by Mamare Touno
Nazuna lowered her voice.
The words she’d muttered softly had been “Something smells fishy.” That was probably her intuition talking. She looked like she was crude, slipshod, a big drinker, and a slacker, but her instincts were sharp. Those instincts had saved Shiroe during their Tea Party days, and they’d tormented him ten times as often as they’d rescued him.
That said, it was hard to know how to respond.
It would have been easy to explain them away as new monsters that had been added with Homesteading the Noosphere, but he couldn’t believe that was the truth. Even so, Shiroe didn’t currently have any way to corroborate the information he’d learned. He had a hunch it couldn’t be corroborated at all.
“……”
“They’re enemies, right, Mr. Shiro?”
For that reason, he didn’t have a ready answer for Soujirou.
He thought they were enemies. He was almost certain they would block his way and the Adventurers’ future. However, he wasn’t convinced they were “enemies” in the literal sense of the word. No, more than that, he suspected they might not be enemies at all, in the way that a fallen tree that blocked the road was an obstacle, but not an enemy.
“They attack us, so we have to fight them.”
As a result, Shiroe phrased his answer so that it neither affirmed nor denied what Soujirou had said.
Nevertheless, Soujirou seemed to be satisfied with that.
With a big, relieved smile, he murmured, “Oh, good. We already defeated him anyway.”
Oh, I see, Shiroe thought. He hadn’t been demanding an explanation from Shiroe so much as worrying about an opponent they’d already defeated.
Soujirou was a younger player, and for some reason, he seemed to idolize Shiroe. He’d always seemed to like him. In the past, they’d often formed parties together and gone around to different dungeons, in addition to Tea Party activities. Soujirou and Shiroe had often teamed up with Naotsugu and Kazuhiko when they went to have fun, and at the time, Saki and Soujirou’s other fans had been jealous of Shiroe.
Soujirou’s a kind kid.
“They’re different from regular monsters, though, somehow.”
“Maybe the Catastrophe affected them, too? Or was it Homesteading the Noosphere?”
Soujirou and Nazuna continued to shoot questions at Shiroe, who’d gotten lost in his thoughts.
Truly, they were both quick on the uptake. Even if they didn’t know much about the situation, they’d come very close to hitting the nail on the head through intuition alone.
“It’s both.”
“…Huhn.”
Nazuna didn’t probe Shiroe’s answer any further. She had standards for advancing or retreating that he didn’t understand, and there were lines she wouldn’t cross. It was probably because she was older than Shiroe.
“Is there anything we can do, Mr. Shiro?”
In response to Soujirou’s question, Shiroe said, “I’d like a little more information. That, and time.”
“So basically, you want us to defend the town,” Nazuna said, as sharp as ever, and he nodded emphatically.
“Ah. I see. In other words, just keep doing what we’ve been doing, right? You can count on us.”
Soujirou gave an easygoing smile.
His relaxed, good-natured expression made Shiroe feel relieved, but he also thought, I mustn’t lean on him too much.
He remembered the platform of old Akiba Station, with its flitting spark-bugs.
When Shiroe had told him he wanted his help to establish the Round Table Council, Soujirou had agreed without even asking why.
Soujirou was quick to do so, but that didn’t mean the determination and the vow that lay beneath that agreement weren’t serious. It was also true that having Soujirou’s support had enabled him to launch the Round Table Council. When the Crescent Moon League had first released their Crescent Burgers, the West Wind Brigade had been the ones to protect them from criticism and pressure. Shiroe had only learned that afterward. Talk about a strategist with a poor endgame. He’d been saved from start to finish, and the fact brought a stinging warmth to his heart.
“Well, just you leave it to us. We’ve gotten pretty tough, y’know.”
“Yes, let us handle it, Mr. Shiro.”
“Count on us, my liege.”
For some reason, Akatsuki gave him her assurance along with the other team. It was funny, and Shiroe chuckled. Catching it from him, Soujirou cracked up, too.
“Yeesh, Souji. What?”
“It’s nothing… Girls are strong, aren’t they, Mr. Shiro?”
Well, yes, they’re strong. They’re probably too strong, he thought, standing up.
As Shiroe said his good-byes, grimacing at the tingling in his legs, Soujirou murmured something quietly.
“He was a strange enemy, Mr. Shiro.”
He probably meant the Genius.
Soujirou’s eyebrows came together, as if he was retracing his memories. “I don’t know how to put it. He was the most Elder Tales–like thing I’ve seen since coming to this world.”
“Like Elder Tales…?”
“Yes. Of course I’d never seen him before, and his attacks were odd, and he was strong, but…”
“Yeah, exactly. Way more so than the People of the Earth, I guess you’d say.”
“It was like a game. The enemy felt hollow, as if we’d defeated an Elder Tales monster.”
Soujirou’s words were always intuitive. Since he had the ability to reach the right answer in a single leap, he was bad at explaining how he’d gotten there in ways that were easy to understand.
Even so, Shiroe engraved those words in his heart.
There was bound to be something in them that he needed to understand.
6
By the time they left the West Wind guild house, the sky was already madder red.
Even if it wasn’t as busy as their old world, Akiba was lively, even at sunset. Peddlers looking for lodgings. Street stalls that prided themselves on flavor, selling side dishes for the evening meal. Adventurers returning to their bases from outlying fields.
Shiroe and Akatsuki walked side by side through a mixed, milling crowd of Adventurers and People of the Earth.
He gazed absently at the foot traffic. Soujirou’s words—Elder Tales–like—overlapped with the orange-tinted scenery. He’d probably been talking about the time when all they’d done was look at things through a display screen. However, the crowd he was watching now didn’t seem anything like what it had been in the game.
What had made Soujirou choose those particular words? Shiroe hadn’t yet come into contact with a Genius. For that reason, he didn’t understand what the other young man had been trying to say, or what he’d felt.
“My liege.”
They’d probably been walking for about ten minutes.
Shiroe registered the passage of time less as the sensation that time had passed than as a result of their having changed locations.
He’d gotten lost in thought, only to have been pulled back to the present by Akatsuki’s questioning voice and her cutely tugging at his sleeve.
Realizing that, at some point, he’d forgotten she was there, Shiroe came to a halt.
“Hmm? What, Akatsuki?”
She was gazing up into his face. Looking thoughtful, she asked, “Are you tired, my liege?”
“Huh? Why? No, not at all.”
“I see.”
Shiroe answered quickly on reflex, and Akatsuki’s reply was as laconic as ever. Just after the Catastrophe, Shiroe would have worked hard to keep the conversation going, but he didn’t often think that way anymore. Akatsuki probably wasn’t looking for witty conversation. She’d just been genuinely worried about him. Shiroe understood that now.
When he looked up, feeling the same way he’d felt when they walked along that beach, Akiba was beautiful in the sunset.
Possibly because of the rain that had fallen yesterday, the April greenery was particularly glossy,
and it gleamed, reflecting the deep-red evening sun. An early pub had lit orange Firefly Lamps and begun to call in customers, and Adventurers filtered through its door in twos and threes.
Because of the ancient trees and abandoned cars, visibility on the central avenue was poor compared with its counterpart in Akihabara on Earth. Nevertheless, street stalls selling grilled skewers and fried foods were lined up on the road’s mossy shoulders, creating a warm atmosphere.
This was evening in Akiba.
Shiroe and Akatsuki stood where they were and gazed at it for a while.
There was a light tug on the hem of his clothes, and Akatsuki whispered, “Something smells very good, my liege.”
It was probably the aroma of fried bean-jam buns.
Akatsuki’s reaction struck Shiroe as funny, and he laughed a little.
“I didn’t say that because I wanted you to buy me some, my liege.”
“I didn’t think you had.”
“Good.”
At that answer, Shiroe remembered the scene at the West Wind Brigade a little while earlier.
Akatsuki, who was taciturn and, if he’d had to say, shy, had seemed pretty friendly with Nazuna back there. She hadn’t been like that before. At the very least, he didn’t think Akatsuki had actively interacted with anyone outside Log Horizon before he’d left Akiba.
“Do you go out and have fun with Nazuna?”
“Yes. She knows lots of good restaurants.”
“I see.”
Akatsuki’s voice seemed mildly animated, and Shiroe nodded.
Apparently, her circle of friends was growing.
“It’s not just Nazuna. Riezé, Mikakage, and the princess go, too.”
“Is that right…?”
Shiroe nodded, but he was pretty startled.
Of course, he knew that if he actually looked startled, Akatsuki would sulk, so he didn’t let it show in his expression. He didn’t, but still, that was a rather revolutionary step forward. The names Akatsuki had given included members of the West Wind Brigade, D.D.D., and—if he remembered right—the Roderick Trading Company. And on top of that, Princess Raynesia.
Before he’d departed for the north to negotiate with the Kunie clan, Shiroe remembered, he’d asked Akatsuki to guard Princess Raynesia.
“Quite a lot happened while you were gone, my liege.”
“I see.”
Just as Shiroe had gained a variety of things in the Abyssal Shaft, Akatsuki had apparently acquired lots of things in Akiba.
Technology, organizations of self-government, and monsters weren’t the only things that had changed after the Catastrophe. Shiroe and the others were changing, too. It wasn’t simply in the sense of levels or mastering Mysteries. It was in places that were difficult to see: ties to other people. Shiroe, who hadn’t thought about things from that perspective before, remembered his expedition to the north.
Naotsugu, the friend who’d gone with him the whole way. Tetora, who’d gotten friendly with them in the blink of an eye and now walked around like the ruler of the guild house. William, the guild master of Silver Sword. Kinjo of the Kunie clan. The magic researcher, Li Gan… And Demiquas.
Good encounters and bad ones resonated together, and before long, they’d connected.
He was sure it wouldn’t be in vain.
When he looked down, Akatsuki responded with an “Uh-huh.” The evening sun was sinking slowly. It was time to return to the guild hall for dinner.
“Shiroeee.”
Just as they were passing in front of the guild center, a girl’s voice rang out. It wasn’t Akatsuki’s.
“Minori.”
Minori came trotting up to the two of them. She was dressed in street clothes, a blouse and necktie, instead of the miko outfit she wore when she was going adventuring.
“Hmph. And it was such a good atmosphere, too…”
“Shiroe, Akatsuki, are you on your way home?”
Minori fell in beside the two of them, walking with light, skipping steps. She looked up at Shiroe from the side opposite Akatsuki, and she was smiling. She seemed to be in a good mood today.
“That’s right. Is your part-time job over, Minori?”
“Yes. They gave me souvenirs today.”
“Today, too, you mean,” Akatsuki corrected glumly.
Both of Minori’s hands held bags that were stuffed with groceries and medicines.
They were probably things she’d been given at the Production Guild Liaison Committee and the Round Table Adventure Agency, where she worked part-time.
Minori boasted a talent for clerical work that was far beyond her years, and they’d heard that both offices treasured her as a first-rate resource. She was good-natured and polite, and she was idolized even at the contact windows.
Some items were on the verge of spilling out of the bag, and Akatsuki swiftly steadied them, asking Minori if she was all right. The two of them were frozen in a pose that made it look like a marriage interview. “Want me to carry that?” Shiroe asked, but apparently, Minori had something she wanted to show him.
“No, it’s fine. Because… Eh-heh.”
At that, Minori dexterously stuck a hand into the overflowing sack that hung from her shoulder, then held out an odd cloth bag with both hands, as if showing it off.
“It’s my Magic Bag.”
“Whoa!”
Minori’s bright smile was contagious; Shiroe and Akatsuki grinned right along with her.
She and the rest of the younger group had finally completed their Magic Bags. It wasn’t just Minori, who used hers every day like this, but Touya, Isuzu, and Rundelhaus as well. Serara of the Crescent Moon League had gotten a Magic Bag, too.
On top of that, their group had done the town of Akiba a significant favor.
The astonishing number of wyvern skins Minori and the others had brought back with them had made Magic Bags common among Akiba’s low-level Adventurers. Ordinarily, only one Magic Bag could be made per person, and you had to undertake a quest to get it, but Calasin had talked the People of the Earth artisans into lowering the levels of the quests they’d accept. Shopping District 8 had even put up the money for production, so now, even the newest beginner in Akiba was able to have a Magic Bag in any design they wanted.
Over many nights, Minori had told Shiroe about the battle with the wyverns, all their encounters, and the sort of conflict they just couldn’t reconcile themselves to.
She and the others had lived through a lot on that journey. Not all of those things had been pleasant; they’d felt pain so fierce they’d nearly burst from it. But even so, they were still smiling.
Shiroe thought, frankly, that that was amazing.
If he’d been on that journey, he didn’t know if he would have been able to be as kind as Minori and Touya. He was pretty sure he couldn’t have spread courage and inspired the People of the Earth the way Isuzu and Rundelhaus had.
“Oho!”
Akatsuki gazed at Minori, who had put on the airs of somebody older and was twirling around.
“Did you design that, Minori?”
Shiroe had heard about it from Calasin, and he knew already, but he asked anyway. He didn’t really understand it, but the Magic Bag Minori had designed was avant-garde, with floppy things that looked like arms and legs sprouting from it. “Yes, I did!” Minori told him, beaming, and Akatsuki chimed in in a friendly way: “That’s amazing, Minori! You’re really good at feminine things!”
Shiroe gazed at the interaction, feeling somehow dazzled.
They really were changing. Watching the two of them made him feel that that was probably a good thing.
“While we’re here, should we pick up some souvenirs?”
“I vote yes!”
“My liege, I want red-bean buns.”
“You do like red-bean buns, don’t you, Akatsuki?!”
Shiroe wasn’t spoiling them, but he’d offered to buy them a souvenir, and their response was immediate. Their teamwork was improving nicely. However
, Shiroe wanted to get something to go. If they did that, they’d be able to eat it with Naotsugu and Captain Nyanta. He wouldn’t have to take attacks from the two of them all by himself.
“Yes, they’re the ultimate sweet.”
“Wouldn’t you like to get jellies once in a while?”
“Do you have a problem with red-bean buns, Minori?”
“No, not at all, it’s just…for the sake of variety…”
“Hrmmmm.”
Minori and Akatsuki’s conversation went on lightly. Both seemed to have lost quite a lot of reserve as far as the other was concerned; since they’d started living in the same guild house, they’d opened up to each other. Even in little things like this, there had been changes.
Now if only they’d avoid walking on either side of him and talking across him…
Thinking this, Shiroe smiled in defeat behind his glasses.
He’d had the thought, but he knew that if he said it aloud, they wouldn’t listen. In any case, when women were in a bad mood, they deliberately misinterpreted what you said, and when they were in a good mood, they ignored it. Indicus had been like that.
On the other hand, that other woman had always been in a good mood and had never listened to the conversation at all.
“Why not just get both?”
“Yes, he’s right, Akatsuki!”
“I suppose there’s no help for it.”
“I’d like strawberry shortcake, I truly would. Shiroe, treat me, too! Me too!”
Shiroe had been groping around for a good compromise, but a cute voice had broken into the conversation and spectacularly blocked his way. It was Tetora. As usual, there was a little top hat perched on the coquettish idol’s pink hair.
“Ha-hah!”
Tetora had jumped at Shiroe, tackling him around the waist, and Akatsuki tried to tear the interloper off.
“Don’t cling to my liege, you half-idol.”
“I’m not half; I’m complete! In English, the word is ‘perfect’! In terms of the Milky Way, I’m galactic! Even Shiroe’s happy that I’m clinging to him.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Oh, now you give a decisive response!”
Tetora reeled back, as if shocked by an unbelievable sight. This self-proclaimed idol overreacted to absolutely everything. Even though Tetora hadn’t been a member of the guild long, the idol’s personality was already a familiar part of Log Horizon.
