The Day Fate Changed

"I hate you, Onii-chan…!"

The words were hurled at him the moment she saw his face, and Raul lost his voice on the spot.

"Myuli…"

After a beat, that was all he managed to scrape out of his throat.

Glaring at the boy, Myuli muttered in a voice that sounded crushed flat.

"Do you even know what everyone's been saying about Myuli because of you…?"

"H-hey, you never even told me you were being bullied…"

"… There's no way you'd have noticed…"

Myuli dropped her gaze at his words.

… Big tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks.

"… All you ever think about is heroes, Onii-chan… it's always heroes, heroes, heroes, and Myuli doesn't matter to you at all…"

"Th-that's not…"

"… I hate you, Onii-chan…!"

Her small shoulders trembled, her tear-filled eyes glaring up at him.

It was as if every feeling she'd been bottling up until now had detonated all at once.

The normally quiet, gentle girl gathered every scrap of strength in her tiny body and forced the shout out in her thin voice.

"I hate you, Onii-chan, and I hate heroes too…!"

The instant she finished, she spun on her heel, turned her back on Raul, and pattered away from him at a run.

 

*

 

Each rhythmic downswing of the wooden sword sent a sound echoing through the forest.

The great libret tree, hundreds of years old, that stretched its branches over the village square. Raul had carved his wooden sword from one of those branches, and every swing cut the air with a sharp whoom.

He poured every coil of frustration in his chest into it. But no matter how many times he brought the wooden sword down like he was venting on it, the bitter feeling in his gut wouldn't lift one bit.

… If anything, the unplaceable restlessness only mounted.

At last, he hurled the wooden sword in his hands down at his feet with all his strength.

Throwing himself flat on his back, Raul looked up at the slice of sky peeking through the trees and let out a long, long sigh, as if to expel every last bit of the heavy weight stuffed inside him.

"Oi, look at that! Creep-Otaku-Raul's swinging his stick around again!"

"Idiot. You really think a country kid who can run a little or study a little is gonna become a hero? Learn your place, man, learn your place."

"You're not a kid anymore. Still going on about being a hero? Time to give it up already."

"Raul, you ought to just shut up and pull weeds in the medicinal-herb fields like a good boy."

… Ever since he was little, he'd done nothing but chase the dream of becoming a hero.

And what Raul had to show for it, now that he'd turned fourteen this year, were the brutally cold looks the people around him sent his way.

"—There's no way someone like you ever becomes a hero."

It was a word that clung to him like a curse, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he tried to believe in himself.

… That inferiority complex, far stronger than anyone else's, that lived inside Raul.

To distract himself from it, Raul threw himself into hero training, trying to convince himself he did have the talent, trying to prove his own worth by becoming a hero. But…

… He couldn't take it anymore.

Holding his calloused palm up against the sky, Raul muttered it in his heart.

There's no point chasing the hero dream. Not even one in ten thousand people ever becomes one. Just like everyone says, a country boy like me couldn't possibly have that kind of talent, and on top of it, I don't even have the money to travel to the royal capital to sit the exam.

All my effort is for nothing, the people around me mock me endlessly, and if it were just me that'd be one thing, but I'm hurting my only little sister too… seriously, what am I even doing.

I'll just give it all up, Raul thought.

… I'll go home, and I'll apologize to Myuli.

I'll apologize to Myuli, and I'll tell her I'm done chasing the hero thing… And then.

And then, I'll…

"…?"

Mixed in with the wind brushing his cheek, he thought he caught some kind of sound.

In the same instant, a prickling sensation skittered across his skin.

His chest churned for no reason at all, and Raul sprang up. He took off running in the direction the scream had seemed to come from, toward the village.

The choking smell of smoke grew steadily thicker.

Gunshots, the screams of beasts, the screams of people…

It couldn't be… It couldn't, it couldn't be…!

Tree roots caught at his feet, sending him stumbling close to falling more times than he could count.

When he finally broke out of the treeline and stood atop the hill that overlooked the village, Raul barely got his head up between heaving breaths before he went rigid.

Together with the great libret tree, the village's guardian deity, that stretched its branches over the square—the moment Raul laid eyes on the sight of his village blazing, his mind went blank.

… There was no mistake.

His heart hammered madly, pounding out of control.

Trembling violently, Raul collapsed into the cover of a tree's shadow and muttered to himself, pale as a sheet.

Those guys, they're the bandit gang the grown-ups have been whispering about…!

The villagers had been driven from their burning homes and herded into a single spot.

And the menacing-looking men leveled swords and guns at the cowering villagers.

Some time ago, village after village, both near and far, had been attacked. Every time, the houses were burned, possessions stolen, anyone who resisted killed, women and children carried off… Raul had eavesdropped on the grown-ups' conversations more times than he could count, and the nightmares those left him with were beyond counting too.

… What do I do. Raul pressed a hand to his stinging chest and turned the question over inside himself.

No matter how hard he ran, it'd take half a day to reach the next town.

Even if he brought help back, by then those guys would surely have stripped everything bare and vanished without a trace… And there was no guarantee that the people of the next town over would even bother helping a tiny, poor village like Raul's.

… So what am I supposed to do? What can someone like me, who only happened to escape because he was off away from the village, possibly do?

The word "fight" flickered through the back of his mind, and Raul shook his head before he could even finish the thought.

… Impossible. There's no way I can do that.

"—There's no way someone like you ever becomes a hero."

… That's right. There's no way someone like me ever becomes a hero.

A bandit gang that even grown men couldn't beat, faced down alone, by me…

"…?!"

Without warning, screams and shouts came pouring into Raul's ears.

Snapping his head up, Raul caught sight of the cage loaded onto the bandits' wagon.

… As if they'd already given up resisting entirely.

The moment his eyes took in the faces of the villagers being meekly loaded behind iron bars, Raul's heart gave a sharp lurch.

 

*

 

"Hah, hah…"

Lungs burning like they'd tear apart from a sprint past his limits, heart ready to burst.

Sneaking past the bandits' eyes, Raul tumbled into his own family's shed at a roll.

The building had been spared the fire by sheer luck, and there, mixed in with the farm tools, lay it: the old sword that had been passed down through his family for generations. The sword Dad used to drive off the slimes that ravaged the fields, or to chase off the occasional small herbivorous dragon.

… Of course, Raul had never been allowed so much as to touch it, on the grounds that it wasn't a child's toy.

He gripped the hilt of the sword he was holding for what was practically the first time. It was heavier than he'd expected.

Raul tossed the sheath he'd pulled off down at his feet, pressed a hand against his chest to soothe his hammering heart… and drew in a slow, slow, deep breath.

… Focus.

Staring down at the dully gleaming blade, Raul told himself:

Calm down, it's okay. You can do this.

The way he'd practiced, thousands and thousands of trials and refinements, on the tiny knife he'd bought with his pocket money. Just like that.

Goosebumps prickled across his skin, his nerves sharpening to a point.

As if transcribing the "Complex Circuit" he'd assembled in his head onto the old sword in his grip.

Eyes flying wide open, Raul reached out with the hand of his mind and laid it on the surface of the blade.

"'Boot'—!!!"

 

*

 

"Oi, what the hell, this brat?!"

"Where'd he crawl out from?!"

"Hold on, you…"

Unfamiliar voices, edged with shock, came tumbling into Raul's ears.

"This kid's tough…!"

… For some reason, the men's movements looked unbelievably slow.

Ducking under a slashing blade, Raul kicked up at the wrist of the man holding the low guard, and as the man's weapon went flying, Raul drove the hilt of his sword into the man's solar plexus with everything he had.

The man slumped to the ground in front of him.

From somewhere, an agitated voice rang out.

"Oi, what the hell are you doing, getting taken apart by one lousy brat?!"

"But this kid, he's using magic…!!"

"Shit! You little bastard!"

The greatsword came swinging down at Raul with everything its wielder had.

But the moment Raul brought up his magic-clad blade, the heavy hunk of metal split clean in two and went flying.

He smashed his foot into the dumbstruck man's face with every ounce of strength, and the big body tumbled to the ground.

… I'll save them!

His body burned hot as fire.

Tearing toward the wagon, lost in the moment, Raul kept repeating it in his heart, over and over.

I will—I will save her!

My precious, precious little sister… Myuli, trapped in that cage, I will, no matter what!

"Myuliiii!!!!!"

In a single stroke, he cleaved the gun the man in front of the wagon was leveling at him, shoved the staggering man aside, and bounded up onto the wagon bed.

Through the cold iron bars, his sister looked up at him with red, swollen eyes.

In that instant, something inside Raul snapped.

"'Output Raise'!!!!!"

With every last scrap of strength he had, Raul brought down his magic-edged blade.

The iron bars were sheared apart like nothing, and they clattered as they slid to the ground.