On the City Walls (3)
"Hah... hah..."
Long story short, it had been my overwhelming victory.
It wasn't just the difference in status, either. Strength that couldn't be measured in numbers—technique, breadth of vision, all of it—there was simply no comparison between us.
I was supposed to be the one learning from her, and now here I was, the one doing the teaching. To Ais Wallenstein, of all people—a little girl, at that.
Ah, of course, just because our positions had reversed didn't mean I was teaching her exactly the way I'd been taught. Ais was far too young for that, to begin with, and my conscience pricked at me too much to train a child the way I'd been trained.
In the end, what I'd chosen was simple: dodge every one of her attacks, and only occasionally—when she got careless—bring the blade down in a light tap. My sword was still wrapped snugly in its sheath, so it couldn't have hurt.
Not that it stopped her from getting frustrated. She was stubbornly competitive by nature, and layered on top of that was a child's peculiar pride—so when she glared at me, her eyes burned with a fierce hunger to win. Honestly, it was closer to bloodlust.
"...One... more..."
"...No."
"Uu...!"
Being angry about it didn't change the answer.
For the record, this was already the seventh 'one more.' At this rate, I genuinely feared she'd keep going until she collapsed.
Well, I did push myself until I dropped—but only because I was forced to.
"Rest is part of being an adventurer, too. Manage your pace badly, and you'll die without even being able to resist."
That part was true. The Dungeon is cruel—it seeks out anyone who loses their composure and kills them first.
It tightens the noose little by little, waits until you think you've just barely made it through, and then sinks its teeth in.
In the Dungeon, the most important thing isn't strength. It's a calm mind and the maintenance of your safety line.
Only those who can manage that reach the realm of a first-class adventurer.
...Says the guy reckless enough to never back down from anything, anywhere.
Coming from someone like that, the words had absolutely zero persuasive power.
Well, Ais didn't know that, so it didn't matter.
At my words, Ais turned away with a sullen look and sat down to catch her breath.
...Huh. So she does listen when you talk to her. Then why does Riveria suddenly look so pitiable in my mind's eye?
"So? Anything you got out of sparring with me?"
"...No."
Figured. It wasn't really a spar in the first place.
She'd simply moved until she dropped. At best, the whole thing counted as stamina training.
Not that there was nothing to be gained from it—but for Ais as she was now, it was impossible. It wasn't what she was looking for.
"...Um."
"Yes?"
Ais started to ask something, then shut her mouth. She seemed to be wrestling with something, and I just watched her waver, lips pressed tight, face falling.
It's serious...
I didn't know the exact details of Ais's past, and I'd meant to avoid prying—but left alone like this, I had a feeling something was going to blow.
Hmm... Maybe this was the moment for a little distraction, something to get her to ease up... but how...
Then something I'd completely forgotten about drifted into my field of vision. Oh, right. I had that.
"Miss Ais. Would you like me to tell you why I'm strong?"
"...!"
Her head whipped around toward me.
Sincere to a fault—or should I say something else entirely?
"You... can tell me?"
"Of course. Normally it's a secret, but since it's you, Miss Ais, I'll make an exception."
She nodded. And nodded. And nodded again, eyes sparkling like nothing on earth.
Urgh, my conscience...! But this is necessary. It can't be helped. Yeah. That's right.
"The reason I'm strong... it's because..."
"..."
"Because...!"
"Gulp..."
"Because...!"
(Ba-dump, ba-dump)
"Because! It's this!"
"...Huh?"
After milking the suspense for all it was worth, I held out the thing in my hand to her.
"This... is?"
And that thing was—
"A Jagamarukun?"
A Jagamarukun.
"Whoa. You know what a Jagamarukun is!"
Crispy on the outside, soft and fluffy on the inside, nutty, easy to eat—absolutely de-li-ci-ous.
But even in the face of my impassioned lecture, Ais's eyes only grew colder and colder. It was a very Riveria-esque expression.
I suppose this is what they mean when they say children resemble their parents. The chill sank all the way into my bones, and I couldn't help hunching my shoulders.
"...A joke?"
"A joke?! I'm completely serious!"
Actually, it was about half a joke—but half a joke means the other half is dead serious, doesn't it?
I defended my reasons for holding out the Jagamarukun with the desperation of a man on trial. I haven't done anything wrong!
"Now that I mention it, I'm actually the Fairy of the Jagamarukun."
"Huh...?"
"My body is made of potato, and oil flows through my veins."
Total nonsense. But little Ais believed it.
To be fair, it made no sense that she'd buy it just because she was young—and yet, somehow, she did.
Frankly, this worried me more than anything else. Was she going to get scammed somewhere down the line?
Not that I'm one to talk, given what I was doing right now.
"This mystical food, the Jagamarukun, hides a tremendous power within. The moment you eat it, the crippled rise from their seats and the blind leap to their feet—"
And so I spouted nonsense in my best snake-oil-salesman voice.
Honestly, it was drivel a passing dog wouldn't believe. But Ais believed it.
"...Amazing."
...Is this girl really okay? Worry for her future weighed on me like a mountain—wouldn't she get swindled one day? Never mind that the swindling was happening right now, at my hands.
"If I eat a Jagamarukun... can I get stronger?"
"Naturally."
Total nonsense. But this would do the trick.
Thank goodness the mark was Ais...
Even as I'd grown older, my silver tongue had never improved much. Short of someone at Ais's level, I figured almost nobody would fall for my spiel.
"Of course, I understand if that's hard to believe on words alone."
True to form, even Ais didn't readily swallow the claim that a Jagamarukun could make her stronger.
But it didn't matter. Her opponent was me, after all.
"So I'll give you one. Go ahead—try it."
"Ah..."
When I readily held one out, Ais faltered, flustered. I suppose being this shameless made her wonder whether it was actually true after all.
Obviously, eating a Jagamarukun doesn't make anyone stronger. But there was a very good reason I could be so confident about this.
Because she was Ais Wallenstein.
"Th-then... just one..."
The sweet, savory aroma drifted up her nose, and Ais's entire mind narrowed to a single point.
Just as I thought...
Dungeon, dungeon, dungeon.
Watching her fixate on nothing but the Dungeon, I'd already suspected it—right now, she had zero interest in anything outside it.
Which meant she probably knew a Jagamarukun existed, but had never actually tried one.
Sure enough, she'd seen days when people cradled armfuls of them, and never once spared the food a glance. Proof that she had no idea the thing in my hand was her own beloved snack.
In other words, if I fed her this, her heart would—quite literally—shift its focus from the Dungeon to the Jagamarukun!
Granted, by the tiniest of margins.
But that tiny margin mattered.
If she could just get a little breathing room, a moment to catch her breath, she might find a little more peace of mind.
Ais took a small bite of the Jagamarukun.
"...?!"
She froze solid on the spot—then came back to herself and devoured the whole thing in a flash.
Time required for one Jagamarukun to vanish: approximately three seconds.
Having dispatched the pastry faster than even a quick-cast spell, Ais fixed her glistening, covetous eyes on the remaining Jagamarukun.
Just as planned.
"Would you like another?"
She nodded. And nodded. Her head bobbed faster than physically possible.
*
Munch munch.
Chomp chomp.
Munch munch.
The roughly ten Jagamarukun had somehow dwindled to two.
For the record, I hadn't eaten a single one. Every last bite went to Ais. I could only marvel at how all that food fit inside that tiny body.
"Mmm... *sniff*."
At some point, Ais had started crying while she ate.
It can't be that delicious...
Most likely, with her tension finally loosened, the grief had come flooding in.
The truth she always turned her eyes away from. Her obsessive focus on the Dungeon was driven by her thirst for revenge, yes—but maybe it was also a defense mechanism, a way to run from that feeling.
Truthfully, I never used to understand that emotion. When my grandfather died, I threw myself straight into a Familia and filled my days with diligence, and because of that, I never grasped what it felt like.
But it was different now. This time, the girl's feelings came through to me as if I could hold them in my hands.
Because her circumstances and mine were so alike. We were both wandering, having lost something precious.
The only difference was that she had a purpose, and I had none.
And that was exactly why I couldn't block her path. All I could offer was a little support along the way.
I placed my hand on her head once more, stroking her hair ever so gently.
Her sobs grew a little louder—but my hand stayed right where it was, resting on her head.