chapter02 · 067-ep59
Episode 59: The Lazy Man Is Asleep
Summer break had begun.
The morning after the closing ceremony, I woke up two hours before my alarm.
Summer break.
About forty days with no school.
Which meant: about forty days I could dive.
"Hehe."
I grinned inside my futon.
Of course, there was homework.
But it was already about half finished.
From the very moment the teachers handed out the homework printouts and workbooks, one week before the closing ceremony, I'd been quietly chipping away at them between classes and during breaks. The math workbook: I got three pages in during math class the very day it was handed out, while the teacher was still writing on the board. The English workbook: at lunch, while eating bento with Yano. The only thing untouched was the modern-lit book report — I hadn't even picked a book yet.
So this was what they called "undercover homework."
Yano had asked me, about three times now, "Ichinose-kun, what are you doing during class?"
Because if I had homework left over, I couldn't dive my heart out during summer break.
Big sis would probably pencil in a few "study days" too. I had plans to hang out with my middle-school friends, and my high-school friends.
But even so. Forty days.
I shot up out of the futon.
In front of the Shidami dungeon — fitting for summer break — there were a few more people than usual.
I passed through the stone door in the horizontal chamber of the burial mound and went down to the Floor 20 stone chamber. The place where Wilhelm and I had taken down the dogu.
I stopped in front of the door to Floor 21.
"Right."
Today, I would be doing two things for the first time.
The first:
I opened 【Vault of Tomes】 and turned through the weapons volume.
The katana page.
A concept drawing of a beautiful tachi with a slight curve. A small gold fitting on the tsuba. Beside it, in my handwriting:
"A katana that could only be forged once in a lifetime (legend)"
"The first strike is the strongest"
"Sheathe it, and it goes back to being the first strike"
"Which means iai (cool)"
"'Which means iai,' huh."
So the me of back then had been yearning for iai?
No — I definitely had. Probably about half the reason I first started going to the dojo.
Nameless had been with me the whole way. My first katana, and the one that fit my hand best.
But for diving the deep floors of a C-rank dungeon, the time had come for a next katana.
Nameless, for the moments that counted.
One deep breath.
"—The tsuba's ring in the stillness; dawn sealed within its white sheath; a lifetime's worth of a single strike."
A weight began to be born in my right hand.
"—Sheathed, to zero; drawn, to one — the wheel of the first strike, turning on and on."
The tachi took shape in my hand, still sheathed.
"—Leave the sheath, One Life, One Strike."
I swept the sheath away.
The blade caught the dim light of the stone chamber and gleamed, smooth and clean.
A little longer than Nameless. A little heavier. The slight curve of the blade settled into my wrist like it was clinging there.
"Whoa."
The voice slipped out on its own.
It was a beautiful katana.
A clear steel color, nothing like Nameless's black. The hamon seemed to ripple like waves.
All three lines, said straight through, no catching.
And above all — it was cool.
Three haniwa stood before the stone door on Floor 21.
Sword, spear, shield. A size bigger yet again than anything so far.
I readied One Life, One Strike.
The first one — the sword haniwa — came slashing.
I stepped in and swung.
My first stroke.
There was no feedback in my hand.
Or rather — there was so much of it, I couldn't tell what it was.
The sword haniwa split clean in two.
The spear haniwa behind it split clean in two.
The shield haniwa behind that, too. Shield and all.
All three of them crumbled with one stroke.
"Eh?"
I froze, still holding the follow-through.
Along the extension of the blade's arc, the sandy dust on the floor had been blown straight back — all the way to the stone door at the far end.
It was reaching the door.
"The first strike is the strongest."
The single line beside the concept art.
It was exactly as written.
It was exactly as written to a fault.
"So what about the second strike on?"
I tested it on Floor 22.
The first stroke crumbled two haniwa at once. The second stroke was ordinary — a perfectly solid strike, only a little sharper than Nameless. The third stroke: ordinary too.
"And if I sheathe it—"
I returned the katana to its sheath.
The instant the tsuba rang — kachin — the katana in my hand seemed to get a little heavier again.
At the next haniwa, I drew and swung in one motion.
Two haniwa crumbled at once, again.
"It's back!"
It had gone back to first-strike power.
Draw, cut, sheathe. Draw, cut, sheathe.
Iai.
That exact motion I'd practiced hundreds of times at the dojo.
"If I can master this, it'll be insanely strong."
Though with no opening to sheathe it, it was just a slightly sharp katana.
But, honestly?
It was insanely fun.
Down on Floor 25, I did the second thing for the first time.
Summoning.
The Executives' volume. The Fourth Seat's page.
The pencil concept drawing showed a stooped man with half-lidded eyes and stubble. A rumpled shirt. A cigarette in one hand.
The notes were clearly fewer than on the other Executives' pages.
"No motivation"
"But strong"
"Always asleep"
"(Too much of a pain to write any more)"
"Even the me of back then went full sloth, huh."
Only the Fourth Seat's page had notes that stopped partway through. Pulled in by the character — or just plain bored.
Leonhart Acedia Immorta.
In the world the King was going to destroy, the only one who didn't resist — he just sprawled out where he was and yawned. And at the one moment the King truly moved to end it, he came to stop him, on the grounds that "I wouldn't get my naps anymore."
Wilhelm had said he'd sleep through the first hour after being called.
And then, the ironing.
"Let's call him."
The instant I decided, words surfaced in my head.
The same as Vira and Wilhelm: five lines.
The Fourth Seat's page had only three lines of notes, but the chant came properly in five.
I stood in the middle of the stone chamber and held out my right hand.
"—One corner of the Seven Sins, he who is crowned in Sloth."
A line of light ran across the stone floor.
"—Call it sin, if you must. That Sloth is but a calm that lies still only to fill."
The lines drew circles. One ring. Two. Three.
"—It fills until it cannot move, and the more it fills, the heavier it grows. That Sloth is the unmoving tyranny itself."
Into the magic circle, a hazy orange light brimmed, like dusk.
"—Tehom Rabbah, Fourth Seat."
"—Come forth, 'Slothful and Immovable'! Here at my side...... stay."
Only the last line had come out strangely offhand.
Even the chant was slacking off.
The magic circle burst.
When the light settled, there was a man asleep on the floor of the stone chamber.
On his side.
Propped on one elbow, head resting in his palm.
"You're kidding me."
It was the exact posture of someone who'd dozed off in front of the TV on a Sunday afternoon.
Stubble. A rumpled — but, on a closer look, oddly crisply pressed — shirt. Eyes closed.
Suu, suuu — I could hear his sleeping breath.
"He's actually asleep."
Just like Wilhelm had said.
I crouched down and peered at his face.
He was handsome.
Deep-set eyes. A straight, clean nose. The stubble read less as sloppy and more as somehow rugged. He was only lying there asleep, and it still looked like a scene from a movie.
I remembered.
The me of back then had written something small in the margin of the Fourth Seat's concept art.
"A mess, but a good face (hot older guy)"
For all that the notes stopped at three lines, that one part he'd written properly.
"The iro—"
Remembering I'd been told to keep it a secret, I shut my mouth.
I'd been told I could leave him sleeping and keep diving, too.
"Well then — I'll head on ahead."
I said it quietly and started to stand.
"Ehhh, you're leaving?"
The man who should have been asleep had one eye open.
"You're awake?!"
"Nah, I was asleep. Totally asleep, but y'know."
Still sprawled on the floor, the man grinned lazily.
"I was looking forward to getting called SO much — my eyes just woke right up."
You were supposed to sleep a whole hour, though.
"Yo. You made it, King."
A hand flapped at me in a lazy wave.
"Leonhart. Fourth Seat. Bit of a mouthful, right? Leon's fine."
"Ah — I'm Ichinose Saku."
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
"Right. Of course."
Just then, the stone door behind us opened with a gogogo.
Four haniwa came pouring in from the next floor.
"—!"
I readied One Life, One Strike.
The haniwa weren't coming for me, though. They headed straight for Leon on the floor.
"Leon!"
The sword haniwa swung its blade down at Leon's head.
Gakin — a hard clang, and the sword bounced off.
"That's hard!"
"Ah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Don't mind your uncle here."
Leon yawned, carefree.
The spear haniwa thrust at his chest. Bounced off.
The shield haniwa rammed him. Bounced off.
Still propped on one elbow, Leon didn't twitch so much as a hair.
While slothful — invincible.
That's what I'd written in the Executives' volume.
"You really ARE invincible!"
"See? Saku, sorry, but I'll leave that side to you."
I'd been asked.
I hurriedly cut into the haniwa.
First strike cut down two at once. Second and third strokes took the last two.
The chamber went quiet.
"Ooh, nice, nice."
Pachi-pachi — I could hear applause.
Even the applause came from flat on his back.
Leon finally raised himself up and sat cross-legged.
He took a cigarette from his chest pocket and put it between his lips.
He went to light it — and the hand holding the lighter stopped.
Looking at my face.
"Whoops. Kid present."
Without ceremony, he slipped the unlit cigarette back into his pocket.
"Eh? You're not smoking?"
"If I smoked, gramps would chew me out, y'know."
Wilhelm — were you really that scary?
What was this feeling.
This guy was probably a good person.
"So — what should I call you, King?"
"Eh?"
"Vira goes with 'Saku-sama,' right? Gramps too. Me, I've never been any good with stiff stuff like '-sama.' 'Saku' work for you?"
"Saku. Definitely — please, Saku!"
The answer came out instantly.
For the first time, someone was calling me without the '-sama.'
"You're a strange one. A king who's that happy about going without honorifics."
"I'm not a king right now."
"Right, right."
Leon laughed, looking delighted.
"So, Saku. How far today?"
"I want to get to Floor 30."
"Ehhh, that's far."
"It's five floors."
"Far, I said. ...Hey — more importantly."
Leon patted the floor beside him, pon-pon.
"Wanna lie down a little? It's summer break, y'know. Let's be sloooooth."
"I will not."
"Ehhh."
"It's the first day of summer break. Obviously I'm diving."
"Young, huh."
Leon stood up, slowly. Standing alone took him about ten seconds.
Still stooped, hands in his pockets, he came trailing after me at a snail's pace.
Floor 26. Floor 27.
Every time we entered a chamber, Leon either leaned against the wall or flopped down on the floor.
Haniwa slashed at him. Bounced off. And once they bounced off, he didn't get up.
"Leon, you're supposed to fight too, you know."
"I am fighting, I am. Slacking off is your uncle's way of fighting."
"There's NO way that's true!"
Floor 28.
Five haniwa attacked.
Three with a draw-stroke. Sheathe, draw again, the last two.
I sheathed the katana and reached for the next chamber's door right away.
"Hey, Sakuuu."
A lazy voice from behind me.
"Keep yourself wound up like that, you'll wear yourself out."
"I'm not wound up. This is fun."
"Well, if it's fun, that's fine."
Leon narrowed his eyes, still leaning on the wall.
"That's a fine katana, that."
"Eh— th-thank you."
"Only the drawn stroke is absurdly strong. Just like your uncle."
"Just like you?"
"You build it up, then end it in one. Swinging it over and over wears you out, right?"
With that, Leon closed his eyes again.
Somehow, it felt like I'd just been told something really cool.
Floor 30.
Beyond the stone door was the widest chamber yet.
At the far end stood a stepped stone altar.
At its very top, it sat.
The king of the haniwa.
A giant haniwa wearing a crown. Around it, haniwa soldiers with spears stood lined up — more than ten.
Haniwa Ookimi Difficulty: C (layer boss)
"The haniwa king."
"Oh dear. Somebody else put the crown on, King."
Leon said it from behind me, carefree as anything.
The haniwa king atop the altar slowly raised its hand.
The soldier haniwa all began moving toward us at once.
More than ten.
"That's a lot, come on!"
I readied One Life, One Strike.
How many could a draw-stroke take? Three? Four? Then sheathe, and one more.
Could I make it?
The soldier haniwa charged, spears leveled.
I stepped in.
A draw-stroke.
Four, cut down at once.
I tried to sheathe it.
In that opening, a spear came thrusting. I couldn't finish the sheathe and batted it aside with the katana. Second stroke: one. Third stroke: one.
No time to sheathe.
Six left. Spears coming from all four directions.
I batted one aside with the katana. Twisted my body clear of another.
The third grazed my side.
"—gh, OW!"
My clothes split, and a hot line burned across my skin.
The fourth, at my shoulder.
Right — I wasn't wearing armor.
I'd never needed it until now.
F-rank, E-rank, D-rank — I'd won almost without ever taking an attack. Even Toda's deepest floor, I'd gone in normal clothes. I'd thought that even after hitting C-rank, even inside C-rank dungeons, I could keep going just like this. Just don't get hit. Cut them down before they can hit you.
But.
An unexpected blow was heavy.
A graze — just a graze — from a spear I thought I'd dodged, and my side burned like it was on fire. My shoulder throbbed numb, and the hand gripping the katana could barely hold its strength.
C-rank. Floor 30. The layer boss.
This was already that kind of place.
"This is bad."
The instant I tried to reset my stance—
From behind my back, I heard a yawn.
"Fwaaah."
I turned.
Leon was slowly standing up at the entrance of the chamber.
The man who, for five whole floors, had done nothing but lie around and lean on walls.
"Sakuuu."
"Y-yes?"
"Could you get down for me a sec?"
I ducked on reflex.
Leon took one step forward.
He brought his right hand out of his pocket.
That was all.
He lightly waved his right hand, sideways.
The air in the stone chamber sank — zushin.
The sound vanished.
The next instant, something passed over my ducked head.
An invisible something. Unbelievably heavy.
The six remaining soldier haniwa shattered, all together.
And behind them, the haniwa king on the altar.
Crown and all.
The altar and all.
The old patterns on the far wall and all.
Everything crumbled without a sound.
Still crouched, I couldn't lift my face.
Dust hung thick through the chamber.
"Pwah."
At last, I could breathe.
I turned around. Leon already had his right hand back in his pocket.
"All done?"
"D-done."
"There we go. Glad to hear it."
Leon yawned big.
"Whew — it'd all built up, see. I'd been slacking off aaaall day today."
"The slacking off was FOR that?!"
"Who knowwws."
He was grinning, lazy and lopsided.
"Ending it in one is just easier, right?"
At the back of Floor 30, stone stairs leading up had appeared.
The wounds on my side and shoulder throbbed on and on. The bleeding had mostly stopped.
Leon saw it, and stopped smiling.
"Saku."
"Yes."
"Wear your armor."
"Eh?"
"Even if it's a pain. Vira and gramps probably can't bring themselves to say it. Because you're the King, Saku."
Leon scratched his head.
"Your uncle will say it. Holding back is a pain too. Just wear some armor, 'kay? Your uncle won't be able to take his nap if he's worried."
"Yes. I'll wear it."
I nodded.
Nodded — though honestly, a small part of me pushed back.
Armor.
Looked heavy. Looked like it'd get in the way. Looked expensive. And more than anything — I'd come this far without it.
But my side hurt.
"Hahh—"
A small sigh slipped out.
"Leon."
"Hmm?"
"Thank you for today."
"Ehhh, your uncle just slept."
"One time. You saved me big, one time."
"One time. One time's plenty, right?"
Leon flopped down onto the floor of the chamber.
A magic circle rose at his feet.
"Next time you call me, I'll probably be asleep then too."
"I know."
"So next time, you're napping with me too."
"I will not."
"Ehhh."
Still grinning lazily, Leon closed his eyes.
The light slowly wrapped around Leon's body.
To the very end, he vanished lying down.
Rumpled — and crisply ironed — shirt and all.
On the train home, pressing a hand against the wound on my side, I opened my phone.
Armor.
I really should buy it, huh.
I had no idea what I should buy. A chest guard? Gauntlets? Full plate? Heavy, and it hampers your movement. Light, and it won't protect you.
Should I ask someone?
Big sis? Mom? Or—
Then the channel screen caught my eye.
300,000 subscribers.
The comments were always full of explorers.
"Maybe I'll ask on the stream."
I murmured it, and smiled a little.
Summer break had only just begun.