chapter02 · 038-ep38

Episode 38: "A World Rewritten"

The journey home took three days.

The route that had tested us so relentlessly on the way in had nothing to say on the way out. The Thousand False Paths still wore a thousand faces, but we weren't lost anymore. We had Mio-san's blueprint and Hina-chan's step-count log. We crossed in two hours the layer that had taken six on the way in.

We decided to leave Yagarasu-kun's glowing markers in place.

"A signpost for whoever comes next. ...My work becoming humanity's shared property? Not a bad sound to it."

Hina-chan led the way up the last shaft.

"Sensei! Light, up there! The sky!"

After three days belowground, the sky was an evening sky.

And then—there was a wall of sound.

Beyond the cordon, the crowd cheered like an earthquake. Press drones filled a patch of sky. Someone cried, someone laughed, and someone kept shouting "Welcome home!" over and over.

【Welcome home】

【WELCOME HOME!!!】

【Number one worldwide trend: 'Welcome home'】

【Number two is 'Zero dead,' number three 'The basics.' That's the whole operation right there】

Maru-kun lowered his shield and roared at the sky. Rei-kun smiled with an openness anyone could see, a rare thing for him. At the center of the circle, Kokoro-chan cried for her own sake, just for today.

Instead of roll call, I asked one question.

"The pits?"

"Got mine." "Additional note. I have mine. That is all." "Yep." "Got it." "...I have it." "I've got mine!"

All seven of us. Our good-luck ritual was complete.

"Pops, you promised. We're finishing that drink tonight."

"After the report meeting. ...Then we can."

◇

The journal from the deepest level was handed over to an Agency research institute.

Its material didn't seem to be paper or parchment, and dating it would take time. All they knew was that it was "at least several hundred years old" and that most of its pages were too weathered to read.

Only the sentence on the first page remained as clear as if it had been written yesterday.

"The ones who can go beyond this point are not the strongest individuals, but the best group."

After some debate, the Agency released an image of the page unaltered. I'd already read it aloud at the site; there was little point hiding it now, apparently.

By the end of the day, that sentence had been translated into languages around the world.

Scholars debated its author. How many people had descended to the deepest level hundreds of years ago? What equipment did they have? Did they get home? They found nothing that could answer those questions.

But the world didn't wait for scholarly theories. Everyone read it in a simpler way.

Words an explorer had carried at the risk of their life to the deepest level centuries ago had reached across time to confront the modern rank system, a system that had always insisted "individual strength is everything." That was how they read it.

【A B-rank commander achieved humanity's first clear, with zero deaths】

【A girl who was E-rank until recently struck the last blow】

【So? Where on the current rank chart does it show what those two are worth?】

【Nowhere. There isn't even a space for it】

【If there's no space, then the chart's the thing that's wrong】

"Rank system" stayed on worldwide trending lists for an entire week.

◇

Morning visitors no longer surprised me. I was starting to recognize them by the way they rang the bell: delivery, neighborhood notice—or the kind that changes the direction of your life.

"Good morning, Hiiragi-san. I've come to report some statistics today."

Three teacups in the six-mat room. The same familiar arrangement, for the umpteenth time. Makabe-san took a thick document from his bag and laid it on the tatami.

"Explorer Rank System — Final Revision Proposal."

"It'll be formally announced next week. Combat ranks will remain. But alongside them, we're introducing three new divisions for 'strength that doesn't fight': training, command, and support."

I turned the pages. My hand stopped at the certification criteria for training.

A qualification should establish trust for those who hold it, not forbid those without it from teaching.

The practical test should assess teaching, not combat.

The two things I'd requested once in this six-mat room had become the bones of the legal text before me.

"...They made it through."

"Every word of your conditions made it through." Makabe-san adjusted his glasses. "For eighteen years, I've classified the reasons people died. This is the first system that assigns ranks to the reasons people lived."

"Which brings me to this," the investigator said, opening the last page.

"With the announcement, the first certification in the training division will be issued. Rank: S. —Only the name field is still blank."

I put my teacup down. I had nothing but a bad feeling about this.

"Makabe-san. For the first certification, surely there's someone better suited."

"Who?"

"...All those experienced explorers around the country who teach new recruits tips while feeding them dinner, for instance."

"This system exists so those people can be trusted. If the first certification carries little weight, so will theirs."

From under the document, the official produced another stack of papers. It was labeled "Recommendation."

The nominators: Rei Kenjo. Mio Hyodo. Shishiomaru. Yagarasu. Kokoro Shirose. Amaha Hina. The director of the Dungeon Agency. —And on the attached sheets, three million and twenty thousand signatures from course students.

"The tag was #OurSensei, I believe. Statistically, only one person in this country fits the description."

"...I've thought this for a while, but doesn't your statistics work begin with the answer you want?"

"Statistics means counting reality," Makabe-san said with the same level gaze. "This is what I got when I counted."

I thought about it for three days and couldn't find a reason to refuse.

Instead, I made one request. Even with a title, I didn't want the content of the course to change.

"Please don't change it," Makabe-san said. "It would throw off the statistics."

Before bed, I wrote just two lines in my notebook.

【Rank system changing. The work of keeping people alive gets a name.】

【The first certification is a heavy burden. But making it lighter would insult every senior explorer out there. Stand up straight.】

◇

I washed rice on the morning of the certification ceremony, too. Messed it up twice.

Apparently I was nervous.

The venue was the Agency's grand auditorium. The published revision had passed through the legislature and public opinion almost as though nothing could slow it down. That wasn't to say there were no objections. But every time one appeared on a screen, someone posted the eleven-hour, twenty-seven-minute archive with zero deaths beneath it, and that was the end of the debate.

Familiar faces filled the front row below the stage. Rei-kun in formal dress. Mio-san with a notebook on her lap. Maru-kun in a suit straining at the shoulders. Yagarasu-kun, very clearly watching the security routes rather than the stage. Kokoro-chan sitting up straight. And one B-rank with the best posture in the world.

Eight years, two years, and every day since. All of it sitting in a single row.

The director handed me the certificate.

"Explorer Rank System — Training Division. S-rank. First Certified: Hiiragi Shinichi."

For twenty years, I'd written "B" in the rank field on every form. This was a strange letter to find beside it.

【YEEEEES】

【A man stuck at B-rank went and rewrote the world's standards】

【No. They weren't rewritten. The grading was wrong from the start, and they finally fixed it】

【Chief Commander Hiiragi Shinichi, S-rank in training. He's in the history books now】

They asked for a speech. As usual, I held up three lines on a sheet of paper in front of the microphone.

"This rank belongs to everyone who practiced gripping the floor with their toes in a hallway."

"The classroom will continue as it always has."

"Next lesson: Monday. Subject: 'The Basics.'"

【He's trying to make us cry】

【I'll be there Monday】

【The follow-up from the man who rewrote dungeon strategy: 'The Basics'】

【That's our Sensei】

I wasn't the one who rewrote the standards.

It was whoever carried that sentence to the deepest level hundreds of years ago. My students, who'd proved it true. And the millions who'd practiced gripping the floor with their toes in the hallway every night. All I did was stand beside them, observe, and put it into words.

—When I said as much, all six people in the front row made very complicated faces.

Amid thunderous applause, I felt someone watching me.

Not from the guest seats or the press seats. From the least noticeable seat at the very back of the hall.

Togakushi Gen.

The man who'd called me a "parasitic coach" and discarded me stood straight-backed as ever, looking straight at me.

In his hand—an old envelope, its corners worn away.

I'd spent twenty years observing and putting things into words. But I still couldn't find words for the look in his eyes.