ch61-ch80 · 066-ch65

Chapter 65 (Chapter 3 Prologue)

The enemy's steel sword split his own blade, then carved deep from his shoulder. The blade cut through his collarbone like a twig and reached his heart. He tried to gather the last remnants of his consciousness to praise the enemy swordsman, but the enemy was no longer looking at him.

To that man, he too had been just another face in the crowd.

And so the duel without a witness ended, leaving one corpse behind.

Another time, he was gasping for breath after making several corpses.

He sheathed his miraculously unbroken sword, used it as a walking stick, and repeated burning breaths. The air was so hot he wondered if his throat had been scorched. As he continued breathing raggedly, he saw a small child running toward him from afar.

He wanted to say he'd avenged them, but his breathing wouldn't let him.

The child lunged at him with a tragic expression and stabbed him in the stomach with a short blade.

Why, he thought — but the repeated stabbing prevented him from even asking.

One more corpse was added to the pile of bodies.

On the battlefield, he was given a spear and miraculously killed three. Then he was killed. Trying to remember his wife's face when he'd said he'd return with honors, he realized there was no longer time for that. His head rolled across the ground.

On another battlefield, he shot arrows until they ran out.

When the arrows truly ran out, he tried to return to headquarters for orders — only to find headquarters had already fallen. The enemy's surprise attack had succeeded. At the enemy general's command, countless arrows were now fired into his own body. Really, one shot would have been enough — he thought.

He died. He died again. He died the next time too. In a different place. At a different time. In a different world. Over and over. Again and again. He killed and was killed. He was killed without being able to kill. He protected to the end and his life ran out. He was trampled without being able to protect anything. He died crying. He died screaming. He died without saying anything. He died satisfied. He died thinking there was no way he was dying.

By sword. By blade. By spear. By axe. By arrow. By scythe. By rope. By trap. By force. By magic. By malice. By agreement. By greater purpose. By justice. By atrocity. Fighting, fighting, fighting, and dying continuously. Killed as much as he killed, made to die as much as he made others die, robbed as much as he protected. And yet, someone else picks up a weapon. To make others die. To be made to die.

Half of his soul was stained crimson-black.

He understood that Kagetsu's memories were showing him this scene.

Morning wouldn't come. How many times had he died? How many times had he been killed? He'd already surpassed a hundred, two hundred. Men, women, children, the elderly — everyone took up weapons and ended without reaching their goal.

Fine. I get it. I'll die as many times as it takes. Pierced through the chest, neck cut, side slashed open, head crushed, stabbed from behind, shot from afar, torn apart by a direct magic hit... the countless deaths accumulated.

In a vast, flat space, thousands of corpses lined up.

One corpse groaned, "If I'd done this, I wouldn't have died." Another corpse retorted, "But that way you'd still end up dead." Before long, the thousands of corpses rose, each claiming to be the one, picking up weapons and beginning to fight.

"...This dream is fucking stuck, isn't it?"

Watching the corpse battle royale, Hayasaka Toru — Toru — muttered.

"Well, it'll probably stay like this for a while."

Said the man in hakama, sitting cross-legged to Toru's right.

"Can't stand watching this, all these amateurs."

Spat the woman in kimono, sitting seiza to his left.

"Don't say that. They are all part of us. Each and every one of them is a fragment of the moon that shapes us."

"A fragment of calamity, more like. What's the point of gathering trash like that? Look, swinging carelessly and getting cut from the side. Idiot fool."

"Is that what they call self-loathing?"

The man in hakama and woman in kimono traded light banter, Toru between them.

As they talked, the corpses' battle reached its climax, and after watching for a while, one remained — the last man standing... the last corpse?

"Now then, it's your turn, my lord."

Urged by the hakama man, Toru stood up and slowly pulled 'Kagetsu' from his left hand. He laughed a little — it was like a matryoshka doll.

The corpse approaching him was a samurai. Wearing decayed armor and a hitatare, carrying an unusually long blade with an unusually long hilt. Was that a nagamaki, or something?

One step. Two steps. Three steps.

They closed the distance matter-of-factly, and the samurai swung his weapon like it was the most natural thing in the world. A diagonal slash from left shoulder to right hip — Toru slipped through the path of the blade and stepped forward. He raised 'Kagetsu' in his right hand. Reverse diagonal. From right hip to left shoulder, the sensation of cutting through flesh and bone.

"Not bad."

"Then, it's time you woke up, my lord."

The hakama man still sitting cross-legged, and the woman in kimono now standing right next to Toru. In her hand, slender like a white lily, was the crimson-black blade of the cursed sword.

—zoburi.

◇◇◇

"...What a hell of a dream."

He woke up the moment he thought he'd been cut.

The illusion that every part of his body had suffered a fatal wound lingered, and he stared blankly at the ceiling. Whether it was the influence of 'Kagetsu' or simply because Toru was naturally thick-skinned, after a few breaths he was back to his usual self.

He sat up. The shirt he was sleeping in was damp with sweat. Annoyed, he stripped it off, grabbed a fresh shirt from the chest, and put it on.

Come to think of it — he checked the bed, but as expected, Mika hadn't crawled in today. She was probably sleeping in the living room with Kujo Reiko, for whom he'd prepared a simple mat and futon. Kawai Sakiho should be staying at the Sonoyama residence.

With a weary sigh, he took a few deep breaths and headed to the living room.

The simple mat and futon Joichiro had taken from his magic bag last night were already put away, the table was back in its original position, and Tia was sitting in a random spot watching TV.

"Ah, morning Toru. You look a bit pale?"

"Ah... mornin'. Got plenty of sleep, though. Must be tired."

He didn't mention the horrible dream. Actually, was that even a dream? Of course, even if it wasn't a dream, there was nothing Toru could do about it.

His feeling was — that was Kagetsu's memory.

Not a specific individual like Tia, but as the hakama man had said, something formed from the solidified combat experience of countless dead people. He just knew it, without any logical explanation.

"...Don't push yourself too hard, okay?"

Tia's tone was neither warm nor cold, neither hard nor soft.

Toru didn't know what Tia understood or sensed about him, or to what extent, and he didn't feel like asking. She seemed to be trying to be considerate in her own way, and it wasn't annoying.

"I'm not pushing myself 'cause I like it."

So Toru gave a half-assed answer, shrugged, and was about to head to the bathroom for a shower since his sweat-sticky skin felt gross — when he got a bad feeling. Almost simultaneously, he saw Tia opening her mouth in a shape like "ah."

"...Kujo-san isn't in there, is she?"

"Spot on. I was about to warn you, but maybe I was too late. She said she needed to borrow the shower because her drills would get crushed if she slept on them."

"Safe."

Lucky pervert encounters probably aren't trendy these days, he thought, moving away from the bathroom door and opening the fridge to grab a coffee drink. There wasn't one for Tia on the table, so he prepared two glasses and poured.

He handed one glass to Tia, replenished his brain with sugar, and glanced at the TV — commentators were discussing the leaked meeting footage that 'Anthem' had released. It felt like something from three months ago, but less than a week had passed. Crazy.

"I wonder what's gonna happen."

Tia said it with a face that was one hundred percent pure indifference.

"Who knows. That Habaki asshole probably came to clean it up. What happened in your time when things got like this?"

"What was it like... I was kept separate from all that political stuff, so I mostly got after-action reports, or actually, I don't think I got reports at all. When I had companions, they'd tell me things sometimes."

"Huh..."

The story of the swordswoman who wielded a holy sword in another world did pique his interest and curiosity, but he felt like Tia herself wasn't particularly eager to talk about it, so he didn't feel like pressing. It wasn't something he absolutely had to know.

While they talked, the sound of a hair dryer echoed from the bathroom, and despite the noise, the door opened to reveal a post-bath, warm-and-toasty Mika dashing out. She was properly dressed, but her hair was wet and her cheeks were flushed.

"Toru, good morning. Reiko was amazing."

"Ah, good morning. Amazing — what was?"

"Her boobs."

"......Ah... right..."

"The elf was flat."

"Please don't imprint unnecessary information into my brain."

"Toru, do you not want boobs?"

"Not right now."

"Reiko was amazing, though. Ah, Toru. There's breakfast."

Mika was a bit more energetic than usual — probably because of witnessing Kujo Reiko's astonishing chest. The cat beast-person child scurried to the kitchen, flipped the toaster switch, and then stood perfectly still. Watching her stare at the toaster for about a minute while it toasted the bread gave him an indescribable feeling of nostalgia.

Whether he himself had once been like this — he didn't remember.

But having a child that age moving around his house without hesitation felt... not bad. When it went ding, Toru stood up and moved the contents of the toaster onto a plate. Grilled sandwiches — hot sandwiches?

"Last night, after Toru went to sleep, Shenna brought them over. She said we could eat them in the morning. She said the two women on the other side would take a while."

Nodding at Tia's explanation, Toru looked at the kitchen and saw several sandwiches stacked on a paper plate with a note saying 'toast and eat.' Maybe in Shenna's mind, Tia and Kujo Reiko didn't count as 'women.' The ojou-sama did seem like she'd take a while to get ready.

As he was thinking about this, Kujo Reiko emerged from the bathroom.

"Good morning, Toru-bro-sama! Sorry for borrowing your shower. Every time I sleep, my precious drills get crushed."

The loud-voiced ojou-sama appeared saying that. Today she wasn't in a dress but a blouse and long skirt. The golden drills looked better with a dress, he thought — but regular clothes didn't look bad on her either.

Actually, this ojou-sama seemed to recognize her own curled hair as 'drills.' She'd said the color and texture changed after drinking a potion, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Ah, mornin'. I'm gonna shower too. If Sonoyama-san and Kawai-san come, let them in. Also, I'm expecting another guest, so if they show up, let 'em in."

Leaving a comment about how cramped it was with this many people, he opened the bathroom door.

It was oddly warm from being used just moments ago. The ventilation fan was running but it hadn't cooled down yet, and there was an expensive-looking hair dryer left on the counter, making his own home feel out of place. Stepping into the shower, he smelled unfamiliar shampoo and felt an odd awkwardness.

As he twisted the shower knob and let the water wash over him, he remembered dying thousands of times just moments ago and laughed, looking at his left hand.

If that was the price, it was cheap.

A man who'd been less than an explorer, nothing but a D-rank dungeon cleaner until recently, had become friends with an A-rank explorer ojou-sama, gained acquaintances at S-rank, been latched onto by a holy sword-wielding swordswoman who'd supposedly slain a demon king in another world... and had hundreds of millions of yen land in his bank account.

I wouldn't catch up even if I died fifty thousand more times.

That's what he thought.

◇◇◇

When he finished his unhurried shower and returned to the living room, Mika's mother Shenna and Kawai Sakiho — who had quit the Labyrinth Branch reception desk — were there.

"Morning, Toru. I heard you have today and tomorrow off work — that's rare. Actually, in the three years or so I've been your neighbor, isn't this the first time?"

"Good morning, Hayasaka-san."

Shenna, who was completely relaxed and vigorously rubbing Mika's wet hair with a towel, and Kawai, who was sitting seiza awkwardly in the corner of the room, couldn't have been more opposite. He was a little curious about what these two had discussed during their 'sleepover.' Well, about as curious as the next development in a manga he'd seen advertised online.

"Ah... mornin'. Thanks for breakfast."

"It's fine. You're treating me to lunch and dinner today, right?"

"I've got money now."

"You could phrase that a bit better."

Nyahaha — Shenna laughed. Since she seemed to know about the stream, she probably understood that Toru had gotten a nine-figure income, but the fact that her attitude didn't change was a small relief. He'd expected this cat mom wouldn't change, but actually seeing her stay the same made him relax too.

"Still, this place really is cramped... this rundown apartment wasn't built to house this many people."

"Why not ask the landlord about renting the opposite room too? It's empty, right?"

"Ah... that might not be a bad idea. Make it Kawai-san's office, and then even when I'm not home, Mika wouldn't have to be alone."

"You're too soft on Mika."

Shenna showed a look of exasperation mixed with slight happiness. Toru could only shrug.

Incidentally, perhaps because of the increased numbers, Kujo Reiko was smiling but not talking loudly. Maybe she was shy around new people, or just reading the room. She didn't seem uncomfortable, which was a relief.

"Toru, Toru. Your phone was ringing by the way."

Tia said, handing him his mobile, which should have been in the bedroom. He should probably scold her for going in without permission, but he didn't really care, so he just nodded and checked it.

'I'll be arriving soon.'

A message from Soma Kengo, sent about five minutes ago.

Almost simultaneously, ding-dong — the doorbell rang.

...Let's make today a short day, Toru thought.

Whether that would actually happen was another story.