by Ryota Hori
It couldn’t be. If she was ordered to watch over me, what reason would she have to keep me alive?
Sakuya had looked into Ryoma Mikoshiba. She couldn’t find anything regarding how he came to cooperate with Princess Lupis, but she did figure out he was a merciless man. Or rather, she was forced to acknowledge it, since he had demonstrated as much in his battle with Branzo the Black Spider and with yesterday’s flooding tactic...
He’s got the skill. Even if he hasn’t gained thaumaturgy yet, he’s essentially a top-class warrior.
Duke Gelhart had dispatched her through her clan to serve as a decoy and assassin. Having mingled with the mercenaries during his fight with Branzo, Sakuya had managed to appraise Ryoma’s strength.
If we were to fight on one-on-one, we’d be about even... No, it’s too soon to say that was the extent of what he could do... If I’m really going to kill him, I’d have to use poison, or attack him in his sleep.
The image of Branzo’s massive form soaring through the air as if thrown by magic, only to have his neck stomped out like an insect, surfaced clearly in Sakuya’s mind. There was no doubting how cold of a man Ryoma was. And any suspicions she’d had turned to certainties when she saw yesterday’s flooding tactic.
To think of a ploy like that when he’s already this skilled... He’s definitely a dangerous man.
She’d only been ordered to gather information for now, but eventually, the order to assassinate him would definitely come. From the perspective of her employer, Duke Gelhart, Ryoma was a pawn that had to be removed from the board, by any means necessary...
As Sakuya kept working with that in mind, a light flashed in her eyes for a moment.
Two consecutive flashes, and then three more after a pause... So it’s time...
Using a mirror’s reflected light was the method of communication she’d established with her contact before infiltrating Ryoma’s forces. Since she was behind enemy lines, she’d have to be cautious when communicating with her allies. Meeting them directly was out of the question, and given the situation, so were secret messages.
And so they decided on reflected light. Its biggest advantage was that the enemy wouldn’t catch on to it, and one could easily write it off as mere coincidence.
Sakuya continued working without the slightest change in expression. But deep inside, she honed her heart like a cold blade... to accomplish her task of assassinating Ryoma Mikoshiba.
Poisoning his food won’t work... He only eats the food those two make...
Only Laura and Sara prepared Ryoma’s meals, and they entrusted no one else to carry them. They were quite thorough in their protection of him.
Which means my only sure-fire way of killing him would be melee combat... Perhaps a blade laced with poison...
That said, a melee fight would limit Sakuya’s avenues of escape as an assassin.
It’s either do or die...
Even a first class assassin walked into battle knowing their life was on the line.
Small wonder, then, that she neglected to notice Sara’s gaze fixated on her back...
The second day’s night was almost past. The moon was cloaked by clouds, with torches set around the place being the camp’s lone source of illumination.
Something whooshed by.
Weaving across that boundary between light and darkness, a black figure swiftly made its way across the tents. None of the sentries noticed it, though.
The character was cloaked in a black mask and black clothes, with even their gloves and boots being the color of night. Accurately evading the torchlight, they ran like the wind. It felt almost obvious the sentries would fail to notice them.
Here...
The shadow strained their eyes. Under daylight there would be no mistaking the tent, but it was difficult to discern during the dark night. That said, an assassin ordered to kill naturally had to be gifted with good night vision. The shadow carefully confirmed it was the right tent strictly out of wary caution.
The shadow drew the sword at their waist, and took a small ceramic bottle out of their pocket, spilling its contents carefully over the blade. The black, viscous liquid coated the sword.
The shadow then corked the bottle, returned it to their pocket, and then took out a piece of cloth. Covering the blade with the cloth down to its hilt, they carefully rubbed it over the blade, being mindful to not apply too much force.
This should do... I need only eliminate Ryoma Mikoshiba with my own two hands...
Confirming that the black liquid adequately coated the blade, the shadow slowly moved to the tent’s entrance.
There were no guards at Ryoma’s tent. The shadow didn’t know if it was out of confidence or if he simply found their presence irritating, but Ryoma made it clear that he didn’t want any guards placed around his tent.
If this was a sporadic decision made within the last few days, the shadow would have suspected a trap. But they couldn’t suspect it, because Ryoma had given that order from the very beginning.
The shadow swiftly looked around the interior from the entrance. Perhaps it was because Ryoma was asleep, but the tent was completely dark, without any candlelight.
There were several chairs and a table for meetings in the center of the room, with Ryoma’s personal desk being further in. Ryoma’s sword and armor were hung to the left of the entrance.
Opposite of that was a bed, with a black figure resting over it. With darkness dominating the tent, it was hard to discern just what that figure was. Judging it to be Ryoma Mikoshiba’s sleeping figure, the shadow silently crept towards the bed.
Now’s my chance!
The shadow swung up its blade silently. There was no one around, making it the optimal time to assassinate their target. No assassin would let this chance slip by.
The blade then cut through the wind sharply, and the shadow confidently believed they had succeeded in their appointed task.
But that faith would be ruthlessly shattered the next moment.
Ting!
A metallic sound, most unlike the sound of flesh being cut through that the shadow expected to hear, rang out in the tent.
And taking advantage of the moment the shadow froze up in shock, someone sneaking up on it from behind went on the offensive.
An arm as thick as a rock planted its fist into the shadow’s neck, forcibly knocking all the air out of its mouth.
“Guh...”
The shadow tried to suppress the groan escaping its throat, but that very act rendered it defenseless once again, as its attacker slammed their fist into its right shoulder next, bashing into its sensitive weak spot.
With their right arm momentarily numbed, their blade fell to the ground.
No! This is a trap!
The shadow finally grasped the situation it was in. But the aftereffects of the punch to its diaphragm made its movements too sluggish.
No... My body won’t move in time!
Its right arm was still numb, and while its sensation was gradually returning, it was still a major handicap. The shadow gave up on resisting, and instead focused on finding an escape route.
The tent’s entrance is behind them... But in this situation I won’t be able to break through them. In which case...
By discarding any thoughts of futile resistance and electing to focus on escape, the shadow proved their status as a first-class assassin. The tent was thankfully made of fabric, and unlike wood, any blade could serve to cut a way out of it.
The shadow swiftly wheeled around, running to the opposite side compared to the entrance, leaping over the desk and pushing its body forward, holding up its blade to swiftly cut through the fabric.
“What might you be doing here this late at night?” Sara’s voice spoke to the shadow from above.
“Ah!”
Sara definitively sensed the face behind the mask filling with surprise.
“Is this really something to be surprised over?”
The shadow ignored Sara’s words and looked a
round its surroundings.
Where?! Which direction has the least people?!
The way in which the shadow didn’t give up, no matter what, was the very image of a professional, but there was no chance of it getting away with Sara blocking its path.
“It’s pointless!” Sara lifted her arm, and several fully-armored soldiers appeared from the darkness.
There were roughly twenty of them, and they were led by Lione and Boltz. Even a first-class assassin wouldn’t be able to break through such an encirclement.
“Firstly, drop all the weapons on your person!”
After a moment of hesitation, the shadow abided by Sara’s order and reached into its pocket. The mercenaries tensed up.
Should I throw it away? Or do I...
Should they obey or not? Only the end result could say which choice would be correct. If they held on to their weapon and resisted, they could be able to decisively break through this encirclement, which would make the option of throwing their weapons away and surrendering peacefully foolish in hindsight.
But then again, the opposite also held true.
“Don’t worry, we won’t kill you,” Sara ordered, reining in the mercenaries’ agitation. “Resisting would land you the worst possible conclusion, though... All right? Please, put down your weapons, slowly.”
They’re being cautious... Breaking through is impossible...
Quickly calculating their options, the shadow reached into their pocket, taking out the small bottle and dropping it at her feet.
Still... If they’re ordering me to throw away my weapons, they probably won’t kill me right away... Which means I still have my chances.
And as the shadow kept stubbornly groping for a chance, they obeyed Sara’s order and dropped all the weapons they carried to the ground. In so doing, gambling for their own survival...
The moon finally showed itself from between the clouds, lighting up the area.
“Start by taking off your mask.”
Obeying Ryoma’s command, the figure undid the fabric that covered their face, and the light of the lamp shone over the figure of a black-haired mercenary. It was Sakuya.
“Well, now that we can all see each other’s faces, I think it’ll be much easier for us to talk.”
Sakuya regarded Ryoma’s words by looking around, wondering if she was being taken for a fool.
“Talk? Don’t you mean interrogate?”
Aside from Ryoma and Sakuya, the tent was populated by Ryoma’s would-be aides; Lione, Boltz and the Malfist sisters, with more than ten other soldiers standing guard outside. The atmosphere was certainly a touch too heavy for mere casual conversation.
“Oh, that’s just a difference in perception, see? If nothing else, I came here to hold a conversation.”
Those words did relieve some of Sakuya’s tension.
Torture doesn’t seem likely for now... I thought he’d have me cut down where I stand, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.
If nothing else, Sakuya gathered that she wasn’t in immediate danger. That wasn’t to say she was letting down her guard, though, but some of her fears were alleviated, at least when it came to physical violence.
“So... What do you intend to speak about to an assassin who came to kill you?”
“Oh, really now. Just lighten up a bit, alright?” Ryoma answered her with a wry smile.
Sakuya loosened up her tensed body, so he’d expected her to be a bit more amicable, but she wasn’t that naive, it seemed. Her expression conveyed that while she trusted that she wasn’t in physical danger, she didn’t intend to say anything needless.
Well, now... How do I get her to talk...?
Ryoma had no intention of getting any information regarding the war out of Sakuya. The reason for that was simple; no matter what information she might give him, Ryoma had no way of confirming its credibility.
Information was precious, of course. In the hands of an apt tactician, it could serve as a blade that would bring a whole country down. But some things mattered more than information.
And what mattered more than the information was how accurate and current that information was.
He could be provided with whatever information he wanted to hear, but so long as he couldn’t trust the person who delivered it, or had doubts about their motives, that information was meaningless.
The boy who cried wolf continually tricked everyone around him, and as a result, no one believed him when he actually did see a wolf. The same held true in this case, too.
Ignoring lies altogether was preferable to being fooled once. It was in many ways a safe decision. But that would mean Sakuya had no value to them.
Or so it was, until Ryoma saw the weapon in her hands...
“I’m not going to ask about who hired you. You wouldn’t talk anyway... And I have no way of knowing if anything you do say is true or not.”
Sakuya’s expression changed at Ryoma’s words. If she were to take what Ryoma just said at face value, there was no value in Ryoma keeping her alive.
Just what is he trying to get here?
The small doubt rising inside Sakuya gradually began to cloud over her heart. Nothing was scarier than not knowing what your enemy had in store for you.
“Then why keep me alive? I have no use for you.” Even as she said that, Sakuya already came to her conclusion inside.
Yes, a reason any woman would pray from the bottom of her heart wasn’t the right one.
Maybe he’s after my body...?
Sakuya’s fear wasn’t unfounded. Her appearance was quite attractive. Her black hair was long and sleek, and her slightly tanned, healthy skin was soft and supple. Her assassin’s training resulted in her limbs and muscles being tight, but her breasts were still conspicuous enough. Put simply, she was more than beautiful enough to stir a man’s lust.
Being an assassin, she’d seen time and again just how nasty and filthy of a place the world could be, and the fear of being forcefully ravaged by a man was always there in the back of her mind.
She was resolved to lay down her own life if she failed in her assassination, but as a woman, it was hard for her to do away with the fear of having her body defiled. All the more so since she’d never known a man before.
No... I don’t think that’s likely... Sakuya discarded that idea, her gaze quickly turning to Lione and the other women present. If that were the case, he wouldn’t have the other women attending.
Putting aside those with extremely particular tendencies, few people enjoyed having their lovemaking seen by other people. And as far as Sakuya knew, Ryoma Mikoshiba wasn’t interested in such matters in the slightest. But if that was the case, his intentions were all the more unclear.
“Well, I guess the biggest reason would be personal interest.” Ryoma answered, picking up on Sakuya’s doubts.
“Personal interest?” Sakuya asked in a perplexed manner.
“See this?”
Ryoma stuck out Sakuya’s blade in front of her.
“What about it?” Sakuya couldn’t understand what made Ryoma so interested.
It was a katana with a blade of approximately 70 centimeters. And Sakuya realized this wasn’t a weapon one saw often on the western continent. But it was too weak of a reason for Ryoma to keep an assassin alive, let alone one caught trying to take his own life.
“This is a good katana. The weight and workmanship are exquisite, too. And it’s practical, at that.” Ryoma nodded with satisfaction, drawing the katana from its scabbard and holding it up against the light.
“Why do you use this?”
Sakuya couldn’t understand the meaning behind Ryoma’s question. It was a tool for killing people. What other reason did an assassin need to use a weapon? But she did understand enough to know the man in front of her wouldn’t accept such an answer.
Possible answers came and went in her mind, and Ryoma changed his question, seeing the doubt in her eyes.
“Are you Japanese?”
But Sakuya�
��s expression didn’t change at that question, either. She looked like a person who’d just heard some sort of unfamiliar jargon.
“What’s that...? I don’t understand.”
Ryoma didn’t expect Sakuya would answer like that.
What the hell? She’s a black haired, black-eyed assassin wielding a katana, and her skin’s tanned, but she looks like she’s from the yellow race... But when I ask her if she’s Japanese, she doesn’t react...? So she’s basically a shinobi with a katana, who doesn’t have anything to do with Japan? Is this some kind of society that’s unique to this Earth? Or just a coincidence...? No, the color of her skin and her name have to mean she’s somehow related to Japan. If it was just one thing I’d pass it off as a coincidence, but when so many things align...
Countless questions clashed in Ryoma’s mind. He’d had Sara keep an eye on her so far, and this was the first time he’d seen her face. He’d seen her from afar and learned she had black hair two days ago. He’d only learned her name was Sakuya during the previous day’s meeting.
Ryoma wasn’t aware of it at the time, but when Sara told him her name was Sakuya, his heart was filled with longing. Sakuya. He could envision the characters for her name. Was it the characters for ‘night’ and ‘bloom’? Perhaps another combination?
It could be several combinations, in truth, but whichever it was, the name ‘Sakuya’ had a distinctly Japanese ring to it. It was, if nothing else, not the sort of name a Westerner of non-mixed ethnic origin would have. She could very well be a Japanese person, just like him.
Ryoma understandably suspected so. It had been over half a year since he was summoned to this world. Try as he might to not let it show, he was naturally overcome with homesickness. And all of a sudden, a person with what looked to be a connection to his homeland appeared. Feeling nostalgia at the sight of a fellow countryperson was only natural.
Incidentally, Ryoma felt absolutely no affinity for Saitou, who had served the Empire of O’ltormea. He’d met Saitou soon after he was summoned, and feared for his life. Furthermore, Saitou had sided with the empire Ryoma loathed and made an attempt on Ryoma’s life, so the latter’s impression of him was about as negative as could be.