Hero, Heroine, and the Ordinary Guy
"Quite an interesting item."
"Yeah, kinda."
"It's a form of curse I've never seen before, so it's hard to say for sure, but it's definitely no ordinary thing. I'll take custody of it."
"Sure."
I'd come to Shinamori Shrine with the black liquid I'd forgotten to hand over yesterday, and now I was facing Hanasaki with Inuyama—who'd tagged along at some point—in tow. Hanasaki placed the black liquid, which was rolling around atop a handkerchief, into a wooden box that gave off a subtle sense of power, then closed the lid. Letting out a faint sigh, she turned her still-expressionless eyes to me and said,
"Any progress on your end?"
"Nothing major yet..."
"Then let's try it here."
Try what? Inuyama, perhaps spooked by the atmosphere, tried to hide behind me, but Hanasaki grabbed her hand and pulled her forward. She whispered something into Inuyama's ear, stuck a talisman to her forehead, and shoved her toward me.
"Uh, sorry about that!"
Before I could even ask what's there to be sorry about, a feral glint filled Inuyama's eyes.
This is insane. I barely swallowed a curse, blocking her claws—swinging down like she meant to rake me from above—by pressing my hand against her wrist at the last second. This is it, isn't it? She wants me to try manipulating her soul while she's going berserk.
I leaned into her with my body weight, shoving Inuyama back a bit. Right now, even focusing my eyes took preparation, so I circled her at maximum distance without exposing my back, channeling my spiritual energy. Of course, that didn't mean Inuyama would hold back, so when she closed the gap in an instant, I thrust out my already injured left hand, pressing it to her face as we locked into a contest of strength. It was to avoid the disaster of both hands being out of commission, but the stabbing pain still twisted my face, and with no choice, I poured every ounce of power—save what I needed for my eyes—into my left hand to overcome the push.
"Ah, damn it."
The bandages I'd wrapped were torn loose by Inuyama's fangs, exposing the medicinal herbs plastered all over my left arm. The silver lining was that my burst of focused spiritual energy let me shove her back once. Clutching my excruciatingly painful left hand, I refocused. Once I fully concentrated on my eyes, Inuyama's soul came into clear view, split starkly between black and white.
Properly pissed from being repelled, she charged even more fiercely and violently. I ducked low with her, slamming my head into her chest area, wrapping her in a hug, and touched her soul to turn it fully white.
"Impressive."
"Honestly, I was shocked myself."
As I grumbled my complaints, Inuyama—who'd briefly lost consciousness in the position of being held against me—came to surprisingly quickly. Her face flushed beet red from the embarrassing posture, so I let her go.
"If it had been truly dangerous, I would have stopped it."
"Yeah, sure, I get that."
"And concentrating your power into that left hand—quite good for a beginner."
"...I did it in a panic; I don't even know how."
"Once you've succeeded once, you'll be able to do it consciously in no time."
Even she, with her emotions dulled almost to nothing, seemed satisfied on some level, praising me without reserve for what I'd just pulled off. Last time, she said she had high expectations or something. Am I living up to them a bit?
"Um... Tsukino. Are you mad?"
"Nah. But it was kinda scary."
"Sorry."
She's getting more and more like a puppy. If she had a tail, it'd be wagging like crazy. She glanced at me cautiously, bowed her head, circled around me gingerly. Without thinking, I held out my hand a little, and her head darted right over for pets.
What is this overwhelming puppy power? So this is what taming a werewolf looks like.
"Let me see your left arm again."
"Sure."
Inuyama was glued right to my right side and wouldn't let go, so I slowly turned with her to show my left arm to Hanasaki. When she first bit me, it was so bad I wondered if it'd ever heal, but while it wasn't fully mended, the recovery boost had brought it back to "serious injury" level. Hanasaki fetched various tools and medicines from inside the shrine, washed the wound with clean water, dried it thoroughly with a towel, applied fresh salve, and rebandaged it.
"If it bothers you later, let me know anytime."
"Got it."
Hanasaki stared at me for a moment, then told me to wait and headed to the back of the shrine's main building, returning with a wooden bokken that she placed in my right hand.
I haven't even done kendo, let alone swordsmanship.
"...Now that you've stepped into this world, there will come a time when you need a weapon. At the very least, train to infuse tools with spiritual energy."
"Any reason it's a bokken?"
"Yes. This is a specially treated item used by Shinamori Shrine attendants for basic training. It should help."
I was a little dubious, but she had a point—there was no guarantee I could handle things barehanded forever. I bowed my head and accepted the sword, feeling an immense heaviness. It must have an iron core inside given the substantial weight, and when I tried shoving spiritual energy in hard, it repelled me, but when I eased it in gently, it sucked it right up.
Neat. As something used by shrine maidens or shrine guardians, it was no ordinary item, and since Hanasaki was still in her teens, she probably wasn't thinking about successors yet, so lending it to me made sense.
"I'll give it a good try."
"Yes. I hope you see results."
With our farewells exchanged, Inuyama and I left the shrine. As we descended the stairs, our hands—mine and the top of her head—parted.
"Tsukino."
"Yeah."
"Do you... know much about werewolves?"
"Just what I've read in fantasy novels."
"Fantasy novels..."
Truth be told, Japan in this era wasn't big on the Tolkien-style high fantasy or modern isekai we think of today—it was more into SF, with folks like Tezuka Osamu leading the charge. There were awards like the Seiun, Nihon SF Taisho, and SF That I Want to Read that got a lot of buzz. In the '90s, authors like Yasutaka Tsutsui—infamous for his Korea-bashing—were huge hits with stuff like the novel behind The Girl Who Leapt Through Time or Paprika. It was 1991 now, so in six years, we'd get Neon Genesis Evangelion and the like.
Anyway, Inuyama looked a bit flustered but opened up a little about her situation.
"Truth is, at my age, I should be able to control my power... but I can't, so I can't go anywhere else."
"'Anywhere else' meaning you can't leave Kanemachi City?"
"Yeah."
Well, if she could hurt people by accident, it was unavoidable. I only knew her situation from the game, so I didn't have much to say.
"You're turning me back to normal, Tsukino, so that's nice. I mean, not nice like that, but..."
"Glad I can help."
We walked with a slightly awkward distance between us. Sure, I remembered my past life, but I wasn't that old, and I wasn't oblivious—I knew what kind of signal this was. And as a healthy high school guy, yeah, H-scenes from my past life popped into my head and got a reaction sometimes.
But that's exactly why approaching her first felt tricky for me.
"Inuyama. Lately, I've been thinking."
"Huh? Yeah?"
"I need to get stronger."
Not sure how she took that, but she blinked a few times, then beamed and said,
"If you get strong, Tsukino, will you take me away with you?"
"...If I can, and if that's what you want."
"Then I'll wait."
Right there, I realized we'd crossed into a relationship with no turning back. My words could be taken as a polite rejection depending on how you heard them, but her response meant she'd stick by my side until I was strong enough to actually take her away.
What do I even say to that?
"If that day really comes someday, where do you wanna go?"
"Um, it's kinda embarrassing."
"Yeah?"
"I wanna always follow you wherever you go, Tsukino."
Ah, damn it. Eroge heroine, knowing the story—what did that even matter? People change through the people they meet. It was natural for Inuyama or Manatsu Aoba to meet me before the protagonist, bond closer, and act differently from the game.
Yeah. There'd be a happy ending with the protagonist, sure. But was that the best? Would what I offered just be second-best?
At least, I didn't think so now. And the ones not chosen by the protagonist had their own twisted circumstances. I couldn't accept that they had to suffer just because they weren't picked.
So.
"Inuyama. I'll help you. As far as I can."
Hearing that, she threw herself into my arms, soaking my shirt with tears. I held her until she calmed, waiting quietly.