by Mamare Touno
She wanted to explain it to Shiroe.
She wanted to tell him she’d found something really pretty, something wonderful.
Something important had been there. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought it was something that had been held out to her.
But she couldn’t explain it in specific terms. The words weren’t there.
The choking regret made Akatsuki cry openly, like a child.
She even felt as though the fact that she couldn’t tell him would hurt something important, and she couldn’t stand it. She was terrified that the value of that gift might be dulled, all because she was worthless.
Something had definitely been there, and yet.
In Raynesia’s eyes.
In Soujirou’s invincible smile.
Dying hadn’t been a mistake. Akatsuki’s mistake had been in failing to grasp it, even though she’d brushed it with her fingertips.
…No. Akatsuki thought it might have been right in front of her from the very beginning. In that case, in not having been able to find it, she’d piled up countless mistakes. Without having anyone tell her so, Akatsuki was convinced that this was true.
Tears spilled over again at her worthlessness. This was why she’d died without being able to do anything.
“I see. That makes two of us, then. I died.”
When Shiroe placed a hand on her head and Akatsuki looked up, he was smiling a troubled, gentle smile. Akatsuki knew he was worrying about her. His reserved, self-deprecating smile was the expression Akatsuki’s guild master wore when he spoke to her.
“You, too, my liege?”
“Mm-hmm.”
After that, there was silence.
Shiroe moved the hand he’d set on Akatsuki’s head as if he was perplexed; Akatsuki thought it was probably because he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Shiroe was a bit clumsy that way. Even though Akatsuki didn’t mind at all, he was probably trying to be considerate.
“I messed up. My predictions were too naïve. —I didn’t believe completely.”
They were words of caution directed at himself, more than a complaint.
“I don’t understand.”
As a result, when Akatsuki responded, she was careful not to complain, either.
“It’s funny. I never thought I’d get to meet you here, Akatsuki.”
The continuation of the whispered answer came after countless snowflakes had fallen.
When she thought about what Shiroe’s words meant, Akatsuki was startled.
He was right: It was very strange. She hadn’t seen Shiroe in quite a while now.
Come to think of it, she’d wanted to see him.
She’d really wanted to see Shiroe.
She’d wanted him to pat her head.
She remembered that she’d wanted him to praise her, too.
That alone was enough to make this chance meeting an odd one.
To think they’d be able to meet in a place like this.
Up until just now, she hadn’t thought about that, either.
The strangeness of having encountered Shiroe.
Even as Akatsuki didn’t understand, she felt that this was not an ordinary place. She was grateful for this miraculous coincidence.
“Yes, my liege. It’s funny.”
She remembered the pure white sands they’d walked across, and the cerulean sea.
In the midst of a landscape so bright it seemed bleached, Shiroe turned toward her.
When she ran to him and looked up, a big hand stroked her forehead.
It was just a coincidence.
Still, that coincidence blessed Akatsuki.
She wanted nothing else.
No doubt the things Akatsuki hadn’t reached were still asleep, still right where they’d been when she’d touched them.
Not only that, but there must be countless things like them. In the shadows, where Akatsuki hadn’t seen them. In smiles she’d overlooked until now, because she hadn’t tried to find them there.
She’d arrogantly thought that the good fortune she’d acquired was only natural. She’d assumed that good fortune she hadn’t obtained didn’t exist. Even though it was likely that good luck and encounters and help were waiting all over the world for Akatsuki to find them.
“…And so I’ll try one more time,” Akatsuki said.
“I’ll try again, too, I suppose—Everyone taught me.”
Akatsuki caught Shiroe’s coat, gripping it hard.
She had a premonition, like the sensation of the fragile sand crumbling under her feet, that this memory wouldn’t stay with her.
Because of that, even as she thought she might leave wrinkles in the coat, she squeezed it tightly, tightly.
She and Shiroe would probably be separated again. That was why she wanted to squeeze the coat. However, her wish was in vain: The endless sand dunes, like powdery snow, were growing brighter.
The faint sound of the receding tide held the memory Akatsuki had given it.
The ultramarine sky was growing more jumbled, and she fell into it.
3
It’s all right.
Slowly, smiling at the sensation that lingered in the palm of her hand, Akatsuki let her consciousness surface.
It’s all right.
Her palm still held the texture of slightly rough cloth.
It’s all right.
However, when she opened her eyes slightly, Akatsuki saw her own small hand, right in front of her face, clenched as if it was holding something.
Akatsuki knew her memories were sifting away, coming undone. As she lay on a hard bier, with tears trickling down her cheeks, she was losing the memory of the dream she’d held inside just a moment ago.
As if to shake off the loneliness and the feeling of guilt that she seemed to have left behind in her shallow sleep, Akatsuki turned her stiff palm into a fist and wiped away her tears.
She got up, then sat on the edge of the plain marble slab.
For some reason, she had the feeling she’d passed through a very strange place.
It had been quiet, lonely, gentle, and transparent.
Akatsuki had traveled there; encountered; realized; and then gotten back on her feet.
She felt as if she’d had some sort of important conversation. If possible, she would have liked to bring it back with her.
Even now, there was a sensation in the palm of her hand. Probably from…cloth she’d gripped. Along with a faint warmth, the sensation was fading rapidly. Akatsuki tried to stop the evaporation of memories that always accompanied dreams, but she knew it was wasted effort.
The sound of the crystal bell was growing fainter.
However, she’d managed to bring back one important thing from that place.
The most important thing.
Akatsuki checked herself over, confirming that none of her equipment had been lost.
She got down from the bier and tried moving, carefully.
It was the first time she’d died since the Catastrophe.
From common sense in Elder Tales, and also from rumors following the Catastrophe, Akatsuki knew that resurrection was accompanied by the loss of a certain amount of experience points and memories. She wasn’t able to identify any lost memories right away.
She remembered Log Horizon, and Shiroe, and the others. In a general way, none of her memories from the old world—her family and school, her childhood memories—seemed to be missing, either. If she checked carefully, she might find holes, but it would probably take some time.
The lost experience points didn’t seem to have left her feeling all that strange physically, either. Since the Catastrophe, people said a loss of experience points—even if it wasn’t enough to lower your level—left you feeling fatigued. However, it was hard for Akatsuki to determine whether what she felt now was from losing experience points, or from having gotten stiff from sleeping on marble. It was no worse than that, in other words.
When she took another look around, she saw t
hat she was in the Temple.
The white marble room held several such platforms, and the walls were adorned with unobtrusive carvings.
This was Akiba’s Temple. Although she hadn’t done it all that often, she’d resurrected in these surroundings when this was a game. Akatsuki began to walk, adjusting the position of her short sword as she went.
There were a lot of things she needed to do.
When she glanced up at the sky from the corridor, the winter sun had risen beyond the clouds.
From the angle, it seemed to be past noon. It had been the middle of the night when she’d begun fighting; had it taken her half a day to resurrect? No, that probably wasn’t it. It was likely that, as she’d resurrected, the thread of her tension had snapped and she’d fallen asleep. In that case, she thought, it made sense that she ached all over.
Akatsuki made her way through the Temple zone, which was larger than it looked.
There were things she needed to do.
There were things she absolutely had to do.
She couldn’t give up just because she’d lost once. Akatsuki had realized just how negligent she’d been up until now. She’d thought she’d been fighting with her entire self. She’d tried to believe she was more desperate than anyone else, but that had been fraud, a mere excuse. There had been lots of things she could have done. Akatsuki had been avoiding the things she really had to do. She’d worked desperately at only the things she liked doing, and had tried to convince herself that that was effort.
Akatsuki advanced resolutely through the chapel, which was illuminated by stained glass.
Once she descended the staircase, which looked wide to her, she should have been in Akiba in no time.
However, the sight that waited there for Akatsuki was something she hadn’t expected.
“Are you all right? You aren’t still injured anywhere, are you?”
Akatsuki was boggled: She’d been careless, and so she’d been easily pulled into a hug. “How sweet!” Henrietta, melting over the way Akatsuki looked, swung her around, nuzzling her with her cheek. Being able to sweep a girl up that easily—even if she was a small girl—was due to Adventurer strength, but Henrietta didn’t seem to have realized this.
“We thought you’d be waking up soon.”
Riezé spoke to her; she’d been leaning against the railing on the stone slope. Behind her, she saw Raynesia, bundled up in fluffy clothes and hanging her head apologetically. Behind the princess stood a woman with fox ears, arms folded, smiling a fearless smile. It was the West Wind Brigade Kannagi she’d seen during that late-night battle.
“……”
Akatsuki’s lips tightened.
She knew her face was growing darker and grimmer.
It wasn’t that she disliked everyone.
She was reaping what she’d sown. Up until now, she hadn’t made any friends of her own age and gender, and so she didn’t really know how to talk to them. That was all.
Still, she knew she had to do it. That was the one thing Akatsuki had managed to bring back from her lost dream. And so, she squeezed Henrietta’s hands, which were over her own stomach, holding her up.
She looked at Henrietta, who’d closed her mouth as if she were startled. At Riezé. At the fox-eared woman. And, most of all, at Raynesia, whose expression seemed troubled.
Once lowered to the ground, Akatsuki simply bowed her head.
“I know this is an impudent request, but I want to ask you for help. Would you teach me about the Mysteries? I want to capture that murderer.”
She saw the fox-eared woman startle, and she knew Henrietta, behind her, had gasped. Raynesia’s face was sorrowful.
“Master Soujirou was able to use a Mystery, wasn’t he, Nazuna?”
Nazuna—the fox-eared woman, a mature-looking beauty—responded to Riezé’s questions. “Yeah. That’s right.”
“But, even so, it wasn’t enough.”
“Right.”
Riezé shifted the conversation back to Akatsuki. “And you want a Mystery, even so. Why?”
Akatsuki bit her lip.
She hadn’t managed to explain it well. They’d probably thought she was making a selfish request just because she wanted a Mystery. Regret filled her heart, but she hadn’t been able to think of any other way to put it.
“Akatsuki.”
However, just then, her eyes met Riezé’s.
The girl, who was probably about the same age as her, was gazing at Akatuski with a cool expression.
She was standing firmly as part of a guild so enormous Akatsuki couldn’t even imagine it. The woman called Nazuna, and Raynesia, and even Henrietta were all connected to people, going above and beyond simply carrying out their own roles, and they all found the places where they belonged.
Akatsuki remembered her resolution. If she backed down here, things would be just the same as before. Just the same as when she’d given it everything she had and failed, yet consoled herself with the thought that she’d done the best she could. Even so, Akatsuki knew that, in life, there were matches you wanted to win no matter what, and battles you didn’t want to lose. There were walls you wanted to get over, no matter who you had to beg or how pathetically you had to plead.
“I want to end that murderer.”
Akatsuki appealed desperately. However, sadly, her mouth wouldn’t work well for her.
“It isn’t just the Mysteries. If there’s a way to stop him, no matter what it is, I want you to tell me. Will you let me depend on you?”
“Do you think you can win?”
The blunt question had come from Nazuna. The West Wind Brigade healer who’d supported Soujirou to the very end. A Kannagi with long black hair and traditional Japanese clothes, which she wore carelessly. Akatsuki answered the question almost without plan.
“I don’t know. But, even if I win, even if I defeat him, it won’t end. If I don’t do whatever needs to happen to end it, it won’t end…I don’t think. We have to try to end it.”
Akatsuki went on desperately, trying to shake off the impatience of being unable to communicate.
She resented her own clumsiness.
“Besides, my liege could do it. Probably… So I have to.”
Questioning looks pierced Akatsuki.
…Over her words, she thought, Shiroe could do it.
Even though she’d already made up her mind, Akatsuki’s words accumulated slowly.
“…My liege…isn’t here. Not in Akiba.”
This was the secret Akatsuki and Log Horizon had been keeping.
Shiroe wasn’t here. Since D.D.D. had gone away, they claimed he was buried under a vast amount of work in order to protect the Round Table Council. But that had been a lie. Shiroe had left, probably to do something only he could do. Akatsuki didn’t know what that was. She didn’t know, but she’d been asked to keep an eye on things while he was away.
And so she had to protect the town from this disaster, which Shiroe would have been able to handle.
She’d promised.
“Nazuna asked whether you could do it.”
At Riezé’s words, Akatsuki flinched, frightened.
She couldn’t make that promise.
She couldn’t guarantee it.
She didn’t want them to ask her to.
“…I can’t do it alone. That’s why I want your help. Please, help me.”
That was a pain that was hard for Akatsuki to bear. Admitting that she was a child, admitting that she was helpless, was as painful as if she were being physically cut. A feeling like a curse began to take root in her: Was that really all the strength this little body could hold?
Still, before Akatsuki’s very eyes, Shiroe had made the same request.
Henrietta’s arms tightened around her in a hug, and Akatsuki was startled by their warmth. Seeing her, Nazuna gave a languid smile, as though to say she’d been surprised into giving up the offensive.
“I’d been thinking something like this was going to come up, ever sinc
e Souji said he was pulling out. Everyone at Shiroe’s place is stubborn. Birds of a feather flocking together, I guess.”
“I’d call that a half-passing grade, I suppose. By training unit standards, you need to drill repeatedly. At present, D.D.D. has confirmed eight Mysteries, and is in the process of examining them in detail. Milord has already given his permission. He said to pass them along to you, Akatsuki,” the blond-haired girl informed her, calmly.
“I also have something I must do.”
Still silent, her face pale, Raynesia nodded.
“…Honestly. To think I came all the way to Theldesia to be a middle schooler again…”
With Riezé’s little sigh as the signal, a small, modest subjugation unit was formed.
However, to Akatsuki, it was a very big step.
4
Mikakage nibbled her onigiri.
These box lunches, delivered by Onigiri Shop Enmusubi, were an incredibly popular meal at RoderLab. They’d never gathered proper statistics, but there was a general rumor that over half the lunches in the guild were supplied by the place.
Behind Mikakage, a friendly People of the Earth girl wearing a triangular kerchief was passing out onigiri with order tags stuck to them, one at a time. Her glossy black hair was cut in an even bob just above her shoulders, and her ever-changing expression was charming. She thought the girl’s name was Kaede.
Onigiri Shop Enmusubi was run by approximately twenty People of the Earth, and of them, about five cute girls were treated as idols. They were particularly popular at RoderLab; there was even a fan club. This girl, Kaede, vied for “most popular” with Kuudelya, and Mikakage remembered seeing her on a poster in the cooking building.
No, not that. Now’s not the time for that.
Furrowing her brow, Mikakage bit into her rice ball.
Today of all days, she didn’t feel like mindlessly thinking about the cute box lunch–girl rankings.
After all, Mikakage was shouldering a small part of this uproar. Of course, it wasn’t as though she was responsible for it. Mikakage had only reported what she’d learned from her current investigations and the implications of that knowledge, and she wasn’t the least bit responsible for the incident itself. Still, that didn’t clear up the murky feelings in her heart.