A Gift in the Autumn Leaves

That evening, in the study room of the Summoning Major dormitory, Simon, Toto, and — for the first time in a long while — their fellow club member Fitzgerald were huddled around a desk, hard at work on their Summoning Materials assignment.

The study room was quiet and peaceful. Only the scratch of quills broke the silence, along with the occasional flutter of a turning page.

"Aaargh, I can't make sense of this!"

Suddenly Toto, whose notes had been filling up steadily, clutched at his head and let out a wail. "We're Summoning majors — why do we have to study this stuff?"

The assignment for this unit of Summoning Materials was essentially memorizing an entire booklet's worth of handouts — photocopies of a field guide to ordinary plants and plant-type monsters.

"It's Professor Kizen's order," Simon said soothingly. "There's got to be a reason behind everything he makes us memorize."

"...Yeah. I guess so."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Toto nodded glumly, steeled himself, and picked up his quill again. Simon, who had just finished the section on mandragora and turned to the next page, looked up — and there was Fitzgerald.

Horn-rimmed glasses, nose permanently buried in a book. A textbook model student, the scholarly type among their classmates.

"Fitzgerald."

"Mm."

"You're not even doing the assignment. What's with the book?"

He had, once again, spread open some bizarre tome. The title read All This Advice Is for Your Own Good, and merely reading it gave Simon a headache.

"Books are food for the mind," Fitzgerald declared, pushing up his glasses. "I filled my stomach with dinner just now, so I must also provide my brain with its daily bread."

"And what happens if you don't?"

"The brain cries out in spiritual hunger. In the end, one descends toward the tragic finale of a vacuity stuffed with vanity, stripped of all intellectual curiosity."

"?"

For the record, he was in the same major as their club senior, Benya Vanilla. Which said everything about how strange he was.

"Besides, about those handouts." Fitzgerald, eyes still locked on his book, pointed at the assignment with a fingertip. "I've already read the original from cover to cover several times over. No need for me to study it separately."

Simon gave an awkward laugh. "...Impressive, in more ways than one."

"More importantly, that's so unfair, Fitz!" Toto, who had been scribbling away, shot Fitzgerald an aggrieved glare. "I thought the three of us Mutant members would stick together all through second year! But you're always hanging around the Class M kids during lectures!"

"That's strange," Fitzgerald shot back, equally joking. "I thought you were all freezing me out by sticking together as Class A alumni."

"Th-there's no way we'd do that!"

The three of them burst into small laughter, but just as they were settling back to work, the study room door creaked open and a male student walked in. At the sight of the golden badge pinned to his collar, all three scrambled to their feet. A third-year senior.

"Ah, ah — no need for that. Relax."

He had the gentle look of a bear, with eyes that drooped down at the corners. "Leonard and Will just left on a mission, so there's no one around to boss you two-bit kids about for a while anyway."

"Ah, yes, sir."

The three sat back down. The senior pulled a book from his own cabinet — then paused, as if remembering something, and reached up atop it.

"Eat these while you work."

The Mutant members, deep in their homework, jumped in surprise. It was Love Cookie — the trendy snack so popular it had sold out even in Rochest. Sweet, cheap, and endlessly filling, it ranked near the top of every student's late-night cravings list.

Toto recognized the wrapper at a glance and asked in astonishment, "A-are you sure we can really have these?"

"Of course."

The senior smiled — then looked a little sheepish and scratched his head. "I-I just... wanted you to know one thing. Not every third-year hates you."

"...Ah."

"I genuinely like you three. We share the same dorm, we studied the same material — we're seniors and juniors, aren't we? I honestly can't understand the people who say we ought to be crushing second-year spirit, hazing you like that."

Simon looked up at him with wide eyes. "...Senior."

"I don't have the power to stop Will and Leonard — I couldn't back then and I can't now. But I wanted you to know this one thing: not all of us third-years are watching you with wary eyes."

The senior spread his palms in an honest, good-natured smile. "From here on out, if there's anything you don't understand about dorm life or the department, just ask. If it's within my power, I'll help with anything."

Toto bowed his head, his face gone misty. "Thank ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you, Senior!"

Simon and Fitzgerald rose and bowed politely as well. The senior even fetched them something to drink before quietly closing the door behind him.

The moment he was gone, the tension drained out of Toto in a long breath of relief. Simon's eyes sparkled.

"He's a good man."

"Yeah! That's what a real senior looks like!"

"Agreed."

Fitzgerald had already reopened the book he'd set aside. The three of them returned to their assignment, the mood in the room considerably warmer — and Simon, whose brain had been working overtime anyway, found himself craving something sweet. He reached for a Love Cookie.

"Wait."

Fitzgerald suddenly raised an arm to stop him. "...We may have let our guard down."

"Guard?"

Fitzgerald pushed up his glasses. "Why did he specifically mention that Leonard and Will had left? Why did he pretend to reach for a book from his cabinet, only to bring out cookies and hand them to us? Did he truly come to the study room by coincidence, just to retrieve a book? What if his intention is to put us in danger—"

Chomp.

Simon ignored him completely and ate the cookie.

Fitzgerald shot to his feet in horror. "Simon!"

Simon smiled brightly. "No potion, nothing weird in it. It's just a tasty cookie."

"...Hm."

Fitzgerald sat back down, looking thoroughly embarrassed. Something ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠about the sight was so funny that Simon burst out laughing.

"Receiving goodwill and responding with suspicion first? I don't think that's a very good habit."

Fitzgerald pressed down on his glasses. "Better than getting blindsided because you let your guard down."

"No, no — I'm not saying drop your guard entirely. But what that senior did was obviously an act of pure goodwill, anyone could see that. If you let suspicion rule you so completely that you can never take people's kindness at face value for the rest of your life—"

Simon smiled, bright and easy.

"Wouldn't that be a far greater misfortune than getting blindsided once, someday?"

"...!"

Fitzgerald's mouth fell open as though he'd been struck by a revelation of tremendous magnitude. For a while he mulled over Simon's words, shifting through a series of poses — crossing his legs, tilting his head, folding his arms — before at last settling into a firm, upright posture.

Thump.

He finally closed the strangely titled book in his hands and opened his textbook and notes for Professor Aaron's Summoning assignment.

"Done reading it already?"

"I'm full," Fitzgerald said, scratching away with his quill. "Your words just now filled my dinner quota. No further sustenance required."

"..."

A deep smile settled on Simon's lips.

A full year in the same club, and yet he still hadn't quite figured out what kind of person Fitzgerald was. But today, for the first time, he felt he'd come to understand him just a little better.

"Nom nom. You guys not eating? These are seriously good!"

Toto, already on his tenth Love Cookie, looked between the two of them. "If you don't eat them, I will!"

Only then did Simon's and Fitzgerald's arms begin scrambling for the box with desperate urgency.

The assignment wasn't finished until late in the evening.

Simon and Toto were walking back to their dorm room, chatting idly, Toto hugging the box of leftover Love Cookies against his chest.

"Huh?"

Simon stopped in his tracks. Toto followed suit, halting mid-step and looking up. "What's wrong, Simon?"

"Did we leave our door open when we went to do the assignment?"

"I... don't remember."

Simon's eyes narrowed sharply. He pulled the door open and stepped slowly inside.

Nothing in the room seemed to have changed. The things on the desk were exactly as they'd left them.

And then—

"Eeheeheehee!"

A strange sound. On Simon's bed, the white blanket began to rise into a bump.

"Eek! A g-gh-gghost?!"

Toto staggered backward in terror — but Simon, at last, let out a relieved laugh.

The blanket flew off in a flurry of silver hair.

"It's a ghooost! Aren't you scared?!"

Faced with this adorable little spirit — a tiny girl doing her best rawr! impression — Simon greeted her warmly.

"Hello, Lady Nephthys."

"Lady NEPHTHYS?!"

Hit with far too many shocks in far too few seconds, Toto simply froze where he stood.

Then Nephthys hopped down from the bed and came toddling straight toward him.

"U-uh, uh, uhhh."

The ruler of the Dark Alliance was standing right in front of him. He knew he should bow, should show respect at once — but he was too stunned for his body to move, too stunned for words to come.

Nephthys said nothing, simply staring up at him.

"I-I, um...!"

She was definitely angry. But why? Had he done something wrong to Lorraine? Or was it just that he hadn't greeted her properly?

'I'm going to die right here—!'

"Toto."

Simon pointed at the cookie box clutched in Toto's arms. "I think she wants those."

"Huh?"

He lowered the box, and Nephthys snatched it away with shining eyes. "Cookies!"

And then she was off, munching away at once, cookie dust smearing the corners of her mouth. Toto's soul visibly left his body; he slid down to the floor in a heap and flattened himself against the wall.

"Lady Nephthys, what brings you here?"

"Oh, right!"

She beamed up at him. "Simon, come with me for a bit!"

Simon and Nephthys left the room together. Left staring at the empty dorm room, Toto emitted a hollow heh-heh-heh of a laugh.

'Right... Simon IS the student council president. Of course the headmistress would come see him in person.'

His limbs were still trembling. This was nothing like the quiet, uneventful first year they'd spent together. Ever since becoming Simon's roommate, everything had gotten so much bigger, so many wild events kept erupting one after another — it was terrible for the heart.

'What kind of life does Simon actually live...?'

Simon and Nephthys walked down a forest path where few people ever came. It was a cozy night, the chirping of crickets ringing out pleasantly, and even the soft crunch of grass underfoot felt nice.

"Remember?"

She asked abruptly. "Ah — I'm sorry, Lady Nephthys. We were supposed to meet the night before the entrance ceremony, but I got assigned to lead the new students at the last minute..."

"No, no! Not that!"

She shook her head vigorously, then looked at him again. "I promised you a present, remember!"

Of course he remembered.

As payment for defeating Silaje during the final Blood Sky Cult incident of their first year, Nephthys had been carrying out the groundwork of shifting public perception of the 7th Legion — paving the way for Simon to one day operate openly as a legitimate Legion Commander. Her personal appearance at his student council president appointment ceremony had been part of that same effort.

But Simon's original request had been for the pardon of the 7th Legion's sins — and she had declared that this didn't mean she'd granted his every wish, promising him a personal gift as well.

"Here it is."

She drew from her robes a small, pearl-like orb. Simon accepted it. "Try dropping it on the ground."

Simon obediently set the orb down. She reached out her hand. "Now take my hand."

Thanks to their difference in height, it was more a matter of her stretching up on tiptoe and hanging off his arm.

"Now we both step on the orb together — you and me, at the exact same time!"

"Understood."

Simon and Nephthys raised their legs in unison and stepped down on the orb.

"!"

The scenery around them changed.

An autumn forest spread out in every direction, dead leaves drifting down from the trees.

"A subspace?"

Simon's eyes went wide. "A rather special one. Unlike objects, living people can enter it temporarily! Come on, this way!"

Was the subspace itself the gift this time? Simon followed silently behind her.

And then, a short while later—

He saw it: an enormous mound, built up from the fallen leaves of countless autumns.

"Can you tell what it is?"

Even from the glimpse of it jutting out through the leaves, a shiver ran down Simon's spine.

"That's...!"

It was bone. A colossal bone.

Nephthys clapped her hands ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠together lightly, and the leaves scattered to the winds in a single rush, revealing the dragon's skeleton in its full majesty.

It was larger even than Karissa, the Dungeon Lord he'd faced in the Holy Federation. Dead, nothing left but bone — and yet the residual magic still clinging to it rippled and shimmered in the air.

"It's my gift to you, Simon."

She smiled up at him, bright and sly.

"A Bone Dragon. I wonder — how long until you're ready to wield it?"