The Mine, Red Ginseng Candy, and Heavenly Demon Hitler (1)
Morning sunlight poured over the mouthless scrap-metal golem Tribo as we sat around chatting over breakfast.
"How about this one? It's a Shin Nobin original."
I finally floated the alias I'd been mulling over for the mine.
Shin Nobin... or Nobin-son? A deliberately confusing name. Perfect for my double life, if I do say so myself. Absolute naming genius.
"What kind of person's name is that..."
[At least make it sound like an Iregal Kingdom name.]
"You didn't notice anything weird while I was making it?"
The reaction was colder than expected. Not just the two prejudice-soaked yokai—even Orphe was siding against me.
"What about Robinson? It's close enough to your current name that it's easy to remember, and common enough that it won't stand out."
"Robinson..."
Orphe rolled the name around on her tongue. To someone with my literary gifts, this was no ordinary name.
It was the same as the hero of that world-famous masterpiece: The Life and Strange Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, of York, Mariner: Who lived Eight and Twenty Years, all alone in an un-inhabited Island on the Coast of America, near the Mouth of the Great River of Oroonoque; Having been cast on Shore by Shipwreck, wherein all the Men perished but himself. With An Account how he was at last as strangely deliver'd by Pyrates.
I'd spent over twenty years adrift on the Planet of the Hominids myself. Kindred spirits, really.
"Let's go with that."
I stacked the empty bowls neatly and stood. A little help with Orphe's dishwashing—true consideration in action.
"I'm heading out. Tribo, if anything comes up, contact me through the necklace."
[Understood. The bead will glow brightly during transmission, so keep it well hidden in your clothes.]
"Figured as much. I already wrapped the gem in bandages. Don't treat me like some amateur."
Picture it: deep in enemy territory, lurking in Floating Shadow, waiting for the perfect moment—and then the necklace flares like a beacon. Instant atmosphere killer.
How many movie side characters have died because their phone rang while they were hiding from the bad guys? Not me. I don't make those mistakes.
"I'm going to pick up a request at the Adventurers' Guild."
"I'll take something that finishes today, so I won't be late. See you at dinner."
"Thumbs up."
At Orphe's level, she could handle most requests solo. I shot her a solid thumbs-up.
"Yeah. Thumbs up to you too."
Orphe mirrored the exact same pose. Decent reaction.
A warm little pride bloomed in my chest. Was this how a father felt watching his daughter grow?
For the face-blindness effect, I dotted a freckle beside my nose with a quill pen, then set out. Thorough prep makes perfect results.
Creeeak—
I opened the front gate and scanned Amelia's house. No Adali in sight, unfortunately. I'd hoped to catch her tending flowers in the yard like last time and grill her with questions.
Ah well. Plenty of chances. No rush.
Straight to the mine.
"Robinson? Where'd you say you're from?"
The interviewer was a stern-looking woman in her mid-forties.
"Pushkin Village."
"That's quite a ways. Got a place to stay?"
"I'm lodging at an inn a bit outside town."
"Then you won't need the dorms. Any mining experience?"
"None, but I'm confident I'll do well. Physical work's never been a problem."
"Young enough—you'll figure it out. Find the overseer with '45' on his badge."
"Understood."
Surprisingly light on the grilling. Probably because most of the workers were slum kids who couldn't prove their identities anyway.
Still, a key facility like this had to have tight security. No room for carelessness.
I approached the middle-aged man with pure white eyebrows—Overseer 45—and explained my situation.
"Another young one, huh. Don't think mining's just swinging a pickaxe at rocks all day. There's a lot of hauling. Keep that in mind."
"You betcha."
"What kind of newfangled slang is that? Kids these days, casually butchering the language.
Back in my day, talk like that got you dragged off for a caning."
"Wrong."
"Enough nonsense. I'll call you soon—go sit with your team."
Overseer 45 shoved me toward the corner. I was holding back my strength, so I went sliding. The old man's power was no joke. Real working-man muscle forged by hard labor?
"Hey. Name's Robinson. Your reliable new teammate starting today."
I offered a quick greeting to the crew squatting in the corner. All young like me, and every one of them dressed in the ragged clothes of the slums.
"Yo. From today, you're the newbie."
The gold-haired tanned girl who'd been sitting in a full squat stood up, walked over, and gave my shoulder a light shove. Team leader? Her tone was a little grating, but I decided to endure it. A ninja's power must stay hidden.
"During breaks, fetch water for the whole crew. And if the overseer dumps the dirty jobs, you jump first."
I was supposed to play errand boy? Back in the ninja village I'd been a student, so I'd swallowed every kind of abuse. A mine was different.
"I'd rather not."
I made my position crystal clear. The shuttles who couldn't do this ended up delivering sausage bread and Pokémon sticker cookies to the bullies all year long.
Beating the crap out of her with my fists was an option, but that would draw too much attention. I held back.
"What? Look, you came from far away—just listen to me for a while. We'll all get along better that way."
"Workplace bullying. Problematic."
"Is this bitch crazy?"
The gold-haired tanned girl scowled like the Heavenly Demon King of Stir-Fried Pork and leaned in until we were close enough to kiss. I could feel her breath on my face.
Trying to dominate with a staring contest? Cute. I didn't budge an inch and fired laser beams from my eyes. No mana used.
"Robinson, just do what Bianca says. It's not that hard. Let's keep things friendly. New blood's coming in a few days anyway."
A curly-haired male teammate approached with a peacemaker's gesture. Classic traitor posture.
"Hell no."
I had zero intention of bowing to a bunch of punks. If I'd still been the wandering swordsman Robin, I'd have at least flicked her forehead.
"If you keep this up—"
Riiing-ring-ring-ring~!
The alarm bell cut the gold-haired tanned girl off at the perfect moment.
Magic loudspeaker? I checked and spotted something speaker-shaped bolted to the wall.
"Team 45! Work time! Everyone follow me!"
Overseer 45 shouted and strode into the mine first. The bastard told us to follow and then bolted ahead. Even the Ugly Duckling's mother wouldn't treat her kids like that.
"Keep acting like that. You're only making it harder for yourself."
"Next punk, please."
The gold-haired tanned girl and the rest of the team half-jogged after Overseer 45's heels.
Other teams poured into the mine in a noisy flood. Afraid of getting lost, I sprinted after them too.
The mine was wider than I'd expected. Decent lighting fixtures kept it from being pitch-black—almost like a real twenty-first-century operation.
Worlds apart from the abandoned mine of the Snake's Tail ninja village. I marveled at the quality as I blended naturally into Team 45.
"..."
With the overseer right there, the gold-haired tanned girl settled for silent glares. I ignored her and kept walking.
"Everyone grab a pickaxe. Busy day today. Pound rocks till lunch, then we haul the 'work machines.' Pace yourselves."
"Yes, sir!"
At least their voices were loud. I picked up a pickaxe and studied the others. Never mined before, so I needed to copy the movements of someone who knew what they were doing.
"Hey. What are you doing just standing there? Move."
The gold-haired tanned girl started in on me immediately. Earth or another world—punks all ran the same script.
"Shut it, punk. Quietly wait. I'm awakening my 'senses' right now."
I spun the pickaxe like a propeller and glared at her. Looking like a pro was half the battle.
"Bullshit. You've never swung a pickaxe in your life, have you?"
Shit, how did she know? She snorted and crooked a finger.
"Come here. I'll show you."
Team-leader duty or something? No downside.
I stood beside her and quietly watched her technique.
"Don't put too much power into it. You'll throw your back out. Don't just smash down—smooth like this."
The explanation clicked. I set my stance and carefully struck the rock.
Crack-crack.
"Not bad. You've done a lot of physical work, huh? Where'd you work before?"
Something still felt lacking. What if I applied the Helicopter Sword Style here?
"Hey, you listening? I asked where you worked."
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
"Ugh, you crazy bastard! Rocks are flying everywhere!"
Yeah, that was overkill. I went back to copying the gold-haired tanned girl's method.
"You're a total nutjob, aren't you?"
"Absolutely not."
Nothing much after that. I swung the pickaxe diligently until lunch, then ate the watery soup they handed out.
Naturally, I only took my own portion. Ignoring the gold-haired tanned girl's endless grumbling made the time fly.
After the meal we headed outside with the team and lifted the triangular machine devices Orphe and I had seen yesterday. These had to be the "work machines" Overseer 45 mentioned.
I was curious what they actually did, but since we weren't the ones operating them, the mystery stayed unsolved.
"Ah, finally done."
"Everyone head home carefully. See you tomorrow. Hey—you, come with me."
"Sure."
As if I'd actually follow the gold-haired tanned girl. I pretended to trail after her, then slipped down a different path.
I got home late that evening to find Orphe waiting with muffins she'd bought. I ate a reasonable amount, washed up, brushed my teeth, and slept. An uneventful day passed just like that.
The incident hit on my second day at the mine.
"It's the Runaway Ninja! The Runaway Ninja has appeared!"
An overseer from another team shouted that as he sprinted past.
"Nin?"
What? I'm right here. I looked around in confusion—and spotted a man in a black full-body suit.
"Minions of the wicked Red Whale Magic Tower! I have come this day to pass judgment upon you!"
Behind the man, roughly twenty more black-suited men and women burst into view.
"It's the Clone Technique! The bastard's actually using the Clone Technique!"
Whatever rumors they'd heard, the overseers were trembling in terror.
There were women in the group—clearly not clones. Had everyone lost their minds?
"This is driving me insane."
Who the hell were these guys?