The Boy's Blade

Cliffs where the rolling waves shattered themselves into white spray. Sheer precipice walled the island on all four sides, a lonely speck no one could set foot upon.

At the edge of one of those cliffs, a single boy stood.

Poised as though he meant to throw himself off, the boy was peering down at the sea below. No, he wasn't watching the sea. He was watching into it, eyes fixed on something beneath the waves.

Having caught hold of a shadow no ordinary person could have made out, the boy didn't drop. He kicked off the cliff and dove headlong into the water. The plume of spray he raised as he speared into the sea like an arrow was small, and the trace of his plunge was swallowed by the swell before anyone could have noticed.

By the time the waves had broken against the cliffside twice more…

"Pwah!"

The boy resurfaced, a large fish clutched in his hand.

It thrashed in his grip, full of life, but he wasn't fazed in the least; if anything he looked pleased as he watched it flop. He scaled the cliff back up and dropped the fish into a water-filled bucket.

After toweling himself off and pulling his clothes on, the boy shouldered the bucket and broke into a run through the forest that began beyond. His destination was a single cabin set against a river that ran through the trees.

"Look, I got a big one!"

He came charging in, thrusting the fish out as though to brandish its size, and burst into the cabin.

The woman who was lying under the covers pushed herself up to a sit and smiled gently at the sight.

"That'll be worth cooking. Wait there a moment."

"Mm."

The woman's smile was drawn out, in truth, not by the size of the fish but by the boy's own grin, though the boy, running guilelessly to her side, had no notion of it.

She rose slowly and made her way to the kitchen they had installed there, beginning to prepare for cooking.

"Gabriel. Why don't you do it the usual way?"

"Mm, okay."

The boy she'd called Gabriel pinned down the fish (which didn't even fit on the cutting board) and lopped off its head with the knife. He split open the belly, removed the entrails, and rinsed it with water from the jar.

"Ah, I forgot."

He flipped the blade to scrape the scales off, then separated bone from flesh, filleting the fish into three pieces.

"Mm. You're getting good at it."

A hand came to rest on his head, and the boy's smile blossomed; the woman's smile deepened to match.

"What's next, Mom?"

"Let's see… how about…"

It was that gentle smile he wanted to see, and so the boy obediently followed his mother's words.

At first, she taught him which mountain greens and fruits were safe to eat. Then she taught him the places he must not go and the things he must not do. Once that minimum of safety had been secured, she taught him laundry. Next, since there was so little reason for him to deal with anyone else, came reading and speech, which had been put off until then. And most recently, she was teaching him cooking.

Whenever he managed what she taught him properly, his mother was happy, and the boy loved seeing that smile of hers more than anything.

Bit by bit, his mother had stopped moving around much, but he simply took it to mean she was leaving these things to him. To a boy who knew little outside of the island, imagining what he had never seen was the harder thing.

That there were stones more beautiful than shells. That there were lights brighter than fire.

… That a day would come when he could no longer see the thing he loved most.

That such a day might come had never crossed the boy's mind.

Gabriel's day began with going to the river to draw the water he'd use that day.

Moving quietly so as not to wake the mother who slept beside him, he'd shoulder his waterjar and head out for the river. To call it a "river" was a stretch; it wasn't rain running down from the mountains, but groundwater bubbling naturally to the surface and flowing in a small course down to the sea. Gabriel had never thought of that water as particularly strange. That was just how things were, and so he filled his waterjar to the brim and headed home.

He gathered a handful of mountain greens and a pair of dried fish, then set about preparing breakfast.

Something was wrong.

He felt it because, by the hour his mother usually got up, she was still in bed.

"Mom, breakfast is ready."

He shook her gently, soothingly. There was no answer.

"… Mom?"

He peered into her face.

There was no life in her expression. No matter how he called or shook her, she would not open her eyes.

 

*

 

His gentle mother was dead.

It didn't take the boy very long to understand that much.

He couldn't accept it at first, though.

At night, the warmth that had always been right beside him was gone. In the morning, the voice that had woken him with a smile would never reach him again. Morning, noon, and night, the meals he had to eat alone never tasted like anything.

And then he realized.

All those things his mother had taught him, the cooking, the housework, how to live, every one of them was a kindness she had left behind so that he could live on his own.

The boy wept.

As if to make up for never having wept before, he kept weeping. The tears, the sobs, the ache in his chest, all of it felt like it might never stop, and the terror of that left him helpless.

The next time he came back to himself, the morning had fully broken.

"…?"

His throat was bone-dry, and from rubbing his eyes too much they were stinging.

Even so, sensing something, Gabriel left the house and headed for the cape where the grave lay.

Something was there.

As the presence grew stronger with every step, his pace quickened.

That the dead could come back to life was impossible. He, who had watched countless lives and deaths in nature, accepted that unalterable truth more readily than anyone. And yet his pace toward the cape didn't slow.

The dead do not return.

That conviction of his was right; the back he saw at the cape bore no resemblance to his mother's at all.

It wasn't that he was disappointed. But as he stood there unable to move, the figure slowly turned around.

A man in a black kimono with a vermilion collar, his jet-black hair stirred by the sea wind. Crimson eyes set into pale skin, and from his brow rose two great horns that reached toward the sky.

Without thinking, Gabriel touched his own forehead.

Two small bumps just above his temples. Whenever his mother had brushed her fingers over them, she'd smile and say:

These are proof that you're your father's child.

As though one memory dragged the next along with it, others surfaced. It was the way she'd looked once, like she was thinking of someone far away, when she'd said:

Even if you're a little different from other people, it's proof that noble blood runs in your veins. It's something you should be proud of.

"… you… where…"

It was a fragment that had slipped from his mother's lips as she slept with tears running down her cheeks.

Where are you…?

"… I want to see…"

It was what she had said at the very end.

If only at the end… just once more…

"YOU —!!"

The instant those meanings clicked together inside Gabriel, he was already in the air, lunging at the man.

The earth he kicked off with all his strength burst out behind him; ignoring the wind that hammered his body, he swung the arm he'd cocked back down at the man.

But his fist was turned aside effortlessly, and Gabriel pulled up just short of falling into the sea, catching the man in his sights once more.

What roiled inside him was an emotion he had never felt before.

"Why?!"

It was anger.

"Why didn't you come sooner?!"

No matter how many times he punched, punched, punched, every blow was deflected or slipped past. The trees, stones, and ground that took those full-force fists in the man's stead shattered apart like nothing. The pulverized landscape behind the man's retreat spoke to how monstrous Gabriel's strength was.

"Mom…"

He punched. Dodged.

"Mom was waiting for you the whole time!"

He punched. His vision blurred by tears, there was no need to dodge; the fist cut empty air.

It hadn't been enough that it was just him.

That fact constricted his chest.

"Why…"

Just at the end, he'd wanted her to be able to see that gentle smile. He hadn't wanted her to wear that sad smile.

"Why couldn't you have been there for her?!"

His eyes squeezed shut, he hauled back another fist. Without even any will behind landing it, that fist, driven by sheer rage, felt something solid.

The sensation of flesh giving and bone crunching traveled up his arm.

Half-stunned, Gabriel opened his eyes to find his fist buried in the man's chest.

"Is that all you wish to say?"

That was all.

Dismissed in a single line, Gabriel felt that black anger well up in him again.

But at the same time, his body went rigid with something else. To a boy who could only open and close his mouth without speech, the man addressed him quietly, sternly.

"If you, too, carry her blood, do not let tears come so easily."

It wasn't easy. He had never once cried before this.

"As if you'd know!"

Teeth clenched, Gabriel raised his fist. The boy, who had unconsciously been trying to choke his tears back, saw the right arm the man had raised above him.

"That is quite enough!"

The next thing he felt was an impact from above. The realization that he'd been struck came only after the cold of the ground had been seeping into him for some time. He hadn't had the chance to strike first or the room to dodge.

"… You can no longer live on this island."

Those were the last words the boy heard before his consciousness slipped away.

When the boy came to, he was in a solidly-built room.

The tatami matting was unfrayed, the edges unworn. It was plain at a glance that no insects would breed here without need for smoke. The walls showed no peeling paint or wear, and the fragile paper of the shōji panels made clear that this room never had to face wind or rain.

When he opened the door fearfully, a garden stretched out beyond it. It wasn't simply nature; the land within its surrounding wall held neatly tended trees and a pond, even a tilled vegetable plot.

And in that plot, a man was pulling weeds.

The moment Gabriel caught sight of him, he balled his fists, biting down on the sinking sensation in his stomach, and glared.

The man must have noticed the glare; he rose and turned only his face toward Gabriel.

"You're awake."

Showing no concern for the boy's state, the man wiped his hand and made his way toward the veranda.

"Come here."

"… No."

The word that escaped his mouth was refusal. There was no real reason behind it. He simply didn't want to do as he was told.

"…"

"…"

A silence settled between the man, who had stopped walking, and the boy. Eventually the man let out a small breath, looked away from Gabriel, and resumed walking.

"… So that one could not discipline him either."

That muttered remark was the trigger.

He'd insulted his mother.

Driven by rage, Gabriel sprang at the man, only to be turned away with embarrassing ease and meet the same end as before.

And after that, the same thing happened again and again.

The next day it was being told, "Don't keep wearing such rags." The day after: "Baring one's emotions is what beasts do." Day after day, Gabriel turned his anger on the man, and each time he was beaten down.

The boy was beside himself with frustration. No matter how he struck, nothing landed; he was only made aware of his own powerlessness, and his unvented rage gnawed at him day after day.

For his part, the man must have disliked seeing his own home wrecked the way the island had been. In return for each blow he took, he'd see to it that the boy lost consciousness with a single counter, and his apparent ease at doing so only spurred Gabriel's anger further.

"… I'm decided."

That was what Gabriel muttered to himself in the room he kept waking up in, the one apparently assigned to him.

And in the dead of that night, the boy bolted from the man's house. He had no destination, but he could prepare his own food without anyone's charity. Even if the man was his father, he saw no obligation to live under the same roof as someone who had left him and his mother on their own.

Such had been his reasoning for absconding.

He'd thought the man's house felt large even from inside, but seeing it from the outside, he was struck anew by its size. Compared to the cabin he'd lived in on the island, it would take many, many times the volume to match, and even then it might not be enough. Even so, he could no more think of that mansion as his home than he could think of that man as his father.

After running across open ground for a while, he reached a cape that closely resembled the lonely one he knew. When he ran along the shore from there, he soon found himself back at a place that looked just like where he'd started.

"… So it's an island."

He muttered it, then dismissed the thought as not mattering. If so, he just had to cross the sea.

Gabriel dove off the cape into the water the same way he had on his old island. But…

It's different.

That was his first impression once he'd slipped beneath the surface.

The waves were gentle, and among the fish there were patterns he'd never seen. Crabs walking along the seabed, small fish poking their heads out from between the seaweed.

Unlike the sea of his home, what filled his chest now was more curiosity than loneliness.

Thinking back, the forest around the mansion had also been different from the island's. If that man weren't around, I might have found all sorts of things.

He kicked off through the water, anger boiling up. By now he'd been under for a few hours without surfacing, but his lung capacity defied anything ordinary, and he was swimming without any trouble.

Then, abruptly, his body was wrenched sideways by a sudden current. Feeling a vague unease, he surveyed his surroundings and noticed that every living thing, every fish, had vanished from his vicinity.

The next instant, Gabriel lost all freedom of movement.

The sensation was like the waves in a storm. But the flow here was on an entirely different scale from those.

Living in nature, the worst thing to do was panic; nothing else was so dangerous. Knowing as much in his bones, Gabriel decided to let the current carry him and calm his mind.

First, figure out up from down, then aim for the surface.

"!?"

The moment he thought that, a grinding pain shot through him.

A current strong enough to wring his body like a wet rag was attacking him from both above and below, as though trying to rip him apart.

This wasn't natural.

Through the pain and confusion, Gabriel grasped that much, then kicked off with everything he had to put distance between himself and that spot. It was a near-instinctive flight, the kind of wild animal's reflex.

Buffeted by the current as he had been, he hadn't been able to make it out, but right beneath him lay the rubble of one shipwreck after another. If his body had been just a little more fragile, or if he'd been carried a little further, his own remains would have ended up among that rubble. But the boy held onto his life.

Like a missile launched out of the ocean, Gabriel got incredibly lucky and burst clear of the surface; the calm of the sky above, so unimaginable from below, left him stunned. With no storm in sight, the sea was raging unnaturally. The ocean spread out beneath him looked like a vast beast trying to swallow him.

Underwater's a bad idea…!

The instant he landed back on the water, he kicked off it again, aimed upward. Choosing the path of escape before the flow could swallow him, he skimmed across the surface like a flying fish.

After a while, the sensation from the moment he'd plunged in began to shift.

… Is it okay now…?

Just as he was thinking that, he hesitated to dive again and stayed on the surface, and then his eyes caught dull gray clouds.

The weather was about to turn.

He understood that, but going back into that strange current was out of the question. Resuming his swim, Gabriel was, as expected, caught in the storm.

But this storm was off, too. The peals of thunder, the buffeting winds, the rain hammering his body, those were one thing, but something else was wrong. Even sensing as much, Gabriel couldn't pin down the "something."

Battered by the waves, constantly in motion as he was, it was no wonder he couldn't notice that the clouds themselves "weren't moving at all."

The sting of rain was nothing compared to the man's blows. But the swells whipped up by the wind kept trying to drag him under. Eventually fed up with it, Gabriel made up his mind and dove back into the water to escape the thunder and the high waves.

The earlier current had made him hesitate to do this, but in the end, his caution turned out to have been unnecessary. The sea was rough, but rough in the way a stormy sea is ordinarily rough; with Gabriel's physical abilities, advancing through it was easy.

Swimming underwater, he eventually felt the flow grow gentler. Surfacing slowly, he saw only scattered clouds above him. The waves were so calm it was as if the earlier storm had never happened.

"… Well, whatever."

He had no intention of going back anyway. With that, Gabriel started swimming again.

By the time the sky had begun to brighten, the land that finally came into view set Gabriel's heart leaping. To a boy who had never left his island, the port town that hove into sight looked like a beautiful seashell, shining.

The people around him stared in blank surprise as he came up out of the surf. Having seen no human beings besides his mother and the man, Gabriel couldn't read the expressions of those staring at him.

He went a step further: ignoring the eyes on him, he stripped off his clothes and wrung the seawater out of them with both hands.

When a sound resembling a shriek reached him, he turned toward it and met the eyes of people who resembled his mother… women. They didn't seem to be saying anything to him, so he ignored them.

Mindful of his mother's order never to walk around bare, he kept his underclothes on and strode through the town.

The streets were overflowing with things he'd never seen, things that seemed to harbor magic in themselves, captivating him and bringing him to repeated halts.

That said, the bliss didn't last long.

"Oi, boy. What're you supposed to be?"

Turning toward what seemed to be a voice aimed at him, he found two men in armor.

That they had their hands on their weapons was a clear sign of wariness, but Gabriel was unbothered. The fighting spirit of the men in front of him was far too thin compared to what he was used to in wild beasts.

"I got wet, and it hadn't dried."

Trying to answer the question simply and honestly, Gabriel held up the kimono he was carrying. The men's expressions grew puzzled, but one of them let out a small sigh and took his hand off the sword at his hip.

"… Listen, boy. Going around baring your skin in public is what beasts do. It's shameful, all right?"

"… Ah."

The wet clothes were uncomfortable, and he always took them off when he went into the sea. The point had gotten buried under other things he'd been taught, but now that he was being told, his mother had said the same thing once.

Having been reminded of the bit of common sense he'd lacked, the thing he'd lacked most was still "any sense of shame at being seen by others."

Seeing the boy's pure, unguarded face, with no malice or perversion in it, the other man also shouldered his spear again and dropped his guard.

The two then looked at each other, nodded, and one of them turned to the boy.

"All right. You can stay until it dries, but come back to the post with us."

"We'd like to ask you some questions, too."

What was a "post"?

Smiling gently at the fresh curiosity this raised, the boy nodded and said, "Mm." Not only the two men but the bystanders around them visibly relaxed. None of them had dared call out to a boy this strange, and they'd just been watching to see how it played out.

The "post," where eyes finally stopped following him, was a stone fort. They sat the boy on a chair; he looked around with curious interest at this place so unlike the buildings he'd lived in, its heavy, cold atmosphere a marvel to him. One of the men sat across from him while the other took the door.

"All right, kid… Calling you 'kid' the whole time is rude. What's your name?"

"Gabriel."

"Gabriel, huh. Just to be sure, do you have a guild registration card?"

"A guild reg… what?"

At the boy's cocked head, the man across from him gave a wry smile.

"Never mind, then. So, look. We're the guards here; our job is to protect this town. That means we've got to ask questions of people who turn up from outside without us knowing, like you."

"Ohh～"

Encouraged by Gabriel's evident interest, the man leaned forward a little on his elbows and smiled.

"Look, kid, if you answer honestly, you can be back walking around town in no time."

"Mm. I'll answer."

"Good kid," the guardsman said as a preface, and got down to business.

"How old are you?"

"Um… twelve."

"… Really?"

Far from being offended by the man's suspicious tone, Gabriel nodded calmly. When the seated man glanced at the other one, that one's expression was equally surprised. The boy looked about 140 centimeters, which was well below average for twelve, and combined with his oddly defenseless, easy-going air, it had pushed his apparent age even younger. To them, that number was a real surprise.

"… Hm. Next, then. Where were you born?"

"… An island?"

The men didn't find Gabriel's vague answer particularly strange. Even among landed residents, plenty of people in remote villages didn't know the name of the country they lived in, let alone the territory they belonged to. Born on an isolated island with no outside contact, that was all the more to be expected.

"How did you get here from that island?"

"Um… I swam."

In truth, he'd swum from a different island than the one he'd been born on. The thought sat in the space between his words, but his peculiar honesty of answering only what was asked kept the reply curt.

The men couldn't quite bring themselves to believe him, though, and they took the gap in his speech as "something he was holding back."

"You swam from where?"

Don't tell me it's the island, the man thought, wryly amused at himself for asking. But the answer was:

"From the island."

Exactly that.

"…"

"…"

The men exchanged glances and thought about it for a moment.

The neighboring islands had trade with them; even setting that aside, the country's government wouldn't tolerate tax evasion of that scale. And it was inconceivable that a child of his apparent stamina could have swum here from any island they knew.

"… You swam the entire way from your island?"

At his age, if it's a lie, he might trip himself up. At the question, the boy nodded matter-of-factly.

"Mm. There was a place with a weird current, and a storm. Both were rough."

The men were stunned.

Variations in current and weather were par for the course at sea, but matching those to the direction the beach he'd come up on lay in raised one chilling possibility. Namely, that he had passed through the "Sea of Death," known not only to local fishermen but to commerce guilds running sea and air routes.

No…

The man rejected "possibility" and dragged it back down to "suspicion."

Certainly if he'd come from an island beyond the Sea of Death, that would explain the boy's strangeness and ignorance. But anyone who entered the Sea of Death was first battered by storm winds, waves, and lightning, and if they survived that, the dragon-like roiling currents shattered them. It made no difference whether you were a steel-hulled vessel or a fishman skilled in the water.

That was precisely why it was called the "Sea of Death."

… Did he think saying that would keep us from probing further? No, but…

Watching the boy, there was no sign he was lying. But what if he'd been made to think that?

He had two small horns showing, so he didn't look to be a fishman; but even if he was a beastkin, what species he was wasn't clear.

… This is no good.

Once you started doubting, it didn't end. As the man leaned back in his chair and tried to settle his thoughts, a knock came at the door.

"What is it?"

The man at the door opened it to find another armored man saluting with a hand to his chest. The salute was crisp, but confusion was plain on the guardsman's face.

"There's a disturbance down at the harbor district."

"And why bring it to us?"

"It started as just a brawl, but it's swelling oddly…"

Hearing the report, the men glanced at one another, and the seated man shifted his gaze to Gabriel almost furtively.

Is this boy an advance scout, planning to do something while the followers stir up chaos?

… Then should we kill him here? … N-no, what am I thinking…

The man shook his head in shock at the thought that had risen so naturally in him. Looking up, he saw the man at the door wearing the same expression of disbelief, and he knew intuitively that the other one had reached the same kind of thought.

Something was off.

His judgment made, the man moved fast.

"Gabriel. Sorry, but you'll have to spend a little while in the cell downstairs."

"? Mm. Okay."

Gabriel agreed without understanding what "cell" meant, and so, casting puzzled looks at him, the men stood to escort him down.

The fort's underground was cool, which would have suited the steaming heat of summer, but to Gabriel, still in damp clothes, it was a touch chilly. And the air down here was poorly ventilated; the mildewy smell that pervaded the basement was hard on his uncommonly sharp nose.

"So this is a cell."

Cleanly fitted stone walls, an iron grille across the front.

Excited by the unfamiliar sight at first, Gabriel had grown bored of it within minutes. The men who'd brought him here had immediately left, so there was no one to talk to. They'd said they'd come back once the disturbance was handled, but no one seemed to be approaching.

"… Eh, whatever."

Gabriel yawned and lay down on the slightly damp mat that was set out there. Looking back, he hadn't really rested since leaving the island where he'd lived with his mother; even with a body that defied common limits, the fatigue from the long swim had accumulated in his small frame.

"… Just… a little…"

Wait and see, then.

Before he could even finish the thought aloud, Gabriel slid into sleep.

In his dream, Gabriel was swimming in the sea.

A great white snake had been chasing him; he was fleeing. Somewhere along the way he could no longer move, and was sinking, deeper and deeper into the water.

Maybe it was because it was a shallow sleep, the kind where one dreams.

Or maybe his wild instinct had kicked in.

"…?"

Gabriel woke and pushed himself up at the faintness of footsteps.

The clinking metallic sound was much like the armor the guards had been wearing. But Gabriel felt something off in the cadence of those steps, and he naturally shifted into a wary stance.

It's coming.

Guessing from the volume of the sound that whoever it was had reached the bottom of the stairs, Gabriel pressed himself to the iron grille and fixed his eyes on the bend in the corridor across from him where the figure would have to appear.

What came into view first was a faintly trembling, mottled-patterned spear. It lengthened, gradually revealing more of itself; once it stretched as wide as the corridor, the armored body behind it appeared.

The full-body armor must have been heavy: with a weary, listless step, the figure walked closer one pace at a time. The armor that should have given off a dull luster was streaked here and there with the same black pattern as the spear, and at that point Gabriel finally recognized it as blood.

"Hic…"

What he heard then was a faint sound leaking out of the armor.

"Hic, hic…"

Then it grew louder.

"Hic, hic, hi-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

It twisted into laughter loud enough to shake the entire basement. Between the slits of the full helm, bloodshot red eyes looked out, and drool dribbling from the mouth seeped through the joints at the throat.

"!"

Our eyes met.

The moment Gabriel sensed that and pulled back from the grille, the footsteps that had been steady started speeding up.

Running.

The instant he realized, the spear cracked against the bars with a shrill metallic ring.

A spear can only get past vertical bars by being thrust or driven down the gap. But since the figure was striking it as it walked, the spear hammered the bars again and again, lengthening as it did. Naturally none of it reached the boy; only pointless metallic noise rang out through the cell.

When the spear suddenly clattered to the ground with a dry note, only the footsteps were left.

"Hyaha, hee-hi-hyaha, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

The guard finally appeared in front of the cell, beating against the grille while shrill laughter rang out. Again, and again, and again. When the dull sound of something crushing began to mix into the laughter, the guard, as though the bars were still in his way, started slamming his head against them.

The strain on his throat must have caught up; the laughter cracked and grew hoarse, mixing with the impacts. As the unpleasant echoes faded out, the guard collapsed onto the bars, sliding partway into the grille.

The abrupt ending startled Gabriel, but with the guard not moving at all, he stepped slowly closer. There was no breath, no pulse.

"… What was he trying to do?"

Acknowledging the guard's death, Gabriel muttered as much and put his hand on the bars.

There was no point staying here, and even if more like that came, it would only be more trouble.

"… Nngh…!"

He pried open the iron grille with both hands by sheer strength. Ignoring the dust that sifted down from where the bars met the ceiling, Gabriel widened the gap enough for himself and stepped out.

Once he was out of the basement, the first thing he noticed was how bright the sky was through the fort's windows. From the state of his hunger, this wasn't the same day; a day had passed.

And then a smell, stronger by the moment, made him pinch his nose. A short way down the fort's corridor, he found the cause.

Corpses piled in a heap before him.

Each of them was bloodied, the upper halves of armor or intact clothing wet with what had to be others' blood. The stench came from what they'd voided as they died.

Even by his ignorant standards, Gabriel could tell this state of affairs was abnormal.

And what lay outside the fort was worse than what he'd seen inside.

Not just guards. Merchants, fishermen, women in finery, children younger than Gabriel. Old and young, men and women, all of them had become corpses, strewn through the streets.

"…"

The town is dead.

The vigor and brilliance he could still recall from a short while before were nowhere to be found in this town. The noise that reached him here, even clearer than it had been below, was saturated with curses and hate, as far from cheer as could be. It was more like the cries of beasts than anything human.

"…"

Even with so many corpses, things were still moving in Gabriel's blank line of sight.

A woman clawing a man's neck open as she kept on strangling him, blood beading on her fingers. A child pounding a corpse with a rock, armor and all, long after it had stopped moving. Two soldiers, tendons severed and the limbs that dangled trailing behind them, still clashing swords at each other.

Metallic clanging, voiceless screams, animal-like cries.

Unable to comprehend the meaning or reason for any of it, Gabriel stood frozen, simply taking it all in. Then someone who had finished a kill noticed him and started moving.

They're coming.

Even knowing that, his confused head couldn't issue an order to his body; he could only watch them, eyes unfocused, as they approached.

"!"

His view dimmed abruptly, and he raised his eyes to the sky.

What had passed overhead was a great bird.

And the thing growing larger above him: the boy watched it descend.

"… A person…? Hh!"

The instant after he murmured that, the figure landed in front of him with a thunderclap and an impact.

Unable to weather the force, Gabriel landed on his backside. As the dust cleared from his face, he made out that the figure was the man from the mansion.

The man glared down at Gabriel; after sizing him up, he scanned the surroundings.

"… Too late."

The ones who had been moving to attack Gabriel had been blasted back when the man landed, but some were already getting back up, and others were dragging themselves closer on their hands. Returning his gaze to Gabriel, still sitting on the ground, the man didn't glare this time. He simply looked at the boy, whose face was a mix of confusion and fear, and then looked away.

"… We're going home."

"…"

There was no reply, but the rigidness on the boy's face was visible from the corner of his eye. Even so, no biting defiance, no fearful flight either.

This town was overflowing with sights too gruesome for any child. The boy probably couldn't either accept it or reject it.

Taking that into account, the man chose to half-forcibly carry Gabriel, hauling him up.

He snapped his fingers with a sound like a gong striking, and as every bird and beast in the area fled, a single bird approached them. Grabbing onto the leg of the bird, which looked large enough to carry a whole house, the two of them flew clear of the town.

Gabriel, still half-stunned, tucked against the man's side, watched the corpse-strewn town spread out beneath them. Eventually, one body in particular caught his eye.

Holding a bloody sword, eyes wide and smiling even in death: it was the guard who had spoken with him in the post.

He didn't feel the same loss as he had at his mother's death. But the sense that he had just been talking with the man lingered, and Gabriel couldn't process this death the way he could for the rest of the dead. He could only watch, dazed, as the town died.

They tore through clouds where windstorms raged, kept their eyes on the wild currents below, and made for the island. The flight wasn't what anyone would call comfortable, but compared to the ordeal of coming this way, it was many times easier.

The sea and clouds below.

What would normally have set his heart leaping was no longer something his heart could find joy in. And even after they returned to the mansion, the feeling didn't quite leave him; he glared at the man he was supposed to hate but made no move to fight him.

So that's what happens to a town when it dies.

The death of the "town," of that vibrant, glittering place, and how it had transformed: he could not get it out of his mind.

It was different from the loneliness and sadness he'd felt at his mother's death; this chilled him from the core. Gabriel didn't have the awareness to name it, but it was the first time he'd come to know fear of death.

Unable to swallow it, unable to forget it, Gabriel spent each day half-dazed.

Then, one such day…

"…?"

Something was bustling in the mansion.

Aside from Gabriel and the man, the only inhabitants of the mansion were a few beasts, and since the isolated island didn't permit anyone else in, the days were always quiet.

With that silence broken, the air of the mansion felt heavy.

Not particularly motivated to investigate, Gabriel remained shut up in his room, but he noticed footsteps approaching.

At first he thought it was the man, but it wasn't mealtime, and the "sound" he was hearing was completely different from the man's.

Eventually the footsteps stopped in front of the boy's room.

The shadow cast on the shōji panel was slender, completely unlike the man's. If anything, it resembled his mother's…

"Pleased to meet you. You're Gabriel-kun, aren't you?"

What stood in the open doorway was a girl younger than his mother.

Long blonde hair fine as glass, white skin, blue eyes deep as the sea. Her face was striking enough to capture Gabriel's gaze; and on either side, long ears unlike any human's he'd seen in the town.

"I'm Ilya. Mind if we talk for a bit?"

The girl who had named herself Ilya smiled and stepped into the room.

"An urgent commission, you say?"

At Ilya's repetition, the rabbit-eared woman behind the counter nodded with a bright smile still on her face.

"Mm-hm. Not too long ago, all the residents of a town south of here, a place called Duvel, were annihilated. The country can't just let that go, so they're sending an investigation team. And the team needs guards."

In military terminology, as also used by the guild, "annihilation" meant 100% losses. That was a different order of magnitude from "wiping out" (30%) or "decimation" (50%).

Casual as the receptionist's tone was, the contents were dire, and Ilya let her eyebrows tighten.

"… Isn't this the kind of thing the country's army should handle?"

"You'd think, right～? But, you know, our country's in a standoff with Pearlgas next door, isn't it? They say they can't afford to spare any army units in case of trouble."

… Hmm.

The Pearlgas Kingdom lay to the northwest of the Podolute Kingdom where she was, and given that the incident had happened to the south, it was hard to believe Pearlgas was involved. That had to be why they'd turned to the guild.

Deciding to leave it at that, Ilya thought Well, whatever and turned back to the rabbit-beastkin receptionist.

"It's not going to just be me, is it?"

"Of course not. We're approaching all the mercenary guild members at B-rank or above. It'd really help if you took it, Ilya-chan～"

"… Don't you think you're trying to suck up to the wrong person?"

The receptionist's plaintive pose was deliberately cute, and was in fact cute enough to register as "cloying." Even so, Ilya was, to outward appearances, clearly the younger of the two and the same sex; and in those days she was concealing her actual strength.

They were on friendly terms, sure, but for the receptionist to lean this hard on getting her involved, there were only two likely reasons.

"… Do you have a quota to fill?"

"Gulp."

When she named the most likely one, the receptionist made a theatrical jerk backward.

Knowing her personality (charitably, "can't keep a secret"; less charitably, "a bit of an airhead"), there probably wasn't much hidden behind that reaction.

Grabbing Ilya by both shoulders, the receptionist almost burst into tears as she poured it out.

"It can't be helped～ The bigwigs in the country say if we don't cooperate, they'll raise our taxes, and if we go and say something like that to the guild members, they're going to try to leave the country～"

"Got it, I got it, just stop shaking me."

"Really?! I heard that just now! I heard you say it, right?!"

The receptionist released her shoulders and hastily produced the commission form. The contents matched what she'd just been told, and the reward and time commitment were also fine.

Except that the departure was tomorrow.

"This is awfully sudden."

"Mm. The country's pretty wound up, apparently."

She wanted to leave unnecessary trouble alone, but if there was any chance, she had to look into it.

The Guild Association based in this country had clearly grown tired of demands like this one, which barely hid that kind of intent.

"Things really aren't going well between this country and the guild, are they."

"Yeah, no～. But it's the same everywhere, isn't it?"

Wryly amused as she finished processing the commission, the receptionist gave a self-deprecating smile.

Country and guild were like water and oil. They would never mix, but neither could be dispensed with for the people living on the land.

That balance was one of the things Ilya kept tabs on as she traveled. With the ongoing tension between this country and its neighbor, and the country-guild rift widening, her choice was clear.

Mm, that'll do it.

I'll try another country next.

Settled on her conclusion, Ilya received the registration card and set out for Bramurute, the rendezvous town.

Having entered Bramurute the day before, Ilya was on time for the investigation team's muster.

Some saw the well-favored girl Ilya and made eyes at her, but the commission's B-rank-or-above restriction quieted any open doubts about her capabilities.

Bramurute was the nearest major city to Labram, where the incident had occurred, so the investigation team reached the site the same day.

And there, they were rendered speechless by the marks of horror throughout the town.

Left unburied for the investigation, the corpses had been laid out at the fort that had policed the place; their number seemed enough to cover an entire mountainside, and every body bore a vivid wound that made it clear it had been killed by a human hand.

Bloodstains the rain hadn't been able to wash away were still visible on the streets, and scraps of flesh and bone that looked to have been chewed by beasts still lay scattered.

"… Did these people just kill each other off?"

One of the investigators, examining a body, muttered as much and summoned a subordinate.

"Count the corpses. Cross-reference them with the registered townsfolk."

"Yes. Right away."

The subordinate passed on the order to his own subordinates, who fanned out among the bodies.

Meanwhile, the guild members were also getting started.

"We're on perimeter watch and scouting."

"How're we splitting up?"

"Eh, however."

"Then I'll take scouting."

Ilya volunteered first, and with that pretext, left the fort behind.

Ignoring the men around her (one daunted by the body count, another making a vulgar joke about how the state of the town made him want to piss himself) Ilya headed for a section of the main avenue where the cobblestones bore a crater-like impact, as though something had landed there.

Something fell and something happened…?

But as she examined it, she flipped over a stone displaced by the impact and rejected that possibility. The cobblestones still bore blood on their faces, meaning whatever event had occurred came before the impact.

Hmm… the townsfolk killing each other, then.

If foreign agents had infiltrated and started the killing, more than a few residents should have tried to flee. But most of the corpses had blood-spray patterns on the front, the kind of marks made by "being cut down by someone facing you" or "being splashed by the blood of someone you cut down." That wasn't what you'd find on people trying to escape.

So why had the townsfolk turned on each other?

Had they already been on bad terms, and something set off the fighting? Had some large-scale spell been deployed that drove them mad and reduced the town to this?

There's no magic circle, no residue of mana…

None of it sat right. As she felt her thoughts catch on something, she tracked it down.

Madness.

The instant she put a word to it, a single phrase rose to her mind.

It was the word frenzy, written in the forbidden texts kept in the magic guild's archives.

The passage she'd read, paraphrased: "The demon god's breath holds the effect of frenzy; those near him all danced and reveled as though drinking deep of blood."

If you read "drinking deep of blood" as "homicidal urges" and "danced and reveled" as "killed each other," the line fit the town's condition exactly.

But that was all; it matched. There was no actual evidence, and she didn't intend to pin it on that being.

… Let me see if there isn't anything left, at least.

Switching her thinking, Ilya combined scouting with searching, but found nothing worthwhile in the town.

The day's investigation wound up; they made camp at the edge of the town and slept.

The next day, assigned to guard the investigation team rather than scout, Ilya found a single document inside the fort.

In reality it had been ruined by blood, but she'd used [Alchemy] for a duplication-and-restoration to make it legible.

It seemed to be a record of those held or detained, and there was an entry on a boy who'd been put in a cell recently.

"Brought in a boy walking around town in his underclothes. As his statements during questioning were incoherent, he is to be detained temporarily.

Note: the boy states that he swam across the Sea of Death. Otherwise, no suspicious points."

Sea of Death?

The unsettling phrasing caught her eye. Ilya called out to one of the investigators nearby. She'd already returned the document to nothing; best to avoid unnecessary complications.

"Um, do you have a moment?"

"Hm? What is it?"

The investigator's tone was rough, perhaps because the search wasn't going anywhere. Unfazed, Ilya asked as if it were nothing.

"What's the Sea of Death? I'm not very familiar with this country."

"The Sea of Death, eh? It's a famous bit of local lore."

The man paused his examination and began to speak. Unlike his earlier irritation, he came alive, and she sensed he was personally fond of the subject.

"The sea south of this town is permanently covered by a storm. Howling winds, lightning, towering waves; ships get pulverized, can't get through. Of course there's always a fool, so a fishman driven by curiosity once tried to slip through underwater. He never came back. People split between saying he'd died and saying there was a paradise beyond the storm and he'd stayed there. Plenty of fishmen and rich men chased the dream of that paradise beyond the storm. One time, the crew of a ship that lucked through the storm just barely made it back to town. That crewman, pale as a corpse, said:"

There's no paradise beyond that storm. Just a sea monster that swallows people up, settled in there.

"That's how it went. Now, it's an old story; people figure the wind and water Crystal Pillars are forming a natural barrier of some kind. Either way, the area got named the Sea of Death, the place that brings ruin to anyone who steps in."

"Lazing about lecturing instead of investigating, are we? Big step up in rank for you, I see."

"C-Captain?!"

The investigator hadn't noticed his arrival during the lecture; under his cold gaze, he gave a flustered, awkward laugh.

"Heh, well, sir, nobody pays attention to the Sea of Death these days, do they? I just got happy."

"Hmm. Well, any boy born to the sea has fond memories of dreaming of the place."

The captain seemed to know the feeling, too, and matched his subordinate's tone in agreement.

Then he turned to Ilya with a serious face, looking the girl straight in the eyes.

"Why the question about the Sea of Death?"

"I'd heard it lay beyond this town, that's all. I'm sorry for the trouble."

The girl spoke and bore herself without affectation. Judging she was telling the truth, the captain chided his man with a couple of words and led him off.

South, hm.

Left alone, Ilya looked in that direction and activated [Clairvoyance].

Beyond the sea lay a storm even a typhoon would shy from; past it she found seemingly calm waters, but shifting her gaze just beneath them, the abnormality of the currents was plain. Pushing further still, she made out an island walled in by cliffs. Houses and storehouses stood in its center, and what looked to be a sitting room held a man with downcast eyes, in silent prayer.

Two heaven-piercing horns rose from his brow.

It could have been a beastkin trait, but her [God's Eyes] displayed the words Demon God.

The status they showed was, in fact, of a wholly different order from any mortal's.

… Ughh.

The thought of going down there to him drained her of motivation to chase the cause.

It was said that the three original gods had grown sick of the gods and humans who would not cease their conflicts and gone into hiding. Status aside, she found it hard to imagine that someone living in such isolation from the world would be cooperative.

Still, an incident where every resident of a town was wiped out wasn't something to let stand. If it could be prevented, she'd like to prevent it.

That was the will, the what she wanted to do, that took shape inside her at the sight of all this.

Four days later.

At the breakfast meeting where the day's plans and roles were decided, the captain addressed the investigators and guild guards.

"It pains me to say so, but the investigation will be concluded today."

Some looked relieved; others lowered their heads regretfully. Nobody objected; everyone knew state policy didn't bend.

In the end, five days of inquiry had ended without a meaningful cause being identified.

The one bit of progress: most of the bodies were Labram residents, and aside from a few guild members with registration cards, no foreign nationals had been found.

 

*

 

The group returned to Bramurute and held a modest meal (they'd refrained from calling it a "wrap party" given the nature of the incident) but Ilya begged off. To avoid drawing unnecessary suspicion, she exited the town from the opposite gate, then activated her flight magic and looped around toward Labram.

She passed Labram without stopping, and once she was out over the sea, black clouds began to fill her view. Diving underwater would soak her clothes, so she rose to fly above the clouds.

"… Eh?!"

But the black clouds kept on going, climbing endlessly into the upper sky.

… A barrier.

It might be artificial.

Judging as much, Ilya hovered and began an incantation.

"There, this place — bird seated upon it, beast that dances upon it; thrice ask of their seat of rest, undo, fill, expound."

The verse aimed at sealing a Crystal Pillar.

By suppressing and dissociating the bonding of elements, it disrupted them and shut magic down: a higher-class version of Tran Sapelu.

"… Tran…"

Just as she was about to finish with Fixel, Ilya dispelled the mana she'd been working into the elements.

If she let it go, the clouds would clear and she could move on to the island without trouble. But the same would be true of anyone, including anyone with malice. She'd be doing the same thing the demons had done to the elven village.

Changing her incantation, Ilya invoked a different spell.

"… Come, Tampopo."

The circle in the air shimmered, and as the light faded, a single lion stood with its head bowed to her.

Mane, limbs, tail, each shot through with brilliant flashes. When she stroked the lion's head, it half-closed jade-green eyes and rumbled in its throat.

"I want to cut through that storm. Will you take me?"

Pet me some more.

The lion rubbed up against her, and Ilya found herself smiling.

It still had a youthful air about it despite the regal look; the contrast between its dignified appearance and its clinginess was why she'd named it Tampopo rather than Dandelion. That part of his personality hadn't changed at all.

Finding it lovable, Ilya basked in the fluff while she stroked her familiar's throat, head, and back.

When he was satisfied, he stood and turned to face an arbitrary direction; Ilya straddled his back and pointed the way she wanted to go.

Hold on tight.

As he said it, a pale violet veil wrapped around her. The opening pace was slow, but with the second and third step the acceleration built; in a blink they'd plunged into the clouds.

The moment she registered it, they were already through the storm.

Beyond mere lightning resistance, no divine beast surpassed his species, the Imperial Tiger, in straight-line speed.

… Is that it?

At Tampopo's dissatisfied tone as he turned to look at her, Ilya could only nod. She'd expected as much, but tried to spend a little time with her familiars where she could.

That said, leaving him dissatisfied would defeat the purpose.

"Sorry. Next time I'll call you somewhere you can run more."

It's fine. Long as you brush me and feed me meat.

Brushing (and the petting that went with it) and food. Both took time around Ilya, and were the familiar's roundabout way of saying he liked her.

Whether Ilya picked up on that or not, she stroked him two or three more times, and Tampopo returned home.

"Right, then."

In case they ended up hostile, she couldn't take a familiar in. Ilya flew above the wild currents, aiming for the island where the demon god lived.

 

*

 

The sea grew calm; the wind that brushed her cheek softened. The place earned the word serene.

The island she saw, save for the cliffs that broke the waves rolling in, was rich with forest. It had a grandeur reminiscent of the Guiana Highlands from her past life.

Guarded by its barrier, safe and secure.

Living somewhere like this wouldn't be so bad, she thought as she touched down, and immediately straightened her posture as she spotted a figure emerging from the forest.

"… How long has it been since anyone else set foot here…"

The crimson eyes that glanced into the distance, the sea-breeze-tossed black hair: it stirred a faint, distant recollection in Ilya, but the impossibly pale skin and a frame that looked twice her size were nothing like that recollection had prepared her for.

And above all, the two majestic horns rising from his brow.

"Forgive the intrusion. I am Ilya. Demon-god-sama."

"…"

Wariness perhaps heightened by her recognizing him, the demon god's brow twitched and his hand went to the katana at his waist.

"… If you know who I am and have still come, this is no idle visit. State your business."

Each word carried a pressure that felt like spirit driven into it.

An ordinary person would have fainted under such a presence, but the girl didn't flinch.

"To your north there is a port town called Labram. Are you familiar with it?"

"…"

Silence is assent.

Taking it as such, Ilya went on.

"All of its residents died, recently, in an incident. Some details concerning that matter caught my attention, and I'd like to ask after them."

She bore his pressure unmoved, yet there was no deception or arrogance in the deference she showed him. More than that, even speaking to him this close, no change came over her at all.

Drawn to the girl who kept her head bowed before him, the demon god prompted her, deliberately not showing his interest.

"Details that caught your attention?"

"Yes. The townsfolk died in ways suggesting they had killed each other. Such a state is not normal… Unless every resident of the town had gone mad."

"… Mm. You circle around it."

"Then plainly."

Ilya smiled gently and asked, in the same tone:

"Demon-god-sama. Does that quality of yours, frenzy, hold such an effect?"

"…"

Their eyes met, but their faces were opposites. The first to move, having failed to gauge her intent, was the demon god.

"Suppose I told you I drove them mad. What would you do?"

"Let's see… If it was an unfortunate accident, I would ask that you take care it does not happen again. If it was deliberate, I will see to it you bear a fitting consequence."

The instant she said it, red light glinted.

The blade that had been drawn shone with a crimson edge like blood. From its scabbard to the girl's slender neck, the slash drew up in one motion, and stopped without ever touching her white skin.

But this was not what the demon god had intended. He had meant the cut to land cleanly, and a faint crease formed between his brows when it didn't.

"… May I take this as your answer that it was deliberate?"

The girl had not so much as shifted, nor had her attention dropped to the blade; her eyes returning his look were as before, without any anger or fear, without even a tremor.

"… I will apologize for the discourtesy."

The demon god sheathed his blade, bent his back precisely, and bowed to Ilya.

He had attacked with intent to kill, and yet a god, distinct from humanity, was now apologizing to a human he didn't know. You'd be dead any other time, Ilya thought, but she was startled enough to forget the complaint as the demon god smiled faintly, turned, and gave her his back.

"This is not a conversation to have standing. I'll explain at the mansion."

"… Thank you."

Real samurai of him.

Belatedly registering as much, Ilya followed the demon god to the mansion in the middle of the island.

The mansion was wooden; passing through the entrance, she caught the faint scent of smoke, probably from smoking the thatched roof to drive insects out. The shōji panels and tatami were straight out of Japan, and Ilya felt more uneasy than admiring.

And what was even stranger was that, in the storehouse visible at the edge of the grounds, soy sauce and miso were being produced.

Even if it's similar, this is too similar…

Following the demon god ahead despite her suspicion, she was led into a spacious sitting room.

There was no clear "upper" and "lower" seat. Taking the cushion provided, Ilya sat across from the demon god.

"I am the demon god. My name is Noitatum. Once more, I apologize for the earlier discourtesy."

He set a fist upright on the floor in front of him and bowed deeply.

It was not the sort of thing one waved away easily after an attempt on one's life. He knew this from past experience; for him, the apology was as much a way to begin the conversation.

"I accept it."

But the girl accepted it.

Unable to hide his surprise, the demon god looked up.

Ilya, meeting his gaze, smiled again.

"That said, I barged in here myself, so. Shall we call it mutual?"

She wasn't taking it lightly.

He sensed as much honestly, and unconsciously found himself smiling.

Catching the expression on his own face, an old familiar feeling stirred at the back of his mind. Was it his own memory, or one carved into his blood…

"Demon-god-sama?"

He came back to himself at Ilya's voice, and broke the train of thought.

"No, nothing. Then, to the matter."

Sitting up straight, the demon god began.

Ilya followed suit, settling herself. An odd hush deepened around them, but it held no real tension.

Watching her, composed in seiza and somehow fitting in, the demon god slowly opened his mouth.

"The matter of my frenzy, was it…"

That impossible old man… that impossible, impossible old man…!

Ilya knit her brows and kicked at the floor as if to let the anger out.

Having heard the demon god out, Ilya had received his leave to go see the boy in another room.

What had set her eyes wide was the destruction she'd seen on the way there.

Cracked pillars and floorboards punched through. Awful holes in the walls, debris on the veranda. Walking down the corridor where repairs had been done only enough to make it usable, Ilya tamped down her still-bubbling anger and stopped in front of the door she was looking for.

He's here.

The presence carried through the shōji panel; pausing, Ilya drew one deep breath to settle herself, then opened the paper-covered sliding door.

Her eyes met the boy's, who'd been watching the door, and Ilya smiled, trying to ease the wariness on his face.

"I'm Ilya. Mind if we talk for a bit?"

She entered, and the boy's manner didn't change. He might just not have understood, but better that than mounting wariness.

Deciding as much, Ilya knelt at a distance that was neither too near nor too far, bringing herself down closer to his eye level.

"You're Gabriel-kun, right?"

The faintest of nods came back.

Relieved that he was responding properly, she asked:

"Do you hate your father?"

At the words, said with a gentle smile, Gabriel started.

But the reason he couldn't reply for a while wasn't the surprise.

"… I hate him."

Squeezing the words out, Gabriel chewed on them with bitterness.

Watching his face, Ilya let her smile turn wry.

"Why do you hate him?"

"… He left Mom alone."

Mom was waiting for him the whole time.

His chest tightened on the words he didn't say, and Gabriel buried his face in his drawn-up knees.

The rage he'd half-forgotten flared back to life, and a sound of gritted teeth came from behind his hidden face.

"… What if he didn't leave you alone?"

Gabriel didn't lift his head, but the surprise on his still-hidden face was unmistakable; the teeth he'd been clenching had unclenched without him noticing.

He hadn't been left alone.

That possibility had never occurred to him, and his thoughts couldn't keep up.

"Doesn't anything come to mind?"

Less a question than try to remember.

Even without picking up on Ilya's intent, plenty of things were already surfacing in Gabriel's mind. What snagged at him most was the seasonings his mother had used for cooking.

Salt and sugar were one thing, but the miso, the soy sauce… at some point he'd stopped finding it strange, but those seasonings had never run out. Where had his mother been getting them?

Why, instead of hiding how they were made, had she left them out in a way that left such an obvious oddness?

Lifting his face from his knees, Gabriel's brow furrowed as he wrestled with the thought. Ilya smiled at him.

If emotion got in the way of thought, then a perspective outside emotion could lay it bare.

"… I think your mom probably wanted you to notice, too. That your dad hadn't abandoned you both."

"… But…"

But. A word that refused understanding.

But also a word that admitted a possibility.

And so Ilya told him the truth.

"Your father, and you, have a quality that drives others mad."

"… Eh?"

When Gabriel finally looked at her, their eyes met, and Ilya spoke on, gently, in pieces, the way you'd explain it to a child.

"This quality is called frenzy. It makes people unable to keep their irritation in check, makes them unable to put limits on what they want. So people near you and your father end up rampaging, or getting into fights… do you have any idea what I mean?"

The first thing he thought when he heard her was, Mom was fine, and shouldn't this person be going strange too?

"… Ah."

But he immediately thought of something else.

The state of that town he'd reached after leaving the island.

The boy had the keenness to connect memory with given information; even so, unwilling to accept it, he raised his voice.

"B-but, then, Mom was… and you, Ilya…!"

It was almost a plea.

His reason was protesting against his own words as "not true."

But his feelings couldn't accept it.

That was natural.

Understanding his heart, Ilya thought as much.

And precisely because she understood, she had to tell him. He had to understand.

"I'm similar to you and your father, so I'm okay… but as for your mother. She had a special kind of body."

It was what the demon god had just told her.

"Your mother apparently had the rare constitution able to resist frenzy. But after she gave birth to you, she slowly started to come apart."

She softened it, but what the demon god had described was unbearable to hear: trying to strangle the infant, trying to throw it, trying to slam it into the ground…

She had been, by nature, more delicate and quiet than most. Yet her behavior had been too violent even for the stress of childcare, and more importantly, reason itself had seemed to leave her.

The demon god had concluded that his own frenzy plus what emanated from the child had overwhelmed her unique constitution.

And he was right.

"So your father and your mother talked it over."

No life is so unhappy for a child as one without his mother.

"Mother would take you, and Father would help from the shadows… is what they decided."

The blood of the demon god ran ageless and undying.

That had no doubt been factored in, but the fact he'd arrived right after Gabriel's mother had passed showed there was love for the child too.

Even so, Ilya breathed once to settle the anger welling up in her, and faced Gabriel again.

Or rather, she would have, but Gabriel was staring down dazedly, so their eyes didn't meet.

"He… he didn't… abandon us, then…?"

"That's what he says."

She wouldn't take it as definite from someone else's testimony. Even so, since he hadn't denied it, Gabriel sat there as if turning something over.

The fact he wasn't reflexively rejecting it gave her a sense of what he was feeling, so Ilya waited for him to find his answer.

The answer didn't have to be a definite conclusion. Just so long as he accepted the information he had now and resolved the uncertainty in himself.

"…"

"…"

How long had passed? Gabriel slowly raised his face and met Ilya's eyes.

 

*

 

"… I want to talk to him."

His gaze and voice held a kind of plea.

Even so, Ilya waited for him to put it into words. The gentle smile of someone with no answer pushed him on, and Gabriel leaned forward just slightly and said:

"… Will you come with me?"

"Sure. Let's go."

At the gentle assent, he let out a small breath of relief; then, hardening his face with what was clearly determination, Gabriel set off first, and Ilya followed.

In the sitting room they were heading for, the demon god was seated with his eyes closed and a difficult look on his face.

The boy's pace faltered briefly under the air of severity, but he quickly steadied and stopped in front of him.

Having apparently sensed them, the demon god opened his eyes slowly. He didn't waver at the sight of Gabriel before him. He simply held his son's gaze.

Gabriel, too, met him squarely, but showed no sign of opening his mouth.

A plop, then another, sounded from the pond outside as rain began. Ilya turned to look, and that was apparently the cue.

"… Sit."

Despite a flicker of resistance, Gabriel sat as the demon god instructed, signaling his willingness to talk.

Ilya saw the demon god exhale; not in exasperation at Gabriel's lingering defiance, but, it seemed, in relief at having a forum at all.

In her conversation with him earlier, she'd felt that he himself wanted to repair his relationship with Gabriel.

"… I am your father."

From there?! He hadn't told him yet?!

She just managed to swallow the cry that rose to her throat, and watched the two of them.

"…"

"…"

But the conversation didn't move.

The rain steadily filled the quiet of the mansion, with no end to it in sight; the rain-wet veranda offered a view that struck a strange nostalgic chord, and Ilya found her gaze caught there.

A leaf, unable to hold more rainwater, tipped, and a droplet fell into the pond.

Nothing for it.

Judging that there'd be no progress, Ilya stood up; with both their attentions drawn to her, she turned to the demon god.

"Might I borrow the kitchen and ingredients?"

"Mm… yes, of course."

"Then I will. The two of you, please continue with your business."

Cutting them loose as much as bowing herself out, Ilya headed to the kitchen she'd glimpsed with [Clairvoyance].

It was a kitchen, but only in the sense that an old-time Japanese kitchen with a kamado was. Of course there was no sink, so anything fancy was off the table. But "borrowing the kitchen" was a serviceable excuse.

Ilya generated cooking implements with her cheat-boosted [Alchemy] and got to work with what was available.

She made a dashi with dried shiitake, dropped in radish and wakame, and dissolved miso without letting the soup boil.

She grilled a butterflied fish on the shichirin she'd generated, and on the side made spinach with crushed sesame and a wakame-cucumber sunomono.

Once the rice and barley she'd soaked were cooked in a generated donabe, prep was complete.

Meanwhile, in the sitting room, the two facing each other hadn't moved on either; only the rain filled the space.

"…"

"…"

But something was off with them.

Their eyes wandered restlessly, and on closer look their clenched hands were twitching.

The cause was the appetite-stoking smell that had started drifting from the kitchen a while after Ilya left.

Each had swallowed his saliva any number of times by now.

The demon god, because the priority was clear. Gabriel, because, without realizing it, he was thinking moving from this spot is a loss.

Neither could move.

So when the door slid open, the look in both their eyes was heavy enough to make even Ilya wince.

"… I made lunch. Would you like to eat?"

A question whose answer she more or less knew.

"Mm."

"… I will partake."

One a firm assent, the other an unnaturally restrained affirmation.

Whether unable or unwilling to show emotion. Either way, Ilya gave a wry little smile at how the two resembled each other at odd angles.

"All right. Please wait a moment."

She left, and silence settled back over the sitting room. With the thing that had been racing their hearts removed, whatever else they'd been holding onto seemed to drop with it; both of them grew oddly calm.

"… Did you eat Mikoto's… did you eat your mother's cooking?"

"… Yeah. It was good."

What passed between them barely qualified as conversation.

But for the two of them, just then, it was enough.

"… I see."

The demon god murmured the words, and a faint smile touched his mouth; Gabriel watched it half-dazedly.

And he thought.

This person liked Mom too.

That thought let him ask, without resentment or envy:

"… Why didn't you ever see Mom?"

Hadn't that girl told him? The demon god immediately rethought it: she had, but he wanted to hear it from his father's own mouth.

Looking at him, the demon god saw eyes that mirrored his own; faintly, in the boy, the trace of his wife. What a foolish thing to feel only now, he thought. With a father as poor as this, no wonder his son couldn't trust a secondhand account.

"… In us, there is a power that drives others mad. But she, your mother, had a special body, one that could be near me without going mad."

"… Mm."

"But, of course, two would have been too much. With two of us carrying the demon god's blood near her, Mikoto wouldn't have been able to bear it. So we talked, and Mikoto kept you with her… Frankly, I didn't think I was capable of being a proper father to you."

A lie.

He'd looked away as he said it, and Gabriel knew on instinct.

But he no longer thought of him with hate.

"You remember the great bird that carried you here? We tied a basket to it and traded goods. From the letters she'd send back, I could follow your growth… but she barely wrote about herself."

"About… Mom?"

At Gabriel's repeat, he let out a small breath and nodded.

"She was frail. She put up a strong face, but… On the last exchange, when the basket and the letter came back untouched, I went straight for that island."

But he hadn't been in time.

That regret still lived in him.

The feeling that lay over his expression was clear to her… too clear.

A silence settled where the next thing couldn't be added; only the rain went on rattling at the eaves.

"… I'm sorry."

At the words, the demon god raised his eyes reflexively.

Not even noticing that his own gaze had been downcast, he was struck speechless by what was running down the boy's cheeks.

"… I'm… sorry."

Gabriel only bowed his head.

I'm sorry for misunderstanding.

I'm sorry for trying to hit you.

I'm sorry I couldn't get you to Mom.

All sorts of words came to him, but his chest tightened and they wouldn't form.

"… It's all right."

The voice came with the sensation of a hand on his head. Lifting his face slowly, he found that the demon god's hand was resting there.

"… I'm sorry. You've grown well, despite everything… Gabriel."

The way the hand ruffled his hair was very different from the way his mother had stroked it.

Even so, the feeling was somehow nostalgic, and…

"… Father."

The word came naturally to him.

It was a little while later that Ilya brought a tray with the food on it.

"Sorry I took a while. I thought there'd be too little for three, so I made some extra side dishes."

That was her explanation. Gabriel didn't notice anything, but the demon god threw her a knowing look without pressing further. Ilya could hardly say, "I was being considerate, so I made a round trip to the kitchen," so she went along with what the demon god's tact provided and set the food before the two of them.

"Um, just to explain: the rice is mugi-meshi with barley mixed in, the miso soup is with radish and its leaves. There's also tamago-yaki, spinach-with-sesame, and there was butterflied fish on hand, so I used that."

The demon god listened to her explanation, frequently making impressed sounds; Gabriel hardly listened at all and just shoveled it in.

"As for the food I'm taking for my own share, should I provide other ingredients in exchange?"

"That's unnecessary. Having you prepare this is more than enough."

His tone brooked no argument, but from the exchanges so far it was clearly genuine, and Ilya let the matter rest.

"Is there more?"

Gabriel's empty bowl was held out, his expression downcast; Ilya smiled and took it.

She'd brought the rice pot with her, so she could refill on the spot. In contrast to Gabriel's bright joy, the demon god gave a wry smile and dipped his head a fraction.

"My apologies."

"Not at all. From a cook's standpoint, having someone eat happily is the best part."

"… I see."

The demon god didn't put his bowl down, holding it out instead, and Ilya, pretending not to notice, asked:

"Would you like another helping? There's plenty."

"… Please."

"Yes."

Taking the bowl, she scooped rice into it; when she looked across, Gabriel had stuffed his mouth too fast and was slurping miso soup to keep from choking.

"… This is good."

"… Mm."

The two awkward nods caught at the edge of her vision, and the demon god, noticing her smile, lowered his eyes a touch in faint embarrassment.

But that warm air didn't last.

"… But Mom's cooking was tastier."

"… Gabriel."

The demon god frowned at the child's rude remark. Unsure why his father's voice had taken that scolding tone, Gabriel began, "But…" and Ilya laughed.

"That's how it should be."

The demon god couldn't hide his surprise as he looked at her; though, given his rarely expressive face, "looked" was about all you could call it.

She smiled at them and went on.

"Your mother's cooking was made with you in mind, Gabriel-kun. So of course it tasted better than mine."

Put that way, the demon god had no objection. The girl's cooking was the best he'd ever eaten; it didn't seem like it came from the same ingredients. And yet what he'd felt as "something missing" had been answered by her words.

Catching his own ungrateful thought, the demon god raised his eyes; meeting Ilya's smile, he had the uncanny sense that she had read it all and still smiled, and he felt the awkwardness of being seen through.

"… But you cook splendidly. I've been at my own cooking for close to ten years and have nothing to show for it next to this."

"If you learn how, I think it'll come along quickly."

The skills she'd used this time were, in fact, [Alchemy] to make the implements, [Appraisal] to check doneness and seasoning, and a touch of [Cooking] for the rice polishing. Apart from polishing, everything else was achievable through experience.

"Hm…"

The demon god looked as if he might be tempted to learn; in contrast, Gabriel, who had no apparent interest in cooking, latched onto a different question.

"Ilya, how old are you?"

"How old."

A word that could also mean height, but given his father's "close to ten years" remark, it was probably about age, Ilya thought. It's not polite to ask a woman's age crossed her mind, but she wasn't really an age to fuss about.

"Me? Twelve."

"Wha—"

The cry of surprise came from the demon god, not Gabriel. He tried to cover with a cough, but it was too late, and Ilya laughed at the reaction.

"People hardly ever believe it, so don't worry about it."

That fits, the demon god thought. Looking closely, traces of youth did remain, but her composure made her seem far older.

Why that was, Ilya wasn't going to explain.

"Right, why did you come here, Ilya?"

"Ah, mm. I came to ask about that frenzy trait."

"You no longer need to hide it."

The demon god's interruption held neither sarcasm nor jab; it was permissive.

Sensing as much, Ilya exhaled and let her smile soften as she revised her words.

"Honestly, since the frenzy quality is dangerous, if its bearer has to go out into the world… I thought I'd give him this."

She held out a single pendant.

The clear-blue stone of the pendant drew not Gabriel's strong reaction but the demon god's.

"This is…?"

"It's a treasure called [Guardian's Restraint]. It's said to cancel out the panic-and-madness effects of cursed weapons; but the real effect is that it prevents whatever the wearer touches from emitting those effects."

"…!"

The demon god grasped its significance from the explanation; Gabriel tilted his head, not getting it at all.

"To put it simply, anyone or anything wearing this won't have effects like frenzy leak out of them. Even with the frenzy quality, they won't affect ordinary people around them."

When she put it that way, Gabriel said "Ah" in understanding.

Turning to the demon god, Ilya asked, her tone shaded a touch more serious:

"I'd like to ask you something as well, if I may."

"If I can answer, I will."

"The miso and soy sauce… did you yourself…?"

A flicker of hesitation crossed the demon god's eyes. But after closing them briefly and opening them again, that hesitation was gone.

"No. It was Mikoto, my wife, who began it. Brewing, I think she called it. She said it was an imitation of what was done at the house she'd been born into."

"… Did your wife also help shape this house and storehouse?"

At the question, the demon god's eyes widened in unmistakable shock.

"You know?! Of Mikoto's birthplace, Nihon?!"

Knowing the name Japan, and seeing the kitchen layout, she figured the woman had to have been from the Edo period or so.

While thinking it, Ilya found her hand tightening around the treasure without realizing.

"… I know someone in similar circumstances to her."

"… I see."

His voice held clear disappointment.

But he shook his head free of it and resumed his usual expression. If anything, having caught the lingering attachment in himself, there was a self-deprecating cast to his air.

Meanwhile, regret was twisting inside Ilya.

"There's one more thing I'd like to ask… your wife coughed often, didn't she?"

"Ah… yes. Outside this island and the one she lived on with Gabriel, she'd fall ill almost at once. Apparently she'd been all right before she came over here…"

So that's it.

The guess she hadn't wanted to confirm had landed, and Ilya lowered her eyes.

This world occasionally drew people across from the other side. Those Earth-born who arrived here suffered from differences of language and culture. But what was worse was that the air didn't agree with them. Literally: their bodies couldn't acclimate to air different from Earth's, and in bad cases their health and even their lives were eaten away.

It was the fate of someone who shouldn't have been here; inescapable, perhaps.

Even so, Ilya couldn't help cursing her own poor timing.

What's wrong? The demon god was about to ask, seeing her downcast look, but he had a sense for what she was thinking and held his tongue.

What returned to him was a moment from earlier, when he'd been telling her the situation in the sitting room.

Why don't you tell him? He won't understand unless you say it.

The girl who had shown a quiet anger at his insincerity toward Gabriel had been thinking of his family. Someone like that wasn't likely getting low over something personal.

From their earlier conversation, it had to be about his wife's health. So the demon god surmised.

"… Did you know a way to cure her condition?"

"No, that's not it…"

Just as I thought. While he thought as much, he found himself, surprisingly to him, considering it calmly.

If it wasn't a cure but something she was considering regarding Mikoto, it was probably the matter of the treasure: that, with it, the frenzy condition of one person could be borne. If her words were true and the treasure could suppress frenzy in either him or Gabriel, the three of them might have lived together.

Since her body was frail, I would have liked her to live without regret… is that it?

That was his own thought; whether it matched Ilya's reason for being low he didn't know. Even so, oddly, no other thought came.

It was true that he wished the three of them could have lived together. With that in mind, he said:

"… Don't let it weigh on you."

It was from the heart.

And because his guess had landed, Ilya looked at him with surprise that hinted at being seen through.

But he didn't take the look; he simply lifted the bowl of miso soup with proper posture.

"… Thank you."

Ilya gave a wry smile.

It wasn't out of embarrassment for being considered; it was self-deprecation at the way she'd stepped past the proper bounds and meddled in someone else's life.

"?"

Gabriel watched the exchange and tilted his head.

He'd been hoping for another helping, but the atmosphere had made it hard to ask.

"Ah, sorry."

Ilya noticed his empty bowl and took it from him for a refill.

"So, Ilya."

"Yes. Ah, another helping?"

"No, ah, mm. Please."

The real business was different, but defeated by his appetite, he held out the bowl. Taking the refilled bowl while averting his eyes in self-conscious embarrassment, the demon god asked the rest of his earlier thought.

"After you entrust the treasure to us, what will you do?"

"Me? I'm in the middle of seeing the world, so I'll resume my travels."

"I see… Then, might I ask one thing of you?"

"A request?"

At Ilya's repeat, the demon god nodded. Then he gave Gabriel, who was still focused on his food, a sidelong glance.

"On that journey… would you take this child with you?"

"… Eh?"

The questioning sound came from Gabriel, not Ilya.

They'd just reconciled, why? The demon god answered Ilya's look with:

"This child is still young. Better that he know the wide world and grow into a wide-hearted man than know only a small world and become a small-hearted one."

"…"

Ilya thought it over.

Normally she'd have refused outright as troublesome. But having said the frenzy could be suppressed, she couldn't very well refuse on that ground. More importantly, the residual feeling that if I'd come sooner, they could have lived as a family wouldn't let her say no.

"… Traveling as a woman and child is a little dangerous, isn't it?"

"You who emanate enough pressure to silence me are saying that?"

He was thinking of the moment Ilya had asked permission to speak with Gabriel after he'd told her the situation.

She'd been doing it for Gabriel's sake, but he wasn't sure he could have stopped her even otherwise. The neat half-smile and absence of real sarcasm in his tone drew a sigh out of Ilya.

She didn't like exploiting someone's weak spot, after all.

Taking her sigh as resignation, the demon god softened his smile into a wry one.

"This is impulsive on my part, but it's because of who you are that I'm willing to ask. What do you say?"

"To be plain, I think you're imagining things."

She only ever acted on what she wanted to do. Being saddled with someone's one-sided expectations and then being disappointed in was a hassle.

The demon god couldn't hide his surprise at the first refusal she'd shown; and Ilya, after a brief wry smile, returned to a serious expression.

"In any case, we haven't asked Gabriel-kun what he wants."

The pass having been kicked to him, Gabriel himself didn't seem all that troubled.

"Mm. I want to go outside."

He answered easily. It was natural for Ilya to find his lightness worrying.

"… Have you actually thought about this?"

"Mm. Mom said to see the outside world, too, and there were lots of things, and it was fun."

It seemed sincere enough, but Ilya felt something off.

The first part was fine. Rather than be trapped by the death of someone close, moving forward by overcoming it was good thinking.

But the second part. He had, just before, plainly felt fear at having caused so many deaths. And yet he was saying "fun" without bravado or lie. He meant it from the heart.

That snagged on her.

But if he wanted it, there was no longer real grounds to refuse.

"… All right. I'll take it on."

So Ilya's journey gained an addition: a boy named Gabriel, the demon god's son.

"While I'm at it, will you also oversee his training? You who didn't flinch at my sword must have some martial training of your own."

A line phrased to close off her exit; Ilya let out a small sigh and gave a wry smile.

"My martial arts are self-taught, so I can't really teach them."

"That's fine. Mine are self-taught as well. There are many paths up the peak; only the difference between those who can climb it and those who can't."

"…"

The concept of [Skills] in this world forced her to grant the point in part.

But it sounded like reducing all human effort to skill, and as someone whose strength came from cheats, she couldn't openly agree.

How he read her silence, she didn't know.

"… That's true. To ask you to escort him and then pile something else on… shameless of me. If there's anything that would suit you, perhaps…"

The demon god looked thoughtful.

Taking it as an offered compensation, Ilya made a proposal.

"If it wouldn't trouble you, even if it's hearsay from your father or such, could you tell me about the original gods?"

"Mm…"

If that was what she wanted, he wasn't unwilling. But it wasn't the sort of thing one could relate gladly, and aware that he wasn't articulate, he hesitated visibly.

In the magic guild's archives, only secondhand records of the time of the gods existed, and authenticity couldn't be guaranteed.

To Ilya, hearing the same kind of accounts but from a direct descendant of the gods themselves held special value.

"If it'll be long, I can prepare sake and something to nibble on."

"Hh, mm…"

To one who had just enjoyed lunch, that was a genuinely attractive offer.

"… Very well. I can't say I'll tell it well, but if it's what you wish, I'll oblige."

"Thank you."

The demon god's talk lasted until night; Gabriel, at first wholly preoccupied with dinner, ended up listening to his father with Ilya. When Gabriel ended up nodding off, that became the cue to wrap up; Ilya watched the demon god carry his son in his arms and then retired to her assigned room.

The next morning, after breakfast.

 

*

 

In the mansion's entryway, the demon god faced Ilya and Gabriel.

"I'll leave it to you."

"Yes. Although, that depends on how hard Gabriel-kun works."

"I know."

He returned Ilya's bit of teasing with a smile, then turned his eyes to Gabriel.

"…"

"…"

What an awkward father-and-son.

Ilya let an inward sigh slip.

"… A journey has its dangers. Take this."

What he held out was a katana in a jet-black scabbard: the red-bladed katana he had drawn against Ilya the day before.

"… Is it okay?"

"All this island needs is a hoe."

"… Thank you… Father."

The katana was large on a boy smaller than Ilya. But the demon god's eyes softened at the sight of him cradling it carefully, and he gave a small nod.

Gabriel didn't linger over the parting; he turned on his heel and started walking. Watching him go, Ilya bowed to the demon god one more time and followed.

May my son's journey bear fruit.

Eyes lowered for a moment in prayer to that one resting somewhere in this world (a friend, family, also an enemy) and to his wife, Mikoto, the demon god turned and stepped back into the house.

Meanwhile, having left the island, Ilya and Gabriel…

"… Where are we?"

"… Where indeed."

… were lost.

In any direction the eye fell, grasses blew in the wind.

That they were in a place like this was entirely thanks to a whim of Ilya's familiar, Tampopo. Or maybe rather than whim it was a vent: he'd been summoned only to be told to also carry some stranger of a child.

In any case, Ilya had wanted to travel to a country other than Podolute and had said "run as much as you like," so she was in no position to complain.

Caught up in it, Gabriel was watching the unfamiliar horizon with shining eyes, so it wasn't a total miss.

Ilya scanned around with [Clairvoyance] and spotted a fairly large town. From here it was just a matter of walking there; rather than risk her familiars sulking like Tampopo had, she chose to go on foot.

"But first."

"?"

"Ta-da."

Empty-handed a moment ago, Ilya now had a full set of clothes in her arms.

"For sword training, this is the thing!"

Not waiting for assent or refusal, Ilya hurried Gabriel into a change of clothes.

The outfit Gabriel found himself in was a knee-length hakama-style dōgi. So his footing wouldn't be at the mercy of the terrain, his sandals were swapped for boots.

"Right! Off we go."

"Mm."

Without a trace of unease or complaint, Gabriel nodded, and Ilya set out walking with him in tow.

"Are you strong, Ilya?"

It was a hard question for Ilya to answer.

"Mmm… pretty strong, I think?"

She had to fudge it.

Naturally, Gabriel tilted his head.

"Pretty?"

"… Want me to show you?"

The next instant, the moment she'd tied her hair back, a katana was in her hand.

There had been no time to draw it from anywhere, nor any chance to miss the motion.

Watching Ilya with quiet awe, Gabriel suddenly turned his face in another direction, as if catching onto something.

Ilya narrowed her eyes at his behavior and looked the same way.

"!"

Gabriel's vision, far beyond ordinary, had picked out a brown thing hidden in the grass.

It resembled a snake but had limbs, and was about the size of a crocodile.

"That's a monster called a sagari. They're quick, their jaws are strong, and their molars carry a neurotoxin. Top priority is not letting yourself get bitten."

As she said it, Ilya stepped in front of Gabriel.

She stopped him from coming forward with a smile, then donned the jester-like mask that had appeared in her hand, and tucked her sheathed katana at her left hip.

It should have been nothing more than that.

But Gabriel felt a chill prickle his spine and his breath grow tight.

Coming.

The grass-parting sound grew louder, then stopped the instant he thought it.

The next moment.

Chin. The small note of a tsuba meeting a scabbard, and the monster, bisected, slumped to the ground in front of Ilya.

"Did you see it?"

Drawn back to himself by her voice, Gabriel realized the tightness in his chest was gone.

After a beat, he thought about what she'd just asked.

"No. I couldn't see it."

"Becoming able to do that's your near-term goal."

A goal.

Looking once more at the monster's body, Gabriel asked:

"What was that?"

"That was iai battōjutsu."

"… Iai?"

At his cocked head, Ilya smiled and drew the katana from its sheath. The blade, just used to cut, was still slick with blood, and the steel's gleam showed through with ominous menace.

"When you and another draw weapons and test your strength, that's a shiai. Without drawing, staying iru, meaning ready to fight even at rest: that's iai. Get it?"

"I don't get it."

"All right then."

Even if you don't understand the logic, it's fine.

So she sheathed the katana.

"Striking right out of the sheath like that is battōjutsu. And there's another thing it can do."

The fist-sized fireball that appeared at her raised right hand.

"Try cutting it normally."

"Mm."

Gabriel drew the sword in both hands and brought it down on the fireball. For an instant the red blade dragged the cut along with it, splitting it, but it immediately rejoined and was whole again.

"Now I'll cut it with iai."

The next instant, the fireball was sliced top to bottom. With no breeze from the blade and no sway, the two halves vanished as if they'd dispersed into mist.

"This way, you cut the element-bonds themselves, so it lets you cut and deflect magic. That's the other thing it does… But before you can do that, you need the basics."

"Mm."

A twelve-year-old boy is usually more rebellious or cheeky.

The impression Gabriel gave was honest simplicity.

Maybe because he grew up on an island? Or his mother raised him well.

Thinking that, Ilya resumed walking with the nodding Gabriel.

They were apparently in sagari habitat, because they were attacked any number of times along the way.

As Ilya gradually held back during the counterattacks, Gabriel began to be able to see her swordsmanship, and started swinging his own sword whenever there was a lull.

Ilya didn't bother correcting him; her eyes told her he had a high latent aptitude for [Swordplay]-family skills.

Even so, there were concerns.

"Ah, wait a sec."

He'd called out to her, and then started relieving himself in the open.

His shamelessness was, perhaps, the open-air ease of an island upbringing.

"… Gabriel. What did you do back at the mansion?"

"I went in the privy."

So he had been taught.

"And outside the house?"

"I wasn't told anything."

"I see."

Then the explanation was simple. With his cooperative nature, he'd follow whatever he was told.

"When you go outside, do it where people can't see. Got it?"

"Mm. Got it."

"In town, you use the restroom at whatever store you've stopped in. Even out of sight, don't do it. All right?"

"… Got it."

He nodded gravely, but since he was mid-relief, the gravity of his nod was limited.

After that the two resumed walking, and thanks to Ilya's senses and strength, no real obstacles arose; they reached the town before dark.

The town sat on flatland, walled to keep enemies out, with a moat around the wall: prepared not only for monsters but for human conflict as well.

Following the highway across the drawbridge, Ilya dispelled her mask and katana and let her hair down, and they were stopped at the gate by soldiers.

The soldiers, in dull silver armor and bearing spears, had eyes much gentler than their imposing gear suggested; their eyes widened a moment when they spotted Ilya, especially, but then returned to the same gentle look.

"You two, do you have a guild registration card or a travel pass?"

"Yes. I have no active commission right now, but I'm with the adventurers' guild. This child is my disciple, of sorts."

Holding out the card, the man receiving it let out an impressed "ohh."

"To have earned the adventurer's certification at your age is quite something. Ah, no; not my place to talk down."

"No, thank you for the kind words."

That reply only deepened the man's wry smile.

The "adventurer" qualification within the mercenary guild was reputed to be especially hard to earn. That was natural: an adventurer in any country with a treaty with the Guild Association could pass through duty-free and move freely. The Association vouched for the bearer's character, and they had the strength to travel the world unfettered. That was what the adventurer's title meant.

"That said, since the boy here has no ID, there'll be a tax to pay. That all right?"

"Yes. Gils are fine?"

"Yes. Of course."

The fee paid, the two passed through into the town.

Gabriel, who hadn't said anything during the exchange, was staring up at the wall many times his height and at the view of the town from the gate.

"First we'll get you a registration card and find an inn. Then leisure sightseeing, all right?"

"Mm."

His earnest agreement made her stroke his head without meaning to. Gabriel didn't object; if anything, his cheeks relaxed contentedly.

What an outside observer made of the scene was clear from the way the gate-soldier's eyes softened as he watched.

"If you're heading to the guild branch, go straight down this street and turn at the second main road."

"Thank you."

She bowed to the man, drew her hood low, and headed to the branch with Gabriel.

The streets were lively with stalls and passersby; every stronger smell or huckster's call snagged Gabriel's attention. Each time, Ilya's hand tugged him along, like an older sister chiding a brother who kept trying to detour.

The weighty stone-built structure they reached bore a hanging sign that read Guild Association Branch.

The wooden door swung open and the smell of alcohol hit Gabriel's nose; he wrinkled his face. Ilya, already used to it, made for the counters at the back.

There were three at the counters (two men and a woman) all available. Ilya headed straight for the woman.

The bovine-horned receptionist offered a soft smile to the girl and boy in front of her.

"Welcome～! How can I help?"

"I'd like to register for the guild."

"For both of you?"

"No, just this boy."

The receptionist turned her gaze to Gabriel, took another look at his small frame, and her smile shaded into a wry one.

"Um, how old are you? If you're under ten, we need parental consent."

"I'm twelve, so it's fine."

"Eh…"

The receptionist glanced at Ilya to confirm; she nodded and added:

"And I'd like to recommend him."

"Eh? Um, can I see your registration card?"

The receptionist's tone was half-doubting; the look she gave the offered card was half-flustered, half-apologetic, with an embarrassed wry smile.

"My apologies. You're B-rank, then. With a recommendation, please fill out this form."

"Oh, no need to be so formal."

"S-sure? … I just don't see B-rank visitors that often."

The card she had previously used when she'd been concealing herself with another name and face had been S-rank, and she remembered the same kind of reaction, then the over-reverence, then the fear.

Filling out and returning the form, the receptionist tilted her head at the contents.

"This recommends him for warrior, not adventurer. Are you sure?"

"Yes, that's fine."

The adventurer qualification came with rights (duty-free border crossing without a commission, etc.) commensurate with how hard it was to earn. But before earning those rights, one had to be aware of the responsibilities. That awareness, Ilya thought, Gabriel had to choose and learn for himself.

It was also, by the same token, a quiet I'm not going to look after him to that degree.

"Will you take the rank-assessment exam?"

When the receptionist asked, Gabriel didn't seem to understand the meaning and looked at Ilya.

The receptionist saw it and explained further.

"If you take that exam, you can start at whatever rank fits your current ability; without it, you start at the lowest rank, F. The exam takes time and costs money; what do you want to do?"

"Why don't we try it?"

"Mm. Got it."

Without any particular thought, Gabriel nodded and took the exam.

That said, since it was getting dark, the test would be the next day. The two looked for lodging.

With the receptionist's recommendation, they easily found a decent inn and ate dinner at the dining hall on the first floor.

The bread in a basket on the table, salad and soup, and steak: a textbook combination, fresh and exciting to Gabriel, who'd eaten almost only washoku. His eyes shone the whole meal.

"… Soon I want to talk about going forward. All right?"

"Munch, munch…"

"Don't rush, swallow before you talk."

Stuffing himself in defiance of his small frame, Gabriel stopped only at Ilya's voice.

"For now, I want to see what kind of state this country's in, so I'll spend two days walking the town. During that, Gabriel, I want you to take commissions and practice with the sword. Okay?"

"Mm."

"And since you won't know how everything works at first, I'll go with you tomorrow."

"Got it."

His honesty was a good thing, but with answers as flat as that, she worried he wasn't actually taking it in.

She decided it wasn't useful to worry over someone she'd only just met, and they went to bed soon after.

And the next morning.

After breakfast, they headed straight to the branch.

"Oh, you're early."

Greeted by yesterday's receptionist, they were led to the inner courtyard.

Wooden weapons leaned against the wall. Along the fence, straw bundles tied around wooden cores (training dummies) stood ragged from years of use.

"Could you wait here? I'll bring the examiner."

"Understood."

Once the receptionist had gone back inside, Ilya joined Gabriel, who was curiously handling a wooden spear.

Noticing her, Gabriel picked up a bokutō and held it up.

"Are we fighting with this?"

"Yes. The goal isn't to kill, after all."

"You can still die from this, though."

The flat way he said it, with no change in his expression, struck her oddly.

"… Yes. But—"

"Hey, boy. That kinda thing? Say it after you can win the fight, eh?"

Before she could even unpack the strangeness, a sneering voice cut in and Ilya's words were cut off.

The newcomer's clothing was similar to the men at the counters', so he was apparently the examiner.

"So who's the brat taking the test?"

"Me."

"… Hah. Early mornings, all this fuss. Pick whatever you want from there."

"This one."

When Gabriel held out the bokutō he was already carrying, the man let out a theatrical sigh, walked to the middle of the courtyard, and tested the weight of a wooden sword with a few light swings.

Sword on shoulder, looking lazy, he looked back at Gabriel and tilted up the corner of his mouth.

"Let's get started. I'll see how good you are."

Gabriel nodded and walked toward him.

The boy's eyes had the look of someone going into a fight, but his gait was just as casual as ever, no run-up, no charge.

The man must have sensed it too; his smile vanished and he lowered the wooden sword. Wariness showed on him now.

"!?"

But that wariness went to waste when Gabriel stopped.

Lowering his hips slightly, he held the bokutō at his left hip and stayed still.

To Ilya, or anyone familiar with the form, his intent was clear; but to anyone unfamiliar, taking a stance that hinders movement mid-combat looked strange.

The result: the man had to strengthen a different kind of wariness.

"… Tch."

Sick of the stalemate, he readjusted his grip on the bokken.

"What a pain in the ass!"

And charged.

To Gabriel's left. The conclusion he'd reached: even if there was some plan, just hit the weak side. Simple.

His sprint was fast, but with his own remarkable physical ability, Gabriel had no trouble tracking it.

Shift the body's orientation.

That alone, with Gabriel's unfamiliar body alignment, was enough to throw his axis off.

Slow.

He used his left hand as a substitute sheath, imitating Ilya's technique.

What he actually delivered, however, was a far cry from her sword in speed; it was clumsy and shameful.

"…!"

"D-dangerous!"

It wasn't pure luck that the examiner dodged.

"Too soft!"

When the descending bokken was caught on Gabriel's blade, the iai window was lost.

The examiner had counted on size to overwhelm him; that calculation was thrown by Gabriel's unexpected strength.

But physical power and raw strength couldn't make up for technique.

"… Yeah, this is about it."

The end result was Gabriel looking up at the man whose bokken was pressed against him.

"All right. Build experience. Once you have that, you win."

Sword back on his shoulder, scratching his head, the man's earlier sneer was gone.

Even with his offhand manner, he was sound at the root.

The new impression formed in Ilya's head; she also realized the man's attention had shifted to her.

"You recommended him at B-rank, right? You taught him the trick from earlier?"

"He tried to copy what he saw me do. Completely incompetent, though."

Where Ilya gave a wry smile, the man's expression grew more serious.

Gabriel got back to his feet and dusted off his clothes, and the man finally spoke again.

"Mind giving it a go?"

"… Before that, I'd like to hear Gabriel's test result."

"Hm? Ah, E, I'd say. Strong, and his eye is good, but he's woefully short on experience. Overall, not quite up to spec yet. I'll tell them that."

"Thank you. And, um…"

"Name? Frazer."

To Frazer, whose seriousness hadn't lifted, Ilya considered briefly and then turned.

"Frazer-san is local, isn't he?"

"Aye. That's right."

"Then, if I show you, will you in exchange teach me about this country?"

"Hm? Sure. Even guild member's got limits on what I can share, mind."

"That's fine."

Deal struck.

Ilya went to Gabriel and took the bokutō.

Shouldn't it normally be done with the sheathed sword? Frazer was about to suggest she use the real blade, but…

"Khh—"

He couldn't.

What hit him was the sensation of a sword tip already pressed to his throat.

It was emanating from a girl wearing a jester mask that had appeared from nowhere, who hadn't even taken a stance.

A slight drop of her hips.

That alone made unpleasant sweat break out all over him.

"Here I go… Did you see that?"

"… No, I didn't."

He could tell only that she had done something.

To be precise, his instinct told him so; but having lived by trusting that instinct, that was enough to make him believe her.

"Well, I'll take it as enough to know what the real thing is. You ladies got plans now?"

"Once Gabriel's registered, we'll be taking a commission."

"Then I'll teach you about this country in the meantime. Sound good?"

Ilya nodded, and Gabriel did the same; Frazer led the way back inside.

The room they ended up at was upstairs, labeled Reception Room.

"Coming in."

Frazer walked in without knocking; the woman seated at the chair inside looked at him and let out a huge sigh.

"You know I'm working, right?"

"Do it in the office, then. Too many eyes downstairs. The lady prefers it that way too, right?"

When Frazer turned it to her, Ilya gave a wry smile and pushed back her hood.

Seeing her face revealed, the woman stood reflexively.

"No way… an elf…?!"

"Seriously?"

Frazer apparently hadn't realized either; Ilya offered him a wry smile.

"I'm sorry for putting you through the bother. I was just trying not to stand out, so don't trouble yourselves over it on my account."

Soft as her words were, they were firm; Frazer and the woman stood briefly speechless.

The only one unfazed was Gabriel, who already knew her appearance.

"Are elves rare?"

"Mm. They tend to hole up in the forest and not come out."

"Hole up…"

A line that put down her own race.

The sly poison of the comment finally jolted Frazer and the woman back to themselves.

"Standing around like this is bad form. Please, sit."

The woman gestured them to a sofa, and Ilya and Gabriel stepped into the reception room.

"First, this country, right? The Ranralib Kingdom is…"

Frazer's explanation, in contrast to his rough manner, was very clear.

The woman in the room was the branch manager of this town's Greislib branch, named Grinis. She was perceptive enough to fill in the gaps in Frazer's explanation, clear but lacking objectivity, whenever he glossed something. The way the two played off each other showed their relationship as manager and vice-manager, and Ilya found it amusing.

The discussion went on until Gabriel's registration was complete, and the four ended up eating in the reception room as they talked.

After a survey of the country's situation, the conversation naturally turned to Ilya and Gabriel.

Ilya kept her own background light, and Frazer and Grinis didn't push.

In contrast, Gabriel essentially told them everything, and…

"… You poor kid…!"

… drew tears from Frazer.

When Frazer's tears welled up, Ilya was visibly taken aback; Grinis shrugged and gave her a half-resigned smile.

"He's always like this. He's a simple guy."

"Shut it! All right, Gabriel! Lunch is on me today! Eat as much as you want!"

"Thank you."

He'd already eaten at least three servings, but watching Gabriel grin like that, Ilya couldn't bring herself to stop him.

Between Ilya's knowledge intake and Gabriel's appetite, the discussion-turned-meal wrapped up.

After leaving the reception room, the two went back downstairs to take a commission as planned, and stood examining the request board.

The board was so packed with commission slips you could barely see the gaps, and Gabriel let out a stunned sigh at the dizzying volume of text.

"There's so many."

"Some of these are from other countries too, not just here."

Most often, taking another country's commission was a way to skip border tariffs, which was something only the mercenary guild benefited from. That said, other-country commissions took longer from acceptance to completion, so the ones posted had to allow for that time.

"We'll be staying in this country for a while, so set those aside…"

Ilya compared the slips and picked one up.

The slip read Greysrat Extermination.

Despite the name "rat," the creature was closer to a dog with long limbs, and the species was unique to this country (sometimes called dog-rats).

Their reproduction was strong, and being herbivore-leaning omnivores they damaged crops, so extermination commissions were always up. They also weren't strongly venomous (probably owing to the herbivore lean); and because they ranged widely to forage and didn't band into groups, they were ideal targets for inexperienced members to earn money against.

"First we have to get used to fighting with the sword."

"Mm. Got it."

Taking the slip from Ilya, Gabriel went to the counter and presented it to the male receptionist.

"Want to register the commission? Show me your card."

"Yes. This one, right?"

"That's it. Hang on a moment."

The receptionist took the card and placed it on the glass panel before him, processing it. To Ilya it was a familiar sight; to Gabriel it was novel, and watching him track the man's every move felt endearing.

"… Registration complete. Need the slip?"

Gabriel looked at Ilya, mirrored her nod, and nodded back to the receptionist.

Taking the slip and card, all that remained was the actual hunt.

Leaving the town for the designated forest, Gabriel blinked at the forest's atmosphere, which resembled the island's and yet was wholly different.

"I'll watch; you do as you like."

"Mm… got it."

Gabriel drew the katana and sharpened his senses the way he had in his home forest.

The rustle of plants in the wind had a kind of rhythm even in its irregularity, and any sound that broke that rhythm told you something other than plants was there.

Gabriel's beyond-human hearing picked up something, and the moment it did, he was off.

The forest's trees were spaced about three people wide apart, but to follow the source of a sound that wasn't down the path, he used the trees as walls to bounce off, leaping between them.

He may actually be stronger here than on flatland.

Watching, impressed, Ilya saw Gabriel come to a stop.

He'd moved so fast it had turned into an ambush.

When he turned around, his katana had a greysrat impaled on it.

"Mm. One down."

His usual lopsided smile was up, and then it faltered.

"… What do I do with it?"

"I'll hold onto it. Next time, don't impale it; cut it down."

"Cut it? Mm. I'll try."

After that, Gabriel followed her instructions faithfully and continued the hunt.

For killing creatures, he passed; as a katana, his handling was rough.

While exposing those rough edges, they completed the commission, returned to town, registered the completion, and went for dinner.

"Hey, you two. Heading to dinner?"

The voice that called was Frazer, with Grinis behind him.

"Yes. Are you?"

"Aye. Wanna eat together?"

At the suggestion, Grinis behind him let out a small sigh; Ilya picked up on something.

Catching her eye, they exchanged wry smiles.

"This guy's already going on like he's decided. What do you think?"

To force the polite "no" at this point would be worse manners.

More importantly, Frazer and Gabriel were already operating on the assumption they were going.

"… Sorry. We'll join you."

"You don't have to be so polite. Come on, let's go."

With a gentle push at her back, Ilya followed the two men ahead.

What the four headed to wasn't quite a tavern or dining hall but more a restaurant, with a calm, settled atmosphere.

At a four-person table, mindful of the newcomers, Frazer rattled off orders for them.

Gabriel watched it all wide-eyed; Grinis smiled and leaned to whisper to Ilya.

"He really loves kids, you know."

It didn't quite match the man's roughness when they'd first met.

As if reading Ilya's mind, Grinis settled back in her seat and smiled.

"Mercenary guild work is dangerous, and full of rough types, right? He probably wanted you to understand that."

The rough part is just him being him, though.

She added it with a wryness that wasn't disgust or annoyance.

"You see him clearly."

"… Yeah, well."

A faint shift to a wry smile, not denying it, struck Ilya as very grown-up.

In contrast, Frazer across from them was acting downright childish.

But the way he was explaining each menu item with gestures and exaggerated faces to make Gabriel happy looked less like a much-older brother with a younger one, and more like…

"They look like father and son."

"… I just hope he dotes that much on his own."

Ilya almost let it pass as a passing remark, then caught the implication and looked at her reflexively.

Twelve isn't too young to understand, I suppose, Grinis's smile said, so Ilya turned to her properly.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Are you still able to eat normally?"

"Mm… do you, by any chance, know about this?"

"A little."

When they kept their volume normal, even Gabriel caught wind of it and tilted his head.

"What's up?"

"They're having a baby, so I was saying congrats."

Frazer scratched the back of his head and looked away, embarrassed; Gabriel looked from one of them to the other, then around the room, and tilted his head again.

"… A baby? Where?"

The three responded in chorus with a similar wry "Ah…"

"It's inside her belly. You were inside your mother's belly too, you know."

"Belly…"

Gabriel's gaze went to Grinis's belly, but no matter how he looked there was no way a person fit in there.

Seeing as much, Grinis beckoned him closer. Catching her cue, Frazer gave Gabriel's back a gentle nudge, and Gabriel ended up in front of her belly.

"Press your ear to it. You might be able to hear the baby."

She didn't really mean it, of course. With the fetus barely past eight weeks, she certainly didn't expect anything, let alone a voice.

But the boy pressing his ear there had hearing far beyond a human's.

"… You're right."

"… What?"

"I heard it. Very softly."

A small heartbeat distinct from Grinis's own pulse. Hearing it, Gabriel was simply moved by the mystery of life.

Unbelievable, the parents thought; Grinis and Frazer's shock was pure surprise rather than disbelief, and Ilya, smiling wryly, explained:

"This child's hearing is many times sharper than a person's. So it's not surprising he could hear it."

"For real?! Damn it, what an enviable pair of ears this kid has!"

"Whoa whoa."

Frazer rubbed his head fiercely; Gabriel, fuzzy as ever, looked oddly pleased.

That happiness was short-lived.

"But how does a baby end up in a belly?"

Asked with utterly innocent eyes, no one could quite return a good answer.

After that, the conversation became a delicate exercise in steering away from that topic.

It'd burden the expecting mother.

Thinking as much, Ilya managed to redirect with a flower-based analogy and got them past it.

After the enjoyable dinner the two parted ways with the couple; back at the inn, Ilya and Gabriel washed up and went to bed.

But Gabriel, full of firsts, couldn't fall asleep right away.

To take his mind off the excitement, he called to Ilya in the bed beside him.

"What did you give them at the end?"

"… Hm? Ah, things expecting moms need to be careful of."

Healing and curative magic in this world made childbirth relatively low-risk. But lifestyle could still endanger mother and child, so Ilya had handed over notes on what to watch for.

It was knowledge dredged from her past-life memories; since she was, regardless of appearance, only a young girl, she'd had to lie that it was "elven wisdom" to get them to accept it.

"… Everyone was born from their mom's belly."

"Yes."

There were exceptions, like monsters. But he wasn't talking about that.

Ilya waited for him to go on, but it didn't come.

"… Gabriel?"

"… No. It's nothing. Good night."

He turned his back to Ilya and shut his eyes.

From the next day onward, as Ilya had said, they operated separately.

After breakfast they'd look over commissions together, and Ilya would pick an extermination target as a kind of homework. While Gabriel went off on the hunt, Ilya gathered information about the country and verified things with her own eyes.

"Both of you, stay well."

"Don't push it too hard, eh."

They ended up staying more than two days, but they parted with Grinis and Frazer; even in other towns the basic routine didn't change.

Gabriel completed the assigned commissions while practicing the sword; Ilya widened the radius of her survey.

Ilya's [God's Eyes] didn't err. Gabriel, with a prodigious aptitude for swordplay, glided through her assignments without trouble and gained practical technique efficiently.

In a high plateau near the country's mountainous region, they took a commission to drive off monkey-monsters wrecking an orchard, and were thrown a feast as part of the reward. In a village beyond the dense forests of the mountain region, they took down a pack of wolf-monsters that had migrated in, and were lavishly received by the villagers.

What Gabriel learned wasn't just fighting technique. People. Contact with the people whose grief tugged at his chest, whose joy warmed him.

He hadn't realized that contact with someone other than his mother, other than family, could move him this much.

The journey went on.

In a mountain village, his eyes shone at the bright red fruit hanging in clusters. At a riverside village, he gawked at the unexpected cleverness of trapping fish in nets. On a plateau, drinking a beverage pressed from fruit grown across the whole highland, his head spun.

All of it was beyond anything he could have imagined; he spent every day with no time to rest, his heart leaping.

For Ilya, having a happy smile beside her made the previously rote-feeling investigation feel lighter, too.

But every so often, Gabriel's smile would suddenly dim.

The first time, since his gaze had been on a mother and child, Ilya thought maybe he was feeling lonely.

A second, a third time…

The more she noticed, the less she could pin down the reason.

By the time their journey was approaching the turn of a season,

They were on the road that led back to the first town in this country they'd visited; before heading on, they stopped at a town along the highway they'd come from to sell off the materials they'd harvested from a commission.

By the time they were unburdened, it was getting dark; if they went on to that first town now, the gates would already be shut, so they decided to stay over.

For Gabriel, the memory was strong; when Ilya said the branch manager's child might already have been born, his ever-fluffy smile brightened.

But once again, a shadow crossed it.

Good timing, Ilya thought, and from her twin bed asked:

"Something on your mind?"

"… No."

A lie.

But…

"I'm okay."

If he was going to say so, she wouldn't push.

Still, the pause before he answered told her he was aware of his own change, and she'd shown that she'd noticed.

That, for now, was enough.

So she had thought, at the time.

The next day, the two left the town and headed for Greislib, the first town they'd visited.

It wasn't that they were headed there for sentimental reasons; it just happened that the highway leading to the next country passed through it.

Even so, there was some emotion.

"We're leaving this country, right?"

"Mm. We've got the lay of it now."

Inside the towns, the Ranralib Kingdom was peaceful.

Once you stepped outside them, however, the conflict between royalty and the military had loosened external oversight, and bandits and highwaymen had taken to operating openly; Ilya and Gabriel had had to deal with them personally any number of times.

Since the guild only started suppressing those bands once commissions came in, things had become a cat-and-mouse game.

And, frankly, "being slow to react" was just a pretext. The Guild Association in this country was using the trust of the populace to angle for advantage against the kingdom government, and to extract funds from the citizens, while only doing the minimum to actually deal with the bandits.

If the guild gained too much, the kingdom government and military's authority as ruler and defense force would slip. But in this country, instead of cooperating, the two were exploiting each other's weaknesses and deepening the rift; in the worst case, it could come to open conflict.

Beyond that, the anti-military faction that had tried to scout Ilya and the boy were also likely to incite the citizens to revolt against the military and the royals who tolerated them. If trying to suppress that turned into war, it would be too horrible to watch.

For Ilya, who wanted a peaceful place to live, the conclusion was simple: no reason to put this country on the list.

"Where will we go next?"

"Mmm, where to. Anything you want to see?"

"I want to eat tasty things."

"Then let's ask the branch manager in Greislib."

"Mm."

While they exchanged such cozy talk, the two were also busy slaying gigantic squirrel-pig-monsters called Agreskunks.

This time's homework was "finish them before they fart."

Their fart was a strong acid that destroyed the airways of whoever inhaled it, plus a potent venom that began necrotizing wherever it touched.

This worst-of-all-farts was unleashed only at the brink of death, and the one who released it would also die from the acid and toxin in its body. It was called the suicide-fart.

To escape it, you had two options: kill from range, or kill before the fart was released. The former, with magic or bow, was relatively safe if you had the skill; the latter, in the extreme, meant killing the target before it could feel the threat to its life, requiring quick, sure, high-technique kills.

He should be fine.

With one stroke, Gabriel was reliably separating head from body or splitting them vertically, killing them instantly; her small remaining worry about him was, watching, sufficiently allayed.

Just as she thought so:

"Ah."

Gabriel let out a slack, easygoing note as the last monster's rear began to shimmer like a heat haze.

Since it was the last, it must have sensed its own death.

A lethal gas, released before he could cut, was closing.

Have to flee…

Before the thought finished, a wind blew through and swept the foul air away from Gabriel.

"Close one."

"… Mm."

Even within his fuzzy smile, there was a tinge of disappointment.

"Let's collect any useful materials and go to town for lunch."

"Mm. Got it."

Ilya generated a bag and stowed the bodies in it, then turned them toward the town again.

When the highway forest gave way, the city gates came into view.

Gabriel had seen other walled towns and cities by then, but this one (the first he'd seen) had a special grip on him, and he looked up at the high walls with something like fondness.

Showing their cards to the armored gate-soldier, they passed through.

Hawker calls from lined-up stalls. People hurrying along, children running about, gentle smiles in every direction.

The town was bustling and lively as ever.

Nostalgic.

Maybe because it was their first stop in this country, Gabriel walked along feeling nostalgic; suddenly Ilya stopped.

Tracing her line of sight, there was a man.

"Oh! It's Ilya! … And that next to you is Gabriel?! You've gotten big!"

"Long time no see."

"Long time… No see."

While Frazer ruffled his head vigorously, Gabriel mirrored Ilya's response, and Frazer burst out laughing.

"It really has been a while! Look how you've grown!"

Between curiosity about new dishes and ingredients, his own appetite, and Ilya's nutritional management, Gabriel had grown from being head-and-shoulders below Ilya to looking down at her.

That said, he was still shorter than Frazer, and his face still held youth, so to Frazer he was still a kid.

"All right, dinner at our place today!"

The way he ruffled his head was unchanged from when they'd first met.

His soft expression looked happy too; Ilya found it endearing, then asked the thing she'd been wondering.

"Your place, you said?"

"Aye. Bought it a while back. The bachelor quarters got cramped with three of us."

Smiling sheepishly, Frazer returned her smile, and Ilya asked what she'd most wanted to ask.

"Congratulations. Has the baby…?"

"Nah, the granny midwife says it's any day now… oh, right. The granny wanted to see you. Your memo saved her bacon, she said."

"I'm glad."

She said it lightly, but inwardly Ilya was a little surprised.

On Earth too, there had once been mistaken ideas like "pregnant women should eat as much as possible for the child," and people who clung to them resisted correct information (such as "this leads to gestational toxicosis or miscarriage") even when it was clearly explained.

The same was true in this world; people who believed in superstition tended to stubbornly resist scientific evidence. And in a world where things people didn't fully understand but that demonstrably existed (gods and magic) were everywhere, the tendency was even more pronounced.

So an old woman who had taken in Ilya's information at once (information that overturned conventional wisdom) and even thanked her was a pleasant surprise.

"I'm in the middle of supplies. You two?"

"We're on our way to report a commission completion from another town."

"All right, then wait in the reception room. Tell them I gave you permission. Catch you later."

With essentially no room for a no, Frazer was gone.

His pushiness hasn't changed, Ilya thought; she and Gabriel exchanged wry smiles and headed to the branch.

 

*

 

After reporting the completion and selling off the monster parts at the branch, the two waited in the reception room as told.

Ilya was, however, taken aback by the state of the room.

In a word: filthy.

Documents scattered everywhere, balled-up paper scraps and spilled ink on the table and floor.

On a hunch she opened the door labeled Office, then immediately shut it again, deciding she hadn't seen anything.

Grinis-san's going to be angry. Best to leave it alone.

Where Ilya was unsettled by the disorder, Gabriel just kept his fuzzy expression and looked around.

"It hasn't even been three hundred days since we came here, huh."

"Why three hundred days?"

"That's about how long it takes for a baby to be conceived and born."

In this world too, gestation was roughly ten months and ten days, 280 days by count.

In this world's calendar, they'd been traveling for about eight months, and put that way, Gabriel had grown remarkably.

But that was in combat technique and physical ability.

The other thing is mental age, though…

Living and traveling with Ilya, he'd shed his common-sense-less behavior.

Even so, perhaps from having grown up cut off from society, his easygoing, at-his-own-pace nature hadn't changed.

If anything, since he no longer had the tension of estrangement with his father, his pace was more pronounced.

That fuzzy mode made his mental growth hard to read.

His honesty in taking advice was a built-in trait, which compounded the problem.

At twelve or thirteen, it was too early to fret over maturity.

But for a boy with combat ability like his, if he was going to keep at the mercenary guild, it was a different story.

If routine combat kept his emotional reactions running hot, he could fall into childish motives for killing. A plea for mercy might sway him into letting his guard down and getting hit.

Those were the patterns to be worried about.

With his personality you could think it would be all right, but considering how he'd raged about his father, with an immature mind it was hard to say which way it would tip.

That was what worried Ilya.

… That said, though.

She could point out the bad in his combat, and she could manage his condition through food and lifestyle. But how to nurture mental growth, she didn't know.

… Mm?

Reaching that point, Ilya stopped thinking.

Gabriel's growth was a byproduct of the goal of letting him broaden his horizons by traveling with her. It might be something she should do as his companion, but it wasn't something she wanted to do.

Once she viewed it that way, there was no longer a need to agonize.

Mean of me, huh.

Smiling wryly at herself, she stood and turned to Gabriel.

"Sitting around's no fun. I'll go get sweets."

"Ah, me too."

"Could you stay here? If Frazer-san comes back and no one's here, it'd be inconvenient, right?"

"Ah, true. I'll wait."

Without complaint, Gabriel sank back onto the sofa with his fuzzy smile.

Whether he's truly easy-going or just not thinking much…

Ilya chuckled weakly and headed for the door.

"All right, I'll be back."

The instant she said it, the sound of footsteps from below was racing up the stairs.

Feeling a slight question at the rush, she waited at the door without opening it.

What came was not Frazer's voice but a woman's.

"Vice-manager! Are you here?!"

"Frazer-san's out. He should be back soon."

Opening the door, Ilya explained, and the woman who'd come up looked flustered.

"Um, do you know where he went?"

"No. He only said he was buying supplies."

"Uuh, this is bad…"

"Did something happen?"

Ilya had been planning to wait until told, but Gabriel went ahead and asked.

Once asked, you couldn't not ask; experience said this was the kind of thing that would drag you in.

"The branch manager… Grinis-san's labor has started."

"Labor?"

"… Did something happen?"

To Gabriel, who didn't understand the word, the woman ignored the question; Ilya pressed for more.

It made sense Frazer would be devastated to miss the birth as the father. But that wasn't enough to explain the panic.

"It's just… the church follower who was supposed to attend has her hands full with another emergency that came in earlier, and can't make it. Our staff can only do basic emergency care…"

Ilya's worry was on the mark.

Of course, even without a recovery-magic-trained follower of the Lottévester Faith, most births went without trouble.

But conversely, things could go wrong.

In Japan, as she remembered, plenty of cases of mother-and-child danger had existed; in this world, scientifically behind Earth, it was more likely still.

"Ilya, what's going on?"

"… There won't be anyone to do recovery magic if something happens."

"… She's in danger?"

Until then he hadn't been able to follow, but Gabriel's expression clouded as Ilya filled him in.

Mourning the dead.

Recalling how he'd seemed to forget the corpse-strewn town when they'd talked at the demon god's island, this struck her as great growth.

"It'll be fine. I'm sorry, but I'd like to be the attendant. Can you show me the way?"

"Eh, um… is that all right?"

For childbirth, the followers' recovery work was offered without charge.

That was the indirect concern in her question (no reward, but okay?), and Ilya nodded with a smile.

The branch manager and the baby: if either died, someone would grieve.

She didn't want to see that. Didn't wish it.

This was, beyond any doubt, what she wanted.

"…"

Following the woman, Gabriel ran after Ilya's back with his face uncleared.

The place they were led to was in a quiet residential block off the main street: a house whose first-floor white brick stood out.

Going in through the unlocked door, down a hallway to the bedroom, they found Grinis groaning in bed and an elderly woman beside her.

"Amoi-san! I brought a replacement!"

"A replacement? Can she actually do it?"

"H-how is it…?"

The flustered woman, watching her, looked to Ilya.

"It's fine. Leave the recovery to me."

"Hmm. Then come help over here, too."

"Eh? Ah, um, that experience…"

"Just do what I tell you. Come on, hurry up over here!"

Unable to physically wrest the woman from her grip, Ilya was tugged to the bed.

Gabriel stood awkwardly, when:

"And you! Go fetch the husband!"

The sharp order sent him out of the house.

With nothing else to do, Gabriel set out, as told, to find Frazer.

First, he sprang up onto a rooftop and looked for a spot from which the town could be surveyed. Spotting the clock tower that announced the hours, Gabriel set off across the rooftops.

"Not here, not here…"

He scanned for Frazer along the way but couldn't find him.

The buildings grew taller as he moved into denser blocks, and naturally fewer and fewer people noticed him bounding across the rooftops, which suited him.

Reaching the clock tower at last, he looked out over the town spread below.

To ordinary eyes, picking out a specific person would be impossible, but with his vision it was no trouble.

"…"

He looked.

He looked. Looked.

"… Not here."

Even with such a wide view, there were many blind spots.

"… What are you doing up there?"

Reacting to the voice, he turned to look and saw Frazer leaning out from the bell platform to peer at the rooftop.

"I was looking for Frazer."

"Eh? For me? Oh, I kept you waiting too long. Sorry. The old fella who usually rings the bells just threw his back out, so I'm filling in. Such a pain in the ass."

"That's rough."

"Aye."

Spotting Frazer relaxed Gabriel back into his fuzzy mood, but just in time he remembered why he was there.

"That's right. It's rough."

"Hmm?"

"The baby's coming soon."

"Heh… wait, WHAT?!"

Gabriel had said it so casually that Frazer almost let it slide, but as it registered, his thoughts started spinning out.

"Coming?! Eh, wait?! What do I do?! What do I need?! Diapers?! We've got diapers ready, but…!"

"I was told to call you."

"That's it!"

Frazer bolted off in a hurry, and Gabriel followed.

"Don't you need to ring the bell?"

"Like hell I do! Nobody's even listening!"

"Mm, okay."

That wasn't true at all.

But nothing in this town would stop a man rushing home to his wife's childbirth.

Meanwhile, at the Frazer residence…

"Hey. Use that handy magic of yours to bring fresh cloth and hot water already."

"Y-yes."

"You'll bear a child of your own someday, won't you? It won't hurt to know."

"Like that's going to happen!"

… Ilya was being run ragged.

The fitting modern realism: the talented are made to do everything.

"Grini-buff!"

The just-arrived Frazer bounced off the barrier set on the bedroom.

"What the hell is this?!"

"Don't be loud! That girl put up a barrier spell!"

"Girl…? With the mask, that's Ilya?"

When the situation was explained and the barrier dropped, Grinis's groans became audible and Frazer's brows scrunched up pathetically.

Amoi shooed Frazer at the door with a flick of her hand.

"Your turn's a little later. Wait quietly."

"P-please look after her! Grinis! I'm right here!"

The door slammed in his face and he could no longer even see inside.

Ilya must have re-erected the barrier, because the cries of pain cut off; that relieved his chest-tightening discomfort, but with no idea what was happening inside, anxiety took hold.

"… Want a snack?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Gabriel staying fuzzy as ever distracted him somewhat, but Frazer couldn't settle: he stood, sat, paced the door, restless.

Gabriel watched him quietly and felt a strange thing.

Why are my father and Frazer so different?

(Maybe my father was flustered like this too?)

Imagining it didn't work at all, so Gabriel tilted his head, alone.

Into that odd space came a sound.

A cry.

That animal-like wail made Frazer freeze like a statue; he watched the door open.

The one who came out was Ilya, mask off.

"Please."

At her invitation, Frazer stepped, almost unsteadily, into the bedroom, where Amoi's arms held a tiny life crying out loud.

The piercing wail had no displeasure in it; with every step toward them, his heart filled only with joy.

"Crying well is a sign of health. Boys ought to be like this."

"Boy… so, a boy."

Taking the blanket-wrapped infant from her, tears kept streaming down Frazer's cheeks.

"Grinis, can you see him?"

"… Dear… Yes. He's so… beautiful…"

"Yeah… of course he is. He's our child after all…"

Father and mother and child.

Not wishing to intrude on the family's space, Ilya left the bedroom.

Stepping into the living area, she found Gabriel, who'd apparently also been watching, and went to him.

"I…"

In the wake of Gabriel's small murmur lay the freshly-born family.

"I wonder if I was like that too."

"… Yeah."

Ilya nodded.

"You were born with your father and mother… with everyone's blessing."

"… Mm."

The warmth in him let him accept that.

A serene smile rose on Gabriel's face.

"…"

For just an instant, it clouded.

And after that, the boy's smile vanished.

After the birth, normally Amoi or her apprentices would stay with mother and child for a while. But with another birth overlapping, a "you can handle it" got Ilya stuck with the baby-care for several days.

About five days after Grinis's birth, half-forcibly tasked with the infant, Ilya was finally released, and they could at last plan to set off.

"Uhh…"

"Hey, Shannon. You're troubling our young lady."

"Eee!"

The little hand gripping Ilya's clothes refused to be detached; the small hand swatted the father's hand away.

While Frazer looked like the world was ending, the air around them was endearing.

"He's really taken to you. How about it, Ilya? Why not stop the dangerous work and help me out?"

"Thank you. But I'm sorry. I still want to see more of the world."

"Hmm? Too bad."

Amoi didn't look hugely disappointed (she'd expected the refusal) but Ilya could tell she meant it.

That was just who she was. And that was why some things could be entrusted to her.

"Please make full use of the notes I gave you."

"Will do. Hard-headed types will struggle with it, but I'll kick their asses if I have to and spread it."

How reassuring.

While they spoke, Frazer (now recovered) patted Gabriel's head and laughed.

"You two, you really helped us. I'll say it as many times as it takes… thank you."

That smile of his was the gentlest one she'd seen on him.

"Nothing for me?"

"Like hell there isn't. Granny, I can't thank you enough."

The bittersweet air lightened, and in the gentle atmosphere, Ilya and Gabriel said their goodbyes.

"All right, then, we'll be off. Give Grinis-san our best."

"Yeah. Be well. You guys are like family now. Come back whenever."

"… Mm. Thank you."

He patted Gabriel's head a last time, and the two set off.

Frazer's words were genuine, but in her own way, Ilya sensed it was also his kindness for them.

"… Lonely?"

"… Mm."

She swallowed back her Is that all? at the look on his face.

After the day of the birth, Gabriel's expression didn't clear; even when he smiled, it didn't quite shape into one, and you could see plainly that he was forcing it.

Luckily, while Ilya took care of the baby, he'd done extermination jobs as training and to earn money, so he hadn't burdened the Frazers much; but the couple no doubt noticed. Ilya occasionally exchanged wry looks with them and sensed their unspoken concern.

Did remembering his mother do it…?

If so, time was the only fix.

If it was something else, then since he didn't want to talk, she'd just wait until he did.

Either way it came down to waiting; better than blundering and making the wound worse.

So Ilya had thought.

Maybe that was too charitable a take, she thought a few days after leaving Greislib.

"… Uh."

Coming back from a commission, Ilya hesitated over what to say to Gabriel.

The place was Pagamlib, a commerce city between Greislib and the port city Lamlib.

While Ilya was gathering information about the country she was thinking of next, Gabriel had been on his usual commission-as-training.

But when Gabriel came back, his right arm was injured, and the right sleeve was torn off cleanly, probably to stop the bleeding.

"Did you complete the commission?"

"… Mm."

His usual gloom was still there, but the slump looked deeper, probably because of the wound.

"That injury: did the monster do that?"

"… Mm. I didn't finish them in time."

"… Was there a strange variant in there?"

"No… it was the kind of monster I'd been told about."

The monster she'd had him hunt today was a mimicry crab.

These camouflage-specialist crab-type monsters had two patterns of reaction when their disguise was spotted: if no allies were near, they fled at top speed; if allies were near, they sounded the alarm with their pincers and the group attacked all at once.

Today's homework was: find a mimicking monster and kill it before it knew it had been seen.

If he'd failed to clean it up and gotten injured, that meant he'd been swarmed.

But without a mutant individual involved, it wasn't conceivable that Gabriel would be at a disadvantage.

He's never failed like this before.

Up to that point, Ilya set on a plan.

"… I see. Think about what went wrong, and how to avoid the same mistake next time."

"… Mm. Got it."

Even with a deep wound, Gabriel's body would recover in one night of sleep.

But getting nagged about bloody sheets was a hassle, so Ilya applied healing magic before bed.

The next day.

Succeeding on the same commission could restore self-confidence lost to failure and encourage him to think for himself.

"…"

"… I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize…"

Ilya's plan was a failure.

Gabriel, in front of her, was bleeding from the abdomen.

"Same failure as yesterday?"

"… No. I beat the one that came at me, but the one that fled went after a person who happened to be there, and…"

"You shielded them?"

"…"

His silent nod made her decide, Well, that can't be helped.

But she should have noticed something here.

That if he'd beaten the attacking one, it meant he had spotted the mimic but failed to kill it before it had been alerted.

The next day again.

While moving toward the port city Lamlib, Ilya and Gabriel took a peddler-escort commission.

There were no notable beasts or monsters along the route, and bandits and highwaymen weren't a serious threat.

So Ilya had judged, but…

"…"

"… I'm sorry."

"No, don't be angry at him! This boy saved me!"

"… If the client says so."

What was defending Gabriel was the peddler.

He was right that Gabriel had been hurt defending him.

But the reason the man had been attacked in the first place was that Gabriel had missed a bandit attacking from the left side of the wagon, which he had been guarding.

The bandits' stats were below average.

For Gabriel, they would normally have been no threat.

… And yet, that fighting pattern just now.

What she sensed in him was, in a word, hesitation.

As a result, his blade was dulled, and he'd let his client be endangered.

Could it be the previous ones, too?

Thinking back, the logic fit.

A dulled blade meant he couldn't kill instantly; that left multiple monsters that swarmed him; he took injuries.

That he'd beaten the one that attacked but the mimic had still gotten away meant he'd failed to kill it while it was still disguised.

"… Gabriel. Are you sure you can keep taking commissions?"

"… Mm."

He had to be aware of his own irregularity.

If he still wanted to keep taking them, he meant to fix the problem.

Deciding as much, Ilya said:

"All right, got it."

And accepted his will.

That day, they bought clothes and food in Lamlib, then stayed over.

The next day they boarded a scheduled passenger ferry to one of the neighbors across the sea, the Larbaticos Kingdom.

The scheduled passenger ferry was also a cruise ship; the interior was decked out with stately furnishings, and provisions were stocked for as many as twenty days. The lounge hall held shows, the bar had a casino: all things to keep voyagers entertained.

Things that would have set Gabriel's eyes shining before barely registered to him now.

"… Sigh."

Leaving Gabriel alone in their room, Ilya let out a sigh at the deck railing.

"When in Rome," and so she was dressed appropriately for the standards of the ship, and was being talked to more often than usual; she quickly got used to it and decided to ignore people.

But she couldn't get used to Gabriel, and couldn't ignore him. Having never raised anyone, she found the responsibility heavy. So heavy she couldn't quite write it off as bothersome.

"… I wonder what Anna-san would have done."

Hear out the troubles and guide him through, or wait for him to solve them himself.

"… No use thinking about it."

No matter how she thought, she wasn't Anna.

She'd reached the same conclusion as always, but somehow felt clearer than before.

"…?"

She caught something at the edge of her sight and felt something off.

If it's a sea monster, that's a hassle, she thought, activating [Clairvoyance]. What it showed her was a person.

A castaway floating in the sea.

After they fished him up and took him to the infirmary, Ilya had gone back to her room to change, and then she and Gabriel were summoned to the captain's quarters by a crewman.

"There's been a ship attacked, it seems."

That was what the captain told them upon arrival.

"A ship?"

The captain nodded and looked at the chart spread on the table.

A round button marked the ferry's current location; a red triangle marked the attacked vessel's position.

"There's a wealthy merchant named Hibanel. The crewman we just rescued was apparently from one of Hibanel's ships. According to him, Hibanel's ship was attacked and seized by pirates."

"… Are we going to rescue this Hibanel?"

If the attack site was known, you could simply skirt it.

For the captain of a scheduled passenger ferry to take personal interest in someone's private ship, there had to be a reason.

Her guess was right; the captain shrugged and gave a wry smile.

"He's, well, arguably the foremost merchant of Larbaticos. If his holdings were lost, the unemployment in his absence would balloon."

"That'd be terrible…"

To Ilya's faintly removed answer, the captain added, "And also…" then sighed once and looked at the chart with a sharper, transformed gaze.

"As a fellow seaman, I cannot stomach the outrage of a ship being taken."

The heads of each department gathered in the room smiled in agreement, but those smiles bore not the warmth of a cruise ship but a ferocity more like mercenaries'.

"… So why have you called us?"

The captain nodded with a smile, the sharpness now gone.

"As you know, this is a passenger ship, so it's rare for mercenary or magic-guild members to be on board."

Yes, Ilya agreed internally.

For 90% of mercenaries, the formality of a ship like this was off-putting, and they would never voluntarily pay the higher fares to "enjoy a voyage."

That was why people like Ilya, who didn't want to share a deck with rough types, chose this kind of ferry.

"You want us to help retake the ship as well, I take it?"

"It would help if you'd grasp things so quickly. We'll send able people from this ship too. As a passenger vessel we keep our guards capable, so we won't be outmatched."

Where does that confidence come from? The air around them prevented such doubts.

Ilya thought they'd probably manage on their own, but…

"Got it."

Gabriel answered first.

The captain's eyes said refusal was still on the table.

But considering Gabriel's run of failures, Ilya wasn't going to undercut his initiative.

"Understood. We'll take it on."

"Thank you. Then, immediately, let's draft the plan."

He really is used to this.

Ilya, less impressed than slightly exasperated, listened as the steady, polished plan came together.

Three small boats sliced through the night sea.

Propelled by mana, the three boats carried twenty-four people between them.

Periodically, an owl-birdkin in the air corrected their bearing, and they neared the merchant's vessel.

 

*

 

Ilya and Gabriel's assigned role came from one piece of what the rescued crewman had told them: eliminate the threat in the dance hall, where the captives were being gathered.

Pulling the boat alongside the ship, hooking ropes, sliding in silently: it felt like special forces work.

Without summoning her mask or weapons, Ilya only tied her hair back.

"Let's go."

"Mm."

Even though they were "combat professionals," they looked like a girl and a boy.

Safety secured, they crossed last and infiltrated as planned along the corridor leading to the hall.

The ship's interior was extravagant beyond reason, glittering, gaudy enough to be painful to look at.

The thick, fluffy carpeting let footsteps go unnoticed, but the small metal jangle of Gabriel's katana fittings stood out more clearly because of it.

… Hm?

Feeling an odd presence, Ilya stopped in front of a door along the corridor.

A magical barrier was set on it, and from the scratches around it, the pirates had tried and failed to get in.

Calmly dispelling the barrier, Ilya stepped inside.

The room turned out to be a treasure vault, packed with gold and silver.

"… That's…"

Her gaze fixed on the back.

In a cage like a birdcage…

"Mm-! Mmm-!!"

A small person with butterfly-like wings was held captive, muffled noises coming from her.

Untying the gag and the cords on her hands and feet, the small person stretched as if working out kinks.

"Thanks! You don't look like ship people. They caught me because I'm a fairy!"

Ilya checked her with a hand and conveyed why they were here.

"We've come to free this ship from pirates. It's dangerous, so stay in this room a little longer, okay?"

"Eeh?!"

"It's fine. I already opened the door's barrier, so you can leave whenever."

"Uu…"

With grudging acceptance from the fairy, Ilya and Gabriel reached the dance hall door.

By chance, the door was open, and Gabriel peeked through.

"!"

What lay beyond was carnage.

In the moment they looked in, the pile of carelessly tossed bodies grew higher by one.

"Hyaha, hya-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

"S-stop… no, ah, AHHHH!"

"Gyahahaha! Cry prettier than that for me! Geh-hi-hi-hi-hi! Right, you're next."

He was dragging helpless people off one by one and killing them in front of the others.

The killer was apparently the pirate captain, decked out in gaudy ornament.

… That's…

Just as Ilya was about to focus her eyes, the next victim, a young sailor, was being dragged before the captain.

"… No!"

Before he could even think about it, Gabriel was moving.

Crossing fifty meters in a single leap, his sword bit into the pirate's arm and freed the boy.

The pirates' swords came out, and the full count of the hall's pirates became clear.

But they were positioned around the captives, so the risk of someone being taken hostage was high.

"… Geez!"

Ilya generated her mask and bow.

She pierced the pirates surrounding the captives simultaneously; seeing it, Gabriel cut into the rest.

Sloppy.

Sensing the unease in his cuts, Ilya cast a sedation spell on the captives, who were on the verge of erupting into panic.

That kept them from being trampled in a stampede, and removed the cover the pirates could use.

The instant she thought so, a metallic clash rang in the hall.

"Khh—!"

"Look what you did to me, you brat!"

Gabriel was parrying a pirate's sword.

His blade should have cut that one in two without trouble.

So why?

Without time to dwell, Ilya readied her bow.

"Ghh—"

"Gegh—"

She shot down the pirate trying to finish off the trapped Gabriel and prepared for the next phase.

Before that…

Ilya looked at the pirate captain.

The status overlaid on him, where the role should have said "Captain," read One Possessed by a Demon.

Ughh.

Things were getting troublesome.

While she felt as much, the situation moved.

Crap.

A pirate had slipped in among the captives. He stood, holding a sword to a woman's throat, and bellowed at Gabriel and Ilya.

"Don't move! Heh, you came to rescue them, you can't just abandon them, right?!"

Gabriel relaxed his combat posture; seeing it, the pirate before him grinned vulgarly and raised his sword.

But his arm never came down.

"Sorry, but no use."

Sent like that's "the end of training," her arrows pierced only the pirates, with precision.

The force of impact knocked them flying, and at speeds where every arrow seemed to fire simultaneously, she pierced through them.

She put one through the captain's legs, pinning him in place.

"Purify; the still is rule. Beyond the closed ring's seat, the inner gate is the world's prison."

And began casting holy magic.

A white-light circle formed at the captain's feet.

"Giga-yiyaaaa!!"

He let out an inhuman scream.

Just disappear already.

Her wish was in vain; even crawling, the captain reached his hand toward the captives.

The pose almost seemed like he was asking for help.

"Hyaha! Break them, leave them in death!!"

A jagged-mouthed grin loosed a curse demanding companions in dying.

The light from his hand drew a venomous purple circle, and a huge column of water surged at the captives.

"!"

Gabriel's eyes saw it.

The water vaporized anything it swallowed in an instant.

That water's lethal. If it swallows everyone…

The answer was simple.

Everyone dies.

"!?"

Ilya couldn't believe her eyes.

Gabriel, whom she'd assumed frozen, moved; not to flee but to plant himself in front of the captives, slamming his fist down on the floor.

The floor collapsed with a thunder, and the water diverted toward the gap.

But not all of it.

The poisonous flow that didn't stop swallowed Gabriel and, not satisfied, the captives too.

"Hi, hee…"

The cracked laughter of the captain made Ilya speak.

"What's so funny?"

He should have been delighted to take as many companions as possible.

That was what he was about to say but couldn't, because, savoring the satisfaction for as long as he could, he glanced to where the captives had been…

"No one died."

… and at her satisfied smile, taking in the captives unharmed, he lost the words.

[God King Barrier].

Harming no one, harmed by no one: that quality of inviolate space, her absolute defense.

That said.

Outside the barrier's range, Gabriel looked acid-burned; Ilya cast him a complicated look.

Recovery magic could mend the wounds in an instant.

But this wasn't the kind of thing to be waved off with "good job."

"You ladies, you all right?!"

"W-what is this…"

The ferry's crew, running in, was speechless at the hall's state.

"It's done here. We've killed the man who appears to have been the pirate captain. Want to confirm?"

"R-right."

"… Is there anyone in charge here?"

As one would expect of crew.

Mid-chaos they got down to crisp post-action work, and what Ilya and Gabriel could do was tend to the captives and provide mental care.

The ship's owner Hibanel had already been killed in his stateroom by the time they arrived. The voyage had been to show off a fairy he'd bought. The fairy was nowhere to be found; she'd either escaped or Hibanel had been swindled.

Back on the ferry, Ilya took part in the explanation of events and the reward discussion, but honestly didn't care.

There was something more pressing to settle.

When they arrived at Kelticos, the port city of Larbaticos, Ilya took an inn at once and, in a room there, sat across from Gabriel.

"I'd been thinking that if you weren't going to say anything, that was fine… but I can't overlook this anymore."

"Ilya… I'm sorry."

She knelt down so as to bring her eye level to Gabriel's, who'd lowered his head.

"It's done, and I wasn't hurt. You don't have to apologize."

The smile on Ilya's face was real, and her words were sincere.

But, she went on:

"If you keep this up, you could end up dead. Even so, would you do the same thing in a situation like today's?"

"…"

Not denying it meant he didn't want to deny it. Which was, in effect, assent.

"To you, is shielding someone else more important than your own life?"

If there was a legitimate reason, a firm conviction behind it, Ilya wouldn't try to stop him.

She had no intention of stopping him.

But if it was just a disregard for his own life, she'd force him back to the demon god. What happened after he left the island again was none of her business.

She had no interest in traveling with someone who simply wanted to die.

"… I don't know."

That was his answer.

"… I see."

Without affirming or denying, she stood, and Gabriel said "I…" again.

It wasn't directed at Ilya; it might have been a soliloquy.

"I've… killed a lot of people. People who'd done nothing wrong, and I killed them…"

In their journey together, Gabriel had come to know many things.

What's called common sense. Combat technique. Monsters.

… People.

In his time with the Frazers, he'd come to know life.

The life that gets born. The father and mother who rejoice in it.

That life is like that, blessed when it comes into the world.

And it had to be that way for every town, every country, every people.

Their smiles all overflowing with the same joy.

Every place's people working hard at being alive.

"… They were all smiling. They were no different from any other town's people, they were all alive, and… I distorted their lives…"

He'd taken so many of those lives. Just as the Frazers' baby was greeted by smiles and blessing into the world, he'd taken people who had been born to that.

What if Frazer had been in that port town?

What if he'd reached Frazer's town first?

The more he thought, the more his chest tightened, the gravity of what he'd done, the weight of his sin pressing down.

So he'd kept on thinking.

"How can I… be forgiven by all of them?"

How could this sin be atoned for?

"How can I…"

Smile, like everyone else?

No answer came.

So he resolved to protect as many lives as he could.

My body's tough. I can take a few wounds, no problem.

That was his thinking.

But sometimes, he wondered.

To protect someone, is it okay to kill someone else?

Won't I kill someone meaninglessly again?

As he thought this, his sword dulled, his body wouldn't move as he wanted.

The result was this.

"… What should I do?"

Ilya, looking down at him, hadn't changed expression.

No disgust or weariness, no displeasure, no anger, no fury.

She just bent and brought her eyes level with his, and said:

"You decided to sacrifice yourself to protect people, so as to atone for your sins."

To that, only a quiet nod.

"I see," she murmured, and continued.

"I understand the reason. But that answer is something you have to find for yourself."

It was an answer that pushed him away.

"But, I… I can't figure it out…"

"Then… if I said it was all right to kill them, could you kill the Frazers?"

"I couldn't…"

Of course he couldn't.

Why would she say something so cruel? Gabriel's eyes asked; Ilya's expression softened into a gentle smile.

"That's how it should be. Who you want to protect, who you have to cut down: you can't leave that up to anyone else. Even I don't know how to atone for my own sins."

"Even Ilya?"

Ilya simply nodded.

"No matter how many people I save, no matter how many monsters I kill, the people I've killed don't come back. In the end, it all comes out to self-satisfaction."

The way she said it was somehow sad, and her tone almost self-mocking.

Gabriel lowered his head.

If Ilya, who he'd thought knew everything, didn't have an answer, could he come up with one?

The unease, like being in pitch dark with no way forward, tightened his chest.

Watching him, hearing his words, Ilya came to a realization.

"… Gabriel, you're afraid of regretting it."

"Regret…"

When she put it that way, he saw it.

I shouldn't have gone to that town then.

If I'd cut properly back then, I wouldn't have endangered anyone.

… But I'm afraid I'll mistake the target again and regret it.

"Not just when you're shielding someone like today. When you swing while still uncertain, the people around you, and you yourself, get hurt. And you'll regret it for sure: maybe there was another way."

Gabriel raised his head. The fact he was still seeking an answer.

Seeing it, she smiled once, then dropped the smile and faced him squarely.

"Gabriel. The sword is something that kills."

"Kills…"

The words slipped from him in a kind of unconscious echo, and Ilya answered "yes."

"The sword kills. Even if the result is protecting someone, that doesn't change. The moment you draw it is the moment you choose to kill. Don't forget that."

If you tell me that, I won't be able to draw it.

Why are you being mean again?

She returned his pained look with a wry smile and stood.

"You don't actually have to fight, you know."

"… Eh?"

"Even if you fight, it doesn't have to be with the sword. You can take an enemy down with your bare hands; if it's a question of shielding someone with your body to fight, you can just run."

Gabriel looked at the sword in its sheath. Was it because his father had given it to him?

Realizing he'd only thought of fighting with the sword without noticing, Gabriel felt the tension go out of him.

A weight lifted from his shoulders.

Looking back later, he'd see it that way.

"There are countless ways to fight. Among them, you draw the sword only when you mean to kill, to kill something, with full resolve."

"Resolve…"

"Yes. I will kill this one. This, alone, I will cut. Decide that, and then draw."

Make it that kind of thing.

"You could even decide on a battle cry."

"Battle cry?"

"Mm. Like 'Gabriel, sever the enemy!' or 'Single-minded purpose!' or 'Gabriel, draws!' Make your resolve into words."

"… Draws…"

Watching Gabriel think it over seriously, Ilya breathed out a small relieved sigh.

With this, the honest Gabriel wouldn't draw his sword without resolve.

With the demon god's strength, he could fight unarmed; in fact, since the sword carried the constant impression of I'll kill them, the ability to hold back without a blade in hand might actually keep things safer.

Even so, this didn't really resolve the real answer he was struggling with.

It only redirected his attention. But that was much better than letting him stay trapped in his own dark.

"Now that I've heard why, and we've talked about resolve for now…"

Ilya turned her eyes off to a corner of the room.

"How about you come out?"

"… How did you know?"

The one who poked her head out from a shadow was the fairy from the ship.

The fairy fluttered her butterfly-like wings and floated toward Ilya.

"Hunch?"

"So elves have keen hunches too."

Sounding impressed, the fairy turned to face Ilya as she shifted her body, and gave a little startled tremor.

Ilya smiled to keep her from getting frightened.

"You followed us because I'm an elf?"

"… Mm. I'd never seen an elf before."

"Right. Elves hate fairies, after all."

"… Mm. Fairies are the same."

Ilya half-surprised, half-nodding at the response.

Fairies, who had lost their god elements through their freewheeling nature and been cursed into their current forms, were furiously despised by elves as kindred sharing the same origin.

If elves hated them, it wasn't strange that fairies hated the elves' stiffness back.

"Then why did you follow me?"

"… When you looked at me, there wasn't bad feeling."

Ah, [Spirit Sight], huh.

The [Spirit Sight] possessed by fairies and spirits could read the feelings of whoever the bearer looked at.

So she'd clearly seen Ilya had no ill will or revulsion toward her.

Having read that, the fairy probably just took an interest in this odd elf and drew near.

"I'm Ilya. And you?"

"! I'm Pasha!"

The way she beamed at being accepted was so cute, and Ilya found herself smiling naturally.

"Listen, I have a favor!"

"A favor?"

"Mm! Let me come with you!"

"Ah…"

Pasha was adorable, and would surely bring a softness to the journey beyond traveling with Gabriel, who was developing in a more masculine direction every day.

But right now wasn't ideal.

Ilya's eyes saw that Pasha possessed exceptional mana and the talent to wield it.

But that was at range only; at close range she had no real means.

If something happened, Gabriel would no doubt put himself in the path.

Even if Ilya tried to stop him, in the right situation his physical abilities would beat her to it. That was what would do the damage.

The protected Pasha would thank Gabriel.

That would likely give Gabriel a sense of fulfillment.

And that could become a hook, finding the answer outside himself rather than from within.

That was exactly the outcome Ilya was wary of.

Answers shaped by external factors were brittle, easily warped.

Like a younger Ilya who'd said I do what I want while ruthlessly excluding others as a factor, and ended up distorting what she actually wanted to do.

"Sorry. Now's not a good time."

"Eeh?! Why?!"

"This kid's in training, so I can't have you along. Sorry."

"No way!"

The flat refusal made Ilya's smile freeze just slightly.

Catching the shift in the air, Gabriel, who had been fuzzily watching, began to slip away from them.

Ilya was kind and reasonable to everyone, but to those who opposed her or who got in her way without reason, she was very firm. Luckily, the fairy was only looking at Ilya and hadn't noticed Gabriel.

But.

"In that case…"

Snatch.

Caught by the scruff, Gabriel was reeled back in; without changing her smile, Ilya said:

"… if you can catch up to us by the next town."

The next morning, Pasha was at her pillow.

The day after, and the day after that.

And given that she showed zero interest in Gabriel, it wasn't plausible Gabriel had aided her.

The next morning…

"… Sigh."

Ilya let out a heavy sigh at the fairy peacefully snoring by her pillow.

"Pasha, wake up."

"Mnnyaa… no more food…"

"Wow…"

To think she could hear that stock anime sleep-talk in another world.

Dismissing the irrelevant thought, Ilya shook Pasha awake.

Where she'd let Pasha be ignored before, Ilya's change caught Gabriel's attention; he silently watched.

"Ngh… ah, huh? Why's… the shilta fruit gone…"

"Pasha, one question. How did you know where we were?"

"Whuh? Ah… um… the spirits told me?"

Still rubbing her eyes, drowsy, Pasha said it tilting her small head.

Ilya hung her head.

True; with the aptitude, you could converse with spirits.

She hadn't considered the possibility because spirits hid themselves from her so they wouldn't be affected, which also meant the spirits recognized her existence.

So fleeing wouldn't matter.

And worse, if rumors of "a fairy appearing in town" spread, Pasha could be put in danger.

"But you got away quickly… why's that…"

"Pasha."

"Hweh?! W-what?"

Pasha startled bodily.

She knew Ilya bore her no ill will, yet she stiffened up anyway.

"You'll be in danger drifting around alone. Come with us."

Pasha shrank her small body even smaller; for an instant the words didn't sink in.

But Gabriel's "good for you" brought her back, and she finally understood.

"Really?! Thank you!"

"But two conditions: don't act on your own, and if a fight breaks out, stay near me. If you can keep those…"

"Okay!"

Without waiting for her to finish, Pasha latched on, looking up at her with shining eyes.

Smiling wryly, Ilya stroked her head.

"Pleased to have you, Pasha."

"Mm! Ilya-onee-chan!"

And so a girl fairy joined the two's journey.

The journey after that went on as if the weather were blessing Pasha's joining; clear days continued.

Humid days (rainy days, with lots of water elements) made her body feel heavy, apparently, and Pasha got even chattier.

"Eh?! Onee-chan, you're the same age as me?!"

"Apparently. Gabriel too."

"Hm?"

Pasha glanced at Gabriel but, with no real interest there, turned back to Ilya on her shoulder.

The way she was uninterested in anything not interesting was very fairy-like; Ilya smiled wryly.

"Even still, onee-chan is onee-chan!"

"You can just call me by name, you know."

"Onee-chan's better!"

What Pasha was so happy about, Ilya didn't know, but her smile had no hidden agenda.

As if she'd thought of something, Pasha put on a proud face.

"They say elves and fairies are originally like siblings!"

"Sort of, yeah."

By that logic, all of humanity, descended from the human-god, was siblings.

"Then, is Gabriel onii-chan?"

"Ehh."

Pouting, Pasha floated forward to plant herself in front of Gabriel.

She crossed her arms and stared at him as though glaring, then put on an exasperated little smile.

"Gabriel-kun is fine being Gabriel-kun～"

Returning to Ilya's shoulder, she spotted something, tugged at Ilya's ear, and excitedly pointed.

She wasn't so much "loud" as "lively" in a fond way.

Thanks to the fairy whose expressions changed with the moment, the three's journey was anything but boring.

Time passed; about the number of days you couldn't count on one hand had gone by since Pasha joined.

The three sat on a roadside boulder eating lunch.

Pasha bit into a sandwich (fluffy bread, crisp veggies, browned meat dunked in a rich sauce) her tiny mouth open as wide as it could go.

She chewed and swallowed properly, and a slack, happy expression bloomed on her face.

"Delicious! … It is delicious, but…"

Even with that smile, she sulked at the sky.

While Ilya's cooking was right there, the sky was packed with dull clouds and looked ready to rain any moment.

"Onee-chan, can't your magic make the weather better?"

"I can, but I won't. If I did, the farmers would be mad at me, right?"

"Mn, true."

While Ilya wiped the sauce from her mouth, Pasha laughed for no clear reason.

The dull weather pulled the mood down, but having a chatterbox like Pasha around made a world of difference.

Especially with one of their party so low lately. So Ilya thought.

But lately, even Gabriel had been showing little signs of change, Ilya's eyes had noted.

"Heey, Gabriel, if you keep making that face, the rain's gonna come."

"Wow ouwww."

"Hahahaha!"

That hurts, Pasha was what Ilya picked up; whether Pasha did or didn't, she kept pulling on Gabriel's cheeks and laughing.

It wasn't even teasing; pure, guileless impishness; Gabriel, finally freed, gave a wry smile.

Yes. A wry smile.

Not a full grin, but a smile nonetheless.

Pasha's doing, Ilya thought.

I'm not the kind to make people laugh. So Pasha's presence is welcome.

It was a self-serving thought, she knew, but her gratitude was real.

So as not to wreck the mood, she picked up the basket and stepped quietly toward the forest behind them to break it down.

!

In that moment, a chill ran through her, and Ilya stopped to track its source.

What she eventually saw emerging from deeper in the forest were monsters.

There were far too many of them, and every one was headed toward them.

Not just from deep in the forest.

From all directions.

… Why?

The number wasn't the issue.

They were outside any monster habitat, and creatures across species shouldn't all be converging on them. Ilya frowned.

Meanwhile, something else was happening.

"What… my body…!"

"Pasha…? Ilya!"

Almost at the same time Gabriel called her name, Pasha dropped to the ground and hunched as if enduring something.

The moment Ilya turned, the head-down Pasha finally stopped trembling.

And then, a voice she didn't recognize.

"Gehyah."

"… Pasha?"

It was definitely Pasha's voice.

"Gehyah-hyah-hyah-hyah!! Finally, finally got my moment!"

"!?"

"!"

But the words were rough, and on the delicate face was a wicked grin.

Just by laying eyes on it, Ilya grasped the situation: she scooped up Gabriel and leapt, dodging spears of ice that erupted under them.

"Hah, as expected, infuriating!"

"… So you were alive."

Setting Gabriel down, Ilya sighed.

[God's Eyes] didn't show personal names, but the status overlaid on Pasha's was identical to what had been on the pirate captain.

The demon she thought she'd killed.

"Hard work, hiding in this one's clothes so you couldn't catch me."

Indeed, [God's Eyes] only read what was directly seen. Without using [Clairvoyance] to peer through, she couldn't have detected it.

Wanting to curse her own carelessness, Ilya had something more important to say.

"Pervert."

"Thanks for the compliment."

Just kill him already.

The instant she took a step, an unpleasant feeling stopped her.

The instinct was correct.

"Don't move, fools! Oraoraora! Get skewered by ice spears! Icicle Spear! Crawl on your knees under the clouds! Hailstone!"

Spear-like ice burst from the ground one after another, forming a cage around the two. The clouds were the perfect material for hail and acid rain. The casting that followed brought down fist-sized hail in arcs that grazed Ilya and Gabriel without striking, pocking the ground.

Hmm…

While Gabriel deflected hail with his extraordinary strength, Ilya tilted her head as she dodged.

The power and area of the spells far exceeded Pasha's natural aptitude.

Possibly…

Ilya focused her eyes, observing the mana's flow.

Pasha's mana scattered into the air and reappeared as energy emitted from the demon. Like a battery powering a bulb.

"… So that's it."

She got it.

Pasha didn't have high aptitude for offensive magic; her aptitude lay in holy magic, mostly support and recovery, with few proper attack spells.

But if the demon was siphoning her mana for its own attacks, that was another story.

"Excellent! Should've gone with this one from the start, not the fatty!"

The demon mocked, spamming wasteful spells.

The demon's mist could ignore magical backlash, but Pasha's body couldn't. Shattered hail tore Pasha, blood spurting, bone showing under torn white skin.

In the next instant the wounds closed, not from the demon's healing, but from Ilya, raising a hand opposite.

"Stop hurting Pasha when you're using her mana, you idiot. If you're going to hostage someone, do it properly."

"Not my problem. Brittle's her fault. Hee hee."

Whose side she was on was getting unclear.

Undeterred, the demon goaded her.

"If you don't want her to break, why doesn't one of you take her place? Hmm? You volunteer, I let her go."

The hell are you on about.

Half-exasperated, Ilya was about to move, when:

"All right."

The line of assent froze the air.

The speaker was Gabriel.

Receiving both Ilya's and the demon's gaze, he said clearly:

"I'll be the hostage. Let her go."

"… Oh?"

Even the demon, who'd said it himself, sounded interested at the unexpected turn.

Aware of it, Gabriel looked at Ilya apologetically.

In her face there was no anger or sadness; her eyes were simply closed.

He could tell, at least, that she didn't want this.

"Ilya, sorry."

"… Do what you want."

"… Sorry."

She watched in silence as he walked toward the mist hovering around Pasha.

A good chance, Ilya judged.

A coldness that cut all emotion away, and a warmth like a parent watching a child grow.

The demon couldn't grasp the mix she herself couldn't fully see, and, having gotten more than he could have hoped, accepted Gabriel's offer with "Deal."

"Touching, brave. Once I move into your body, I'll release her, no worries."

"!"

A clinging sensation, an off-feeling in his body.

He understood it as being taken over, but at the edge of his vision Pasha didn't move.

Showed no signs of moving.

"Y-you lied…?"

"That's right!! Nobody said it was only one at a time!"

The cling spread further.

"Hyaha! Geh-hyah-hah-hah-hah-hah!! Idi-oot, idi-oot, big idi-OOT!! Why would I let go of my hostages!?"

"Gh…"

Like paralysis numbing him, his sense of his own body slipped.

When his body began moving without him willing it, an indescribable revulsion ran through Gabriel; he frantically tried to take it back.

If this kept up, he couldn't save Pasha, and he'd cause trouble for Ilya.

That, more than the revulsion at being puppeted, hurt him.

He didn't want to make a mistake again.

Ilya's warning had been clear, and he had wanted to act on it.

And still he hadn't stopped himself. Maybe with my strength I can push through, he'd thought.

This was the result.

If you swing with hesitation, you hurt others and yourself.

Just as Ilya said.

He understood, but it was too late.

"… I-lya, sorr…"

"Pathetic, foolish! Geh-hyah, hyah-hyah-hyah-hyah-hyah!!"

The demon's mocking laughter drifted away, and Gabriel's mind grew foggy as if wrapped in heavy mist.

While taking Gabriel over, the demon spoke to Ilya.

"So what'll you do?"

Mocking,

"Don't wanna kill your friends, do ya? They're so pitiable, aren't they."

Pitying,

"Hand over your body, too. Even if I take you, I'll keep all three of you alive. Let's all live together, huh? Hyah! Hyah-hah-hah-hah-hah!"

"That's not possible."

Ilya answered immediately.

If her body were taken by some malicious party, disaster would follow.

Two lives versus countless. Anyone would name the same answer.

"Oh? Will you do it? Are you sure? These two die, you know."

The demon snickered.

The grating laughter sounded almost distant.

In his hazy consciousness, Gabriel was seeing a scene he didn't know.

Vivid flowers in full bloom, a soft breeze gently swaying the grass, the sweet smell of nectar making the heart leap.

Sight, touch, smell: all five senses confirmed the scene, but Gabriel couldn't place what it was.

And what he felt wasn't only sensation.

A constriction in his chest, like pain.

Gabriel felt as if he'd experienced this before.

Was it the pain when he'd understood he'd killed many people?

Even as he thought it, no came back; he searched his memory, and…

That's…

Remembered.

It was the loneliness, hardness, sadness of after his mother was gone.

But this scene, he didn't know. The vantage swayed and shook; something was off.

As he noticed it, the tightness in his chest tightened.

What… is that… Pasha?

A fairy in the field.

But closer in, he saw it wasn't Pasha; right at that moment:

Why…?

A voice, like an overlay of his own thoughts.

The not-Pasha fairy glanced this way and, immediately, looked away and went off as if fleeing.

Why are you ignoring me?

The voice again, and the chest-pain doubled.

Sight blurred, then a sensation of rubbing eyes.

This is… Pasha's…?

The thought arrived, and the boundary between himself and Pasha grew vaguer.

Why is everyone ignoring me? I haven't done anything bad.

Sad, painful, and it hated being hated.

Notice me.

Everyone notice me.

The truest feeling under that thought she couldn't name; only I want family, someone, to see me came up to the surface, and the result was mischief.

Hiding things.

Dropping bugs on people to startle them.

Such small mischief succeeded in turning everyone's eyes on her.

But she also noticed: the looks turning toward her grew worse by the day.

It was hard, it hurt.

I haven't done anything wrong. Don't ignore me. Look at me.

I'm here.

Those feelings built, until a great incident erupted.

The branches and leaves of the world tree that protected the fairy kingdom.

If I hide these, everyone will be even more surprised.

From that light impulse, the result was: the branches and leaves withered, and the barrier protecting the fairy kingdom was undone.

They drove off the monsters that broke in and the fairy monarch re-cast the barrier, but the forest was ravaged, many fairies hurt, and the monarch couldn't move.

The fairies grieved… and they raged.

Their anger turned on Pasha; words flew, and she was driven out of the fairies' home.

Scared. Hurting. Suffering.

Painful. Sad. Lonely.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Pasha cried as she thought.

I just wanted to be noticed.

I just wanted my family to look at me.

I just wanted… to laugh, with everyone.

When she understood that, Pasha cursed her own foolishness.

I shouldn't have played those pranks.

I shouldn't have troubled them.

But it was too late.

Afraid, in pain, lonely, and with no home, Pasha wandered, traveling without destination.

To forget the pain, to distract herself from the loneliness, she traveled, and the world outside was full of things.

Glittering she'd never seen. Animals whose bodies she'd never imagined. Things sweeter than flowers or fruit.

Each time she touched something new, each time she found something unimaginable, her heart leapt.

Then, suddenly, her chest tightened.

This is me.

Gabriel, with his and her boundaries still vague, thought as much.

This is me, and her memory.

The shared resonance of those who carry the same kind of pain.

The demon's possession had linked their consciousnesses and memories.

"Hyaha, what'll you do, huh?! You gonna kill these guys crying that they don't wanna die?! Hyaha!"

Gabriel and Pasha, whose bodies had nearly lost all freedom, were crying.

Not over the present, but over each other's past sufferings, each thinking of the other.

"… Sigh."

"Huh?"

Time to wrap this up.

Ilya let out one sigh, and at the same time donned the jester-like mask.

Why would she narrow her vision when the demon could disperse into mist?

While the demon wondered, Ilya incinerated the monsters he'd sicced on her and murmured "I have a divine spell." The instant she did, the mask multiplied into three.

Each wore a gentle expression with nothing to do with combat.

There was a skill called [Miko Arts].

By calling down a soul drifting in the heavens to inhabit a thing or a creature, you could awaken its power or hear memories from the soul. The skill also had a technique to forcibly separate a soul that was possessing a thing or person.

"Name it the Eleven Faces."

There were two ways a demon dominated others.

One was taking over the mind itself and using the body. The other was leaving the mind intact and possessing the body to seize control.

Given how Pasha had immediately lost control of her body, this was the latter.

And there was a way to drive out the demon's possession.

"This divine spell is the eleven-hundred-million doctrines."

A few words and a raised hand.

To the demon, it looked like only that.

But the phenomenon went further.

"What — !?"

A sudden narrowing of his vision.

A mask of wrath, emerging from nothing, covered both Pasha and Gabriel.

Before he could try to remove it, the demon felt a colossal repulsion from the bodies he was trying to take.

"What… did you do?!"

"Get out of those two."

"Bbéé—!?"

The instant the command was given, he felt an impact like slamming into a vast wall.

When the pain dragged his awareness back, Ilya stood with the fairy in her hand and the boy under her arm.

Setting Gabriel down and dismissing Pasha into the air, Ilya took stock.

All the monsters in the area had clearly been drawn here. Easily over a thousand at a glance.

But none of that changed what Ilya would do.

"Now to take all of you down."

"… Kuh."

Bursting laughter answered her.

"Kuh-hyah, geh-hyah-hyah-hyah-hyah-hyah! Take down? You?!"

The demon stopped his abrasive laughing, spat the mocking line, and turned to mist.

A water-aligned demon. By turning to mist, his form was hard to fix on, physical attacks didn't connect, and he could seep into a body and seize it.

Confirming as much through the demon's status, Ilya started her mana operation; the demon laughed again.

"Hah. A fool who couldn't even spot me before, talking big! Got nothing in that little head, do you!? Geh-hyah-hyah-hyah-hyah-hyah!"

"Oho."

Ilya smiled.

Shattering what self-confidence he still had before killing him would best vent the irritation that had built.

But while she crafted ways to kill behind a beaming smile, something touched her shoulder.

"… Ilya."

She turned to find she couldn't ignore the voice; shelving the killing plan, she looked at Gabriel.

The fatigue still on him couldn't be hidden, but his gaze went straight to the demon.

"Ilya. I'll do it."

"…"

It was true the technique she'd taught him could fell the demon.

But could Gabriel as he was now? The unease wouldn't lift.

His mental fatigue wasn't gone. He hadn't fully mastered the technique.

And she didn't know if he could really fight at full strength.

When Ilya didn't agree right away, Gabriel was clearly aware of those points himself, but:

"I'll do it."

He wouldn't budge.

"… All right."

Ilya relaxed and took one step back.

Now behind him, she looked at the boy who had grown taller than her and smiled.

"I won't lend a hand, okay?"

"… Mm. Thank you."

The resolve she'd been pushing him toward was met with thanks, and Ilya gave a wry smile and turned around.

What she saw was an enormous swarm of monsters covering the ground.

More like a horde than a swarm.

"And I won't let them interfere either."

A bewitching smile crossed the girl's face.

That alone made the monsters, whose only motive was killing, retreat like a tide pulling away.

Feeling the ridiculous power that had stepped behind him fall away, Gabriel pulled half a step back.

Not to flee, but to receive.

Left hand to the scabbard, right hand to the hilt.

In front of him drifted the demon's mist, its form changed.

A demon shrewd enough to silently transform and quietly strike at Ilya's back, behind the obvious threat. Or perhaps he'd been noisy on purpose, the better to find a chance to strike.

Either way.

Even unable to see, sensing the pressure approach, Gabriel quietly closed his eyes.

What rose to his mind was the scene he'd seen in his melting consciousness.

The four-season field of flowers Pasha had once seen.

The Pasha in that dream was always crying.

Her sadness, loneliness, suffering: all of it had transmitted to him.

And yet the Pasha he'd actually met was always smiling.

He knew her angry, he knew her blank-faced.

And yet what came to mind was her smile.

Why can she smile that much?

Strange.

There was no envy in it. Less I want that and more what an amazing thing.

And at the same time as he thought I want to smile like her, he thought I want to keep seeing that smile of hers.

For that, I…

A sword is something for killing others.

Whether the reason for swinging is to protect or to kill, that doesn't change.

To draw is to kill.

Only when one has that resolve does one free the blade from the sheath.

I cut.

(Useless, idiot! Cutting mist is fun?! Geh-hyah-hyah-hyah-hyah-hyah!)

I cut you, who would foul her smile!

The iai skill, battōjutsu.

In this world, it was the technique of severing elements without using mana.

A demon.

A spirit polluted by miasma. A spirit was a living element-attribute. Even a demon proof against physical attacks…

"— Draws."

(Gi-hyah— hya-?)

… was not free from this blade.

"W-w-what… the…"

Click, click, click.

With every tsuba-note, the mist was sliced, and his existence was literally dispersed.

If this keeps up, I die. I disappear.

"How d-dare you-ohhhh!"

Driven by primal fear, the demon attacked the source.

Reforming a body, extending a spear-like arm…

"A-ah-ahhhh — !!!"

Only for the effort to come to nothing.

The spear-arm seeking life reached no one; the demon, sliced into thin ribbons, vanished from existence.

Click. With the katana settled back in its sheath, Gabriel looked at it.

The technique he had once seen produced multiple cuts from a single tsuba-strike.

"… Yeah, I can't do it as well as Ilya."

"You'll get there fast."

He'd really only said it to himself, but an answer wasn't surprising. Whatever monster horde he was facing, the back he'd entrusted himself to was Ilya's.

Turning, sure enough, the girl stood unsoiled, calm.

"And her?"

"She's fine."

To keep her from being targeted on the off-chance, Ilya raised a hand, and where there'd been nothing in the air, a translucent sphere appeared.

Inside, the girl fairy slept peacefully.

"… Thank goodness."

Seeing the boy's serene smile, Ilya let her own faint smile deepen.

"… Did you find your answer?"

"… Mm."

Gabriel looked at the katana once, closed his eyes, nodded, and turned his eyes to Ilya.

His expression was the gentle boy's as always, but the strength behind his eyes was firm.

The answer he'd found.

"I…"

"It's fine."

When he started to put it into words, Ilya cut in.

"You don't have to say it. Or do you need my approval?"

A typical Ilya bit of teasing.

So he thought, and Gabriel shook his head slightly.

"I don't."

This is the answer I found for myself.

No one else can know if it's right or wrong.

"Mm."

Ilya smiled, satisfied. "Right then…" she said with a pause.

"Pasha? How long are you going to pretend to be asleep?"

"Hweh!"

Suddenly addressed, the fairy startled into her open eyes.

"Uu, uu…"

Receiving both Ilya's and Gabriel's gaze, Pasha shook her small body.

Is she scared?

Gabriel's worry was blown apart by the apology that bordered on a dogeza:

"… I'm sorry!"

To Gabriel's puzzled face, and Ilya's oh dear, Pasha didn't look up; she went on.

"… I didn't mean to drag you into trouble like this…! I'm sorry!"

It surprised Gabriel.

The Pasha in his memory never apologized for what she'd done wrong.

This Pasha was apologizing from the depths of her heart.

Her regret and remorse, he understood as if they were his own.

"It's all right. We're fine."

"Eh…"

The immediate acceptance made Pasha look up.

There was Gabriel smiling gently, and Ilya smiling wryly at him.

"None of us actually came out the worse."

"Onee-chan…"

It was probably because she'd never seriously apologized before; Pasha's eyes welled with relief at being forgiven, and Ilya, saying "But…" extended a finger to her forehead.

"If you're sorry, reflect on it! If you repeat the same failure, I'll be angry, all right?"

"Y-yes…!"

Why is she happy?

Pasha's nodding-with-a-smile while Ilya was puzzled, Gabriel kept his gentle smile.

She didn't reject her, she'd get angry.

That was what made her happiest, he understood as if it were his own.

Catching his smile, Pasha looked away, her cheeks faintly tinted pink.

 

*

 

A short while after the demon's defeat, under a clear blue sky, a single boy walked a highway between forests.

On his shoulder, a small person with butterfly-like wings (a fairy) sat kicking her legs.

"Ahh, I wish onee-chan was still with us～"

"Yeah."

It was his honest feeling. And yet, at the same time, he thought…

"But being just the two of us with Pasha is nice too."

"G-Gabriel…"

"Pasha, were you sure not to go with Ilya?"

"Y-yeah… I, um… mumble mumble."

"?"

The two didn't notice.

That the sugary atmosphere they were giving off was exactly what had pushed Ilya to leave.

Ilya Schultz was the kind of person who read the air.

But of course, there are also people who don't read the air.

Catching the hoofbeats on the highway's flagstones, Gabriel looked up to see three figures, fully armored, riding hard toward them.

"… They're looking at us?"

"Looks like it."

Setting Pasha (pouting at the rude stare) onto his shoulder, Gabriel stepped to the highway's edge to let the horses pass.

But the three horses did not pass; they stopped in front of the two and neighed.

The three dismounted; one stepped forward and approached Gabriel.

"Are you Gabriel?"

"Yeah."

"I have come on the orders of one of high standing to seek you out."

"What do you want?"

The fully armored man, standing crisply, raised his face guard.

His gaze was straight, but with a melancholy in it.

"Hand over the fairy."

"… And if I say no?"

"… I am sorry. We will take her by force."

Gabriel set his left hand on the scabbard, his right on the hilt, and lightly closed his eyes.

I fight.

That was the answer he had found.

It had always been within him, and he'd found it.

Going from town to town, seeing people, feeling: it was something everyone had, something that hurt to lose, that warmed when present, something precious.

It was the smile.

I want to fight to protect Pasha. Not only Pasha. Everyone's smiles.

"Sorry…"

"It's all right."

I don't want to make her look like that.

The smile of the one who held tight on his shoulder.

The smiles of people he'd seen in every town: to protect those, he'd swing the blade.

That was the answer he'd found.

The reason to wield the power to kill.

For their sake he wouldn't waver. Even if someone hated him for it, fine. He wouldn't regret.

This is my resolve.

Three hostile presences pressed in.

From the man's expression, he wasn't simply someone who wanted to hurt.

Even so.

"— Draws."

A red flash trailed and was drawn back into the jet-black scabbard.

The scene of light seeming to devour souls would later give the katana the name Soul-Eater.

The name of the boy with the fairy, who would come to be widely known in the mercenary guild, was Gabriel.

 

*

 

Those who fought beside him would describe him in matching terms.

Unbreaking, unbending, single-mindedly firm.

When this seemingly placid, hard-to-pin-down boy at last brought his power to bear,

he himself was just like a single blade drawn.