chapter01 · 005-ep5

Episode 5: "Genbu's Mockery"

Genbu headquarters, top floor, the grand conference room. The monthly executive meeting had run twenty minutes over schedule and was entering its final agenda item.

The item's name sat in small print at the bottom of the papers. —"On the Personal Stream 'Shin-san's Beginner Dungeon Course.'"

"...Based on the foregoing analysis, the research team has determined that the streamer 'Shin' is Hiiragi Shinichi himself, formerly this clan's exclusive personal coach. Voiceprint match rate: 99.7 percent. There is no margin for error."

When the research team director finished his report, an indescribable silence fell over the dozen-plus executives around the long table.

Ten days ago, that man had been in this same building. Return a greeting and he'd nod back; you'd spot him treating new hires to canned coffee at the hallway vending machines—that unremarkable middle-aged man. And now, from outside the industry, he was rewriting twenty years of the strategy wiki's established doctrine.

The first to speak was Nagumo of the strategic planning department. A young hand in his thirties, known for his sharp eye for numbers.

"Chairman. I recommend a partnership."

Togakushi Gen sat motionless at the head seat, eyes closed. Nagumo pressed on regardless.

"The course's channel subscriptions reached twenty thousand as of noon today. Its growth rate is the highest ever recorded for an industry stream. With the wiki revision, the support of mid-rank and lower explorers has all but solidified. Fortunately, the public still doesn't know who 'Shin' is. If we're to bring him back into the fold—announcing him as a former Genbu coach—now is the only moment. Before another clan reaches him—"

"Nagumo-kun."

The chairman didn't open his eyes.

"What do you take the Genbu name to be?"

It was a low voice.

"That man is a parasite who fed on the talent of Rei and the others. All five S-ranks ran off on him, and with nowhere to go, he's lecturing at amateurs. ...You want to line a B-rank has-been's kill-time hobby up beside the name we spent twenty years polishing? So much as mentioning him lowers Genbu's standing."

"But Chairman, the numbers—"

"If you want to talk numbers," Togakushi opened his eyes for the first time, "ninety percent of our revenue is equipment supply to the upper ranks and deep-layer interests. Gather millions of beginners; it earns us not one yen. Don't waste this meeting's time on an amateurs' festival. —Next item."

The agenda item ended there.

Just before adjournment, the PR chief timidly raised his hand. Inquiries from the press and partner companies about the course's relationship with Genbu were on the rise. And, in a very small corner of things, the observation that the voice resembled the former personal coach had started popping up.

Togakushi said it while pulling on his jacket.

"Just put out 'no connection.' The amateurs' festival will be over within a month."

◇

That evening, Clan Genbu posted a statement on its official website.

"Regarding the personal stream 'Shin-san's Beginner Dungeon Course,' a topic of recent discussion on social media, we have received numerous inquiries concerning its relationship with this clan. The stream in question has no connection whatsoever to this clan's training methodology. This clan operates a scientific, systematic training program developed in cooperation with specialized institutions, and we do not recommend the practice of theories based on personal rules of thumb that have not undergone verification. We ask all explorers to please exercise care regarding the sources of your information."

The one who wrote it was the PR staffer in charge of drafting, and there wasn't much malice in it. All he'd done was pad the chairman's "just put out 'no connection'" out to a length that preserved the company's dignity.

The public, however, did not read it that way.

【Nobody even asked whether Genbu was involved, though?】

【My grandma used to say: denying something nobody asked about is a confirmation】

【"Personal rules of thumb that have not undergone verification" ← It was just verified against the Association's accident database and the wiki got rewritten, though】

【Struck a nerve lol】

【Isn't Genbu's rookie training program three million yen just to enroll? Shin's course is free. Which source should we be mindful of, I wonder】

That night, a roundup went up on the anonymous board's verification thread—"[Bad News] Industry's Biggest Giant Issues an Official Statement About Some Unknown Old Guy's Stream"—and the full text of the statement got picked apart line by line. The moment a giant clan acknowledged a personal stream by name—strictly speaking, only to call it "unrelated"—the stream's fame entered a different stage overnight.

The course's channel subscribers went from twenty thousand to thirty-eight thousand within twenty-four hours of the statement.

The PR staffer watched the ever-growing notifications of quotes with a pale face; Nagumo tilted his head back at his desk—told you so; Togakushi Gen let every report that day wash past his ears.

The amateurs' festival will be over within a month. —That was how it was supposed to go.

◇

As for me, that day was another peaceful one.

Cooked rice, flipped through notebooks, prepped for the night's stream. A perfectly wholesome unemployed life, day ten.

The only unpeaceful thing, as ever, was the numbers. Subscriber growth had jumped another gear since yesterday, and when I looked into it, up came a news article with an all-too-familiar name.

"Clan Genbu Declares No Connection to Trending 'Shin Course'"

"...No connection."

I took a sip of tea and nodded.

"Yep. No connection."

It's the truth. Everything I talk about in the course comes from my notebooks. Including the ones I wrote while at Genbu, those notebooks are my personal property, my twenty years—not anyone's office supplies. If that's what they want to say, then I have no complaints whatsoever.

"Being a giant is rough, huh."

I left it at that detached observation and closed the article. It really was someone else's problem. Prepping for tonight's stream mattered far more.

On my desk lay open this morning's "homework report" from Hina-chan.

For the past few days, I'd been assigning her homework. Record her dives into the second layer and post the links in the archives' comment sections. Confirm each fundamental from the course, one at a time, inside real combat. Her reports arrived every day in meticulous bullet points.

I'd watched the latest recording three times since morning.

"...Yeah."

The toes were already habit. No hesitation in her retreats. Potion at the hip opposite her dominant hand, toward the front. Her gaze never once dropped to the ground. She handled two ash hounds leaping at her simultaneously with nothing but a half step and the angle of her sword, then disengaged without overextending.

Nothing showy at all. Her skills and magic stayed as ordinary as ever. It's just that the girl on screen had become—"someone who doesn't fall no matter what happens."

It wasn't E-rank movement. It wasn't D-rank movement anymore, either.

That's what twenty years of watching how people move was telling me. By rank, this was—

◇

That night, lesson ten of the stream began with a viewer count of 【4,000】.

"Good evening, this is Shin. A lot of you seem to be new, so—here's the usual: this is a course for beginners. No flashy techniques. No talk about the strongest gear. It's dull. Probably shockingly dull."

【We knew】

【Came from Genbu's statement】

【They said officially there's no connection, so I came. If there's no connection, coming is my only option】

【That logic is broken】

"Today I'm changing the plan. First, we'll look at a student's homework report. I have her permission. —Hina-chan, you there?"

【Y-yes! I'm here!】

I put her dive recording on screen and spent about ten minutes doing my usual commentary. What had improved. Which fundamental had protected her life in which moment. Partway through, the comment section started acting strange.

【Wait wait wait. Why is this girl strolling through the second layer like it's a walk in the park】

【Isn't this the girl who got rolled out of her exam in forty seconds a month ago?】

【Her movement didn't get flashier. The dangerous moments are just gone entirely. What is this】

【This isn't E-rank stability...】

Yes—exactly that. Everyone was seeing it correctly. A fine comment section.

"—So, Hina-chan. There's something I'd like to talk over with you."

I stopped the recording and said it in my usual tone.

"How about taking next week's C-rank promotion exam? Skip-level."

The comment section froze for one second, then exploded.

【!?】

【C!? Not D!?】

【There's a skip-level system?】

【Wait, E to C means skipping over D entirely!?】

【B-but Sensei, I failed the D-rank exam four times...!】

"Yes, I know. I watched all four of those recordings too. —There was only ever one reason you failed, and it's not in you anymore. At your current level of fundamental stability, my assessment is that you're past the C-rank passing bar. A D-rank exam has nothing left to measure you with."

【Did he just casually say something insane?】

【This guy's "assessment" does have a track record of rewriting a wiki, you know...】

"The Association's rules include a provision: with a certified coach's recommendation, you can sit a skip-level exam. My coaching certification is still alive. The contract with the clan is severed, but the certification belongs to the individual. ...However—one thing. Skip-level examinations, unlike the standard exams, are held in public. People will be watching. If that frightens you, you're free to refuse."

Amid the flood in the comment section, Hina's reply arrived a beat late.

【I'll do it】

【A place where Sensei is watching is far less scary than the place where I failed four times】

"...I see. Then it's settled."

I wrote her name and the exam date on a fresh page of the notebook. The days before a student's exam never fail to sit a little uneasily, no matter how many times you go through it. Apparently that doesn't change even for the sixth.

—Now, at this moment, there was one thing that neither I, nor Hina-chan, nor a single one of the carried-away viewers had checked.

In the Explorer Association's official records, the number of people who have passed a skip-level exam from E-rank straight to C-rank, from the system's inception to today, is exactly one.

Eight years ago. Seventeen years old. Leaving behind, in the recommender field, a single line—"recommendation by an individual certified coach"—a swordsman destined to be called humanity's strongest: Rei Kenjo. Him, and him alone.

The world was still a little ways off from learning what that record meant.