This whole thing is a dilemma.
I don't even know why I'm bothering with this gun project, or why I'm trying so hard to stay at this university. Having to put up with the same faces day in and day out while trying to craft a firearm that I don't even know will be of any use to me. Yet, here I am. Every single day, I try to hurry things along instead of just tracking down my sword and getting out of here. Why don't I leave?
I end up asking myself that question a few times every day, but I never reach an answer as to why I don't just grab my blade and walk away.
What was that about it "being of use"? If that meant anything at all, did it have something to do with me, or with Darian?
As I searched the books for anything on the topic, I stopped overthinking and focused entirely on the shelves.
Turns out Darian is scarcely more than a legend. An event from the past that hardly feels real. Then again, the death of that child alone must have been devastating to anyone who knew about it. Just imagining what raw mana could do to you if you aren't on its "good side" was terrifying to all of them. At least, that was what the pages said.
The son of a wealthy family. Nobody knew where he came from, but he bore no resemblance to his parents. Pitch-black hair and red eyes resembling those of a dragon were all the book recorded about Darian.
I shut the book firmly. At the end of the day, it was still just a legend, so I wasn't going to take what was written on that tiny page as gospel. It's only natural for people to exaggerate when caught off guard by a phenomenon like that, making up tales about dragon eyes or claiming it was a curse. Truth be told, I had no clue.
I took the book with me anyway. But as I walked down a hallway, a masked woman hurried past, heading into a room. She noticed me, but kept going without stopping.
It was that same girl. The one with the mask and dark hair. What is she doing here, and why is she still wearing a mask at a university?
"That's..."
And hanging at her waist, the very thing I had needed so desperately on my journey, was Temphestalis, the sword Sauros had given me on my tenth birthday. Or what was left of it. The woman stopped and brought her hand to her hip, muttering something unintelligible under her breath, looking frantic.
Wait... did it twitch when I reached out my arm? Moving with reflexes even my own body hadn't anticipated, I lunged toward her and snatched the sword before she could even register it.
"Temphestalis? Is that you?"
"Hey...! Who...?"
"I'm sorry, but this is mine."
"You're that boy..."
"...Huh?"
The hilt in my grip immediately began draining my mana at a terrifying rate. It was as if it had been trying to pull mana the entire time, yet could never repair itself. The sword vibrated again and began to regenerate. Then, abruptly, it stopped.
"It stopped?"
"Excuse me... You're Daiki."
"That's strange... Could it be missing pieces? No, that can't be it. Those fragments were reduced to useless scrap metal. At least, I think so. It's been a long time since I opened the pouch."
"Daiki?"
"Could you hand me the scabbard?"
"Huh? Is the sword really all you care about? I didn't think..."
I sighed, slipped the scabbard away before she even noticed, and sheathed the sword. As it absorbed my mana once more and resumed repairing itself, I looked at the girl. All I could see was her mask and black hair, along with her university uniform.
"Daiki... I already know of you from before, and now from your reputation as Obsidian. And the sword was originally obsidian, wasn't it? I didn't know it could repair itself."
"Yeah. I think it's Laplace's doing. Your companion mentioned it was part of his arsenal, right?"
"He said something like that. I didn't really understand much about it. Just... could you please give it back to me?"
"What do you need it for?"
"I guess I can't keep secrets from you anymore... My name alone should be proof enough, shouldn't it?"
"Nanahoshi."
She reached beneath her robe and pulled out a letter.
"You remember, don't you?"
That letter bore the names Shinohara Akito and Kuroki Satoshi... completely Japanese names, with surnames I recognized from my past life.
"I'm sorry, I don't know those people."
"Yeah, I can see that. Still, your name is completely Japanese. Why not just hide it? It's strange around here."
"My parents gave it to me. According to them, I chose it myself."
"Your parents? You were self-aware as an infant?"
"Look," I said in Japanese, "I know you come from Japan too. That's obvious. Still, it's not impossible. I'm living proof of it, but I can't tell you anything more. I know you've followed me a few times from a distance, but I wanted to see how far you'd go. And now you've tracked me to the library, assuming I'm someone you know."
"You're definitely neither of them. Well, that man told me not to say too much anyway, but please, could you give me the sword? It's for my own safety."
"Your safety?"
Nanahoshi sat down and looked away. Even so, she fidgeted restlessly.
"The sword keeps me calm. It puts me at ease enough that I can sleep comfortably with it and nothing will happen to me. Well, before, it was just a hilt; now it looks like a full sword. It might not be as safe anymore."
She sighed and began to tell me everything.
Temphestalis, or at least its hilt, kept ambient mana from entering Nanahoshi's body directly and slowly killing her. The weapon functioned like an efficient ventilation system: taking in mana, attempting to repair itself, and venting it away since it lacked me as the catalyst to reconstruct its blade. At least, that was how I saw it.
She also mentioned things like teleportation circles, though since that was forbidden magic, Orsted had told her not to reveal where they were or how they worked. Honestly, I didn't care much about that. It did explain, however, how she had traveled the world in just one year.
She could avoid the mana sickness that drained her so completely as long as she kept the sword at her waist. It reminded me of Darian—a child who had died of the exact same thing: ambient mana poisoning.
Nanahoshi took my hand and led me away from there.
"Alright, this is better."
Nanahoshi closed the door, walked over to a chair, and began removing her mask. She didn't look sad or stern; she looked hopeful. As if she were smiling at me from behind the mask. Then, as quickly as she could, she came over and took my hand.
"Let's find a way to go home together, okay?"
Go home?
[Home? There is no home, Daiki... Did you really think there was one?]
"I don't want to go back to that world."
"You don't? What a shame. I don't know why I was transported to this terrifying world, but all I want is to go back. I have my family. I have my responsibilities, and the food here makes me sick to my stomach. The only thing that kept me sane was that sword, and now it turns out it belonged to another Japanese person all along. It's... ironic."
"Orsted mentioned Darian. Do you remember, Nanahoshi?"
"Yes. He told me about him. About the boy who went through the same thing I do. Black hair, dying a slow death because of mana. One of my theories was that he was another reincarnated person, but Orsted told me the child was born here and wasn't transported in any way."
"Didn't he mention anything about red eyes?"
"Red eyes? No, he didn't tell me that. If you're looking for more answers, I can't give them to you. Most of what he told me was to stay cautious and not go around revealing too much. I'm sorry. I only brought it up because of your sword. Will you give it back to me? Please..."
I drew my sword from its scabbard. It had already fully regenerated, looking brand new. I could easily just walk out of the university with the sword and... let her die. Just like Darian.
I sheathed the sword and leaned it against the wall.
"You saved my life and my brother's. If that meant anything to you, then I'll give it to you and we'll call it even. Why did you decide to save us?"
"Your name. When I heard it, I thought you were the guy who saved me from that truck. I had my doubts, so I did the only thing I could do: save you."
"I see. Keep it, then. It's for the best right now."
Resting against the wall, it was no longer receiving mana from me, turning it into a brittle obsidian blade that couldn't regenerate or withstand attacks. Leaning it against the wall, I snapped the heavy blade using another of my swords so Nanahoshi could carry the hilt without trouble.
After that, I looked at her for a few seconds and left. An idea had begun to form regarding Nanahoshi, but at least I was leaving her the sword so she would be safe. It was the best choice for the time being.
---
Nanahoshi
I'll be honest: I didn't expect Daiki to be such a decent person. To tell the truth, from what you hear in the hallways and among the people at the university, when they see a tall, serious guy moving at a speed almost no one can track, the first thing they think is that he must be someone with a dark past, the kind of person who'd tear your head off over a minor annoyance and keep walking as if nothing happened.
Yet he showed none of that. Simply put, beneath that cold exterior, there is someone willing to surrender his most prized weapon for a girl he barely knows, someone who could also expose the secret of his past, all because she saved him from dying with a hole in his chest.
I didn't step in earlier. I could have stopped Orsted right from the start, yet I only did so when I heard Daiki's name. That's the strange thing. That's what I don't understand. We were never square; the debt had already been settled when I took the sword, and yet he snapped it in two just to hand it back to me.
Ugh. It's hard to hold back the excitement of seeing a black-haired guy again, but finding out he has no desire to return to his world is disappointing.
What is his deal? Every second in this world is agony for me, yet he actually likes it here.
I suppose it's because he can use magic, eat the food, and thrive as someone extraordinary, while I have to rely on magic items just to simulate what comes naturally to him.
No matter. A spark crossed his gaze, and I intend to find out what he's planning.
---
Daiki Greyrat
Back in the workshop, I laid out the elven pouch containing the broken fragments of Temphestalis.
"Boss, I don't know why you needed the hilt of a hunting sword, but here it is."
"Thanks... This will do. Looks like you snapped the blade completely and cleaned up the hilt, Zanoba."
"Think nothing of it, Boss. It's the least I can do."
"Yeah, I suppose."
I took the hilt and placed it on the workbench.
"What do you plan to do with those pieces of metal? Forge a special sword?"
"Something like that. It's an experiment. If it works... I'll be able to help someone."
"Oho, it's to impress someone! I'll stay and watch."
I began arranging the pieces bit by bit while holding the hilt, hoping the parts would fuse and that the sword would simply regenerate from them. Of course, I didn't think it was likely, but if it worked, it could be a major breakthrough toward understanding the true origins of a self-repairing sword.
In this world, magic swords with unique abilities were normal, but this one seemed peculiar. When I first saw it, it was a dead sword, made of metal. Yet, when I held it and it regenerated, it became a dark obsidian blade. In other words, when the sword "dies," it reverts to an ordinary sword. That meant the magic it uses to transform into obsidian resides somewhere within the weapon, and if my theory was correct, maybe I could tap into whatever residue remained within the fragments of Temphestalis.
Maybe it was some kind of material capable of multiplying with mana. Either way, the only thing left to do was test if there was any truth to my theory.
Gripping the hilt with a bit of hope, I waited for it to react. The old blade fragments of Temphestalis didn't make a complete blade, but they did begin piecing one together. Carefully, I raised it above my head, waiting for something to happen.
Nothing happened. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes passed, but nothing. The sword remained inert, until...
"Trying to revive Temphestalis, Brother?"
Rudeus had arrived earlier, with Fitz by his side.
"Yeah, only I don't know what to think. It's not working."
"Maybe you should think about something else instead of just fixing it. This isn't like magic, right? It's not enough to just remember. Maybe you need to feel the same thing you felt on that birthday."
"You... have a point there, Rudeus."
To tell the truth, back then I hadn't thought about it at all. My body moved on its own. It's what they call following your body's instincts to answer a distant calling, but now my body wasn't so defenseless, and every attempt to move forward felt like taking a step backward.
Rudeus placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
"Don't overthink it. That's what I do sometimes just to be sure."
I closed my eyes and let the memories surface.
"Daiki... Daiki... Son... My Dai... You're incredible... DAIKI! I FOUND THE PLACE TO FIGHT...! I'm sorry, Son. I don't know how to feel about the things I said in the past, but the only thing I'll do is keep moving forward so the same thing doesn't happen to your sisters."
The voices of Zenith, Eris, and Paul blended together in my mind as if they were one. One after another, they began to surface without stopping, but the sword gave me no sign.
"Just live. Don't merely exist. Live."
Yes, that feeling. Moving forward without constantly worrying about treading on this strange ground, it was just complicated. It was hard to reach that state and channel it into a physical object that I didn't even know would respond to me.
[Just do it already. Accept your life once and for all... Accept that you are your own flesh and blood, not your punishment or your mission. Even if letting go makes me disappear for a while, just open your heart and be happy. Or do you really want to find our mother looking like a walking corpse? Is that what you want your mother to see? Acting like an asshole on the outside while rotting as a miserable martyr on the inside? No. You'll drive everyone away that way. You already did that back in Japan. Somehow, everyone looked right through you and never took a second to talk to you. You're lucky here, because some people respect you, but it won't always be like that. It's... just... ----------]
The voice in my head, the one with the strange name, simply cut off. As it had done many times before, but this time it had said too much. From a perspective unknown to me, it made me realize only one thing: Temphestalis will return to me. And after that, maybe I can search for more answers about myself.
Things are different now. I don't want to leave Rudeus behind, but he can manage on his own and thrive at the university while I strike out alone in search of Mother. No. I can't leave Sylphy alone either, not now when she needs both of us so much.
This is a dilemma.
"Whoa! I didn't think my advice would actually work!"
"Huh? What are you talking about, Rudeus?"
"See for yourself."
I looked down at the hilt. The blade had the same hue as Temphestalis, only smaller. Perfect for Nanahoshi to hold. Perfect so that I could keep the original.
To test its effectiveness, I asked Zanoba to try holding it. Almost instantly, the physical strain showed in his arms. The fabric of his sleeves tore and his boots nearly sank through the floorboards. Rudeus snatched it away quickly, however, noticing that Zanoba's minuscule mana was on the verge of running out. The instant Rudeus took hold of it, the magic that made it heavy vanished.
"It's just like the original... Whatever that material is, it recognizes us."
"I'll call it Little Tempest!" Rudeus said.
With that in mind, I took the sword and went to see Nanahoshi.