The Silver Dragon Comes Calling
Yes, this life of mine had started in a fantasy world. That much was true.
The thing was, I hadn't actually had much of a fantasy experience to speak of. The medicines my father brewed as an apothecary worked wonders, sure, but the swords and sorcery, the mighty monsters people usually pictured when they heard the word fantasy—I had never seen any of that. My mother was a former adventurer and still trained in the yard most days, yet not once had I seen aura, or whatever it was called, come bursting from her blade.
And then, at last, that wish came true.
"H-honey."
"What in the world—"
A reptile the size of a house, quite literally, touched down in our front yard. It even had the courtesy to avoid the outdoor table and the clothesline on the way down, so while the dirt it kicked up wrecked the vegetable patch, we were spared the true catastrophe of our entire household being smashed to pieces.
The vegetable patch, though, was hardly the issue. The real problem was that a dragon—that terrifying super-lizard said to be the strongest living thing on earth—had come calling at our house.
To my astonishment, the dragon showed us no hostility whatsoever. If anything, it seemed determined to prove it meant us no harm. As I'd noticed, it hadn't broken a thing; it simply stayed where it had landed, watching us. Being watched so quietly was enough, all by itself, to freeze both my father and my mother solid.
I was afraid too, honestly. Even so, perhaps because I hadn't quite shaken the habits of a modern reincarnator, I still had enough composure to study a fantasy-world dragon the way a bystander might.
Scales shining a brilliant silver, as if wrought from pure silver itself. Eyes holding a red clearer and brighter than fresh blood. And horns of a pitch black that stood out starkly against all that silver.
No. That color scheme was exactly—
I turned my head, just slightly, toward the child who had just slipped out through the front door. Full-grown adults were trembling like leaves, and her face was perfectly calm, without a hint of alarm. On top of that, her color palette matched the dragon's down to the last shade. There was the speed of her recovery, far beyond anything a healing potion could manage, and the horns growing from her head besides.
"Ahem."
I walked over and stood beside her, then met the gaze of the dragon looking quietly down at me.
"You'd be this child's parent, wouldn't you? I saw her alone on the hill out back yesterday, thought she might be lost, and brought her home."
Silence. My father and mother only stared at me, eyes wide as saucers. The child at my side, for reasons I couldn't begin to guess, reached out and caught my hand. And the enormous dragon did nothing at all for a long while but breathe, a low rumble deep in its chest.
Flash—
Light of blinding brilliance burst from the dragon's entire body. I threw an arm over my eyes on reflex and squeezed them shut.
"Ghk."
Only after the glare had fully died away could I open them again.
The silver dragon that had been radiating such a terrifying presence a moment ago was gone. In its place stood a woman with silver hair and red eyes—exactly what the child beside me might look like, I thought, once she grew up.
"It seems my daughter imposed on you for a night."
Right. If something like this didn't happen, could you even call it a fantasy?
The yard was a wreck of kicked-up dirt, and around the kitchen table five of us sat down to breakfast. Even by this world's standards, a dragon paying a house call seemed exceedingly rare. Sure enough, my father and mother—quite apart from having laid out a meal for five—were so frightened they moved as stiffly as programmed robots. I don't mean their manner was cold. I mean the movements themselves had gone clumsy. One little poke and I was fairly sure they'd shriek something like wa-ta-ta, doo-ta-yat!
I was doing all right, comparatively. The pressure of standing face to face with something stupidly, overwhelmingly powerful was real enough, but I could bear it.
"When she still hadn't come home after a full night, I worried something might have happened, so I came myself to the place where I could sense her."
"Well, any parent would worry about where their child is, what they're doing, and whether they've been hurt."
Which meant carrying the conversation with the child's mother fell entirely to me.
"From what I can see, it was you, boy, who found our child and brought her here."
"Yes. I found her in the forest on the mountain our family owns. She had a hood up when I first saw her, so I assumed she was just a lost child from a nearby village. Her clothes were practically rags, and she wasn't even wearing shoes, so I carried her down on my back. I figured if I asked my father, we could always ride into town."
For the record, she was dressed in my clothes at the moment. Socks and shoes too, of course, properly on her feet.
"...He treated my wounds, too."
We had essentially been talking just the two of us when the child, who had been quietly spooning stew the whole time, spoke for the first time. Her mother smiled faintly and nodded, and for some reason my father and mother let out deep sighs of relief.
"I did put healing potion on them, but honestly, I got the feeling they would have closed up on their own in no time even if I hadn't."
"Our kind recovers quickly from most injuries, but it's also true that while we wear a human shape, we are as fragile as humans. Thank you."
A dragon's physical durability changed to match whatever race it was mimicking. Worth remembering.
Whatever the case, having shown them kindness meant we probably weren't about to be wiped out as a family. And if Father had turned the child away instead of taking her in? Going home quietly with the mother who came looking afterward would have been the lucky outcome. In the worst case, the child would have reported every hardship she had suffered the day before, and our family would have been...
Thinking that far, it really was quite frightening. Enough that I could understand, at least somewhat, why my parents were so afraid in front of a dragon.
"You found our injured child in the forest and brought her home, bathed her in warm water, and gave her a change of clothes. Hmm. This is certainly a great kindness."
"It's really nothing so grand. Neither I nor my parents want anything in return."
I said so and exchanged a brief glance with my father. He nodded without a word. Repayment and all the rest of it could go hang—if they would just go home quickly, that would be enough.
"Even so, isn't it proper to repay a kindness?"
Apparently dragons in this world kept up with the classics on propriety. The truth, though, was that I agreed with my father completely.
"It's all right. There's just one thing I'd like to ask, if I may."
"Anything I am able to answer. What is it you're curious about? The location of the ancient tomb sleeping not far from this house?"
For an instant my mother's brow twitched—the former adventurer in her. But a mother's duty to keep her family alive weighed far heavier than any explorer's itch.
"Please tell me how she ended up on our family's land. I asked her myself, and she said she didn't know."
"It was probably teleportation."
"Oh. So she didn't fly here herself?"
The child's mother shook her head.
"This child—Sylvia—is not mimicking a form."
"Pardon?"
"That is her true appearance. Her father is human. Whether she inherited his talent for magic..."
Ah. A Half-Dragon. So that was the setup.
Still, the question was answered. A child who had inherited her father's magical gift had impulsively cast Teleportation Magic in an attempt to run away, and dropped straight into the middle of our family's private land.
Along with that came another thought: her circumstances seemed a great deal better than mine, and I had poured every last one of my Reincarnation Points into enjoying a fun second life. Born half human and half dragon? Honestly, wasn't that just the best?
"Sylvie. It's time we headed back. We can't keep imposing forever."
"B-but—"
The child—no, Sylvie—flatly refused to go home no matter how her mother urged her. Whether it was because she hated to leave the stew she hadn't finished, or simply didn't want her short trip to end, I had no way of knowing.
"Now, now. You should listen to your mother, shouldn't you?"
"That's right, that's right. Good children listen to their mom and dad."
My father and mother had no reason to object when the strongest creature alive was offering to leave quietly, and they set about coaxing Sylvie with everything they had.
"N-no. I want to stay here."
But Sylvie was adamant. She dug in with such pure, unyielding stubbornness that I half wondered whether her name was Sylvie or simply No, and not only my parents but her own mother looked plainly at a loss. Even the mightiest dragon, faced with a child sprawled starfish-flat on a supermarket floor and wailing that she would not go home, was nothing but a helpless parent.
The only person who could resolve this was me. I knew it instinctively.
"Then how about you go home, on the condition that you can come play at our house now and then?"
The Half-Dragon glued to the table with no intention of budging; my parents, whose barely recovered wits were sliding right back under a tide of fear; the dragon herself, at a loss because her child was throwing a tantrum in front of other people—every one of them went still.
"E-Emil. What are you—"
My father, who came back to himself relatively quickly, demanded it of me almost like an accusation. I met his eyes and nodded to say it was fine.
"Honestly, what's the problem if one kid comes over to play? More than that, I still haven't managed to make a single friend."
They might have let the first point slide. The second was not something my parents could simply brush off.
"Or else... should I just flop down on the floor right here and throw a fit until I get a friend?"
Seven full years since I had reincarnated into another world. At last, I had a friend my own age.