Are You a Golden Retriever?
I scrambled to fill out my personal information, then hurried after the Association hunters out of the building.
"Alright, all ten of you are here. We'll be heading out now. Please board from the back of the shuttle."
The man they'd been calling team leader — somewhere in his thirties — checked his watch and added in a flat, indifferent voice,
"We're running a little behind, so I'll save the briefing for after we get moving."
At his words, the trainees who'd been clustered outside began climbing onto the bus one by one.
Once everyone else had boarded and I was the last one left, I stepped up onto the bus stairs and made my way inside. The moment I did, I felt every pair of eyes already on board swing toward me at once.
I hadn't meant to hold anyone up, but the guilt of making them all wait still hit me first.
From now on, I told myself, I was checking every unknown number. Head ducked low, I hurried down the aisle looking for an empty seat.
Because of my tail, I would have preferred to sit alone — but the little shuttle was already packed, and there wasn't a single solo seat left. I was still glancing around, trying to figure out where to put myself, when—
"You there. Sit down already. We need to leave."
One of the Association hunters up front barked at me, voice thick with irritation.
At the prompt, I dropped into the nearest empty seat in a rush, hauling my tail in as close to my body as I could manage.
"Alright. We're off."
The bus lurched into motion the second I sat down, without so much as a second for me to settle.
I'd curled the tail in as tightly as I could, but the thing was thicker than my own leg. No matter how hard I tried, it kept spilling over into the seat beside me.
The seats were cramped enough without a tail taking up space. I kept fretting over whether the person next to me was uncomfortable.
"Um, I'm really sorry. It's pretty tight because of me, isn't it…? I'll try not to get in the way…."
I ducked my head and spoke to the person beside me, guilt already thick in my throat.
These people had every reason to be on edge after I'd made them late. The last thing I wanted was to make the whole ride miserable for whoever got stuck next to me.
"It's fine. Just scoot a little closer this way."
"…Huh?"
I jerked my head up at the unexpected reply. A young, almost girlish voice came from the seat next to mine.
"I said it's fine. Better yet, stretch your tail out over my lap. At least then you'll have more room."
"B-but—"
"I said it's fine."
It was the woman I'd locked eyes with before going into the building — somewhere between a high school senior and a brand-new adult. She looked down at me with a soft little smile.
"Come on. Hurry up. Listen to your big sis."
"E-excuse me?"
Big sis?
I might look like this right now, but I was originally twenty-seven. Sure, my new identity had me listed as twenty-three after the change, but I still didn't think I was young enough to be calling her big sister.
While I was still stammering over the word, she patted her own thigh with an open hand.
"Hurry up. Just looking at you is making me uncomfortable."
"E-even so, that's a little…."
"Tsk. Listen to your big sis."
Pinned under that firm tone, I found myself stretching the tip of my tail out across her lap before I quite knew what I was doing.
A faint, satisfied smile touched her lips as she stared down at it.
"Heavier than I expected."
"…I'm sorry."
"What for? When an adult helps you out, all you have to say is thank you."
"Th-thank you."
Having someone who was clearly younger than me declare herself the adult left me feeling a little dazed — but she had done me a kindness, so I bowed my head obediently and thanked her.
Apparently pleased with the answer, she smiled with her eyes and asked,
"You're welcome. So, little green friend — are you in high school?"
"…What?"
H-high school?
The question was so far outside anything I'd imagined that I just stared at her blankly. Her eyes went round with surprise as she tried again.
"Wait — middle school? Or don't tell me… elementary…."
"No. No! I'm an adult!"
I waved both hands in frantic denial. Embarrassment and apology flickered across her face at the same time.
"Ah…. Big sis is sorry. Right. Of course you're a grown-up…."
She was still misunderstanding something.
The way she was looking at me right now was exactly the look you give a little kid who needs a helping hand.
"Ugh…. This tiny child, forced to become a hunter just to survive…! This world is rotten."
"Um, excuse me—"
She suddenly wiped at her eyes and pulled me into a pitying hug.
"If there's anything big sis can help with, you just say the word…. I'll do everything I can. How about we grab a meal together after training today…?"
"I really am an adult…."
I didn't dare raise my voice with everyone else on the bus watching, so I tried to push her arms away and whisper it instead.
She only buried her face against my shoulder and held on tighter.
"This little thing…."
I screamed silently for her to please, for the love of everything, just listen to me.
"I'm sorry. No — I'm really sorry. Sis."
"…"
The misunderstanding never got cleared up until we got off the bus.
She'd spent the entire ride clinging to me, ruffling my hair without letting go. It was only after I stepped off and showed her my ID that she finally believed me.
At that point she awkwardly loosened her arms, face flushed, and turned her head to avoid my eyes.
"But you're so small, sis. Anyone could make that mistake."
"Stop calling me sis, too."
When I answered coldly, she pouted and muttered under her breath.
"Then what am I supposed to call you?"
"…Just don't call me sis."
Being called "sis" by someone — when I'd originally been a man — wasn't quite as bad as having to say "oppa" myself, but it still sat wrong.
"Okay, then I'll call you Miri."
Told not to say sis, she immediately switched to my name.
I finally sighed and gave in.
"…Do whatever you want."
"Yes! Then you can call me Ayun."
She beamed, looking thoroughly pleased with herself, and scooted right up beside me — then stopped mid-reach with her hand out.
She stared at me with a faintly wronged expression.
"…Miri's too short. I can't link arms."
"I wouldn't even if I weren't!"
"But stiiill…. I want to link arms."
She stuck out her lower lip and started whining like a child.
Maybe it was the thick waves of golden hair, but she looked exactly like a big dog wagging its tail.
"…Are you a golden retriever?"
"That's right! I'm a golden retriever hybrid. How did you know?"
So she really was a big dog.
I let out a short, incredulous laugh.
"It's incredibly obvious."
"Weird. Why does everyone say that? I don't even have a tail or ears."
Faced with that pure, guileless question, I couldn't find a single thing to say.
She just looked like a golden retriever. That was all there was to it.
"Alright. After a quick briefing, we'll enter the gate."
Of the two Association staff, the one who looked like the junior approached the gathered trainees and spoke up.
"The gate you'll be entering today is the place better known by its nickname — The Dungeon. It's famous enough that I'll skip the long explanation and just go over a few basic precautions."
The Dungeon was an S-class continuous gate that had gone uncleared for nearly twenty years, which made it well-known even among non-Awakened people.
Dozens of S-class gates had opened all over the world at the same time back then. I still had a hazy memory of the panic — talk of catastrophe, of the end of the world.
As it turned out, though, they were continuous gates, and all of them led to the same place. Instead of clearing them, people started managing them like mines that produced resources.
Being continuous meant they wouldn't disappear until someone cleared them, and entry was relatively free to begin with.
On top of that, The Dungeon had a peculiar trait — as long as you didn't go too deep, it was basically no different from an E-class gate. That combination had turned it into a popular spot for hunters with nothing better to do, or ones still short on experience.
The Association used it for training runs like this one, too.
"Today we'll walk the first floor together so you can get a feel for the inside of a gate, then come back out for a short feedback session."
The trainees, myself included, nodded with a mix of nerves and excitement.
"As safe as this place is said to be, it's still a gate. Don't let your guard down. Follow our instructions at all times."
At the Association hunter's stern warning, a low murmur ran through the group.
Most of them were stepping into a gate for the first time, so the jitters were only natural.
Then a sharp voice cut through the whispering.
"Hey. This isn't a field trip. Keep it down, will you?"
The hunter they'd called team leader stood with his arms folded, scowling as he looked us over.
"It's dangerous, so just do what you're told. Got it?"
Unlike the other hunter's polite manner, his words were laced with raw, pointed irritation — as if something about all of this personally offended him.
"Why do I have to deal with this annoying crap. Ugh."
"…Alright, everyone. We'll begin entry."
Leaving the team leader's grumbling behind, we followed the Association hunter who strode out ahead of the group.
"I-I'm a little nervous."
Even that energetic golden retriever looked thoroughly wound up about entering a gate for the first time.
Safe or not, it was still an S-class gate — a ridiculous level of danger on paper.
"D-doesn't that gate give you the creeps…?"
"…Does it?"
Ayun had shrunk in on herself so hard I could almost picture nonexistent ears and a tail drooping. I tilted my head without meaning to.
I was nervous too, first time and all — but was it really something to get this crushed over?
I didn't understand the "creeps" part either. If anything, I felt a little refreshed.
"What about it is so creepy?"
"Ugh…. Miri suddenly looks so much like a real adult…."
"…I am an adult."
Apparently everyone else could feel that creepy aura, because even after the Association hunter went in first, the rest of them still hesitated at the threshold.
"Get in already!"
All that dithering only soured the team leader's mood further.
His brow twitched, ready to blow at any second.
"Here."
"Miri…?"
I held out my hand to the wilted golden retriever beside me.
"You said you were scared. I'll hold your hand. Let's go in together."
"Hiiing…. Sis…."
"I told you not to call me that."
I grumbled, but I still took Ayun's big hand firmly in mine.
…Was this the right call?
Either way, I soothed the tense Ayun along and stepped toward the inside of the gate.
My heart was pounding — with the thrill of finally doing something that felt like real Awakened work.