by Mamare Touno
Rondarg could have been Nyanta, and Nyanta could have been Rondarg.
There wasn’t much to differentiate between them at all. On the day of the Catastrophe, at that moment, where had they been? Who had they been with? Who had they spent the intervening time with? Had there been important words that had remained with them? The difference had probably been no more than that.
Differences like those weren’t based in effort or talent. They were fate, encounters. Put bluntly, they were no more than coincidence. Nyanta understood this clearly.
He and any of the others who’d fallen into this world could become like Rondarg… And there would be no saving them.
“Mew look like mew’re enjoying yourself, Seraracchi.”
“Well, I am.”
Her voice was animated. The reply had seemed to spring back at him, so Nyanta’s response was delayed a moment.
“Are mew, then.”
“…Have you been well lately, Nyanta?”
Serara must have noticed that pause. She looked up at him, wrapping her hands around her cup. Her eyebrows had drawn together very slightly in a worried expression. Nyanta felt contempt for himself; his unfair pain wasn’t something a girl like Serara should know about.
“Oh, I’m fine.”
That time, he managed to deliver the reply smoothly. As if it were only natural. As if it were no different from normal. Nyanta’s role-playing was supported by his life, in which he’d accumulated quite a lot of time, and the ups and downs of the many emotions he’d experienced.
“Is that right…?”
“……”
Serara smiled, seeming relieved. Carefree smiles, wavering emotions, blue unease—Nyanta had left all these things in his previous world. They were proof of immaturity, but at the same time, they were also symbols of possibility.
To Nyanta, Serara’s well-being was so precious it made him feel like praying.
“Seraracchi, are mew glad mew came to this world?”
It was a question he hadn’t intended to ask, but it slipped out.
He’d asked himself that question over and over, and each time, it had lost more of its meaning. He could give his own answer to it, of course, but he’d given up, thinking that that answer wouldn’t reach the world.
“Huh? Oh. Yes.”
He’d thought she might give the question a little more thought, but Serara answered immediately.
“Do mew really?”
“Yes, I do. I mean, I can’t see my dad or mom, and there were lots of problems and lots of awful things, but there’ve been all sorts of good things, too, like…”
“?”
“L-l-l-l-like dreams of what I want to be, and the future, and things.”
“Do mew have those?”
In response, Serara gave a small, energetic nod, as if she was trembling.
Things she wanted to be. Hopes for the future. Guideposts to live by. Serara murmured that she certainly did have those things.
Nyanta exhaled a deep, tea-warmed breath.
A soft warmth, a heat that was different from what he’d felt when he’d confronted Rondarg, glowed inside him. Susukino. Choushi. Saphir. This girl had to have seen many cruel sights in this world, too. Even so, she’d told him there was something she wanted to become.
“If it’s mew, Seraracchi, I’m sure mew’ll be able to make any dream come true.”
Let it be so. Nyanta murmured, weaving a prayer into the words.
“Ha, ha-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa…ah…”
As he watched, Serara’s behavior grew erratic. Her hands wandered meaninglessly through the air, her expression wavered between laughing and crying, and her lips shifted through shapes without forming actual words.
“What’s the matter?”
“—But my dream’s still a long ways away, so… Um, I mean, I’m not giving up or anything! That’s not what I meant! It’s only, when I see Isuzu and Minori, I feel like I’m a little lacking, or that I’m just really hopeless, or…”
“……”
Nyanta waited for Serara to go on.
Sometimes it was possible to organize confused thoughts by verbalizing them, by communicating them to someone else. The result was an answer that was all your own, something you couldn’t get through advice from other people.
She drew a deep breath. Then she drained her tea, ate a spoonful of orange jam, and took another deep breath.
Then, timidly, Serara looked up at Nyanta again.
“—I mean, I’m not sure, but…I think I need to become myself, properly, before I can, um, make that dream come true. I need to be a proper, mature version of myself. Besides, I’d like that.”
Nyanta knew that Serara had been watching her friends in the younger group and that she’d looked as if she felt rushed. Minori, Touya, Isuzu, and Rundelhaus: All the children she spent time with had grown remarkably.
In chasing after Shiroe, Minori had begun using her tactical and clerical abilities in ways that surpassed adults.
Touya had kept calling for the Odysseia Knights, who were both older and stronger than he was, to live in this world.
And on the battlefield, Isuzu had found her own song and played its melody until her voice was hoarse.
Although he was a Person of the Earth, Rundelhaus had yearned to protect people and had become an Adventurer.
Serara’s friends were blossoming rapidly, as if they were running up a staircase two steps at a time. Watching them, she might have felt as though she was childish. Nyanta had seen that sort of anxiety and emotional stress in her. He was an adult, and from his perspective, such worries seemed the mark of youth. Her future spread out before her, wide and endless. This was just a little pause, nothing to be concerned about.
Even so, Serara had said her goal was to become a proper version of herself. Those words had definitely touched Nyanta’s soul.
Young people were reborn. Small children who’d been brought into this world unfairly, by force, became young people and resolved to be born again voluntarily. It was a contract with the world in which they lived, and a tie that linked the past and the future.
Once, Nyanta had said as much to Rondarg. He’d said it as a wish, and as a prayer. It was an ideal for living things, and while he’d hoped it would be the case, he’d also thought it would probably be pretty difficult.
However, without being told by anybody, Serara had started to walk toward the light. Or rather, she was already on her way. Every day, little by little, this kind, sensitive girl was getting closer to her true self.
Young people were reborn as themselves.
Let it be so.
Serara couldn’t possibly understand how deeply impressed and liberated Nyanta was feeling right now. It would probably be another twenty-odd years before she was able to comprehend it. But just now, she had saved Nyanta. He had been rescued by this girl.
Thoughts he couldn’t put into words lifted the corners of Nyanta’s lips. He hoped the expression came out looking like a smile. He was sure his gratitude wouldn’t get through to Serara, but he didn’t let that bother him. This little lady was worthy of the greatest respect.
“Miss Serara.”
“Yesh?!”
For that very reason, Nyanta chose his words resolutely.
In order to congratulate her—and all of them—on their second “first cry.”
“I’m cheering for mew, Miss Serara. I will always cheer for all of mew. I will always, always be on mewr side.”
4
The Log Horizon guild house was on a back road, one street away from Akiba’s central avenue. It was slightly removed from the city’s heart, but that meant its terrace had a wide, clear view of Akiba’s town center.
The scenery wasn’t bad during the day, but the view Shiroe liked was the one that lasted from evening until night.
In this other world, the nights were dark. This had been brought home to him on his journeys to the rural Choushi and Susukino. Theldesia was rich in natural beauty, but that
was linked directly to the small size of its civilized areas. Unlike Earth, it had no megacities or maintained roads. At night, the world was ruled by darkness.
Because that was the case, manmade lights seemed like terribly precious things. In lively Akiba, in the hours from evening to night, the light of flames and magic lamps shone.
Of course, they were so sparse they couldn’t begin to compare to Tokyo nights. That building glowed orange—so did this inn—and in the central area, there were several Firefly Lamps: That was what it was like. In this other world, even that was enough to make this a huge city that radiated dazzling brightness.
Tonight, as Shiroe gazed out over that view from the wide terrace, his expression was gloomy.
He understood what Ains had said, and he’d anticipated this would happen. However, he thought to himself, even so…
He did think that what Ains was getting at was right, but they couldn’t implement it. If they forced it through, the clash of opinions for and against would heat up to the point of no return. The Round Table Council was an organization of self-government, but it wasn’t an actual government.
Maybe that’s an evasion, too.
There was no reason it had to be an organization of self-government…
It would be possible for Akiba to declare that an appropriate area was its territory and become independent as a governing organization. At the very least, in terms of the common sense of this world, they were more than capable of defending themselves, and they had quite enough economic power to run a territory. If Akiba was said to be unfit to govern on either of those two points, then there was no territory or noble in Eastal that could run a governing organization.
The reasons Shiroe and the other guild masters of Akiba hadn’t made the Round Table Council a governing organization were minor ones: “Government? Us? We couldn’t…” “That sounds like too much responsibility.” “I don’t think we should extend our reach that far…”
However, even if they were minor, they had been common-sense decisions, and it was a fact that the idea of venturing into government now was an unappealing one. Shiroe and the others were modern Japanese, and for them, these were natural feelings. In the first place, the Round Table Council was an organization of self-government and had been established with the cooperation of Akiba’s citizens. Considering its history, if it reinvented itself as a “government” with the power to enforce things now, Shiroe guessed that there would be a good amount of opposition.
This was the point that made him wonder whether Ains’s prediction might be off: Akiba did have a will of its own. It was what could be called the “mood” of the majority of Adventurers in Akiba, and it wasn’t the sort of thing you could do anything about by issuing orders from the top, even if you were a guild master on the Round Table Council.
Even if he had managed to borrow the gold of the Kunie, it was earmarked for returning Yamato’s zones to Yamato. Appropriating that capital and using it to reform Akiba in some respect would be a bad move, in several ways. Shiroe didn’t think it was reasonable, and even he was afraid some unforeseen situation might occur. He was uneasy about it; that was precisely why he’d split up those three cards and taken security measures.
However, it was possible that that had been self-deception meant to help himself evade responsibility, too. This was a doubt Shiroe wasn’t able to shake.
It was an endless worry, and it was also his usual self-reproach.
If he took action, he worried that it might be conceited; if he avoided acting, he thought it might be rigid noninterference. No matter what he did or didn’t do, it was hard to believe he’d managed to make everything turn out for the best. He’d been told he was brooding, but that was his basic personality. There was no help for it.
Plant Hwyaden had built a powerful system of government by one unified guild. Of course, in one sense, this was autocratic, an act that forced the will of a certain group onto fellow Adventurers. Yet, it was an undeniable fact that its system, in which a single guild held plenary power, made efficient government possible. It had brought stability to Western Yamato and great stability to the lives of the Adventurers.
He had to acknowledge the skills of the Adventurers who were said to have established that system: Indicus and Kazuhiko; Nakalnad, the former guild master of Howling; and Zeldus, who had been an unknown.
At present, which of them had fewer unfortunate Adventurers? When that question came up, Shiroe had no way to criticize Plant Hwyaden.
The system was built on a strong relationship with the Holy Empire of Westlande. Compared with Eastal, the League of Free Cities, the Holy Empire of Westlande was a system of centralized authority. Because centralized systems could allocate their budgets more actively, they were able to invest that money in the Adventurers. They then introduced technology from those Adventurers and promoted measures for national prosperity and defense. That sort of thing wasn’t possible for a council system like Eastal, which was made up of many lords and had no clear hierarchical relationships.
I guess they’re probably using that technology to prepare for war.
Remembering the report he’d gotten from Captain Nyanta, Shiroe sighed.
The iron train. Suspicious summoned creatures. The clandestine maneuvers of the People of the Earth.
As long as Shiroe and the other Adventurers were active in this world, no matter what the speed might be, they wouldn’t be able to avoid disseminating technology. It wasn’t as if Plant Hwyaden was the only one disseminating it. The Adventurers of Akiba were spreading a variety of inane technologies across Yamato. There was no such thing as a peaceful technology, unsuited to war. Even technologies that improved the lives of the People of the Earth ended up fanning the ambitions of the now-wealthy feudal lords. In extreme terms, even agricultural and medical technology could become triggers for war.
The problems Ains had pointed out: the disparities in Akiba and the desolation people felt.
The military tensions among the People of the Earth in both East and West Yamato.
Shiroe felt a stomachache coming on.
And that wasn’t all.
He took several folded sheets of stationery out of the bag at his hip. In the warm orange light from the guild hall window behind him, he could make out the neat handwriting. Even the fact that the writing looked like his own made him smile grimly.
“It’s too cold to be out here. You’ll hurt your stomach, my liege.”
“When did you…?”
Shiroe looked up and greeted Akatsuki, who had descended from the terrace on the upper floor with a backward flip. Fixing him with a cold, sullen gaze as if she would have liked to say something, she brought out a blanket she’d been holding behind her back and made him take it.
The gesture was cute, and Shiroe chuckled.
Once he’d pulled the blanket around his shoulders like a mantle, Akatsuki asked him what was bothering him.
“When you’re troubled, you get wrinkles right here. Your forehead starts to look like an old man’s.”
“Does it really?”
“Yes. It does.”
If that was true, Shiroe couldn’t tell, but after it had been pointed out to him several times, he’d started to wonder if maybe it really did do that. The idea that he spent so much time troubled and muttering to himself made him feel pitiful and depressed. I’m only in my twenties, he thought. What in the world am I doing?
“Hey, Shiro. You were out here, huh?’
“My idol radar’s picking up something! Something like a nocturnal tryst! I heard the sound of love progressing. In other words, that’s my cue!”
While he was trying to decide how to answer Akatsuki’s question, the next visitors arrived. One was Shiroe’s good friend Naotsugu. The young guy wore a cheerful, transparent expression, and when he stepped out onto the wooden deck—along with noisy Tetora, whom he’d been wearing around lately like some sort of equip item—they launched into a boisterous exchange.
“Li
ke heck it is! No cues for you here.”
“My, my. Are you dragging my performance fees down? Haggling rates with me, a global—no, a galactic idol? We can’t have that.”
“You just followed me out here. You said something about radar.”
“Oops, that’s right. Are you plotting something sinister, Shiroe? I’m terribly intrigued.”
“Yeah, Shiro. Are you strategizing?”
Shiroe had tried to get a word in several times, but he couldn’t find an opening.
If it had been just Naotsugu, he would have had an easier time conversing with him, but Tetora boasted overwhelming lung capacity, and the idol rattled on and on, shutting him out. Of course, Akatsuki was no help in situations like this. She only knelt formally near him, her expression deadly serious, or possibly cross; he couldn’t tell which.
“Aren’t adorable, charming, capable idols necessary? Ah. I accidentally phrased that as a question. We’re necessary!”
“Crud… I can’t go that far. But Guardians are necessary, yeah?”
From Naotsugu’s smile, he didn’t seem to care about Shiroe’s dejection at all.
Still, Shiroe was saved by that smile, and he managed to lift his head. He’d realized that he’d been about to repeat a mistake.
“I would meowst like to hear this as well.”
As if he’d timed it, Nyanta appeared with a pot of hot lemonade and mugs on a tray, and Shiroe made up his mind. He had the letter that had been worrying him in his hands.
No matter what sort of resolution he made, or what he was hesitating over, before he did anything at all, Shiroe had companions whom he needed to discuss things with. Not only that, but at this point, there were younger members—Minori, Touya, Isuzu, and Rundelhaus—in Shiroe’s guild.
They had seen painful things in the town of Saphir. For their sake as well, Shiroe and the others needed to discuss this.
“So: Log Horizon senior members meeting.”