Call Me a Runaway Ninja (1)
"Alright then, let's meet later in front of the carriage we reserved."
Jina waved as she left, and Satin nodded, tucking his pen and paper into his pack.
They had spent a full week in Pushkin Village doing absolutely nothing. After resting thoroughly, the party decided they would take it easy only until this morning, then head back to Martolan.
Well, they had rested a little too much.
Ever since the fight with Delamion, his mana had been surging and thrashing at odd moments, and calming it down had taken a lot of time. He treated it like turning down the heat when the water boiled over while cooking ramen, and somehow managed to settle it.
Checking again this morning, he felt his mana capacity had grown about five times larger than before Maple Leaf Village.
Beyond that, all he had done was lecture Diana on "human lessons" and buy some new gear from a nearby blacksmith.
"Hmm."
He wanted to test his power right away, but Pushkin was a place where nothing ever happened. The village guards played some card game called gant or whatever whenever they had free time, and the local brats would swarm out for brawls—that was how peaceful and quiet the place was.
Deliberately stirring up trouble just to try out new strength was the kind of thing those samurai bastards did, so he held back. Enjoying the occasional rest was also a virtue of a Runaway Ninja.
"I'm gonna go play for a bit too."
Orphe, who had been combing Diana's hair, nodded.
With at least three hours left, he headed out to look around the village and loosen up a little. Of course it wasn't just sightseeing—it was a patrol.
Even in a place this ordinary, the "Yasayo"—short for Yakuza, Samurai, and Yokai—liked to coil up and nest. Yokai especially, those bastards, had no fixed form, so they could be hiding under a kid's bed or inside a father's secret safe, just waiting for their chance.
Shit, even Mountain Gorilla (Dad)'s emergency fund must have been stolen by a yokai. Back then only I got beaten for not touching it. Thinking about it again made the rage boil up.
"Nin-nin."
The plaza of this other world, which he was visiting for the first time, was noisy and packed with people. In Martolan Village he had been too busy with Orphe's training, practicing new techniques, and quests to ever come to a place like this.
There were restaurants and shops in the plaza, but also people putting on shows with strange tools or creatures. Was this the other world's version of street performance? It had a different flavor from Martolan, where everything was strictly controlled except on festival days.
"Behold! This is the short-tailed fox I tamed myself!"
A weird little creature danced and swayed on top of a woman's hat.
A yokai?
He used to think yokai had to be killed on sight no matter what, but the events at Maple Leaf Village had changed his mind. Now he figured that if a creature had finished its "human lessons" or been "enslaved," there was no real need to kill it. So if Satin's weird fetish was aimed at a tamed yokai, he was willing to cut him some slack—up to a point. Of course, if the guy did something too outrageous, he might "accidentally" kill Satin. That would just be unavoidable.
Come to think of it, Diana was basically a pocket yokai registered under his name. If she hadn't harmed anyone, you didn't mess with someone else's pocket yokai. Same reason you wouldn't kill the Monkey King just because he was a yokai belonging to the monk Tripitaka.
"This is~ the tale of the peerless hero~ Ooooh~ the story of an admiral of the Iregal Kingdom~ Ooooh~"
"Nin?"
A beautiful, clear voice rang out across the plaza. As if entranced, he followed the sound. Was someone putting on a street musical? He had always wanted to see a musical someday.
"Riland! Riland! Guardian of a fallen kingdom~ Riland~ Riland! The one who defied the royal command to stand against injustice! Riland! Riland! Who is he? Riland! Riland! The one who took to the battlefield for the common folk~!"
It wasn't a musical. Some woman was performing bizarre choreography and singing in front of an audience sitting on mats. Behind the crowd, a man held a large scroll; the woman was probably reading the words written on it and turning them into song.
"Brave Riland! With his loyal retainers~ leading thirty warships~ he swears to protect the kingdom~ Ooooh~ but the warships of the Cormgald Kingdom number two hundred fifty~! An irresistible difference in power! A despairing difference in power!"
Watching this instead of a musical didn't seem so bad, so he sat down among the audience. The singing woman was pretty, so just looking at her was entertaining enough. There were quite a few spectators, and most of them were men—probably here for the same reason he was. Reminded him of those troop-comfort performances. Looks mattered, no matter what.
"Riland who could not give up! Riland who could not retreat! Passing through the Watchman's ancient gorge~ crossing the sea of terror~ he seeks the aid of the sea dragon Behena~! Melting her frozen heart with Riland's fierce longing and will~!"
A sea dragon? Was that a yokai too? Or some kind of divine beast? There were too many names he had never heard before; he couldn't tell where the yokai ended and everything else began.
"At last the day of decisive battle arrives~ war breaks out at the 'Rolling Waves'~ Ooooh~ Riland charges at the front astride Behena~ and Cormgald's warships scatter in fear~"
"Ugh."
He shook his head hard as Buddha's face started to appear. The story was dragging on and making him sleepy. From what he could gather, thirty allied warships plus one giant monster had beaten two hundred fifty enemy ships. Even bullshit had to have limits. People were colder than you thought—the moment something felt unrealistic, they lost interest.
"That concludes Part One of The Sword's Recital. We'll take a short break now and collect donations to support our creative work."
The man behind the audience approached with a basket and began collecting money. Well, nothing in the world was free. He was rummaging through his pockets when one person suddenly stood up and asked the man collecting the money,
"I have one question. A truly important matter. The sea dragon Behena—was she a pure virgin?"
Shit, that startled him. Looking closer, it was Satin. There were so many people he hadn't even noticed the bastard was here.
"Ah, as you know, this work is based on events that actually occurred. Therefore—"
"Was she pure?"
"It is a creature said to have truly existed, so we—"
"Was she pure?"
"...Yes. The Behena who appears in my work is most certainly a pure virgin."
"Then that's settled."
Having confirmed it, Satin dropped money into the man's basket. Come to think of it, when Satin had pretended to ask after Diana earlier, he had looked at her in a weird way. Goddamn it, he needed to get his adventurer badge soon and break up this party.
"Is this your first time seeing a story recital? From your expression, you don't seem used to it."
"Nin?"
Suddenly the man sitting next to him spoke with a greasy smile so punchable it made his fist itch. Wearing rags yet grinning like that created a jarring sense of dissonance. A strange aura swirled around the man's body; he seemed to be carrying some kind of magic tool. Well, having a trump card in a harsh world wasn't strange.
"You look like you've never heard of it. I enjoy explaining things, so I'll make a special exception and tell you."
"I really don't think I need that shit."
"No need to refuse. A story recital is a small performance that combines a literary man's tale with a bard's voice."
Ah, he was already getting sleepy. Still, beating up some guy who wasn't even a villain in a place this crowded felt a bit much.
"Young artists with little fame and nowhere to perform came up with the idea to make money. As you see now, they get time to interact with the audience and have their stories and songs judged on how excellent they are. I've heard some recitals even take evaluations on the spot and revise the tale to suit the crowd's tastes."
"Yes. I see. I was truly curious. I'll be going now."
At this rate he was going to fall asleep before morning was over, so he stood up immediately.
"Wait."
The man suddenly grabbed his arm. Was this bastard also from the same school as Delamion, the type who couldn't resist lecturing?
"Story recitals can be seen in every region of the kingdom. Strange that you wouldn't know that."
"Huh?"
"Are you not from the Iregal Kingdom?"
"W-well, I'm from the frontier, that's why."
"They hold story recitals on the frontier as well. Artists exist in every region, after all."
Ah shit, he should have asked Orphe properly. That orphan brat 567 really didn't know a damn thing.
"Anyway, there aren't any on the frontier. People are too busy just surviving, so all the artists starved to death."
"I've never heard of a frontier like that."
"If you don't know, go study."
The man narrowed his brows suspiciously. Why was he so obsessed? Not to be outdone, he widened his own eyes and accepted the staring contest. These things were all about presence.
"Robin? What are you talking about? We're late. We need to go."
Orphe's voice came from behind him. Turning around, he saw Orphe standing there holding Diana's hand. There was still some time before morning ended, but from the way she spoke, she had clearly sized up the situation.
"...Your wife and daughter?"
"That's right."
"Your daughter's hair color is different from the two of you."
"I'm a very capable playboy. Anyway, we're busy, so goodbye."
Whatever it was, the timing was perfect. He shook off the man's hand with a sharp tug and left.
"Um, audience member?"
Ah, he hadn't paid. He went back and dropped some money into the literary man's basket. The man who had been watching his every move pulled an expensive-looking pipe from his coat and began to smoke.
"...I've been a bit sensitive because of work lately. I just asked out of curiosity. Don't take it too hard."
Why was that bastard spending money on something like that instead of buying clothes? Come to think of it, there had been a senior in the military who blew his entire paycheck on cigarettes and left with nothing but debt. As a non-smoker, there were worlds he simply didn't understand.
"Well, I suppose there are places without them. Take care."
The man making smoke rings waved him off casually. The bastard had grilled him like crazy and now was acting cool. Without bothering to reply, he rejoined Orphe.
"You handled that well. He was being a real pain in the ass."
"I figured as much. Who was that guy?"
"Details, difficult."
Honestly, explaining was too much trouble. Orphe glared at the smoking man.
"That pipe is a luxury item produced only by the Red Whale Magic Tower. Not something a commoner can buy."
A noble out playing while hiding his identity? If he wanted to be perfect he shouldn't have used the pipe. But honestly, if he had a good pipe himself, he wouldn't want to use some cheap junk either. Maybe he was finally starting to understand smokers' psychology?
He didn't feel like caring any further, so he left with Orphe and Diana.
"There's no way a merciless slaughterer like that would spend time with his family in a place like this and pay for culture and the arts. My instincts were off."
His ears were too good, so he caught the man muttering to himself, but it didn't seem important enough to care about. The technical term for someone who monologued alone like that was "soliloquy bug."
"Hey, let's buy some of those chicken skewers before we go."
As they walked, he spotted a stall giving off a delicious smell. No batter, just chicken brushed with seasoning and grilled—it looked tasty. He bought about six and handed two to Orphe. Diana hesitated, glancing at him, then stretched out her hand. She still seemed to think poorly of him because of the doll she had discarded. Well, maybe he would buy her a decent replacement someday. It had been old and dirty, so it probably wasn't anything important.
"Conviction."
Of course he had no intention of just giving it to her. "Human lessons" always arrived suddenly.
"...The rules a person decides they must keep while living."
"Yes?"
"It's 'is.'"
One chicken skewer settled into her hand.
"Mission."
"The goal a person must achieve before they die."
"Very good."
He handed over both remaining skewers.
"If you study hard, you'll be able to meet your sister again someday."
When she was embraced in Buddha's arms, that is. He had feelings too, so he couldn't bring himself to tell a little kid that her sister was dead. She would find out naturally someday. When that time came, Diana would be grateful for his generosity. He already considered himself a pretty good teacher.
After touring the food stalls like that, they boarded the carriage and left.
"Ninja Rising Technique."
After a short nap, they were in Martolan. The sun was setting and people were starting to head home, yet the whole city was still noisy as if the festival was in full swing. Having already spent time in a plaza earlier, he didn't feel like looking around.
"Hwaaah~! Well then, I'll be off."
The driver yawned hugely and left. Orphe as expressionless as ever, Diana looking uneasy, Satin and Jina looking tired. Everyone had returned to Martolan without incident.
"Well, let's all meet at the guild around lunchtime tomorrow and see Bonita. That's it for now."
Everyone looked like they had nothing on their minds, so he suggested they split up first and left. Seeing Orphe and Diana trailing after him made him really feel that his number of attendants had increased.
What should he have Diana do? Washing dishes and laundry were things even a kid could handle, right?
"Nin?"
He was thinking hard for Diana's sake when a strange voice reached him from afar.
"Jina! Is that you, Jina?! Oh my goodness, where have you been all this time?"
"Pardon? I was out on a quest.... Auntie, is something wrong?"
"Hurry home! The knights are coming in droves.... The atmosphere is no joke."
"Home?! Ah, what about Father?"
"I don't really know either... For the past few days the knights have been looking for you...."
The conversation between the unfamiliar auntie and Jina did not sound good at all.