Chapter 14: Winter Fortress I

Restless footsteps echoed throughout the dull world covered by the Gray Forest. Taking a deep breath of the dry winter air, young Shuou took one step – then another – towards Amane, thrusting his tiny fist in the direction of his master. Using the small stick she held, Amane struck his hand. Before he could even think, the sharp pain running through his right hand caused Shuou to scream.

“Punching is one the worst options available to you,” Amane said matter-of-factly. “A person’s fist isn’t made to withstand being struck.”

Shuou backed away from her. Breathing disrupted, he repeatedly inhaled and exhaled the dry air, his mouth as arid as a midday desert.

I mustn’t punch.

That was the extent of what Shuou understood.

If I can’t use my fists, I should be able to use my feet.

Closing the gap once more, Shuou planted his left foot into the ground, kicking up with all the strength he could muster. However, Amane lightly swept his pivot foot with her stick. As a result, he lost support, falling onto his backside.

“Your feet are not unlike the roots of a great tree,” said Amane. “Don’t let go of the ground so recklessly. Understand that on the battlefield, mobility is the most important thing. Keep this in mind as well: the human body exhausts everything from the eyes to the ears, from the fingertips to the pinky toes.”

The majority of Amane’s drills didn’t reach Shuou’s mind. He couldn’t understand over half of what she’d said. Furthermore, it felt like he would soon go mad from hunger.

“If you want something to eat, try landing a single blow on me.”

After speaking those words, Amane had abruptly begun her “lessons”.

Until today, he’d hardly received anything decent to eat, as Amane didn’t have much food. “This isn’t what you promised,” Shuou wanted to protest, but as a child, he had neither the strength nor the courage to demand something from the adult who’d taken him in. “Surely, she’s not lying about the food,” Shuou had convinced himself, crying out in hunger and holding his stomach all the while.

This was the result.

Assaulted by nigh unbearable hunger, it didn’t even occur to Shuou that Amane was training him to fight using food as bait. His desire for sustenance and resentment towards the woman in front of him overflowed from his every thought.

Shuou picked up a branch from the ground, longer and sturdier than the stick Amane held.

If I use this, he thought.

Planning a surprise attack, he shot onto his feet, closing his eyes and recklessly swinging the branch downward. He felt no resistance. Eyes cracking open, he found Amane holding the branch he’d attacked with in a light, one-handed grip.

“Never use weapons,” said Amane. “When you lose a weapon, you must search for it. The moment your weapon is broken, you become defenseless. People are overconfident, believing they have become stronger in proportion to length and power of the weapon in their hands. From the very beginning, don’t even think of carrying one.”

Finished speaking, Amane snapped the branch, discarding it. At that moment, she moved to counterattack for the first time, wielding her short stick. Using the rare kinetic vision he’d been born with, Shuou could perceive the looming stick’s trajectory and the number of creases on its surface. Nevertheless, the ability to see and the ability to respond were completely different problems. To an overwhelming extent, young Shuou lacked the physical ability to dodge an unpredictable attack closing in on him at high speed.

The stick jabbed Shuou’s cheek, stomach, and head. Despite being restrained, non-lethal attacks, each one caused intense, precise pan. To escape the agony, Shuou backed away, slowly but surely.

“Use everything around you to your advantage,” said Amane. “If an opponent collapses of their own accord, you can save that much stamina.”

Shuou’s vision swayed. He’d caught his foot in the old, fragmented ground. Even at this age, he understood that Amane had intentionally driven him to this place.

Tossing aside her stick, Amane sidled up to Shuou, an indescribable fear seizing his heart.

“When facing an opponent, the simplest and clearest path to victory is to banish them from this world,” said Amane. “But when fighting multiple opponents simultaneously, killing them one by one consumes more time and energy, leading to decreased efficiency. The man who first developed this fighting style and practiced it on the battlefield had this in mind.

“So, how can we win a battle with minimal losses? The answer is simple: using the least amount of effort possible, choose the best course of action to crush your opponent’s will to fight. Pain is an important sensation that all people are born with equally, regardless of age or gender. Tempering a resistance to pain is difficult. Likewise, there is a limit to how well it can be overcome with something as vague as mental fortitude.”

Amane took the fallen Shuou’s hand, pushing his body face down into the ground. A sharp pebble sunk into his cheek. She wrapped his left arm around his back, a mere shift causing intense pain to run from his shoulder to his wrist, his body screaming at him to not to move any further.

“First, experience this method with your own body,” said Amane. “This is the first of many pains I’m going to teach you. Sear it into your mind. Let it ring inside your ears. This is—”

Imagine a tree branch as hard as stone. When snapped, it would produce this sound.

“This is the sound of a man’s spirit breaking,” Amane finished.

As his left arm snapped in a seemingly impossible direction, Shuou’s scream sent tremors through the quiet forest air. All at once, startled birds flew from the surrounding forest into the sky.

Amane stood before Shuou as he writhed in pain, wearing a cool smile unchanged from her ordinary state. At this very moment, Shuou realized something for the first time. Despite believing Amane had adopted him out compassion, the woman standing before him wasn’t simply a kind-hearted person.

Like lightning, intense pain traveled from his arm to the crown of his head, inspiring fear. Upon coming to awareness, Shuou found himself facing Amane, desperately begging for his life.

“Please don’t kill me,” he said.

“Be happy that you can still feel an attachment to life,” said Amane, now wearing a cruel smile. “From now on, so long as you are in my care, a moment will come when you wish – from the bottom of your heart – for me to kill you.”

Though Shuou had finally encountered someone who would live alongside him, he now harbored distrust towards her. He didn’t want to think about that. Even so, feelings of regret swirled in his heart when he thought about the day they’d met.

I preferred my years as an orphan.

“Do you want to return to that life of sleeping in a cesspool, surviving only to find food for the day?” Amane asked in a soft voice, seeing through him.

Now a mere object of fear, Shuou looked up at Amane, nodding in short, repeated spams. Looking down at Shuou, Amane caressed his cheek with a cold hand.

“No,” she said. “You made a promise, remember? And anyway, this is the realm of monsters surrounded by the Gray Forest. Since you don’t know how to survive amidst these ashen trees, you can’t escape anywhere on your own. “

Picking up Shuou, Amane placed a gentle hand on his head.

“Shuou,” she continued. “I will drill into you all the lessons I have learned. Until my current age, I couldn’t embody that ideal, but now, I might be able to sufficiently leverage your innate skills… Though I originally had no intention of taking a disciple. If you must resent something, resent that eye that brought forth my desire. And become strong. Using what you inherit from me, you may live however you want. But until you fulfill your promise, you will never escape from my side. Well, if the mood strikes me, opportunities might arise for you to learn how to survive within this forest. If you acquire these skills, the time may come when you can escape of your own volition.”

Amane caressed Shuou’s head, her gaze as gentle as when they’d first met. His broken arm still hurt, yet even so, a sense of security enveloped his heart, as if he were wrapped in warm feathers.

A single tear rolled down Shuou’s cheek. From this day forth, death would seem preferable to the experiences he would accumulate. Though Amane’s words had sounded cruel, he wouldn’t learn until much later how mildly she’d spoken.

A dull, gray world. Now called the Abyss, it had once been an ordinary realm in which people had led ordinary lives. Yet without warning, a multitude of ominously ashen trees had begun to propagate, encroaching upon the plains and covering the world in an ominously gray forest. Creatures that harmed and preyed upon humans had been born within the Gray Forest, their proliferation explosive. Transformed into a realm of death, humanity had fled the plains, escaping to the mountains and high places, where the invasion of the Gray Forest couldn’t reach them.

Eventually, humans had learned of a stone that could repel the forest’s encroachment. When exposed to moisture, it would radiate light in the darkness. Thus, it became known as Moonstone. Likewise, pathways constructed from processed Moonstones had become known as Alabaster Roads.

Once, humanity had fled the Abyss. Now, pathways were linked via the Alabaster Roads. Closed off civilizations had been reopened, birthing exchanges between distant peoples. As a result, humanity had received many benefits. At the same time, it had also sparked conflict between different cultures.

Countless repetitions of war. Old kingdoms fell, and new monarchs rose. An endless cycle. Collapsing, standing, crying, laughing. An endless cycle. In this never ending repetition of progress and decline, humanity continued moving ever onward.

***

A pathway called an Alabaster Road pierced a line through the Abyssal Forest. As if to block the road, a reddish brown, stone building stood in its way.

Winter Fortress.

The great country of Murakumo ruled the east. Among its many military bases, Winter Fortress was located the farthest back. This was an important base, protecting the border of their neighboring country: the Kingdom of Aventurine.

Day and night, the Squires stationed at Winter Fortress busied themselves guarding the base and dealing with people moving between the two kingdoms. Ostensibly, anyway.

In reality, Aventurine posed no military threat, making the task of guarding its border close to meaningless. A constant atmosphere of slothfulness shrouded the soldiers who worked at Winter Fortress. Two Squires who enjoyed such boredom were packed into a watchtower, guarding the perimeter from late night to early morning.

The plump man with drooping eyes was named Saburi. Once, he’d boasted about leaving his village to become a huge success. Indeed, he was a prodigy, recognized by himself and others for somehow surviving without a spine. At the outset, he’d taken up a mining job, but when his blisters had immediately burst, he’d abandoned the worksite on the verge of tears.

The slender man with the unkempt beard was named Hario. Devoted to the sword, he’d left his village, claiming he would become a renowned mercenary. However, his bony hands, which should have valiantly slain his enemies, were only good for groping around a leather bag filled with salted nuts. According to the man himself, he was the greatest swordsman from his village.

Half a year had passed since these two men had been assigned to Winter Fortress. They’d grown accustomed to these days of boredom resembling drowsiness. Against their well, they’d even come to enjoy it.

“Hey, Hario…”

“What’s up, Saburi?”

HIs body leaning drunkenly against the inner wall of the watchtower, Saburi called out his partner, Hario.

“Is this enough for us?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” repeated Saburi. “We’re already twenty-nine. We’re going to be thirty next year. I wonder if it’s enough for us to spend our days spacing out on guard duty in the countryside.”

“Well, I think it’s fine,” said Hario. “For a few hours each day, we do what we’re told, and we’re given food and a place to sleep. Not to mention all the money we’re saving with no way to spend it. You won’t find a better job than this. In the bases close to the north and south, they’re constantly fighting deadly battles, but we don’t have to worry about those bloody messes here. Still, it’s a bit boring having no opportunities to use my sword. I trained so hard with it, y’know.”

Hario was confident in his swordsmanship, bragging about it every day. Having grown tired of hearing his partner’s boasting, Saburi ignored the comment.

“Yeah, but what I hate most about this place is the lack of women we come across,” he said. “The guys I used to hang around all got married shortly after turning twenty, becoming the heads of their houses. Doesn’t sound bad to me…”

“No woman would marry your ugly face.”

“Of all the people to hear that from…”

As Saburi grimaced, Hario laughed.

“But in all seriousness, women from the country get married early,” he said. “If you want to meet a decent girl elsewhere, you have to go to the royal capital or some other city. And what will you do for work there? I don’t want to carry a pickaxe, diving into cramped holes with a bunch of sweaty guys. Honestly, if you’d inherited anything from your parents, you wouldn’t be here chatting with me at a time like this, would you?”

“That’s true, but…”

“And anyway, there are a few female Squires in this fortress. Miyahi – the Squire Sergeant’s daughter – is a beauty, isn’t she? She… wait a minute. Remember that guy who asked her out shortly after arriving? Didn’t she beat the shit of ‘im with her sword?”

As Hario unearthed the past he’d wanted to forget, Saburi’s face turned bright red. “H-hey! S-shut your trap, asshole!”

“Heh heh. My bad, my bad. Calm down.”

After Hario had placated him, Saburi scratched the back of his head. “Haah…”

For a long while, neither of them spoke. The night was deathly quiet. Every so often, they heard an owl hoot, as if it had just remembered to do so. Disliking silences, Saburi tried to think of something to discuss, remembering a topic.

“Hey, Hario. Did you hear?”

Scratching his stubbled face, Hario took a salted nut from his leather bag, tossing it into his mouth. “Hear about what?”

“About the new guy stationed here.”

“Oh, di’ tha’ happen?”

Hario replied while munching on his nuts. While speaking, he didn’t forget to spit out the remaining shells.

“Hardly anyone stands out as much as that guy,” said Saburi. “Anyway, he’s the hot topic in Winter Fortress right now.”

Situated in the corner of Murakumo, one could call the location of Winter Fortress “remote”. Far from the cities in which eminent nobles ruled, only small farming villages were scattered around the area. Naturally, there were no places to hang out or blow off steam. Buying luxury goods and hearing information from the merchants traveling between Murakumo and Aventurine were their sole amusements.

Suddenly, a newcomer had been stationed here under direct orders from the military headquarters in the royal capital. Combined with his eccentric appearance, he’d become a subject of great interest to the people of Winter Fortress.

“It’s a mystery why he was sent here in the first place, but ever since he arrived, he’s received frequent packages from the capital,” said Saburi. “On swift horses, no less.”

“So what? It’s not unusual for frontier soldiers to receive provisions from home.”

Once Hario had spoken, Saburi donned an excited expression, raising an objection. “That’s the thing. The packages sent to him are extremely high in quality. And the guys who accepted the packages found the sender’s name written on them. It was “Aurel”.

Hario stopped reaching for his nuts, standing up straight. “Aurel? You can’t be—”

“Exactly. They’re viscounts. Mid-ranked nobles, even in Murakumo.”

Hario merely laughed. “You dunce. Someone’s taken you for a ride. In what world do nobles send gifts to young commoners?”

As Saburi emphasized his point, his fleshy face shook. “Even Squire Sergeant Hinokaji’s heard about it. According to the guys who first received the packages, Viscount Aurel’s wax seal was stamped on the label. There’s no mistaking it.”

“Seriously…?”

“It doesn’t end there. The day after he received a shipment from Aurel, another package arrived for the new guy.”

Hario had already been sucked into Saburi’s self-important manner of speaking. Letting go of the leather bag he’d held onto so dearly a moment ago, he leaned towards Saburi.

“Was it sent from the same noble?” asked Hario.

“No. This time, the sender’s name was ‘Mordred’.”

“A Count… What’s going on with this new guy? Still, feels like I’m missing the most important part of this discussion.”

“Right! You’re exactly right! The most important part!”

Usually, Hario didn’t listen to Saburi. Thus, drawing his friend’s direct interest had improved Saburi’s mood. Raising his voice, he gestured wildly to enliven the conversation.

“The senders’ full names were written on the packages,” said Saburi. “According to the guys who saw them, both were girls’ names.”

“Then… that means…”

Gifts from the opposite sex. Even someone as dull as a rusty saw could imagine what that meant. From the corner of his eye, Saburi glanced at the silent Hario, folding his arms and nodding as if he alone understood.

“That’s the gist of it,” said Saburi. “It’s hard to believe, though. He received packages from those two noblewomen, and every two or three days, something new arrives from the same senders.”

“Did anyone ask the new guy for details?”

“Like hell anyone did. Apparently, everyone’s too creeped out to talk to him. I feel the same way.”

This newcomer had suddenly been stationed at the already overcapacity Winter Fortress. Following that, he’d received gifts from two noblewomen. No matter how complacent the Squires of Winter Fortress had become with peace, it was reasonable to think that something was wrong with this newcomer. Worried they might get wrapped up in those affairs, these timid men avoided even making eye contact with him.

Hario squinted, as if looking somewhere in the distance. “That lucky bastard… The daughters of nobles must be gorgeous.”

Most of Murakumo’s privileged class were descendants of immigrants from the west. Among commoners, the detailed chronology had been forgotten alongside the kingdom’s lengthy history. However, one theory was often discussed among more knowledgeable people. Shortly after the nation’s founding, the nobles must have arrived seeking power and new territories.

Westerners were fair-skinned, their eyes and noses standing out in sharp relief. Many of them were attractive in face and figure, possessing characteristically varied hair types and colors. On the other hand, most easterners had black or dark brown hair, their features much flatter. As such, easterners often looked at westerners with a mixture of awe and admiration.

Driven by curiosity, Hario spoke in an uncharacteristically energetic voice. “All right. When our shift ends, let’s go look at the guy.”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s not like we have anything else to do. So where was the new guy assigned to work?”

“Nowhere,” Saburi answered plainly.

“Huh?”

“Nowhere, I’m telling you. Since arriving, he hasn’t been assigned any work. Though some guys have seen him training in the courtyard a few times a day.”

“So he’s a big shot, eh? How ’bout we stand at a distance and mock him later?”

Hario – whose personality was fundamentally twisted – loved to ridicule and tease others. However, he’d picked the wrong target this time.

“I wouldn’t,” said Saburi. “This new guy’s different.”

“What do you mean different? That’s a half-assed way of putting it.”

“Hm, how should I explain this? He’s hard to approach… That’s the impression I get, anyway.”

“Is that right? I’m even more excited to see him now.”

The sun began to rise, and in place of a wake-up call, the fortress’s roosters started crowing. Daybreak had arrived. In no time at all, commotion would fill the base. The same dawn as always broke over Winter Fortress, whose only redeeming qualities were peace and boredom. Surrounded by ashen trees, their branches swayed, rustling in the wind.

***

Shuou ran in circles around the fortress courtyard, his feet stomping across the solid, white ground. It was early morning, quiet and dimly lit. Inhaling the piercing, midwinter air, Shuou then exhaled a refreshing, white breath. And for the thousandth time, he asked himself what in the world he was doing here.

One night, Shuou – an orphan of unknown birth – had been taken in by his master. She’d raised him, training him within the middle of the Abyss: a place most humans couldn’t survive. For common mortals, it was a realm of death.

Over ten years later, an interest in the outside world had driven Shuou to flee from Amane. He’d returned to the royal capital of Murakumo, where – as a young orphan – he’d scavenged for leftover food and slurped muddy water to survive. To acquire funds for his journey, he’d accompanied two young noblewomen during their school’s graduation exam. Alongside his companions, he’d overcome many trials, forging a bond with the first people he’d ever called friends.

Afterwards, an invitation from an eminent noblewoman known as Orthoclase had persuaded Shuou to join the military. However, his current location was far removed from what she’d originally promised him.

Using the strong pressure in his chest as a signal, Shuou – who knew his limits – started to slow, rolling over and laying on the ground. Beneath his sweat-stained clothes, the cold, hard ground had a pleasant feel to it.

Despite being outdoors, the reddish brown walls extending in all four directions produced an unpleasant sense of oppression. Is this how an animal trapped inside a crate feels? Shuou wondered. Though he should have grown used to this sight by now, he still detested it.

By some twist of fate, nearly a month had passed since Shuou had been stationed at Winter Fortress: a base located in the easternmost region of Murakumo.

Orthoclase – otherwise known as Duchess Adulelia – had sent him a letter of contrition, explaining how this had occurred. Based on the letter’s contents, he could imagine her sincerely apologetic bearing. Thus, he couldn’t bring himself to resent her. Even so, he’d never expected the days at Winter Fortress to be so boring. Time passed meaninglessly, indifferent to anyone or anything. It was enough to make Shuou interrogate himself over and over again, repeatedly chanting the same questions in his mind.

A great number of people worked at Winter Fortress. Right now, many Squires wriggled around the base like an ant colony. They stood guard, prepared food, groomed horses, cleaned, and performed various other odd jobs. Yet only the sound of Shuou’s harsh breathing echoed throughout the courtyard. He could almost imagine being all alone within this monotonous world.

The loud sigh he expelled to calm his breathing contained no shortage of self-flagellation.

“Hey, newcomer. Why do you look as worried as a commanding officer?”

Suddenly, a familiar woman’s voice shook the air of the courtyard.

Lying on his back, Shuou looked up at the cloudy sky, replying to the speaker. “Does a person without worries exist?”

Being in a poor mood, he’d spoken harshly.

“My, my, is that the attitude you want to take? A senior Squire has graciously decided to deliver a package addressed to the new recruit.”

Another one?

Sitting up, Shuou turned to face the speaker approaching from behind. Named Miyahi, this female Squire had worked at Winter Fortress for a long time. As she walked, her straight, black hair – like rain on a windless day – swayed back and forth.

Her nose was somewhat low, and she had strong-willed, narrow eyes. Taken one at a time, her features seemed ordinary, yet she had a refined enough face to be called beautiful. Additionally, she was tall and slender, seeming comfortable in the brown Squire’s uniform. Compared to the men’s uniform, the women’s version she’d been provided with was loose-fitting from chest to waist. If one ignored her somewhat rough manner of speech, she probably drew a great deal of attention from the opposite sex.

When Shuou had asked her age, Miyahi had gone silent, wearing a sour expression. Since then, no opportunities had arisen to discover the answer. She was probably five to ten years older than Shuou, who was around twenty. When quiet, she looked like a composed woman in her thirties, but when chatting animatedly, she appeared to be in her early twenties. Either way, she was a senior Squire: reason enough to adopt a respectful attitude when speaking to her.

Bending her knees, Miyahi placed two packages wrapped in beautiful cloth on the ground in front of Shuou. “Here you go.”

“…Thank you very much.”

Each package had a small label to indicate the sender. Despite this, Shuou already knew who these were from without needing to check.

“Everyone’s talking about those,” said Miyahi, pointing to the packages.

“Everyone’s talking about my deliveries? Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The senders have noble names. Anyone would find that strange.”

Shuou nodded. “I see.”

On the backs of their left hands, humans possessed Miracrystals, stones directly connected to their lives. Based on this, people were divided into two categories: those with varicolored stones and those with clouded, white stones.

Colored Miracrystals – called Sunstones – gave their owners the supernatural ability to manipulate nature. Colorless Miracrystals – called Dunstones – had no special powers whatsoever. The gap between the two was unbridgeable. Naturally, Sunstones had risen to power within human society, forming the aristocracy.

From a commonsense perspective, young noblewomen sending frequent gifts to Shuou – a commoner without a Sunstone – was an abnormal situation. That much could be said without exaggeration.

“I’ve heard at least a dozen baseless rumors about you,” said Miyahi. “From secrets about your birth to the details of how you seduced those young noblewomen. Want to know more about them?”

Though Shuou wanted to expel another loud sigh, he refrained. “No thanks.”

Aise and Shitori were the daughters of nobles, companions with whom he’d traversed the Abyss, overcoming their graduation exam. For some reason, they had a favorable impression of him. Since finishing the test and returning to the capital, the girls had acted affectionately towards Shuou, competing for his attention. Their bristly attitudes upon meeting him had completely disappeared.

Once Shuou had been assigned to work away from the capital, forcing their separation, the girls had immediately started sending him gifts. At first, this had made him happy, yet it had now become a source of frustration, a thorn sticking into the side of his meager life.

Knowing he had sweet tooth, Aise kept sending him colorful confections he’d never seen before. On the other hand, Shitori continued sending him ornaments he didn’t know how to use and winter clothes.

Shuou was exceedingly grateful for their kindness, but when the packages arrived every two or three days, it was one step away from harassment.

Wearing a wry smile, Miyahi peeked at Shuou, who was still sitting on the ground. “You don’t look very happy about this.”

Miyahi excelled at taking care of others. Even towards Shuou, she was considerate, often calling out to him. Since being stationed at Winter Fortress, he’d been isolated. As such, he’d come to appreciate – even value – her presence.

There were two reasons for his isolation.

Reason one: The frequent gifts from Aise and Shitori. Reason two: Despite having arrived a month ago, he hadn’t received any work to perform.

The second and third sons of nearby farming villages – who inherited nothing from their parents – all joined the army, expecting a pension. These young men were all stationed at Winter Fortress, leading to a saturated workforce. From drawing water to cleaning, every odd job had someone in charge of it. Even the shifts for guard duty were extremely short.

Shuou wondered why he’d been stationed somewhere with an already excessive number of people. Of course, there were no jobs for a newcomer who’d shown up out of nowhere. Since he had nothing to do but eat, Shuou devoted his abundant free time to basic physical training.

No matter how much Shuou exhausted himself through exercise, the food he received without working tasted bland. And due to the odd glances from other Squires, he’d felt uneasy since arriving. Everyone treated Shuou with great caution, as if he were a guest. Every day, he reflected upon how uncomfortable that felt. Like a completely different insect lost inside an ant colony.

“I’m not interested in the thoughts of nobles, but the senders aren’t being malicious,” said Miyahi. “You shouldn’t act so callously towards them.”

“I’m not being callous,” muttered Shuou, his eyebrows drooping. “I’m just a little tired.”

Miyahi peered down at Shuou’s face. “Still… You don’t look like the sort of lady killer who could seduce two young noblewomen.”

“Leave me alone.”

When Shuou averted his gaze, Miyahi spoke in a teasing tone. “Heh. Are you still sulking like a commanding officer?”

In all honesty, Shuou wasn’t sulking. He was afraid.

A black eye patch covered half his face. When he thought about someone showing interest in what lay beneath, he reflexively wanted to hide from their field of vision. This overreaction, which even he considered pathological, had risen from bitter experiences involving his face in the past. People pointing, laughing at his hideous features. People showering him in meaningless sympathy. People disparaging him as revolting. Those experiences had left deep wounds on Shuou’s heart. Even as an adult, it was but one heavy burden he bore, casting a dark shadow over him.

Likely sensing the now heavy atmosphere, Miyahi changed the conversation, raising her voice. “Well, you look bored here. Tag along with me for a little while.”

Without waiting for his reply, Miyahi grabbed two wooden swords propped up in one corner of the courtyard.

“Gramps started training me when I was a kid,” she said. “I might not look like much, but I’m decent with a sword.”

Miyahi spoke proudly, tossing one of the wooden swords to Shuou. Well-aimed, he caught the weapon as it flew in front of his chest. The sword was much heavier than it appeared.

“Not light, is it?” he remarked.

“These are the actual training swords used in the military. They’re weighted on the inside, making them almost as heavy as real swords.”

“That explains it. But why did you toss this to me?”

“I want to see how you fare in a fight. In this base, it’s tradition for a senior to test a newcomer’s abilities. Since the other guys are a bunch of scaredy cats, I’ll take the lead.”

Raising the heavy, wooden sword, Miyahi thrust the point out from her chest. Her movements leading up to taking this stance were like silently flowing water. At once, Shuou – who knew nothing of swords – could tell how skilled of an opponent he now faced.

“Wait!” he cried. “I’ve never used a—”

“No excuses!”

Miyahi took a quick step forward. Raising the sword above her head, she swung it towards Shuou with the same momentum.

You’re kidding me.

Deciding that he had no time to retreat, Shuou swung his body to the right, rolling to dodge the sword. The sharp sound of rending wind passed behind his head.

“Your reflexes aren’t half bad,” said Miyahi.

Confirming that she’d retreated a short distance, Shuou slowly got to his feet. “Please listen to me. I’ve never used anything like this before.”

“If that’s a joke, I’m not laughing. Someone unable to use a sword couldn’t join the military. Is that an excuse to run from the fight?”

Miyahi’s face contorted, showing blatant displeasure. Since arriving, Shuou hadn’t seen her wear that expression.

“I’m not lying,” he insisted, his face sincere.

Miyahi didn’t appear convinced. In fact, her eyes seemed to grow even angrier. “Got it. You can make that excuse after losing. But right now, we’re going to have a proper duel. If you still want to refuse, treat this as an order from your senior.”

She won’t listen, will she?

Regardless of her intentions, Shuou’s feelings towards his short-tempered senior had surpassed anger, landing on exasperation.

Not understanding Shuou’s innermost heart, Miyahi closed the distance between them at a quick pace, unleashing her second sword strike. She swung diagonally from above, aiming to slice him from his right shoulder to his stomach. Scraping his left foot against the ground, Shuou retreated. Using minimal movements, he dodged, Miyahi’s wooden sword tearing through the empty air.

If he dodged at random, she might regain her composure, Shuou thought. His expectations came up hollow. Because she’d been confident in her swing, Miyahi looked shaken for a moment. Even so, she soon returned her attention to Shuou, charging him with a horizontal sweep of her sword. As Shuou prepared to dodge, something felt intensely wrong.

I’m heavier than usual.

The wooden sword in his right hand felt like a foreign object. As heavy as an actual blade, the weapon obstructed his normal movements. At once, he concluded that the wooden sword was unnecessary for battle, abandoning it. Now lighter, he could shift his feet much more nimbly. Pulling back his hips, he narrowly managed to dodge the oncoming attack.

The point of Miyahi’s sword grazed Shuou’s Squire uniform. As he considered his opponent’s next move, it wasn’t Miyahi’s sword but an angry voice that assaulted him.

“What did you just do!?” she yelled.

“Huh?”

“Don’t huh me! Since the battle started, you’ve been dodging around like a madman. Block with the back of your sword! You even abandoned your weapon partway through the fight… If these were real swords, what would you do?”

“Haah…” Shuou sighed, exhausted.

He didn’t know how to explain. No matter what he said in this situation, she probably wouldn’t listen. Looking at her bloodshot eyes, he couldn’t think of anything else.

“Next time, block with your sword,” said Miyahi. “Got it?”

Picking up the fallen sword, she threw it to Shuou for a second time. As he caught the weapon, Shuou copied Miyahi’s stance. In that moment, an intense feeling of discomfort overcame him, as if he’d forgotten how to stand. Worse, his palms were sweating.

“Here I come!” cried Miyahi.

She swung down from overhead, mimicking her first heavy attack. To block a vertical slash, Shuou could hold his sword sideways, thrusting forward. Despite his overwhelmingly inferior experience, he did have a man’s arm strength. Surely, his training placed him at an advantage.

Shuou held onto a vague confidence that he could at least block the attack. However…

“Ugh—” he grunted.

The grating sound of two wooden swords banging together rang out. Starting at his hands, a sharp pain traveled from his arms to his shoulders. In that instant, a numbing pain ran through his fingers. Despite having a firm grip on the wooden sword, it fell to the ground, clattering.

“…Sorry for forcing you into this,” said Miyahi. “I had no idea you were so weak.”

Disappointed, she didn’t meet Shuou’s eyes, returning the swords to their original location. As Shuou absentmindedly observed her, he noticed the gazes of several onlookers for the first time.

Looking up, he found Squires observing him from the windows, atop the watchtower, and various other places throughout the base. All of them spoke with smirks plastered across their faces. Drowning in boredom, Shuou had become – for a brief moment – a spectacle to satisfy their curiosity.

“You kids, it mealtime! Stop playing and come eat!”

From a second-story window, an old, white-haired man stuck out his face, yelling at Shuou and Miyahi.

“Oh, come on,” said Miyahi, leaving the courtyard in a hurry.

As Shuou started to take a step forward, he remembered the two gifts Miyahi had delivered to him. Before going to the mess hall, he needed to place the packages in his room. Picking up the box wrapped in high quality, out-of-place cloth, Shuou’s stomach let out an imbecilic rumble. Cursedly, hunger always returned, regardless of one’s happiness or melancholy.

What am I doing?

Since arriving, Shuou sighed loudly for the umpteenth time, leaving the courtyard on unsteady feet.