by it.
That sorrow was Isuzu’s enemy.
Defeating it was her challenge to the gods.
She might not have a shot at winning, but she wouldn’t give up without a fight. Touya was out there, beneath that light.
“Mister, get back!”
“Shut up! Don’t get in the way. This is the Odysseia Knights’ fight.”
“I’m not backing down! Echo Rebound! I’m not gonna give up on you, mister!”
“You’re just a kid! What do you know, anyway?!”
She heard Touya’s scream. It was coming closer. The sound of that voice relieved Isuzu, and she and Rundelhaus exchanged nods.
“It’s okay now.”
“Right!”
“Touya hasn’t lost!”
“Right.”
He was probably all torn up. He probably hadn’t managed to persuade the Odysseia Knights, either.
Still, Touya hadn’t stayed crouched in the rubble! He’d stood up, latched on again, and was fighting alongside the Knights.
As Serara had said, that meant he hadn’t lost at all. Let’s go save him right away, Isuzu thought. Perfect! Bring it on.
“Touya! Don’t slip up until I get there! Rundelhaus Code, Adventurer, is coming to your aid!!”
At Rundelhaus’s shout, Isuzu smiled a little.
His energy had skyrocketed the moment he’d heard Touya’s voice. Like lightning, he’d switched over to his aggressive self. The mature-looking young man who worried about Isuzu was generally cute, but as he was now, Rundelhaus was strikingly manly. If she let go of his leash, he was sure to sprint all the way to the horizon.
I’m just the same, Isuzu thought. Like him, she wanted to run flat out: Just a bit farther, just a little longer, and they’d be there.
“Knock it off or I’ll turn you into Onslaught fodder.”
“Hey, go right ahead! I’m still not backing down.”
When they turned the corner, there was the river, red with blood. The silhouettes of several wyverns were impaled on a collapsed bridge that had gone up in flames. Fighting with the glare at their backs were a group of Nightshade Servants, who’d grown more powerful and ominous, the Odysseia Knights, and Touya.
“This is where we die. Don’t block the path to the underworld!!”
Fire blazed up inside Isuzu.
The scream “Don’t even give me that!” energized her legs, giving them wings.
Her eyes filled with tears and her vision blurred, but it wasn’t from sadness.
This world, where she’d played her lute in the midst of torrential cheers—
This world, where she’d gone on a long journey with friends she loved—
This world, where she’d met Rundelhaus—
—was not a “path to the underworld.”
For that reason, right now, Isuzu sang the forty-third song.
Some parts of it are pretty uncool, but…
Even so, it was the first song she’d ever written.
It was meant to tell them I understand, and she’d filled it with the message I’m cheering for you. Even if no one else acknowledged this world, Isuzu would bless it, all on her own. She’d scatter the forty-third song, the one the gods hadn’t made, and the seeds of many, many other songs all over the world.
As her friends plunged into the fray, she saw Minori in the lead. She’d gotten to Touya a step ahead of the rest and had protected him. Roe2 was beside her, her white cape-mantle flapping; she looked like a large bird. She glanced back over her shoulder and nodded. Rundelhaus, Serara, and Minori all exchanged looks with Isuzu.
“I’ll protect you.”
“I’m not letting you protect me, Rudy.”
That brief exchange was enough to fill Isuzu’s heart to the brim with courage. Her energy meter was at 100 percent. The intro she strummed loudly was the best sound she’d produced that day. The bright red sky seemed to be hurrying her on, as well as giving its blessing to eternity.
Isuzu pushed out the first word like a prayer.
As if it were skipping over the surface of the water, the lute sparkled, and every time it danced, rainbow-colored notes encouraged the world. Right now, Isuzu was cheering for every Adventurer on the battlefield and for the People of the Earth.
Ocean wind and asphalt / Once we’re past the hill road
The next town will be in view / The gig’s sure to shine tonight, too
A little bag, filled to bursting / So much magic
You wave your hand, and so / Come on, we’re starting
I won’t forget that shine / Sowing all the rainbow’s colors
My ambition / Is turning into musical notes
I won’t forget that shine / This song’s a promise
My lute was timid / But it’s something else today
In the end, Isuzu hadn’t been able to write a stirring fight song.
She hadn’t been able to write a song that would save all the sorrows of every Person of the Earth, either.
No matter how she’d searched, crying all the while, the only important things she’d found lying around inside her were personal ones, the sort ordinary high school girls had.
And so Isuzu had written a song of beginnings.
She wasn’t anybody yet, but even so, she’d written a song she could start singing with pride.
She’d created this clumsy first song with the intent that, if someone was beginning something because they wanted to, no matter what type of person they were or what world they lived in, she would absolutely join them and loudly cheer them on.
Isuzu’s new song, unlikely to save anything, cast a spell on the world.
The song, which spread in widening rings, gave its first cry with Theldesia’s approval. Magic had been born. Everywhere, small rocks about the size of eggs rose into the air and began darting around like squirrels. They formed an impromptu defense, hurling themselves against all attacks on the battlefield and attempting to turn aside spells.
It really was a trivial song. A song that only little rocks danced to.
It was doubtful whether the song would add even a tiny bit to the combat situation, but Isuzu didn’t give up on it.
She struggled precisely because she was limited.
Her heart blazed precisely because she was impatient.
The desp
air that it might not reach anyone now was also the blessing that, someday, it might reach somebody. Isuzu thought she might be a weakling for needing reasoning like that, but it was possible to walk all the way to the ends of the earth on just one hope. That was “little rock.”
Right now, Isuzu was music, “the forty-three.” The world was hers.
She splashed bright lemon-yellow notes all across the madder red sky. No matter who this melody reached, it was fine. She wanted it to crumble and scatter, raining down like stardust, over People of the Earth who raged helplessly, and over the Odysseia Knights who were crying for their home like children.
Come to think of it, the rainbow light that rose into the air like bubbles when they died was the same as the rainbow colors of the scale.
The realization startled her.
When the sun set, the rainbow-colored light broke off. After that, it simply drifted upward, toward the moon.
6
The graceful woman walked calmly through the streets, just as if she were moving through the fading light of an Indian summer.
Sometimes she’d stop and think about something, looking up at the sky, only to begin walking again.
Black, burned-smelling smoke mingled with the air, and her surroundings were noisy. Magic flames generally didn’t give off smoke, so this probably meant that something somewhere had caught fire. After all, Saphir was currently at war.
Possibly because it had decided that the beautiful woman with long hair the color of dried grass plumes was prey, a circling wyvern plunged into a sudden dive. Its undulating tail lent it a ferocious mobility, and its steel claws could probably pierce a Person of the Earth’s soft flesh with ease.
Dariella didn’t even look up at it. She raised her left hand and sighed out a spell—Astral Hypno. With only that, the dragon froze, mind and body, as though it had been tangled in an invisible net.
The wyvern fell in a tailspin, disappearing into a cloud of dust and rubble. With this at her back, the white woman’s figure blurred, as though she’d been enveloped in a flutter of ebony wings. Phantom tails that held vast magical power waved seductively, as if they were caressing the air, and a beautiful, jet-black woman with fox ears appeared in her place.
Astral Hypno was an Enchanter spell that plunged its target into a deep sleep and froze its spirit. Even though it was a spell with no offensive power, and thus usually used defensively, it had caused massive destruction.
It wasn’t just the wyvern. An Odysseia Knights Druid who’d been caught up in its fall had died due to the extensive damage as well.
Glancing at the damage with a dismissive sigh, Nureha began to walk again, just as before.
She passed between buildings, crossed through the shade of leafy green trees, and walked over the sunset battlefield.
Strangely, no one seemed able to see her. Not the Nightshade Servants and wyverns; not even the People of the Earth or the Odysseia Knights.
She swept away the sparks that flew toward her like it was a game, stopping them with small spells. And stopping them was all she did; she still scattered destruction and death across the battlefield.
The Enchanter build that specialized in motion obstruction spells was called Freezer. They’d acquired the nickname for their ability to “freeze” all enemies around them like an intensely cold blizzard.
Nureha walked as though she were the embodiment of that word. She moved through the town, sometimes stopping, sometimes muttering.
Melancholy clouded Nureha’s expression slightly.
She’d only meant to slip away from her stuffy duties at Plant Hwyaden and take a little stroll around western Yamato, but she’d had a chance encounter.
She hadn’t had any malice or ill will toward them. The thought that they were Shiroe’s guild members had made her meddle with them, that was all… And then she’d gotten hurt.
Nureha had to admit that she’d been looking down on them, making fun of them. Shiroe was special, but she’d assumed it couldn’t possibly extend to his companions. She’d thought that if she smiled her usual ingratiating smile and projected consideration for them through little details of attitude and gesture, she’d be able to blend with their group easily.
As a matter of fact, the girls—Minori, Serara, and Isuzu—hadn’t noticed a thing. That was probably true of Rundelhaus, the former Person of the Earth, as well.
She didn’t think she’d been careless. It was true that she’d tried to close the distance a bit, but that was because she’d given into the temptation of wanting to see what Shiroe saw.
She didn’t know what the boy called Touya had seen in Dariella, the Person of the Earth travel writer. She didn’t think he’d uncovered her true identity, but he’d clearly seen through something about Dariella with some sort of special ability.
That young boy had pitied her.
He’d rejected the fingertips that stroked his hair with a cross look:
I hate when you’re like that.
That single comment—trivial, silly words—had become a thorn that dug into Nureha. The pain wasn’t so great she couldn’t ignore it, but it was too sharp and new to forget.
It was a fact that she’d mischievously wondered what would happen if she invited Touya to Minami. She’d only wanted Shiroe to pay attention to her. In other words, she’d meant to make him a substitute for Shiroe.
However, the boy hadn’t simply been in Shiroe’s guild, just part of the background. Even though he was young, he’d had claws to dig into Nureha. The look of the atmosphere on the battlefield had told her the same thing. The People of the Earth who’d fled, holding their wounds—hadn’t their eyes been shining? Hadn’t the air held the faint tones of a lute?
Shiroe really was special. The boys and girls who carried echoes of him were keeping the atmosphere in this miserable town in check, one step away from the worst it could be.
Seen through his eyes, this dingy dump of a world might look different. Imagining it, Nureha smiled as if it pained her. Shiroe’s teachings were probably that boy’s blade. If she thought of the little pain as a tie that bound her to Shiroe, there was an edge of sweetness to it.
At the same time, she felt envy. Shiroe had that boy. He had younger guild members. Shiroe had people he could pass his achievements down to. Nureha did not. The idea stirred up something black like jealousy inside of her. If the scales had tipped ever so slightly, she might have shut Touya up in a sealed temple that would have made death look mild by comparison… But it hadn’t happened. In the morning mist, that straightforward boy’s serenity had left her with a sympathy that was not unpleasant.
It was envy that gave rise to jealousy, but Nureha managed to accept that envy calmly. Its destination might overlap with the one and only person she wanted.
At any rate, Nureha was the sort of being who might as well not have been there at all.
The magic in Astral Hypno had revealed her original shape, but when the recast time ran out, she’d retake Dariella’s name and figure. Even Dariella was a false form. After all, so was Nureha.
There was no “real” her anywhere.
She was like a ghost. The idea struck her as funny, and she smiled a little.
She’d felt oppressed by the form she’d chosen because she wanted people and wanted them to want her; she’d fled from that form, had gained another that was beautiful and bewitching, but had fled from it as well. Wearying of being spoken to, Nureha had disappeared from the train, and now she’d changed her form yet again.
Even she found it incoherent, and she nearly had to avert her eyes from its misery and absurdity.
Nureha felt as though she’d been cursed: No matter what she obtained, it slipped through her fingers like sand. She’d thrown away far too much, and now she didn’t even know what she should try to take. Even if something she’d thrown away had been valuable, she’d already discarded her regrets as well.
The only thing that illuminated her ignorance was Shiroe. In Nureha’s mind, he was alway
s in profile, looking at something far away. It was probably because her impression of him on the raid where they’d first met had been a vivid one. Even now, after she’d managed to speak with him, when she visualized Shiroe, the expressions he wore always seemed to be looking into the distance.
Nureha clasped her small, white hands in front of her chest, as if embracing that memory.
“Lady Nureha!”
A knight came running up to her and bowed so low he practically knelt. Nureha glanced at him.
Roreil Dawn. His blond hair, which was normally trimmed evenly and looked rather affected, was in disarray, and even his holy knight’s armor was dingy. He’d probably run all over the countryside like a dog searching for her after she’d disappeared. Nureha felt contempt for his wretched appearance, and she said nothing.
She had no words to waste on the group—imperial guards in name only—who had tried to confine her.
However, Roreil seemed to have interpreted her silence differently.
“Lady Nureha, it’s rather dangerous here. With your stasis spells, it may be of no consequence to you, but could I trouble you to evacuate?”
“Explain the situation surrounding this town. What is Mizufa doing?” Nureha asked.
Conditions in the town were abnormal. The fact that Nightshade Servants had appeared in such numbers probably meant that Mizufa had dispatched her Crimson Night troops here. She couldn’t imagine that the outbreak of wyverns was unrelated, either.
“From what I’m told, the town has been chosen as a battlefield on Lady Mizufa’s orders.”
“I see.”
Nureha walked.
She gazed at the ground, quietly murmuring Shiroe’s name.
She had no particular feelings about this.
She’d approved Mizufa’s plan because she simply hadn’t cared.
She’d inspected the troops because she’d been asked to.
She understood Mizufa’s dream. Everyone, without exception, wanted a world of their own. In their own kingdom, people became king. The kingdom Mizufa dreamed of was a sacrificial sheep that lay under the sword she brandished. She wanted to confirm the fact of her conquest through the choking smell of blood
