The Egg That Was
My stomach was growling, but the only ingredients on hand were two bottles of soju and a carton of eggs.
I couldn't drink, so...
“...?”
Wait, was there really any reason I couldn't? I was an adult, after all.
Still, something about chugging straight from the bottle in this state felt off, so I decided to fill my hunger with eggs instead.
“Frying an egg should be easy, even with my eyes closed.”
I had some experience living alone, after all. From ramen to steamed eggs, I'd gotten the hang of cooking for one. Frying an egg was child's play.
...or so I thought, a mere ten minutes ago.
“Ugh...”
First, the frying pan. It was hanging on the shelf above the sink.
Tippy-toes. Couldn't reach.
Hop! Still couldn't reach.
“Why are all the kitchen things up so high...!”
In the end, I dragged over the chair I'd borrowed earlier for the water purifier. I was really getting attached to this chair today.
Barefoot, I stomped firmly on the chair and finally managed to take down the frying pan.
“Haah.”
My arms, no sturdier than wooden chopsticks, felt like the frying pan weighed as much as a sack of rice. And that wasn't all...
Standing in front of the gas stove, I turned the ignition switch.
Click. Click. Click. No flame. The combination of weak hand strength and a stubborn switch!
“Ughhh!”
I gripped it with both hands and twisted with all my might.
Whoosh!
“Eek!”
A blue flame shot up violently. I nearly fell backward in surprise, barely catching myself on the sink.
...Had the flame always been this big? Back when I was a sword, I'd stood calmly in front of a blacksmith's forge, but now this tiny gas flame looked like a raging wildfire. Was it because my body had shrunk that everything in the world felt bigger?
Anyway, the fire was lit. Now the egg. Oil the pan...
Oh right, oil.
“Where's the oil...”
Rummaging through the cupboard, I found a bit of cooking oil left in the corner. Lucky. If there hadn't been any, I would've tried frying the egg in a dry pan.
I poured the oil, picked up an egg, and tapped it against the edge of the pan.
...It didn't break.
“...Hmm.”
Tap again. Didn't seem very effective!
“Uuuugh...”
Of course, if I hit it harder it would break, but the problem was fine control of strength. I wasn't even used to walking yet, and if I messed up, the sticky liquid would splatter all over my face, clothes, everywhere...
“Ugh, whatever.”
Why was I even worrying about this? I gripped the egg tightly with both hands and slammed it down hard onto the pan.
Crack. The effect was spectacular!
“......”
My fears became reality in an instant! The shell shattered completely, and everything inside poured out all at once like a combo set.
Ah, not everything, actually. The good stuff flew outside the pan, and what landed inside was mostly shell.
Sigh, this is my luck.
I tried to fish out the shell-covered egg with chopsticks, but it had already started sticking to the heat. A burning smell rose. The shell and the fry were becoming one again.
“Ah, no...! It's burning, burning!”
By the time I finally admitted defeat and frantically turned off the fire—
Fsssh—
“Haah...”
All that remained in the pan was an unidentified black object. Modern art. The thing that was an egg... or something like that.
“......”
Fried egg. Egg, fried. The easiest dish in the world. No, something that didn't even qualify as cooking...
“...Sniff.”
My nose stung, and my vision blurred again.
“Ugh... I'm hungry... My fried egg...!”
A wave of sorrow hit me. It was suddenly too heartbreaking that even after finally getting my body back, I couldn't even prepare a proper meal.
“Ugh... Hic...”
I was an ego sword, after all. A national-level ultra-rare weapon. And here I was, on the kitchen floor, bawling like a kid because I couldn't fry a single egg. It was frustrating! I was hungry!
After crouching on the kitchen floor and sniffling for a while, I finally pulled myself together.
Scary, so scary. Whether it was emotional output or whatever, even a tough guy like me could be swallowed up in an instant...
“...I'm not a kid, get a grip.”
I wiped my tears and stood up.
If frying didn't work, let's try boiling. Boiling was simple... just put it in water and wait. No need for much hand strength or flame control. As long as I could manage filling a pot with water, adding the egg, and putting it on the fire, it'd be fine.
...Of course, even that “manage” wasn't smooth sailing.
The first obstacle was... the sink being too high to fill the pot with water! The second was... the pot full of water being too heavy!
“Ugh...!”
I grunted and struggled to move it with both hands, spilling half on the floor, but I succeeded this time.
I placed the pot on the fire, rolled the egg in. Now, done! Just wait quietly!
Waiting was something I was confident in. Having lived as a lump of metal for three years, I'd mastered the art of waiting patiently.
Anyway, some time later, I sat on the sofa holding a boiled egg I'd sprinkled with salt. I took a bite.
“......Hehe.”
Delicious! It was just a plain boiled egg. No seasoning except salt. But it was so delicious it brought tears to my eyes! After all, it had been three years. The sensation of chewing and swallowing something. Warmth going down my throat.
Even though the fried egg was a total failure... With just one boiled egg, I repaid three years of hunger.
“Hehe.”
After gulping down just one egg, my body had great cost-performance for feeling full. Moved by that satisfying fullness, I flopped down on the sofa and rubbed my belly. It almost felt like my stomach had puffed up a little from just that one egg.
Maybe for dinner, I could dip it in something other than salt?
*
With my stomach somewhat full, something else started to pique my curiosity.
Just what could I do with this body! After all, I was an ego sword. A body treated as a national strategic weapon, so there had to be some amazing abilities.
Looking around the office, there was an old wooden sword standing in the corner. Yesterday, something about a kendo dojo, so maybe they'd brought it to try using me.
Hmm. It was in a pretty nice stance.
I casually picked up the wooden sword. The sensation of holding it in my hand felt unfamiliar. After all, for three years, I'd been the one being held, not the one holding.
I swung it lightly once.
Whoosh—
“...Huh?”
My body moved on its own. Wrist angle, foot position, hip rotation. Before I could even think, my body had already taken the stance.
One more time. This time... a downward slash. The trajectory ingrained in my body came out naturally.
“This is...”
That person's. The one who'd used me the longest and most diligently. This downward slash was definitely that person's signature...
“Oh ho, this is pretty good?”
Curious, I tried a few more. Thrust, upward slash, parry. Strangely, each technique carried the personality of a different person.
The thrust had an unusually sharp fingertip. It belonged to that amazing person who'd won the international championship last year. ...They'd used me for just two months before quietly setting me aside when a better sword came along.
The upward slash had a habit of roughly twisting the wrist. This was from that person who'd treated me quite roughly. Swinging with brute force without caring about damaging the sword... thanks to that, I'd lost two teeth.
Each one, at the time, had been painful and difficult, and I'd resented them a lot, but now thinking back, should I say I'd grown attached or what? The hands that had passed through me over three years were all neatly stacked inside this small body. I'd been swung around to the point of exhaustion. Who would've thought that the sensation of being swung would all become mine.
“...But why a sword, of all things.”
Three years as a sword should've been enough, but now that I was a person, I still had to use a sword. Couldn't I do something else? Like a gun instead of a sword.
“Well, since I received it, I'll use it... Haah.”
As I put down the wooden sword, a thought suddenly occurred to me. Ego sword. A weapon that grew a sense of self and became a person. Just as I'd changed from a sword to a person. Could I turn back into a sword again?
“...Surely not.”
Worst case, I'd just be back to square one. I closed my eyes and recalled the sensation from when I was a sword. That solid, cool, metallic feeling.
Then, my fingertips tingled.
Flash—!
My body was enveloped in light. And the next moment, I was—
Lying on the floor. As a sword.
‘Oh ho?’
A sleek silver blade. A body without a single break, pristine. Not the scrap metal from yesterday, but a sword with a sharp, bluish edge as if freshly forged.
‘...Whoa, this is my prime, isn't it.’
Experimentally, I thought about becoming a person again.
Flash—!
“Uwah?!”
I returned to the girl's body. Falling flat on my butt on the floor.
“...Ow ow ow.”
So it worked. It meant I could switch between sword and person at will.
Curious, I tried it a few more times.
Flash, flash. Sword, person, sword, person.
When I was a sword, the world was all silver. When a person, my body felt heavy and dull instead. But I had hands and a mouth. Even various sensations felt vivid.
...And above all, whenever I became a person from a sword, my clothes were always completely—
“Eek...”
I should avoid transforming in front of people as much as possible.
Ugh, when transforming, couldn't the clothes change like a magical girl's too!
*
After experimenting alone like that for a while, the window outside had grown dark.
It was my first night as a person. And in an empty office, alone.
The places where two people had been were now empty. Slippers thrown about, a half-open drawer, post-it notes stuck to the desk.
Two nights and three days. Still two more days left.
It was a strange feeling. For three years, I'd always been alone. Standing against the wall, I'd spent hundreds of lonely nights. Back then, it hadn't bothered me.
But now that I was a person, being left alone like this felt so empty.
When I was a sword, I hadn't had these emotions. More precisely, I'd just buried them. Pretending not to feel anything, pretending it was nothing. That's how I'd endured for three years.
But this body couldn't do that. Should I say it was too transparent? Or too honest? When lonely, the loneliness; when sad, the sadness—all emotions leaked out completely.
...Anyway, this body was troublesome in many ways.
“...Hurry up and come already.”
In the empty office, I muttered softly.
Of course, there was no answer.
I'd tried everything else. I really wanted to talk to someone soon.