chapter01 · 006-ep6

Episode 6: "Skip-Level"

Explorer Association Central Branch, Third Examination Hall.

A public C-rank promotion exam is normally a terribly quiet affair, apparently. A few examinees' family members in the stands, maybe some Association staff with time to kill—that was how the receptionist explained it.

"Normally, anyway."

That day, the five-hundred-seat gallery filled up within thirty minutes of the doors opening. Spectators who couldn't fit formed a standing-room line, and cameras belonging to the press and streamers stood on tripods across the front row. The Association hastily decided to broadcast the exam live on its official channel.

They'd all come to see examinee number one—or rather, she was the only examinee today.

Amaha Hina. Seventeen. E-rank. Four straight failures at the D-rank promotion exam.

【Here she is. That girl from the course】

【A full house for a skip-level exam? Gotta be a first for the Association】

【Heard she's up against Hiruta. Upper-tier C-rank】

【Oof. Of all people】

Her opponent in the mock bout was Hiruta Takeshi, an active upper-tier C-rank hired by the Association. In an interview outside the waiting room, he told the cameras:

"I won't go easy on her. Give an E-rank kid the wrong idea, and someday she dies in a dungeon. Breaking her here is a kindness, too."

Mean-spirited. But he had a point. Nobody could argue with him, so the four characters for 【public execution】 kept scrolling through the broadcast comments, at a pace somewhere between prayer and heckling.

◇

As for me, that day was unusually unpeaceful.

Cooked rice, flipped through notebooks, prepped for the night's stream. Day seventeen of my wholesome unemployed life. Except that, for the first time, I had somewhere to be. A recommender is required to attend the exam.

At the end of the section reserved for people involved in the exam, no one paid me any attention—apart from the receptionist, who'd asked twice whether I really was the recommender. Being an unremarkable middle-aged man is awfully handy at times like these.

Ten minutes before the exam, I talked to Hina-chan briefly outside the waiting room. She looked pale. Fair enough. The venue was bigger than the one where she'd failed four times, and now there were five hundred people and broadcast cameras around her.

"Sensei, my, um, hands—"

"Yeah, they're shaking. That's fine."

"I-it is!?"

"You don't have to get rid of the nerves. If you try, you'll just get distracted by that instead. Let them shake, and focus on doing one thing. —For the first thirty seconds, don't try to win. Just observe. Your opponent's human too, and there's always a first domino when a human being falls apart. Find that, and then start your exam."

"...Observe, draw him in, then take the shortest opening."

"Right. Same as the usual course. Dull stuff. Probably shockingly dull."

Hina-chan took one deep breath and finally managed a small smile.

"—But I'll stop dying, right?"

Yep. Well said.

◇

At the signal to start, Hiruta stepped forward.

Chief examiner Sakuma stood with his score sheet in hand, sighing inwardly. He'd done this job for twenty years, but this was the first time a skip-level exam had become a spectacle. And spectacles usually ended the same way. Hiruta's three-hit combination was fast. Too fast for an E-rank to handle. She'd be knocked sprawling in the first ten seconds, and that would be that—

Thirty seconds later, Sakuma lowered his score sheet and narrowed his eyes.

She wasn't on the floor.

The girl looked like she was entirely on the defensive. That's how it must have looked from the stands. In fact, she hadn't attacked once. But—she hadn't faltered in her retreat even once. Her toes turned outward, she never dropped onto her heels, and her gaze never fell. Every strike in Hiruta's fierce assault missed her by the smallest possible distance, half a step at a time.

(...Is she watching him while she dodges?)

Hina was watching.

(On the third hit of his combination, his right shoulder drops. And before he lunges—his heel lifts.)

It was a habit she recognized. Of course it was. She'd watched it in the mirror every day for four years. His center of gravity rose as he started to lunge. His upper body went first, and his eyeline wavered. —The same habit she'd had a month ago.

(Nobody ever put it into words for you, either, did they?)

For the first time, Hina moved of her own accord. Half a step to the left, like an invitation. Into the space she'd opened on the right came Hiruta's favored lunge. His heel lifted. His upper body went first. His eyeline wavered.

Her toes gripped the floor. She slipped aside by half a step. Her sword followed the same arc as her practice swings and struck the guard on Hiruta's sword arm as he lunged. Then, with a single motion on the return, it stopped in front of his throat—with barely a sheet of paper between them.

The hall fell utterly silent.

"...Match over."

Sakuma's voice dropped into the silence. Hiruta stared down at the sword tip before his throat without moving for a while. Finally, he forced out the words.

"...You drew me into that. Didn't you?"

He, the loser, understood before anyone else. Sakuma quickly filled in his score sheet, then turned to the broadcast microphone as regulations required. He'd prepared remarks for the assessment. But the first thing he said rendered the rest unnecessary.

"—No question about it. Pass."

The comment section exploded.

【OOOOOOOOHHHH】

【Untouched!? She didn't take a hit!?】

【She lured in an upper-tier C-rank and scored a clean point? What the hell】

【The course was for real...】

【I'm watching from today】

【E to C. Apparently she's only the second skip-level passer in history】

In a corner of the gallery, I spotted a petite woman crying with both hands over her mouth. Hina-chan's mother, I imagine. "If nothing comes of it by the time you graduate high school, you quit." —That promise was no longer needed after today.

I wrote a single short line in my notebook, then left my seat before anyone noticed.

【Amaha Hina — C-rank. Fundamentals complete. Next task: habits after winning.】

◇

That night's course opened at a viewer count of 【30,000】. I'd decided to stop being surprised by numbers.

"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 know】

【What part of today was dull, exactly?】

【Is this where the victory parade is?】

"And today, we have a special guest. Audio only, at her request. —Hina-chan, go ahead."

"...Y-yes!"

The voice coming through the speakers already sounded a little damp.

"Um, thank you, everyone who watched today. And, um... Sensei."

"Yes?"

"I failed four times, and my mom and the guild instructors told me I should quit. I knew myself I didn't have any talent..."

Her words caught over and over. For once, the comment section slowed down and waited.

"But you were the only one who told me there was just one reason I kept failing. I never knew that beyond something so dull as gripping the floor with my toes in a hallway—beyond something that dull—there was a view like this...! It's all thanks to you, Sensei. Thank you. Thank you so, so much...!"

I could sense her bowing on the other end. The mic brushed against cloth with a little rustle. Such a conscientious girl.

"Yeah. ...But, Hina-chan. One correction."

I said it in my usual tone.

"All I taught you was how to grip the floor with your toes in a hallway. You're the one who did it a thousand times. Today, you spotted Hiruta-san's habit, drew him in, and stopped your sword at the end. That was all you. You're the one who put in the work. —I'll take half the credit for the 'thanks to Sensei.' That's about the right share for a coach."

"...Sensei..."

【That's so sweet...】

【This teacher-student pair is unfair】

【I'm not the only one crying, right?】

【Look at the subscriber count. 101,847 now. Passed a hundred thousand in one night】

—That was when it happened.

A single gold-bordered message surfaced in the torrent of comments.

A superchat. The maximum amount this streaming site allowed. It was the first time I'd seen that color since opening the course. The accompanying message was just one phrase.

【Congratulations】

After counting the digits twice, I tried to read the sender's name aloud—and stopped.

"...Thank you. Um, how do I put this? Isn't that a bit much?"

The sender's name was a single letter.

【R】

The comment section filled with 【Who!?】. I didn't know either. I didn't—but for some reason, as I looked at that letter, I felt a strange mix of familiarity and unease.

—That the sender was at that very moment on a plane bound for Narita, crossing nine thousand kilometers of sky:

None of us knew it yet.