There are a few things I remember about my master.
None of them are especially good memories. Whenever I think about that man, all that remains is discomfort.
Kiyoto Takamiya the <Nine-Fingered>, as the man called himself.
When had I met him? If I remember right, it was around the time I had been kicked out of my family home after dropping out of high school for personal reasons, gone up to Tokyo in search of work, and was drifting around aimlessly. Back then, because the take-home pay was good, I had been working part-time under some small-time Demon King around Ikebukuro.
For the past few years, the Shinjuku, Shibuya, and Ikebukuro areas had become dangerous zones where small and midsize Demon Kings frequently clashed.
Every single one of them was an upstart newcomer. Thanks to the latest powerful ether surgeries, their individual combat ability was high, but they did not know the practical know-how a Demon King was supposed to be wary of.
Which made the area a perfect hunting ground for Heroes too. Recently, because a powerful Demon King had risen to prominence, absorption and consolidation had supposedly become common, but it was still Tokyo’s largest battlefield. Back then, several years ago, some kind of violence broke out somewhere in the city almost every day.
The man who had wandered casually into that place, killed my Demon King employer, and stolen my job was Kiyoto Takamiya the <Nine-Fingered>.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
That was what I thought at the time.
With my Demon King employer dead, what was going to happen to that month’s rent and living expenses?
Since I had no choice, I forced myself into the position of his “disciple” and became the man’s assistant. Kiyoto Takamiya was weak under pressure, always afraid of something, and looked like he was about to cry whenever someone raised their voice even a little. That was the kind of man he was.
Thinking back on it, that may have been exactly the quality a Hero needed.
“I respect my father.”
Shirogamine declared that as she walked behind me.
I did not want her following me, but until we reached the main street, this narrow alley was the only path. With no other route available, I had no choice but to walk in silence while listening to her infuriatingly guileless voice.
“I believe my father understood the feelings of weak people. And he told me about the ideal of a Hero. The sinfulness of that work, and the will to keep pursuing the best possible outcome in spite of it—”
When I heard that shitty line, I wanted to snort.
Just because she had ether perception that let her read people’s minds did not mean she could understand everything.
What a stupid story.
My master may indeed have been a man who often showed weakness mentally. But that was exactly why he was thorough, cautious, and cold-blooded. He left no openings.
And my master had always said, “Hero work is a business for the lowest scum alive.”
It was not a trade you could keep up for long. Once you made a lump sum off a decent job, you should build a vacation home somewhere around Hawaii. After that, spend the rest of your life fishing.
Better to get out of this shitty line of work as fast as you can.
That was what he used to say.
And the master who said that had made a mistake in some worthless incident and gotten himself killed by a Demon King.
I myself was sick of the Hero business.
I had been sick of it for years now, ever since my master died.
“My father told me about you, Master.”
Shirogamine’s voice chased after me. The rain was gradually growing stronger, but not enough to drown her out.
“He said you had wonderful talent and were a promising Hero. He told me stories about how he fought Demon Kings together with you. Lord <Serpent of Radiance>, the June 17 conflict in Shinjuku—”
I wanted her to stop talking. If I could have turned around, punched her, and silenced her, I would have. In my current state, there was a high chance I would kill her.
I remembered all the impossible demands my master had given me, all the tortures he had called training. What the hell had my master told this girl? What was with this two-faced bullshit? The master I knew was nothing like that.
“When I first met you, Master Yashiro, you seemed so much like a street punk that I could not believe it. However, you certainly did help us, so I thought, as expected, you are easy to handle just like my father. Tonight and during the incident with Lord <Amber Briar> as well.”
I kept walking in silence as if I could not hear a thing.
Before long, we emerged onto the main street. A car swept past right in front of me. Since I did not have an umbrella, the pedestrians might find me suspicious. I needed to stop by a convenience store or somewhere fast. My coat was already close to soaked.
“Master!”
Shirogamine called my name in a slightly sharper voice.
I turned around. I meant to tell her to hurry up and disappear. But that reaction was a little too careless—a sharp flash burst for an instant, and I instinctively shielded my face. I thought it was some kind of attack, and in practice, it was not far off.
“A photograph.”
Shirogamine was holding up a smartphone with no hint of decoration.
“Since I had the opportunity, I took one. This is the mind of a fan.”
I think she smiled as she said it, but my mood had hit its absolute worst, so I barely remember.
If I was being honest, having my master brought up had made me feel wretched. I did not feel like responding with some idiotic line like “delete that picture” or “stop it.” And with pedestrians around, I could not assault her either.
I desperately resisted the aggressive impulses brought on by <E3> and managed to say just one thing.
“Go home.”
At that moment, that was all I wished for.
After walking through the rain, I arrived at Ed Silas’s bar and found an unexpected face waiting for me.
“—You’re late.”
It was Sera Kashiwagi Pendragon, wearing a face as foul as a ferocious dog. She seemed to have been caught in the rain; her golden hair was wet, and her complexion had gone past pale into bloodless. She sat leaning against the counter. This story is hosted at novelping.com.
Unfortunately, there were no other customers in the bar. Marta was not there either, and neither was Ed Silas. Had he left the place unattended and gone off somewhere again? What an unbelievable manager.
With no other choice, I silently sat down beside Sera. She asked irritably, “What were you doing?”
“I was hungry, so I ate a hamburger.”
It was not a very good answer, but my mood was so badly scraped raw that it was the best I could manage. The effects of <E3> were still dragging on. As expected, Sera glared at me.
“Bullshit.”
“It’s true. Where’s Ed—the manager?”
“How should I know? He said he was hungry and told me to watch the place, then went somewhere. That Marta guy went with him.”
“Damn it. I should’ve gotten here a little earlier.”
I leaned against the counter too. I was strangely exhausted. More than half of that was Shirogamine’s fault. I felt like complaining.
“What about you? Wandering around a place like this. It’s late. Are you a delinquent? What are you doing?”
“If somebody ran off like that, normally you’d worry.”
Sera said it with a straight face.
“Whether you were okay or not. You were holding her off, right? I can figure out that much.”
“You…”
I was surprised. So I chose my words a little.
“You’re really normal.”
The instant she heard that, Sera looked like she was about to bite me.
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean? You picking a fight?”
“No, I’m complimenting you. I mean you have a decent sensibility. You’re a thoughtful, good person.”
“Shut up.”
Sera spat the words, and I saw her ears turning red. I laughed out loud.
“You’re in a slightly better mental state than earlier.”
“Shut the hell up!”
“For the record, according to my master, being afraid of your opponent isn’t a bad thing. The problem is that if you can’t control it, you die. Types like Indo and Shirogamine are exceptions. Seriously.”
“That supposed to be comfort?”
“Yeah. I’m saying incredibly half-assed things right now.”
We glared at each other for a few seconds. Even so, when I kept grinning at her and watching, Sera eventually looked away.
“Shit! Making fun of me. Yeah, fine, back there I was—yeah, I was scared. You think I’m not cut out to be a Hero, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
I truly, genuinely thought so from the bottom of my heart.
“You’re a good person, so quit being a Hero.”
When I gave her that serious advice, Sera kept her face turned away and muttered something vague under her breath. Most of it was probably meaningless abuse like “Who cares” and “shit.”
But I was not a counselor, and I had no intention of sticking my nose into Sera’s personal problems.
Instead, I decided to change the subject. There was something I absolutely could not stop wondering about.
“Speaking of Shirogamine.”
“Huh?”
The way Sera asked that was pure delinquent. This girl was definitely losing out because of how she spoke and acted.
“What is she?”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“She’s insane. In all kinds of ways—no, in every way. How are you fine with making someone like that your leader? If it were me, I’d be plotting assassination.”
“Well, that’s…”
I had no idea what she was remembering, but Sera made a complicated face.
“That’s true, but…”
“But?”
“She and Indo were the only ones who talked to me normally. I mean, I’ve got… all this going on, and I’m like this.”
“So it was process of elimination. That, I can understand.”
“And also…”
This time, Sera seemed to be choosing her words. She frowned several times, pressed a hand to her forehead, and finally opened her mouth.
“No… I’m not even sure anymore. She’s, well, a good person too. She’s got this weird stubbornness. She sticks her nose in where it isn’t needed, and even when there’s absolutely no way she’ll be useful, she comes to help on her own anyway. And…”
She stumbled over her words again and again. It sounded painfully hard for her to say. To me, the explanation sounded almost like an excuse. New chapters come out on g.com first.
“Shirogamine can hear people’s hearts, right? But it looks like she makes a point not to listen to ours. When she uses her ability to listen, she says, ‘I listened.’ Except when you first meet her, she said it’s hard to block the channel, so she ends up hearing things. Something like that. She has about a hundred weird pieces of stubborn pride.”
Sera forced a smile onto her face.
“Maybe you think, so what, but I don’t hate Shirogamine.”
“I hate her. Listen, you’re a good person, so I’ll tell you this. People like that—”
On that point, I had no intention of yielding at all. I pointed at Sera and decided to at least give her a warning. Choose your friends, if nothing else. That was when it happened.
Suddenly, the bar entrance opened, and a dull, unfashionable bell rang.
“Oh.”
A familiar shaved head poked through the gap of the open door. As usual, he had the face of a criminal. Bad eyes, bad attitude. Joe the <Salt>. I found myself standing up before I realized it.
“What are you doing here?”
First, I decided to make fun of Joe.
“Ed Silas isn’t here. Weren’t you working? Is it okay for you to be wasting time in a place like this? Did you already screw up?”
“Shut up.”
Joe the <Salt> said it in a slightly hoarse voice and stomped into the bar. Somehow, he seemed even more ill-tempered than usual. Maybe it was because his jacket was wet from the rain. Cold outside air flowed into the bar for just an instant and swirled through the room.
I had a bad feeling.
“Ah—hello.”
Though she was pressured by Joe’s atmosphere, Sera bowed her head a little. She really was sensible. Joe the <Salt> gave her one glance and basically ignored her.
Something was wrong, I thought. I tried patting him on the shoulder.
“So, Joe, have you eaten yet? Why don’t we leave the place to her and go buy hamburgers? We can drink this bar’s beer without permission. Marta should come back too, so we can play a round of <Medallions>—”
“No.”
Joe cut me off and looked into my eyes.
“Yashiro, what are you going to do?”
Joe’s eyes were terribly dry. I deliberately avoided reading emotion or thought from them. I see. Maybe Shirogamine had her own share of hardship.
“What do you mean, what am I going to do?”
“I saw it on the news right after work. Then I went and asked somebody who knew the details.”
“Saw what?”
“Happened around evening. They found a dead man floating in Tokyo Bay. Looked like a complete idiot.”
“That sounds…”
I hesitated over how to answer. In the end, I decided to smile a little.
“…like he must’ve looked like one hell of a tragic idiot.”
“Probably enough to make you laugh. I saw a photo—his throat was split this wide. With that, he couldn’t talk even if he came back as a ghost. Serves him right.”
Joe made a gesture of slitting his own throat. He was smiling a little too.
“And then there’s this.”
Without warning, he held out a photograph.
“Apparently the body was gripping it.”
It showed something shining gold. I probably let out a faint groan despite myself. A badge, split in half, shaped like a beast—or rather, a monster.
Now I understood clearly. It was modeled after a dragon’s face. Horns grew from it, scales covered the face, and fangs showed through.
I had just seen the same thing earlier.
“Best news we’ve had since the year started, right?”
Joe the <Salt> withdrew the photograph and slapped me on the shoulder. I nodded firmly.
“Yeah. An annoying bastard died.”
“Damn right. When’s the funeral party?”
“Good question. After we do what needs doing.”
As we were chatting in perfect harmony, Sera Pendragon abruptly cut in.
“What? What happened?”
She looked horribly anxious.
“You look awful.”
“You’re imagining it.”
I pushed Sera’s face away from me.
Joe the <Salt> and I exchanged a look, and we both knew there was nothing else in particular to discuss on this topic. We only had to do what needed doing. The funeral party would be a funny one.
That was how Ishinoo the <Musician> died.