A Fondness for Roadside Weeds
I liked the clumps of weeds sprouting by the roadside. I didn't know their names or features, but I enjoyed just gazing at those nameless weeds. Grass no one paid attention to. Grass that silently endured being trampled underfoot. Grass that somehow managed to live as long as there was sunlight. Their vitality caught my eye for no particular reason... and I envied it.
I was sitting blankly on a bench in the middle of the city. Buses passed by, people walked by, wind blew through that spot. Right then, amid the gaps, I spotted a tiny flower pushing up through a crack in the barren asphalt. White, small, nameless. I stared at it vacantly for a while.
At that moment, a deafening roar tore through my ears. A sharp metallic screech pierced my eardrums. My vision scattered and blurred like white pollen, and the solid ground under my feet flipped in an instant. Balance shattered, the world inverted in a dizzying sensation.
Ah, I'm dead.
That was my last thought.
Then I opened my eyes. It was bright, dazzling, and above all, warm. ...Warm?
I tried to sit up but stopped. The sensations felt off. Light, soft, unfamiliar. I raised my hand. Lilac hair cascaded down over small, white hands. An alien voice slipped from my mouth.
"Ahh..."
I looked up. The first thing in my view was a strangely alien sky, bluish without a single cloud. I slowly scanned my surroundings. The sunlight was gentle, but the landscape beneath it was chilling. A massive fortress built from rough, crude black stones. Sinister towers rose around it like guards, sharply cutting the horizon.
Demon King's Castle, huh.
That thought just came to me, even though I'd never been there or seen it before.
I was standing by the roadside there. Or more precisely, blooming there.
I looked down. No feet—instead, roots plunged deep into the soil. Roots that had sunk into the earth without my say-so. They gripped the ground naturally, beyond my control. The moment I saw them, my heart pounded like it would burst.
This had to be a dream. But the sunlight was too hot, the earthy scent too vivid to dismiss as one. Nausea roiled inside me. Every time hot, sticky something coursed through my body, all my human instincts screamed in rejection of this alien form. The sense that my body wasn't mine. A grotesque disconnect, like wearing someone else's skin by force—it wrapped my whole body in vicious motion sickness, making me want to vomit my guts out.
Then, sweet mana flowed through the roots, up my spine. The revulsion slowly turned to comfort. My brain felt forcibly adapting to this body. The sunlight felt good. The air tasted delicious. And something seeped up from the soil. Warm, sweet, pleasant.
Ah, I'm a flower.
That was my conclusion. Not a tree, after all. If anything, closer to a flower, I figured. I wasn't hugely shocked. Just... empty.
I'd liked looking at weeds, but that didn't mean I wanted to become one.
"...A common flower blooming by the roadside."
A chuckle escaped me. Then I tilted my head.
"Common... right?"
For a common flower, the body was human-like. I poked my arm. Squishy. Touched my hair. Soft. Face small, skin plump and taut, nose nicely proportioned, body slender overall.
...Hm. Not bad, actually. The earth loved me, and I liked that earth. So it worked out.
I looked up at the sky again. Sunlight felt good. Air tasted great. Surroundings warm. I just stood there like that. Or more precisely, bloomed rooted in the ground.
How much time passed? The silence shattered as noisy clamor rode the air from afar. Sharp metal clangs scraped my eardrums, mingled with beastly ragged breaths. Heavy thuds of collapse ended in clear sounds of desperate footsteps pounding the ground.
Four of them. The metallic tang of blood carried on the wind stung my nose.
Moments later, they burst from the black fortress's shadow. A man gripping a sword, a woman dragging a massive shield, an old man leaning on a staff that looked ready to snap. And a staggering girl on the verge of collapse. Eerily, they were all splattered in blood.
Ah, the hero party.
I knew it somehow, despite never seeing them before. They spotted me blooming in the middle of the road and froze. Right in the heart of the Demon King's Castle.
As if on cue, they all halted. I waved lightly under their wary stares.
"Hi there?"
They said nothing. Their shaking eyes brimmed with vigilance, like they might lunge any second. So I extended my hand.
"I'm photosynthesizing. Wanna join?"
Silence. Wind blew. The breeze through the black fortress felt oddly warm.
The sword-wielding man spoke warily.
"......A monster?"
"Nope." I answered without hesitation. "A flower."
Before the words finished, a eardrum-shattering roar erupted behind them. Something huge had smashed through the gates. Chasing the hero party, no doubt. The hero raised his sword again. The woman beside him lifted her shield with a faint glow. The girl opposite clasped her hands and closed her eyes. The old man flared his robe and planted his staff. Everyone's breaths grew ragged.
Amid the heavy panting, the old man's despairing voice leaked out.
"Mana... depleted..."
Suddenly, one monster lunged at me. Drooling foul saliva with a noisy maw—it was seriously annoying. Reflexively, I raised my hand.
Thwack.
Just a light tap. The airborne monster froze, then crumbled to dust and scattered on the wind.
Instant silence. Hero party and pursuing monsters alike froze as if time stopped.
I stared blankly at my palm.
"Huh."
A bit stronger than I thought.
This time, a monster approached cautiously. It swung a blade at me warily. As I instinctively tried to dodge—
The roots gripping the earth slid smoothly free. Huh, roots come out too. One step. My body felt feather-light. I gently placed fingertips atop the monster's head.
Thwack.
Again, it powdered away.
Now the surrounding monsters charged all at once, as if coordinated. Swarming black shadows blocked my view—it was getting annoying. I swung my right hand lightly.
Instantly, a fresh green wind swirled from my feet. Wherever it brushed—wherever it sliced the air—nothing remained. As if existence itself had vanished from the world.
All that was left was deafening quiet.
I turned to the bloodied hero party.
"You okay?"
The swordman shuddered, shoulders jerking as he cautiously spoke.
"...What are you?"
I pondered briefly. Roadside weeds. And.
"A common flower."
After a moment's thought, I added,
"Probably?"
They fell silent at my answer, looking flustered. But the moment didn't last. The situation wouldn't let them.
The priestess-robed girl spoke first, gasping through trembling breaths, spilling the story. They were the hero party that had successfully assassinated the Demon King, but got spotted by executives while escaping, mana drained dry.
Her desperate voice gave me the gist. Of course, a fleeting thought crossed my mind: what if the Demon King was actually good, and these guys were the bad ones? Questions piled up, but for now, I decided to trust them.
"Want me to help?"
"...Can we trust you...?"
"Yep!"
The hero party was wary at first. But they soon accepted reality. Betrayed by me, they'd die. Reject my help, they'd die anyway.
So I led the bloodied group across the Demon King's domain. Escaping demon territory was more hassle than expected. The initial rabble seemed like a joke—far heavier presences blocked the way one after another.
Off the top of my head: first, a red-haired girl with dragon wings spewing flashy magic. Second, a maid-outfitted woman swinging brutal fists. Third, a ghostly knight—visible only when not focused on, memorable for that oddity. Then a black-robed man, a six-armed swordsman, a woman with bandaged eyes, a liquid-bodied freak. Eighth was a heavy armored thing floating disembodied. Ninth, a massive giant.
Counting them one by one, it hit me.
"...A lot."
The saintess walking beside me murmured softly.
"But we passed them all."
Exhausted, the hero party stayed quiet as if agreed. Only after a while did the archmage clear his throat, breaking the silence.
"...We passed, yes, but."
"Problem?"
I tilted my head slightly. The old man continued with a sigh.
"Not a problem, per se... the phrasing feels off."
"Phrasing?"
"We didn't pass through the path."
He paused, then added,
"We cleared it. Effortlessly."
"...Well, yeah."
The swordman frowned.
"Any other reason? Or was it unsatisfying for you?"
The archmage added in his raspy voice,
"Surviving them all is insane. Demon King executives are disasters incarnate."
The old man's eyes trembled faintly. I pondered. Recalling their shattered arms, torn wings, buried in dust—but my thoughts didn't change.
"...We survived, sure."
My voice came dry between my lips. Words couldn't fully capture this odd sensation, so I sifted silence for the fittest one.
"But we didn't win."
The hero frowned. The shield woman turned to look. The staff old man narrowed his eyes. The staggering saintess halted, gazing at me.
All four eyes on me.
"What do you mean?"
"Just that. We didn't properly kill a single one. More like we slipped past."
True. The executives were still alive somewhere. We might've hurt them, but not killed.
"They're all still kicking anyway."
The hero muttered hollowly.
"...Most would call that a win."
As long as those executives lived, it wasn't a victory. But no need to argue, so I nodded readily.
"Good then."
Brief silence. Then the shield woman stared intently, speaking quietly.
"...The issue."
Her eyes held deeper doubt than wariness.
"Is that you did it alone."
I pondered. No good way to explain this power came to mind. In the end, I went honest—and true.
"The earth helped."
"...What?"
I pointed down. Soil. And deeper below.
"The real earth helped."
The sunlight warmed pleasantly. Air tasted good. And unseen below, in the soil, something rejoiced.