ch21-ch40 · 029-inter4

Interlude: The Man Named Yoshida

The car carrying Hiyori and Mio.

At the wheel was Hiyori's attendant, Yoshida.

Yoshida was a man born into a branch family of the Ichijō clan.

Over twenty years ago. Back then, in his twenties, he'd lost his right hand and his left eye in a battle against a pack of ogres.

He'd originally had combat experience and could fight one-on-one just fine against demons or evil spirits. So he'd grown complacent and underestimated his demon opponents.

He'd completely lost sight of the fact that this wasn't a street brawl or a match in a ring — it was a life-or-death battle against phantoms and fiends.

The result was the loss of his right hand and left eye.

If he'd fought as an adventurer in Shinjuku Tower back then, he might have been able to increase his magical power. Or if he'd gained experience fighting monsters, things might have turned out differently.

But in those days, exorcists still hadn't realized the usefulness of Shinjuku Tower.

It was thought that fighting monsters in Shinjuku Tower was the same as fighting demons or evil spirits on some street corner.

It was only after Yoshida became unable to fight that they realized the value of Shinjuku Tower.

Then, a few years passed.

Yoshida had spiraled into depression because of his severe injuries.

He'd been tormented by the regret that while the people who should have been fighting on the front lines were gradually being whittled down, he — who should have been among them — could no longer fight.

This was back when prosthetic hands weren't as sophisticated as they were in the modern day.

He cursed his missing left eye, but more than anything, he cursed his missing right hand. And he rotted away.

He'd scream at everyone around him, sob in frustration at his own inadequacy.

Days like that continued.

Then, in the midst of all that, Ichijō Hiyori was born.

A girl fated from birth to fight as an exorcist.

The shock Yoshida felt when he saw her as an infant — he would surely never forget it for the rest of his life.

Hiyori's mother made Yoshida — the man who'd lost his right hand — hold Hiyori.

He wanted to shout, "Don't make a violent cripple like me hold a baby!" but he couldn't yell in front of an infant.

He hadn't sunk so low as to roar in front of a newborn angel.

Hurriedly, he supported Hiyori's head with his left hand and balanced her with his right prosthetic.

He'd never held a baby before.

He cradled her in his left arm as if wrapping a fragile treasure.

She was warm. An angel wrapped in the scent of milk.

And then — while holding her and gazing at the angel —

Out of nowhere, the infant Hiyori's hand grabbed his right arm.

"Oh my. Hiyori, it seems you've taken a liking to Yoshida."

Tears came to his eyes.

What was he doing, rotting away just because he'd lost his right hand, just because he'd lost his left eye?

Was he going to stay rotten in front of this pure, innocent angel?

From that day on, Yoshida turned his life around.

When Hiyori became an exorcist, he asked her parents to let him be her attendant.

If she was fated to fight on the front lines as an exorcist, then he would devote himself to ensuring she could fight at her best. For that purpose, he resolved to "stake his life."

Hiyori had now become a prodigy, the center of attention among the next generation of exorcists.

In terms of combat ability alone, she'd become a sword princess surpassing exorcists older than her.

And so she remained to this day.

Today, for the first time, he'd seen Sai in person.

The man Hiyori and Mio revered as their teacher.

A man the Ichijō family had investigated — missing for thirty years, claimed to have "been overseas" — a suspicious individual with no travel history or records, possibly a fabricated report.

But his ability was genuine.

From what he'd seen on Tower Tube footage, he looked a bit younger than Yoshida.

He'd seen Sai's solo fights on streams many times.

Despite being over forty, the way he fought alone was electrifying.

A feeling that mixed envy and regret.

As someone from a naturally violent family, the decline of his own body was something he knew better than anyone.

The reason Sai could move like that at that age was the result of accumulated effort.

He envied Sai's ability to keep building on that effort.

He regretted his own inability to keep striving.

In the back seat of the car Yoshida was driving, his master Hiyori and her partner Mio sat.

They were chattering away as they looked at the men's accessories they'd borrowed as armor.

Honestly, his first reaction was a shock.

They'd been talking about armor, so why were accessories coming out?

But Yoshida, though unable to fight on the front lines, was still an exorcist.

His spiritual sensitivity was several times stronger than the average person's.

And that sensitivity told him those accessories were incredible pieces of equipment.

From their conversation, he gathered that those accessories carried arrow-deflecting enchantments, magical defense, resistances, and the like.

Japan also had equipment with such effects.

Artifacts passed down from ancient times, whose methods of creation had been lost in the modern era. If you wanted to find new ones now, the only way was to find them in Shinjuku Tower. And even in Shinjuku Tower, accessories-type equipment rarely appeared below floor ten, he'd heard.

The low probability of finding items with the desired performance went without saying.

And yet, this man could casually lend such items to his disciples.

What kind of background did this man named Sai have?

Hiyori hadn't told him.

But it was clear he was an incredibly capable individual.

"...Maybe I should get taught by him too."

The thought slipped out.

The slogan of the exorcist industry these days was "get stronger."

Currently, the situation forced young exorcists to fight on the front lines, and men of Yoshida's generation felt a deep pang of remorse.

If only they could fight just a little more.

Maybe they could change the situation where the burden fell so heavily on the younger generation like Hiyori.

Those feelings had leaked out in that careless remark.

"Hm, what's up, Yoshida-san?"

"It's nothing, young miss."

Hiyori called out to Yoshida from the back seat.

Yoshida hurriedly covered it up.

"I don't really get it, but I'd be happy if you focused on supporting me, Yoshida-san."

Hiyori said that, unprompted.

"That's right. If you weren't here, Yoshida-san, when Hiyori does something stupid, I'd have to stop her all by myself."

Mio said something similar too.

They'd clearly heard his muttering and noticed his true intentions.

But even so, they continued their cheerful conversation.

"I don't run wild that much!"

"The secret cake-binge attempt... and that time after a midnight demon hunt when you tried to charge into a heavy-bowl ramen shop of all places..."

"Waaah! That's fine, isn't it! You get hungry after fighting!"

"That day, I was so grateful Yoshida-san was there with me..."

"Yes, I was merely doing what any attendant should."

"You're so mean, Yoshida-san too!"

"Fufufu."

"Ugh, you're both so mean!"

His thoughts were not of himself.

Tonight, they would fight a mid-rank demon — one stronger than any they'd faced before.

If he thought of the girls about to enter a life-or-death struggle, he wanted at least to preserve this peaceful atmosphere.

His role as an attendant was to support them.

To do everything he could to ensure they could fight at their best.

And to pray.

That they would not be injured. That they would grow up healthy and strong.

Yoshida prayed.

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Thank you for reading.