Copyright
Wandering Witch The Journey of Elaina
Jougi Shiraishi
Translation by Nicole Wilder
Cover art by Azure
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.
MAJO NO TABITABI vol. 1
Copyright © 2016 Jougi Shiraishi
Illustrations copyright © 2016 Azure
All rights reserved.
Original Japanese edition published in 2016 by SB Creative Corp.
This English edition is published by arrangement with SB Creative Corp., Tokyo, in care of Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.
English translation © 2020 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.
Yen On
150 West 30th Street, 19th Floor
New York, NY 10001
Visit us at yenpress.com • facebook.com/yenpress • twitter.com/yenpress • yenpress.tumblr.com • instagram.com/yenpress
First Yen On Edition: January 2020
Yen On is an imprint of Yen Press, LLC.
The Yen On name and logo are trademarks of Yen Press, LLC.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Shiraishi, Jougi, author. | Azure, illustrator. | Wilder, Nicole. translator.
Title: Wandering Witch : the journey of Elaina / Jougi Shiraishi ; illustration by Azure ; translation by Nicole Wilder.
Other titles: Majo no tabitabi. English
Description: First Yen On edition. | New York, NY : Yen On, 2020–
Identifiers: LCCN 2019052222 | ISBN 9781975332952 (volume 1 ; trade paperback)
Subjects: CYAC: Fantasy. | Witches—Fiction. | Voyages and travels—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.S517725 Wan 2020 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019052222
ISBNs: 978-1-9753-3295-2 (paperback)
978-1-9753-3311-9 (ebook)
E3-20191218-JV-NF-ORI
CHAPTER 1
The Country of Mages
It was a quiet country, surrounded by rugged, forbidding mountains and hidden behind tall walls. Nobody from the outside world could visit.
Above a rock face shimmering with heat in the brilliant sunlight, a single broom soared through the warm air. The one guiding it on its way was a beautiful young girl. She wore a black robe and a pointy hat, and her ashen hair flapped in the wind. If anyone had been around to notice her, they would have turned to look, wondering with a sigh who that beauty on the broom could be…
That’s right. She’s me.
Ah, that was a joke.
“…Almost there.”
The high wall looked like it had been carved out of the mountain itself. Glancing downward just a bit, I spotted the gate and steered my broom toward it.
It had taken some serious work to get to this country, but I suppose the people who lived here had planned it that way—to keep people from entering by mistake. After all, there’s no way anyone would trek all the way out here without a very good reason.
I dismounted my broom just in front of the gate. A local sentry, apparently conducting immigration inspections, stepped up to meet me.
After looking me over slowly from head to toe and examining the brooch on my chest, he smiled cheerfully.
“Welcome to the Country of Mages. Right this way, Madam Witch.”
“Hmm? Don’t you need to test whether I can do magic or not?”
I had heard that anyone visiting this country had to prove their magical ability to enter; anyone who didn’t meet a certain standard would be turned away.
“I saw you fly in. And besides, that brooch you’re wearing means you’re a witch. So please, go on ahead.”
Oh yeah, that’s right. Being able to fly on a broom is one of the minimum prerequisites for entry. Of course they could see my approach from the gatehouse. How silly of me!
After bowing slightly to the guard, I passed through the massive gate. Here was the mages’ country. Novice magic users, apprentices, and full-fledged witches—as long as you could use magic, you were permitted into this curious country, while everyone else was turned away.
As I passed through the huge gate, two strange signboards standing side by side caught my eye. I peered at them in confusion.
The first sign depicted a mage straddling a broom, enclosed in a circle. The sign beside it showed the image of a soldier walking, surrounded by a triangle.
What’s with these signs?
I knew the answer as soon as I looked up—above the crowded brickwork houses and beneath the gleaming sun, mages of all kinds were streaking across the sky in every direction.
I see. It must be a rule in countries where they only permit mages to enter—most everyone’s flying around on a broom, so very few people choose to walk.
Satisfied with my explanation for the signboards, I pulled out my broom and sat on it sideways. With a push off the ground, I gently floated up into the air in a living demonstration of the signboard.
“So flying is the preferred mode of transportation here, huh?”
And with that, I saw the mages’ country as it was meant to be seen. Above the reddish-brown roofs stretched out like so much dry earth, mages drifted through the air. Some had stopped their brooms to have a friendly chat, while others flew by with bundles of baggage tied to their brooms. There were suspicious, witchy-looking old women as well as children racing through the sky, vying to see who could fly higher.
These people must live their whole lives in the air.
It was a really wonderful scene. It almost took my breath away.
I joined their ranks, soaring above the country, aimlessly surrendering to the flow of air traffic around me. Suddenly a sign secured to the top of one of the roofs caught my eye. It was apparently an INN. I passed it without stopping and saw the word GROCER next. There were others: a BUTCHER and even a JEWELER. As I suspected, life here was lived above the rooftops, and placing your signs on top of the roof must have been common practice.
Looking around, I saw that the roofs on most houses had a window built in that was large enough for a single person to pass through. As I watched absently, one of those windows opened, and a man riding a broom flew out.
So that’s what they’re used for.
I flew around at a leisurely pace, slowly taking in the scenery, until—
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
—a scream came from behind me. Steadying my broom with one hand, I held on to my hat so it wouldn’t fly away and turned around.
Ah, too late.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”
Careening directly toward me at a preposterous speed, like a screaming meteorite trailing a tail of tears, the person in question was already only about one rooftop away by the time I spotted them.
Dodge? Impossible.
I reflexively turned my upper body away, but there was no avoiding the collision. With a series of grunts (“Ugya!�
� “Geh”), we tangled together and crashed into the rooftop below. The neatly lined tiles sheared off with a clatter and crunch, and we finally came to a halt just shy of falling off the edge of the roof. I saw a single tile bounce off the ground far below. Thank goodness there weren’t any pedestrians.
The angle had been shallow, and I had avoided a direct collision with the ground. Plus, the strange person who had collided with me had taken the brunt of the landing, so thankfully I was uninjured.
I clambered to my feet, brushing at a few reddish-brown shards of roofing that were stuck to my black robe.
“……”
“Urggggh…”
The teenage girl groaning and looking around in a daze appeared to be just a little bit younger than me. Her black hair was cut short and even all the way around, and she had an androgynous-looking face. She wore a white blouse and a checkered skirt under a black mantle, both of which were in serious disarray after she got caught underneath me.
She isn’t wearing a brooch or anything on her chest, so she must be a novice.
“…Um, are you all right?”
When I touched the fallen girl’s shoulder, she opened her eyes.
“……”
“……” She was silent.
It seemed like she was still struggling to process the situation, so I ventured, “Do you have trouble steering your broom?”
Yes, I’ll admit I was being a touch sarcastic.
“…Ah.”
“Looks like you’ve finally come your senses,” I said with a smile.
“Ahhhh!” She looked around again. “Wh-wh-wh-what do I do? What do I do? There’s no way I can fix this many tiles…”
Hey, now… “How about an apology first?”
“Ah, s-sorry! It wasn’t on purpose! Really!”
Well, I knew that. “Anyway, are you all right? You flew in like a hurricane.”
“Oh, I’m fine! I’m in tip-top shape, see?!” the girl said, as small rivulets of red ran down from her head. Her eyes were clear, and she had no trouble speaking.
……
“You’re bleeding. From your head.”
“That’s just sweat!”
“Does your sweat always smell like iron?”
“Um, well, um… It’s sweat!”
“Okay, I get it, so just calm down a little.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“……”
I’m not sure why, but I already feel exhausted. Maybe it’s from the collision.
I had been planning to make the girl fix the broken tiles after a good scolding, but enough was enough. She was already a mess; forcing her to repair the roof when she was in this state would just be heartless. Instead, I took my handkerchief out of my pocket.
“Here, have this. Press it to your head.”
“Oh…but…”
“Also, I’m going to put the roof tiles back now, so go take a rest over there, please.”
“No, I’ll help, too!”
“In your condition, if you tried to help, you’d just be in the way. Go rest,” I told her in no uncertain terms.
“But—”
“You’re. In. My. Way.”
“…Okay.”
Like a stray cat, the dejected young girl sat down on the peak of the roof and pressed the handkerchief against her head wound. As energetic as she had seemed, it was clear she had pushed herself a little too hard. The very moment she sat down, she slouched over and collapsed.
I can put off dealing with her for a bit. It’s not like she’s going to die from her injury or anything. First, let’s do something about this disaster here…
I gathered magical energy in my hands. Instantly, a long, thin wand appeared in my grasp, accompanied by a faint glow.
This was the special privilege of mages. We’re able to produce anything—wands and brooms and other magical tools, for example—out of thin air.
I channeled energy into my wand and set to work.
It was a time-reversing spell.
As the name might suggest, it’s a type of magic that fixes broken things and heals injuries by making time run in reverse. It requires slightly advanced magical ability, but any witch living in this country should have been able to perform it. I’m sure it would have been difficult for the little novice out cold behind me, though.
The roof tiles began to move as I showered them with magic. The broken tiles stuck themselves back together, returning to their original places like so many puzzle pieces.
After all the fragments had vanished and any sign of an accident had been wiped away, I completed the spell and turned around. Now it was time to fix up the girl.
“Okay, you’re next.”
“Um, uhhh…”
I approached the girl, who sat up nervously holding her head, and applied the spell. Beneath the gentle light, her tattered clothes mended themselves and her injuries healed instantly.
“Whoa…” I could hear her mumble.
It’s nothing impressive, though. Once you become a witch, this stuff is a cinch.
After making sure that she was in good shape, I hurried over to pick up the brooms that had fallen onto the roof. I decided it was probably a good idea to get out of there before making any more of a scene.
“Oh, um!”
The girl apparently had more to say to me, but I threw one leg over my broom, halfway ignoring her. “You don’t need to apologize. Just don’t forget to look where you’re going when you’re flying around on your broom, okay?”
“Please wait, I have to do something to make up for—”
“No need. I’m in a hurry. Good-bye, nameless novice.”
And so I got back on my broom and flew away.
Any human who can use magic starts their training as a novice. Not everyone can become one, and in most cases the ability is passed down through blood. My parents were novices, too.
Apprentice witches rank above novices, but they’re one level below full witches. As the name suggests, the title of “witch” applies only to girls and women. I have no idea why, but women naturally have greater magical ability than men. That’s why only women can attain ranks higher than novice.
There’s only one way to become an apprentice: pass the magic exams and receive the corsage that proves your status. There is no alternative method. However, the exams are brutal, and many people drop out before they reach the end.
After becoming an apprentice witch, one undergoes a very specific training regimen to earn the title of “witch.” This means long days of hard work under the watchful eye of a proper witch, until the apprentice finally wins her approval. The training might last a single day, or it might take ten years. It all depends on the individual’s own efforts and on the witch who is serving as her teacher.
When someone is officially recognized as a witch, she receives a star-shaped brooch with her name engraved on the back, and her teacher gives her a witch title. Mine is “the Ashen Witch.”
That was a pretty long-winded explanation, but my point is that as a full-fledged witch, I should have ranked among the top magic users in this country. I had expected that people would look up at me with envy as I flew through the sky, that when I went to a restaurant they would tell me, “Madam Witch! Allow me to offer you a discount on everything on the menu! Please, eat to your heart’s content!” and so on, but…
“Huh? A discount? We don’t do anything like that. Are you saying you don’t have any money, missy?”
“……”
So that’s how it is, hmm? I suppose if the restaurant gave special treatment to each and every witch, they’d go out of business.
I left the restaurant and went to the jeweler’s next. I wanted to sell a jewel that I had picked up in one of the countries I had visited before this one, and I was expecting a considerable sum from it.
“Ah, this here’s a total counterfeit, see? I can’t give you anything for it.”
“Surely there’s been a mistake. Take a closer look, please.”
r /> “I can look all ya want, but the answer’s gonna be the same. Whaddaya wanna do? If you don’t need it, I can get rid of it for you…”
“…That just sounds like you’re scheming to steal it from me, doesn’t it?”
“Of course not, sweetie! I’d never do that to ya. So what’ll it be?”
“Give it back.”
By the time I left the jeweler’s, I was in a sour mood.
Well, I’m sure the owner of that jewelry shop is just a bit of a swindler, that’s all. It’s not like he was treating me specifically with contempt, right? …Right?
Feeling uneasy, I headed for an inn. The day was drawing to a close. However—
“Hey. This isn’t a place for kids like you. Go on, scram.”
…Huuuh? What on earth? Is this some kind of upper-crust hotel exclusively for rich people? Hmm… Either way, I’m not staying here. Let’s go somewhere else.
I hopped off my broom atop a very cheap-looking inn with a tattered sign. Surely this place won’t turn me away.
I opened the window on the roof and descended the ladder that led inside. But halfway down I couldn’t be bothered anymore, so I jumped.
Thud. The sound echoed through the building like a cannonball.
Hey, I’m not that heavy. Rude.
I had dropped into the reception area.
The girl seated behind the counter looked at me. “Welco—”
She stiffened.
So did I.
She had short black hair. Boyish, androgynous features.
Sitting there in front of me was the girl who had (literally) run into me several hours earlier.
“……”
“……”
She was the first to shake herself loose from the frozen moment in time.
“E-eeeeeek! I’m s-s-sorry! I’m sorry! Are you here for revenge? This is revenge, isn’t it?! I’m sorry! Spare my life! Spare meee!”
“No, uh…”
“Waaaaaah! I don’t wanna diiiiiiiie!”
“Um…” No need for hysterics; come on.
She was grinding her head against the counter and sobbing. “Just spare my liiife…”
I touched her shoulder lightly.
“Eek! You’re going to tear me limb from limb? Are you going for my shoulder first? Noooooo!”
Wandering Witch: The Journey of Elaina, Vol. 1 Page 1