Can't Tell Who's Better
I can’t tell who’s better. Everyone gets that sense of déjà vu from time to time. Moments when everything feels so off that even the things in your hands seem to be lying to you, and the invisible, genuine distance between you and the world stretches out like it might be infinite…
For me, right now is one of those moments.
Yes, no, or something in between—either way, the roar that answered from the distant stands was deafening. Truth be told, the place I was supposed to be right now was up there with Laverre and Karena, cheering along.
“Yeah!”
The cheer came back louder, clearer, and more certain. Which only made the whole moment feel even more awkward and unreal.
It was obviously a fake name, but he announced it with such shameless confidence that nobody cared. In a place this big, the only people who probably realized it was fake were the four of us.
…How the hell did it come to this?
Well… explaining it would take us back at least an hour.
We had arrived around then. The crowd at the arena after so long felt new again, and we were busy remembering old memories.
“Aren’t there more people than before?”
“Who knows. Back then we weren’t exactly relaxed enough to people-watch.”
We were about to push into the crowd to line up when Karena called out to us.
“What the hell are you two doing?”
That was probably the more accurate tone, but let’s gloss over it for now.
“Can’t you tell? We’re getting in line.”
Karena let out a heavy sigh without another word. Then she shoved a sheet of paper into each of our hands. Large letters across the top read:
“Huh? They have these now?” Jian said, loud with genuine surprise. I felt pretty much the same, but the bewilderment was stronger, so all that came out was a weak little sound.
“Uh…”
“Am I… participating too?” I asked, half testing the waters. The reaction I got was way too much.
For a second, all sound vanished. The roar of the crowd, the background noise—everything faded. The three faces in front of me froze solid.
“Didn’t you say you were going to participate last time?” Laverre was the first to speak. Her expression stayed stiff while her lips moved in quiet outrage, like a bug wriggling on the surface of a calm lake.
“No, I didn’t say I was participating. I just…”
I tried to wriggle out with some kind of excuse, but Karena cut in.
“Aren’t you a man?”
It was clearly meant to wound my pride, but I’m not the type to fall for that kind of provocation. The real problem was that Karena’s already crude behavior got even more savage in moments like this.
“You’re a guy and you’re running away because you’re scared of getting your ass kicked?”
“Exactly! Once you’re a man, you should at least step up and try!”
Jian tried to throw in a quiet lifeline—“Given the current situation, he doesn’t have to participate if he doesn’t want to”—but the response was just as fiery.
“No. He has to. If one of the only two men we’ve got looks like this, what does that say about the rest of us?”
“Right! What kind of man backs out?”
It was honestly depressing that both of the women were like this. Their enthusiasm was so overwhelming that the other guy quietly gave up on defending me and slid into the background.
“Are you doing it or not? Decide.”
“Of course you’re doing it!”
And so I ended up agreeing.
Fine. I’ll do it.
The cheerful That’s the spirit! that followed felt a little good in the moment, but the good feeling didn’t last long. All that remained afterward was regret.
Funny thing is, after all that talk about the party’s reputation, they still made me use a fake name so losing wouldn’t be embarrassing. And my opinion was barely considered in the process.
“What should we name him?”
“How about just Mori Henson?”
“That’s insanely boring. Let’s go with something fun.”
Karena was the one holding the pen. This was clearly not a good situation.
“How about Magic Mourinho?” Laverre tossed out.
It apparently hit Karena’s sense of humor dead center.
“Ahahaha!! That’s hilarious. Give me more.”
Laverre got excited and started throwing out everything she could think of. “Even One Win Emerson,” “Free Loss Drigus,” “Can’t Win,” and so on. After they’d had their fun turning naming into a comedy routine, time ran out and they scribbled down the most plausible one.
Thanks to that, I even got booed for no reason. Of course, it’s tradition for the first fighter to get booed, but still…
A moment later the opposing fighter appeared on the far side. My eyes naturally drifted to his face. He was a man with bright golden hair and the kind of handsome features that screamed nobility at first glance.
Maybe that was why the announcement for him felt shorter. Even the boos from the stands sounded quieter. I studied him again. From his appearance I could guess his origin—definitely not from the East. Western region, maybe all the way to Waysolven. That let me make a decent guess at what kind of magic he’d use.
We immediately turned and headed for the armory. I remembered it being like this last time too. It was a system meant to keep each fighter from knowing the other’s weapon so they would pick whatever they were most confident with.
A short while later I had chosen my weapon.
…
Karena, Laverre, and Jian—who didn’t have a match scheduled yet—were watching Henry’s fight.
“Boo! Die already!”
Jian silently observed the opponent while Karena and Laverre started booing Henry in earnest.
“You two are really going too far with Henry.”
“It’s not like he can hear us, so who cares?”
“If he hears it he’ll get sulky, so we should get it all out now.”
No matter what their mouths said, both women’s hearts were quietly with Henry. Karena had half-forced him into the arena, but she was secretly worrying whether it had been a rash decision.
The commentator’s ridiculous nonsense only fed her anxiety. On the other hand, Laverre had bet money on Henry losing in the first round. So she was secretly worried he might actually win. Her booing was completely sincere.
“Do you think he can win?”
“He’d better not lose. I won’t let him hear the end of it.”
Even as Karena said that, the worry that she might have pushed him out for nothing refused to leave her. Maybe that anxiety was what kept sharpening her tongue.
“That’s right. He absolutely has to win.”
Laverre said it half out of politeness and half to shake off the tiny fear of What if Henry actually wins? She was trying to jinx the opposite result by pretending to hope for victory.
Just then Henry Morrison and his opponent turned around. The opponent had chosen a staff. A magician’s choice. At that moment none of the three were paying close attention to Henry. After all, he had always used a sword or a staff in the past, and he had even said himself that aside from a staff the only thing he could use was a sword. The only other thing he occasionally did was the throwing-knife techniques Karena had half-forced on him.
So when Henry came back into view, all three of them were stunned.
“…What the hell?”
Karena pointed at him with her finger. She didn’t need to explain; the other two understood exactly what she meant. Because instead of the sword he always used, Henry had walked out holding a one-handed axe in both hands.
“Jian. Did you ever teach Henry how to use an axe?”
“Nope. You?”
“Of course not. I don’t even know how.”
Laverre’s input was pointless.
“All I did was ask him to chop some firewood the other day.”
Without another word, the three of them quietly watched the two fighters drawing closer. Karena’s worry grew heavier. Laverre was already tasting the sweet joy of an early victory, like she had already won her bet. Both of them swallowed at almost the same time.
But not a single one of them had predicted what would happen next.
The opponent lifted his staff first. That much everyone had expected. But the magic that should have come next never appeared. Only a single flash of light came from the fighter. The cold gleam of an axe blade had closed in right in front of his nose.
Most of the audience only managed to see the final moment. They couldn’t follow the process. By the time they had barely pieced together what must have happened from the two fighters’ stances—
—they had only heard the voice ringing in their ears.