When you work in a trade like Heroing, your relationships with other people tend to get pretty damn bleak.
In that kind of life, friends are precious, no matter what kind of pieces of shit they are. Especially friends you can play games with. You never know how many of those you’ll get in a Hero’s life.
Back then, whenever we saw one another, we played cards without ever getting tired of it. The game was called <Seven Medallions>. It had been popular a while back and was starting to fade a little by then, but we showed no sign of getting sick of it.
A proper amount of beer, reheated junk food, and <Seven Medallions>.
As long as we had that, we were satisfied. Truly, that was all we needed. Whenever I had free time, I went in and out of Ed Silas’s bar, and just spotting the faces of the other regulars was enough to put me in a good mood.
The Hero business was a job where it wouldn’t be strange to die at any time.
Someone who was fine yesterday could be dead this morning. That happened. It could happen to me at any moment too, and thinking about it was depressing. Maybe, in the end, that was why we went to Ed Silas’s bar: to look away from that reality.
“Hey.”
That night, when I visited Ed Silas’s bar, Marta the <Unlicensed> raised one hand and greeted me.
For a second, I was so stunned I lost the words to answer him.
“Long time, Yashiro.”
Marta said it with a smile.
It really had been a long time.
He was dressed in filthy clothes like a vagrant and wore a flat cap pulled low over his eyes. He had a squat build. His eyes had a strange, bulging look to them, and combined with the rest of him, he looked like he was searching the roadside for loose change.
In other words, he was a poor-looking bastard overall.
His name was Marta. That was probably fake too. As the nickname <Unlicensed> suggested, he was an amateur Hero without a Hero license.
If we were legal killers, then I suppose that made him an illegal killer. Even so, among this bar’s regulars, he was one of the more sensible ones.
At least more than Joe the <Salt> or Ishinoo.
Marta was homeless and didn’t even have a cell phone. Otherwise, I would have gotten in touch more often and invited him to play.
That night, there wasn’t a single customer in the bar besides Marta.
Ed Silas only gave me a glance from where he was propping his cheek on one hand at the counter, then went back to staring vaguely at the TV. Apparently, he had no intention of doing real business tonight.
“What the hell.”
That was all I managed to say.
I hadn’t seen Marta for about half a year, and none of the regulars here even knew how to contact him.
“You were alive, Marta? Where the hell have you been wasting time?”
“Here and there.”
Marta grinned and gestured for me to sit already.
“I figured somebody with nothing better to do would show up sooner or later. Just you, Yashiro? Where are Joe the <Salt> and that piece of shit Ishinoo?”
“Just me. Joe’s apparently on a job, but Ishinoo, who knows. Haven’t been able to reach him lately, so maybe he finally died for real.”
Without reservation, I sat beside Marta and picked up the beer bottle on the table.
“For now, how about a toast to Marta’s survival?”
“That’s my beer.”
“Yeah. So, what were you doing for half a year?”
“I got a job. Worked as a ticket scalper for a while.”
Marta made a gesture with one hand as if counting cards.
Ticket scalping meant buying up popular tickets and the like on the cheap, locking down the supply, then selling them high to people who wanted them.
I was stunned. I nearly spat out the beer.
“What? You’re kidding. Marta got a job? You didn’t even have a fixed address.”
“You ever heard of contract employment and company dorms, Yashiro? They’re good. You get to feel like you’re doing something respectable.”
“So what, you came here drinking on your bonus today? You bastard! Traitor!”
“Thing is, I got fired.”
Marta gave a wry smile.
This was why we couldn’t hate him.
Marta was third-rate at everything except killing people, and he had never managed to stick with one thing for long.
“My piece-of-shit boss at the scalping place told me to scam some ordinary old lady and sell her garbage tickets. No way in hell I was doing that. So I crushed that piece-of-shit boss’s eyeball, stole whatever looked like it could be worth money, and ran.”
“That’s divine punishment right there. Ed Silas! Get Marta a beer on me!”
When I shouted, Ed Silas waved one hand gloomily. It probably meant later. The TV was showing what looked like a soccer broadcast. Apparently, it was at a part he couldn’t take his eyes off.
Marta didn’t seem to care. He reached inside his filthy coat and pulled out a surprisingly clean stack of tickets.
“So, Yashiro. I figured one of you lot might buy these off me today.”
“Oh.”
This time, I was well and truly shocked.
Beer went down my windpipe and I choked. The tickets looked like they were emitting such a noble radiance that I almost went blind. I got damn excited.
There were a few concise lines printed on the tickets.
<Seven Medallions>.
Grand Winter Season Final Battle.
And—
King Rob Comes to Japan!
Every single one of those phrases carried special meaning for me.
I almost snatched the tickets right out of Marta’s hand.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Premium seats for spectating.”
“There’s a King Rob signing event too, right? I know there is! Damn, you really stole something incredible!”
King Rob was our hero, a master of the card game <Seven Medallions>, and the world champion who had won five championships in a row. He was coming to Japan to fight in the final round of the Grand Winter Season tournament.
I had teamed up with Joe the <Salt> and Ishinoo to try to get those tickets right when they went on sale too. But we had bitter memories of being crushed by countless fans, resellers, and scalpers running mass-buying operations.
I was overwhelmed by the divine aura pouring off the tickets.
“How much for this? This is amazing, Marta. Damn.”
“Thirty thousand.”
Marta held up three fingers.
He knew exactly what position I was in. That was way too much, I thought, but apparently it showed on my face.
“Don’t want it, that’s fine. I’ll sell it to Joe the <Salt> or Ishinoo.”
“Wait.”
I grabbed Marta’s arm and stopped him.
This was a harsh decision. I had no money on me whatsoever. My financial situation had fallen into a serious slump ever since the Lord <Amber Briar> job ended in failure. It was so bad it felt like I’d been possessed by a god of poverty.
But I couldn’t give up.
I decided to negotiate.
“Can I pay you later? Next month. I’ll take a big job and make it back.”
“Nope. I’m broke too. First of all, I don’t even have enough money for tomorrow’s beer.”
“Damn it. Guess I have to give up.”
“Don’t worry. You can just earn it now, Yashiro.”
Marta smiled with an awfully frivolous look and pointed behind me.
A sudden chill ran down my spine.
When you worked in the Hero trade, you grew sensitive to what people called presence. The sounds people made, body heat, breathing—those faint signs caught on you at an unconscious level. That was the kind of sense it was.
At that moment, I finally noticed the presence.
“I heard about it,” Marta said, clapping me on the shoulder.
There was sympathy in the gesture.
“You started tutoring, huh? Nice.”
I turned around without a word.
There stood three female students in school uniforms.
“We have been waiting for you, Master!”
Aki Shirogamine said it almost like a shout. Yukine Indo silently bowed her head, while Sera Pendragon just glared at me with a sour look on her face.
Apparently, they had gotten to the bar before me and lain in wait.
My fine Monday-night mood blew away.
“—In short, it concerns practical skill, sir.”
Aki Shirogamine announced this with no preamble, her face perfectly serious.
Incidentally, she was clutching a piece of memo paper in one hand.
Most likely, in order to save herself from her fatal inability to explain anything, she had summarized what she needed to say in advance.
Wise.
“It is an important event at our Academy. Next week, there will be a practical examination in the form of a real-combat-style match using swords.”
Just to make this clear, I had already indicated that I had no intention of hearing this multiple times.
Shirogamine, however, did not listen, and I could not physically remove them either. Because the father of one of the three, Sera Pendragon, was far too terrifying.
“It is a one-on-one duel between trainees. It is called a ‘joust,’ after the mounted lance matches of medieval Europe.”
From the sound of it, the Academy they attended had a strong premodern streak. Probably the management’s hobby. Or King Arthur’s.
“Depending on our grades in this practical examination, it is expected that our continued enrollment at the Academy—or our expulsion—will be decided.”
“Good for you.”
At the time, I sincerely thought so.
“It’s your chance to wash your hands of a shady trade.”
“That will not do. Sir, please instruct us in swordsmanship! All of us are certain we will receive a favorable answer.”
“I’d actually like to ask why you’d think that.”
“No particular reason. If I had to name one, I thought that if three pure-hearted beautiful girls like ourselves asked with sincerity, you might readily agree.”
“Uoooh.”
I shuddered.
I may have actually trembled.
Aki Shirogamine. This girl could apparently hear people’s thoughts, but had that inflicted massive damage on her personality? Could she only read logical thoughts, while remaining completely indifferent to other people’s feelings?
“Instructor.”
Suddenly, Yukine Indo tugged at the hem of my coat.
“I want to start training soon. Time is being wasted.”
She had an extremely displeased look on her face. Come to think of it, I had still never seen Yukine Indo smile.
“Or is this some kind of training too?”
“Yeah. Go buy me a cheeseburger and shochu at a dead sprint. No teleportation. Five minutes.”
“Understood, Instructor.”
Yukine Indo took my random comment seriously.
Too damn earnest.
But someone grabbed Yukine’s arm as she started to move.
“Hey. Wait. Hold on.”
Sera Pendragon glared at me.
Maybe saying she was squaring up on me was closer. There was no doubt in my mind that she’d spent some period of her life as a delinquent.
“My bad.”
I apologized immediately.
Because I knew that attitude would piss Sera off.
“So please, anything but telling Daddy. Is this request also guidance from your great father? If I refuse it, are the knights of the Round Table going to come murder me?”
“My dad has nothing to do with this.”
Sera growled low.
She was clearly angry. I hoped she would stay that way, sour her own mood completely, and ideally go home.
“Even if you refuse,” Sera said, slamming one hand down in front of my table.
A street-punk gesture.
“I’m not telling Dad anything. For one thing, there’s no way that bastard would lift a finger for me.”
“Now that is a Hero. Bottom-of-the-barrel scum as a father too.”
“Yeah. He’s scum.”
I had assumed she would get even angrier, but Sera spat the words out hatefully.
“I don’t want to do what that piece-of-shit father says. He’s told me over and over to quit being a Hero. That’s why I want you to teach me. You’re—a strong Hero. And someone we can trust. That’s what Aki said, of all people.”
“Because Shirogamine said so?”
I burst out laughing.
“She’s a little insane. You’re her friend. You know that, right?”
I jerked my thumb toward Aki Shirogamine.
Shirogamine looked dissatisfied, but Sera only grimaced and did not deny it. Yukine Indo nodded much more clearly, expressionless.
I turned my face away from them.
“I don’t care what the reason is. Go home. Have your schoolteachers teach you.”
“However,” Shirogamine objected, “we are recognized as extremely poor students, as well as problematic ones. In other words, we are considered ‘a nuisance.’ Furthermore, I believe it would be impossible for us to become stronger in such a short period under the Academy’s normal curriculum.”
“How is any of that my problem?”
“Come on, come on. What’s the harm?”
Someone suddenly slapped me familiarly on the shoulder from the side.
Marta.
The bastard smiled lightly and deliberately held out the ticket to the tournament final where King Rob would appear, making sure I got a good look.
“Listening to them, they’ve got guts, don’t they? Asking Yashiro the <Reaper> to play teacher. We’d never even think of that. Take the job.”
I glared back at Marta.
I didn’t need to think to understand what the bastard wanted.
“These admirable young ladies are saying they’ll pay right now. They must have saved it up desperately through part-time jobs. You want to help them, don’t you, Yashiro?”
In other words, he wanted me to take this job and buy the ticket already.
I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair.
I hated everything about this.
Somehow, all kinds of circumstantial factors felt like they had slipped out of my control and started moving however they pleased.
Nothing good ever happened at times like this. I knew that.
But—
“I’m a Hero. Not a teacher.”
“Yes! We know!”
“I think I’m bad at teaching.”
“Yes! I am certain you must be!”
Shirogamine’s answer was truly refreshing.
I wanted to punch her, but held back. There would be plenty of chances to knock her around later. In fact, that was probably the only way I knew how to do this.
Because that was how my own master had trained me.
“For now, a hundred thousand. Right now. If you can’t pay, we’re done.”
I shamelessly overcharged them.
Shirogamine and Indo exchanged glances and nodded as if to say, See, he really is easy.
Sera raised one hand with a sigh, blocking the two of them from my line of sight.
“Yeah… For now, we’ll pay fifty thousand up front. The rest comes later. So train us.”
“Then first, let’s see—”
I drained the rest of the beer bottle that piece-of-shit Marta had ordered in one go.
For encouragement.
Then I snatched the ticket out of Marta’s hand.
“Take me to your school. We’ll do it there. We need an open space and training weapons.”
“Yes! First thing tomorrow morning—”
“Now.”
I spoke as sternly as I could. The truth was, I wanted to get this job over with as fast as possible.
“Right away. Judgment and speed are important for a Hero.”
“Entering the school building at night is—”
“How is a Hero who can’t even sneak into a school supposed to infiltrate a Demon King’s hideout?”
“—Yeah.”
Unexpectedly, Yukine Indo answered first.
I didn’t particularly want to know this, but apparently there was something in that statement that struck a chord inside her.
“That sounds really like special training.”
Do whatever the hell you want, I thought.