chapter02 · 068-ep60
Episode 60: The Armor Consultation
The wounds on my side and shoulder closed up in three days.
Three days, for wounds from a C-rank haniwa's spear. Apparently a body in the Lv 160s heals fast, too.
But this wasn't a case of "healed, so all's well."
Leon's voice had stayed stuck in my head, this whole time.
Wear your armor. Even if it's a pain.
I knew that. And yet I was still dragging my feet.
"Hmmmm."
I'd been like this for three days straight.
I didn't know what I should buy, and I couldn't make up my mind.
In that case — better to just ask somebody, and let them give me the push.
First, I asked the strongest person in the house.
"Big sis, what do you wear for armor?"
Big sis, who'd been drinking barley tea in the living room, set down her glass.
"Gauntlets."
"Just that?"
"And... a chest guard. A thin one."
"Eh? But you're S-rank?"
"I hate heavy ones."
No help at all.
Asking "What should I do about armor?" to a woman who dives S-rank depths in nothing but a thin chest guard and gauntlets — that was the mistake.
"So the idea is just... don't get hit?"
"Mm."
"I got hit doing exactly that, though."
Big sis's brow furrowed, just slightly.
"......You should wear it, Saku."
"You don't, though."
"I don't get hit."
Smug face.
Not fair.
Next, I asked Mom, who was in the kitchen.
"Mom, back when you were active, what did you use for armor?"
"Armor?"
Mom, still beaming, didn't stop the hand working the kitchen knife.
"Only light things. A chest guard, gauntlets, and greaves. Heavy things slow you down."
"Mom's a light-gear person too..."
"As long as you don't get hit, you're fine."
"That's exactly what big sis said!"
"Oh my. Did Rinka say that too?"
Mom smiled, looking delighted.
This house had literally nobody on it who didn't just assume they wouldn't get hit.
And I was the one who got hit.
"Haaah..."
What I needed now was the opinion of someone who actually fought in armor.
A place with lots of those people.
I opened the channel screen on my phone.
"All right — today, I'd like to talk about armor."
Wednesday noon. Floor 3 of the Shidami dungeon.
I bowed to the drone's camera.
I went with this title.
『Dungeon Strolls: I Have No Idea What Armor to Get』
Five minutes into the stream, concurrent viewers had passed 30,000.
『Armor?』
『Wait, you've had NO armor this whole time?!』
『No way.』
『C-rank and no armor lol』
『So even Toda's deepest floor was armor-less?』
"That's right. Clothes. Just normal clothes."
『That's insane.』
『Loungewear at the deepest floor.』
『So he was just brute-forcing it on stats?』
『No, that's straight-up dangerous.』
『Your mom's gonna cry.』
"My mom's a former explorer, so I don't think she'll cry."
『Your MOM is a former explorer?!』
『It runs in the family!』
The instant I said it, I thought: whoops.
Well — fine, probably. Everyone already knew big sis was S-rank.
"The other day, on Floor 30 of a C-rank dungeon, I got a little hurt. My side, and my shoulder. So then I got told to actually wear armor."
『By who』
『Big sis?』
"S-somebody I know."
Couldn't exactly say 'Leon.'
『Somebody he knows (S-rank)』
『That's big sis, 100%.』
"And I have absolutely no idea what I should be buying."
Today's weapon was Durandal.
It alternated day by day with One Life, One Strike. Today was sword day.
I recited the three-line chant and called out the silver-white, double-edged sword.
A hefty weight settled into my palm. No curve — a straight, double-edged blade. The drone's light caught the white steel, just a little dazzling.
The comments filled up with "A new sword" and "That's not a katana," but I didn't explain the name.
『Wait, hasn't the chant gotten longer?』
『That was three lines.』
『You said it without stumbling. Good job.』
Somehow, that wasn't quite the compliment I was looking for.
I read through the comments while cutting down the haniwa that spawned.
『First — what's your combat style?』
『Vanguard? Skirmisher?』
"Um — vanguard. I mostly dive alone, so basically I cut everything down myself."
『Solo vanguard, huh.』
『Then light gear is the only answer.』
『No, solo vanguard is exactly when you go heavy.』
『You can't move if it's heavy.』
『C-rank deep floors — minimum, a chest guard.』
The comment section turned into a debate, all at once.
The light-gear faction, and the heavy-gear faction.
Just then, from deeper in the passage, came the gravelly scrape of earthen feet — zari.
"Ah — one moment, please. Here they come."
Two haniwa. The one in front had raised a thick earthen shield like a turtle's shell. Peering over its shoulder: the spearhead of the second.
『A shield one.』
『Here comes the heavy.』
『That's a heavy-faction shill.』
The shield haniwa crept forward, shield pushed out ahead, inch by inch.
From behind the shield, the spear came.
A straight thrust slipping right along the shield's rim. I caught it on the flat of the blade. Kaan — a high clang, and the earthen spearhead slid away down the white blade.
Heavier than a katana. The feedback of the block stayed heavy in my wrist.
Second thrust. This time, at my face.
I tilted my head out of the line. The spearhead whisked past just beside my ear. The side that had only just closed up gave a little twinge.
『Close, too close!』
『ARMOR!』
『See? Wear the armor.』
I know, I know.
Before the third thrust could come, I stepped forward.
The thick shield filled my view. The Floor 4 gatekeeper's shield had knocked me back head-on twice — with Nameless.
So today, I was going head-on.
I brought the sword down from straight overhead.
For one instant, the feedback was hard. Then — gone.
The white blade had entered through the top rim of the shield and exited the bottom. The shield dropped to the floor split in two, and one clean line ran on through the torso of the haniwa behind it.
The shield haniwa crumbled.
Beyond it, the spear haniwa was drawing back its tip to reset its stance.
Too slow.
I stepped in and swept sideways. The blade went through the torso, spear haft and all.
Two haniwa's worth of earth slumped to the floor.
I lifted the sword and held it up to the drone's light.
Not a single chip in the edge. I'd split a shield lengthwise, and there wasn't even dust on the blade. The silver-white steel simply threw the light back, gleaming.
One more easy swing. Even the whoosh of it cutting the air was different from a katana.
This sword feels great.
『Cut through the shield and all』
『Eh, aren't there zero chips on that?』
『The white sword is nuts.』
『Heavy faction, you breathing?』
『No, we're talking about armor.』
I burst out laughing before I could help it.
『He's a speed type — put him in heavy gear and his whole style dies.』
『But he did actually get hurt, though.』
『Even just gauntlets and greaves make a huge difference.』
『Chest guard is non-negotiable. Protect the organs.』
『What material's best?』
『For C-rank: magic iron or dragon leather.』
『Dragon leather's expensive.』
『A C-rank can afford it.』
『On this kid's income? Easily.』
"Magic iron, and dragon leather?"
I'd heard of those. Armor made from materials taken from the dungeon depths. Lighter and harder than ordinary iron — we'd covered that in class, too.
『Magic iron is hard, but heavy.』
『Dragon leather is light and supple. But pricey.』
『Solo vanguard going for mobility — dragon leather, full stop.』
Just then, one comment came through that stood out from all the rest.
Beside its name was a Guild verification mark. A genuine explorer's account.
『A-rank shield specialist here. Fifteen years at it. If you're a solo vanguard who moves fast: chest guard, gauntlets, greaves — all three in dragon leather. For the joints, articulated pieces of layered thin magic-iron plate, so they don't kill your movement. And — your neck. Protect the neck, absolutely. Armor is what gets you home alive.』
The comments went quiet, just for a moment.
Then—
『An A-rank showed up』
『The pros have spoken』
『There's the right answer』
『The neck matters』
The neck.
I had never once thought about it.
"Thank you very much! I'll protect my neck!"
I bowed to the camera.
Right away, another comment came from that same A-rank.
『Good answer. Good luck out there.』
『Where do you buy it?』
『Custom-made?』
『Off-the-rack is fine — hurry up and put something on.』
"So where should I buy it? Around Nagoya, I mean."
『Osu』
『Osu's explorer street, nothing else.』
『There's that old shop in Osu.』
『Iron and Leather』
『The old man there really knows his craft』
『Stubborn as heck, though』
Osu.
The place I'd gone to buy the drone. I seemed to remember a street a little way back from the electronics district, lined with equipment shops for explorers.
"Osu, then. I'll go take a look."
『Go get it done.』
『Report back.』
『Protect that neck.』
『Neck.』
『Neck.』
The comments filled up with "Neck."
Everyone's so kind.
My chest went just a little warm.
When I got home after ending the stream, Mom was folding laundry in the living room.
"Mom."
"Welcome back. I watched your stream."
"You watched it?!"
"I did. So that was you — diving to the deepest floor with no armor."
She was beaming.
Beaming, and yet somehow just a little terrifying.
"I-I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize. You got hurt, didn't you? If you noticed it yourself, that's what matters."
Mom said it without stopping her folding.
"Osu's Iron and Leather. You're going?"
"Yeah."
"I wonder if that old man is still at it."
"You know him?"
"That shop's been there since Mom's explorer days."
Beaming, Mom stacked the folded towels.
"When you go, try saying — 'I'm Mizuho's son.'"
"In your name?"
"Mm. I expect that'll do it."
Mom giggled.
What was Mom doing, back in her explorer days?
Osu's explorer street.
Past the bustle of the electronics district, one narrow alley in, stood the shop.
An old wooden sign bearing just two words: Iron and Leather. Behind the glass door, armor, gauntlets, and chest guards stood in a long row.
I opened the door, and a bell rang — karan.
"......Welcome."
A rasping voice from the back.
Beyond the workbench sat a white-haired old man. Thick arms. A leather apron. His hands were sewing some kind of leather.
Without even raising his face, the old man said:
"If you're just poking around, go home."
"Ah — no, I've come to buy armor."
"......A brat, huh."
The old man finally lifted his face.
Sharp eyes. He looked me over, head to toe.
"......Dungeon Strolls, eh."
"Eh? You know it?"
"My grandkid watches it."
The old man gave a little hn through his nose.
"You're the idiot who dove the deepest floor with no armor. My grandkid was cracking up, watching the stream."
"Yes. That idiot is me."
"......"
The old man's eyes narrowed, just a bit.
"......So. What do you want."
"Um — a chest guard, gauntlets, and greaves. Dragon leather. Articulated joints, with layered thin magic-iron plate. And something that'll protect my neck."
"......Who'd you hear that from?"
"On my stream. An A-rank shield specialist."
"......So there's somebody with his head on straight out there."
The old man stood up.
He was taller than I'd expected.
"Ah — and, my mom told me to say: 'I'm Mizuho's son.'"
The old man's hands stopped.
"......Mizuho."
"Yes."
"......That Mizuho."
"Eh? You know my mom?"
"......'Know her'? There's no 'know' about it."
The old man went silent for a while.
Then he laughed, low.
"Twenty years ago, she was the woman who brought me this shop's most expensive armor, wrecked worse than anything before or since. No telling how many times I repaired it."
"My mom?"
"So you're that woman's son. ......No wonder you charge the deepest floor with no armor."
The old man pulled a thick notebook off the shelf in back.
Handwritten on the cover: Measurements.
"Take it off. Just the top's fine. I'm measuring."
"Eh? It's made to order?"
"Obviously. Who in their right mind gets dragon-leather armor off the rack?"
"So, about how much would—"
"Three million yen."
"Th-three mill—"
"If you can't pay, go home."
"I can pay!"
The answer came instantly.
The old man smiled, just a little, again.
"......Two weeks, and it's finished. Until then, no deep dives."
"Yes."
"Quick on the answers — that'd be your mother in you, huh."
With that, the old man retreated into the back of the shop.
A while later, he came back hugging a single dust-covered wooden box, and dropped it on the workbench.
"......Until it's done, you wear these."
"Eh?"
I opened the lid of the box. Inside was armor worn long and hard.
A thin leather chest guard. A pair of gauntlets. A pair of greaves. Every piece of deep indigo leather, patched all over — stitched back up time and again, its leather replaced time and again.
On the inside of the chest guard, a small name was embroidered.
Mizuho.
"These are Mom's?"
"Twenty years ago, she said she was retiring to get married, and left them with me."
The old man picked up the chest guard and traced the patch marks with a finger.
"You never threw them out?"
"Throw them out?! ......That was the most painstaking piece of work I ever did."
Curtly, the old man pressed the chest guard against my chest.
"Size-wise — well, it should fit you about right as you are now. It's not dragon leather, but it beats any off-the-rack junk by a mile. Shallow floors, it'll protect you plenty."
"Thank you. I'll take good care of them."
"Save the thanks. ......But."
The old man's eyes went sharp.
"No deep dives. Those are a loaner. The real thing for you comes in two weeks."
"Yes."
"......And tell that woman: the shop's still open."
With that, the old man went back to his workbench.
His hands started sewing some leather again.
I hugged the indigo chest guard with both arms.
When Mom was young, she'd dove in this.
And the Mom of now — folding laundry, shaping rice balls, beaming away.
Somehow, it felt a little bit unreal.
By the time the measuring was done and I stepped out of the shop, it was already evening.
The Osu shopping streets were packed with people, summer-vacation style.
Three million yen.
For the me of now, an amount I could pay. Between cashing in from Toda and Shidami, I'd been earning plenty even since making C-rank.
But still — three million yen.
An ordinary high schooler could never, ever pay that.
Idly, I pictured how much I had left on hand.
Even after buying the armor, a good chunk would remain.
I had never once thought about what to spend it on.
On the subway home, I let my mind wander.
Drone, cloak, armor. My own gear was mostly complete.
So what about the rest?
Mom's face floated up — beaming while she folded the laundry.
Dad's face floated up — tie loosened, rushing over from work for the sports festival.
Come to think of it, my parents hardly ever went on trips.
Since making department head, Dad had been going in on Saturdays too. Mom had kept the house running this whole time. For the three of us — big sis, me, and Seina.
"Maybe I'll gift them a trip."
I murmured it.
Summer break. The two of them. Hot springs, maybe.
That might be nice.
I took out my phone and started searching hot-spring inns.
Then, all of a sudden, I remembered one more thing.
Summer break was forty days long.
Not just Nagoya's dungeons.
Tokyo. Osaka.
Dungeons I had never set foot in.
"Hehe."
I grinned.
Back and forth I went, flipping between the hot-spring inn page and the Tokyo dungeon pages.