chapter01 · 009-ep9

Episode 9: "Business as Usual"

Morning of day two as the number one worldwide trend.

"'Uninvited Guest Episode' Ends with Concurrent Viewers Uncountable — Streaming Site Says 'Accurate Figure Difficult to Determine'"

"Rei Kenjo's 'Sensei' Remark Reported in Translation by International Media. 'SHIN-SENSEI' Crosses Borders"

"Who Is Unknown Coach 'Shin'? Industry Insiders Point Out Conflict with Clan Genbu's 'No Connection' Statement"

After looking at three headlines, I turned my terminal facedown. Same routine as yesterday. The difference was that the terminal hadn't been quiet for a moment since morning.

As for me, I cooked rice, flipped through notebooks, and prepped for the night's stream. Day twenty of my wholesome unemployed life. ...Though insisting on that was getting harder by the minute. I doubt the definition of "unemployed" usually includes "number one worldwide trend."

A characteristically dutiful message from Rei had arrived that morning.

【Sensei. Thank you for yesterday. I'll send more tea leaves when you run out.】

I replied, "You don't need to send more." He marked it read and said nothing. He was going to send them. He'd always been like that.

By noon, I'd had over sixty calls from numbers I didn't recognize. Half the voicemails were press requests for interviews. The rest were TV shows, three publishers, two foreign media outlets, requests for speaking engagements—and four offers of exclusive contracts with major clans.

I called back everyone I could, working through lunch. After twenty years in the workforce, letting voicemails pile up unsettles me more than answering them.

"—Yes, this is Shin. ...Yes, I'm grateful for the interest, but I'm declining interviews. Why? It's a beginner course, so everything I have to say, I say there. I don't keep anything back for interviews."

"—Yes. ...No, I'm not considering a book yet. If I turned my notebooks straight into one, it'd be unreadable."

Around the fourth call, just as my refusal was settling into a practiced speech, a particularly polite one came in. The caller introduced himself as head of training at the industry's second-largest clan, behind Genbu. Hearing the contract terms he offered, I couldn't help counting the digits twice. The annual salary exceeded everything I'd earned in my entire career as a B-rank explorer.

"...I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to decline."

"M-may I ask why?"

"Right now, I have my hands full coaching Hina-ch—my student."

The department head was silent for a long time before saying, "I'll get back in touch another time," and hanging up. My answer wasn't going to change another time, though.

It wasn't that I was trying to be noble. For a coach, the best part is the time you have a student. No number of digits in an annual salary can buy that. After twenty years, that's one thing I know.

◇

That night, I hit Start Streaming and the viewer count passed 【300,000】 in the first ten seconds.

"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】

【World's most famous opening spiel】

【He really started like normal the day after all that】

"Ah, and one more thing. Sorry for the commotion yesterday. Today we're doing things as usual. —Lesson twenty: 'How to tie a rope.'"

【ROPE lololol】

【The day after topping the worldwide trends, it's how to tie a rope】

【That whiplash】

【That's Sensei for you】

"More precisely, it's about how to tie one and how to untie one. Here's the conclusion up front—more explorers die because they can't untie a rope than because they can't tie one."

【...Huh?】

【How's that work?】

"When you read the accident reports on falls and people left dangling, the rope itself has often done its job. The problem comes afterward. With wet hands, numb hands, or an injured dominant arm, you can't undo a knot that's been pulled tight. It stays tied until the monsters make their rounds. ...So today you'll learn just one thing. A knot that won't loosen while it's bearing weight, yet comes undone in five seconds with one hand when you pull the end. It's called a 'slipped knot.'"

I demonstrated in front of the camera. Without looking at my hands. You use this knot in situations where lowering your gaze could get you killed, so you start practicing it without looking. I couldn't say how many times I'd gone over keeping your gaze up in this course, but I'd do it as often as it took. That's what fundamentals are.

For the first three minutes, the comment section was a barrage of 【dull】, but then it changed, like always.

【...Hey, just tried it with my belt and it really came undone one-handed】

【"Dying because you can't untie it" is one hell of a blind spot】

【You can feel the number of bodies behind every point this course makes (as usual)】

【The day after a legendary stream took down the counting server, he teaches rope. That's its own kind of impressive】

"And one bit of housekeeping. I've had a lot of interview requests and contract offers since yesterday. I appreciate them. But I've declined them all. Right now I have my hands full coaching a student. —Hina-chan, your assignments are going up a level starting next week. Be ready."

【Y-yes! I will!】

【The "hands full" that made him turn down a major clan's salary offer is one C-rank student】

【How could you not trust this guy】

【I get it now. Shin-Sensei's the real deal. Yesterday convinced me and today sealed it】

【The scariest people are the ones who can go right back to normal the day after a frenzy】

What's wrong with business as usual? The frenzy ended yesterday. The classroom goes on.

"Well, that's it for today. Next time: 'How to pack your bag.' We'll talk about whether the heavy things go on top or underneath."

【Dull!】

【Looking forward to it】

◇

That same night, at Genbu headquarters, the emergency board meeting in the top-floor grand conference room had run past two hours.

There was only one item on the agenda: last night's "uninvited guest episode," and those words from Rei Kenjo—"And the industry threw him away." The press had long since worked out what, specifically, "the industry" meant. Inquiries had been tying up PR's phone lines all morning.

"Chairman, I don't think we need to worry."

The first to speak was a veteran executive in charge of sales.

"It was a sentimental performance on Kenjo's part. Independent explorers face a lot of public criticism. Get a photo of yourself bowing to a benefactor, and you buy some goodwill. It's calculated. The public will forget in a month—"

The table exploded.

Togakushi Gen had slammed his fist down on it.

"...Rei Kenjo."

His low voice crawled across the silent conference room.

"That man spent six years at our front line. Never negotiated his pay once. Never even smiled in front of a camera. You think he'd bow his head for appearances? Get teary-eyed out of sentiment? —You blind fools."

The executives went rigid. And Togakushi, more than anyone, was surprised by his own outburst. He couldn't quite explain why he'd shouted.

After the meeting adjourned, alone in the chairman's office, Togakushi replayed that night's archive again.

Humanity's strongest, sitting seiza on a cheap floor cushion in a six-mat room, looked straight into the camera and said, "This is the man who made me humanity's strongest." Togakushi searched his eyes for calculation. For sentiment. With the eyes he'd spent twenty years using to judge people and build an organization, he searched, over and over.

—Neither was there. Only the eyes of a man stating a fact.

An insignificant memory surfaced at the edge of his mind. An unremarkable middle-aged man buying canned coffee for a new hire at a hallway vending machine. The back of that same man silently folding his termination notice in half, bowing, and saying, "Thank you for everything, all these years."

The amateurs' festival will be over within a month. —His own voice, dismissing it, sounded strangely cheap in his ears.

Togakushi picked up the internal phone.

"...Tell the research team to bring everything on that course to my office, starting with the first report. And—the records of Kenjo's skip-level exam eight years ago, too."

He set down the receiver and looked out over the city lights. Togakushi Gen still didn't know exactly what it was he'd thrown away. But he was beginning to realize, at least, that he didn't know.

◇

Later that same night, around midnight.

In a room in a certain high-rise apartment building, Mio Hyodo stood in the dark without turning on the lights, looking down at her terminal.

On the screen was the finished archive of the stream: "Shin-san's Beginner Dungeon Course — Lesson Twenty." Her account name was a meaningless string of characters bearing no resemblance to her real name. She hadn't missed a single lesson from the first through today's.

Her finger brushed the screen and opened her call history. At the top was last night's entry. Caller ID withheld. Call duration: eleven seconds.

For eleven seconds, she hadn't been able to say a thing. She'd drawn breath again and again, swallowed her words again and again—and he'd known her from a single breath. "...Mio?" The instant she heard him say her name for the first time in two years, her finger had cut the call of its own accord.

Rei had it easy. Rei was the kind of person who could go straight to see him. He'd always been that way.

But she couldn't.

"...What's the point now?"

Her whisper fell to the floor of the empty room. Mio Hyodo had—a reason she couldn't call him.