When Five People Gather (4)
I put the runaway ninja’s work on hold for a while.
Charging in blind and slaughtering everyone was one thing, but if I couldn’t read, I couldn’t dig up any real intel. That would just make me a murder machine, not a runaway ninja.
So for the remaining three days I studied letters nonstop. The first two days were so mind-numbingly dull I dozed off halfway through. The really hard words turned a runaway ninja into a drooling baby.
I kept studying even during the second quest, but the gains were zero. The quest itself, though, was free lunch. Some rural request to wipe out a swarm of yokai locusts. Chopping them one by one sounded like a pain, so I just threw a ninja sparkler party and roasted the whole lot.
On the third quest I killed a grotesque yokai called a Venomous Scorpion. Small body, humanoid torso, stinger-tipped tail packed with nasty paralytic poison. Agile little bastard made life hell for everyone except me. Especially that idiot Satton—he charged in clueless, got turned into a pincushion, and froze solid like a rock. Bonita had to haul him back on her shoulders. Every coin Satton had earned so far went straight into the antidote bill.
Jina at least had enough sense not to go scavenging arrows this time, so she avoided the stingers. The real problem was that she still pocketed her cut of the pay for sitting in team-queue spectator mode the whole fight. Orphe and Bonita always pulled their weight, so no complaints there.
“Learn from the past, serve the present, advance toward the future.”
Only after the third quest could I finally read and write the easy words. Even I had to admit it was talent gifted by the Buddha himself. The slogan I’d just read aloud was the propaganda line of the Red Whale Magic Tower—the same outfit that manufactured my ninja suit. Biggest, most famous magic tower around, apparently.
“Not bad. That’s enough for now. Let’s get moving.”
Orphe stood up already armored, luggage in hand. By my internal clock we had under an hour to reach the guild for the fourth quest. Word was strange yokai kept popping up in a place called Maple Leaf Village. This one was far enough that we’d need a carriage, so we packed for camping too. Naturally every bag went on Orphe’s back.
“Nin-nin.”
Having a subordinate really was the life. School bullying, group ostracism, and convenience-store shuttles ought to vanish, but voluntary lackeys should be state-certified.
I was walking along, grilling Orphe on basic common sense, when a familiar face appeared in the market square.
“Herbs for sale~ Herbs~”
The voice had zero merchant energy. Looking closer, it was Jina, peddling weird-looking weeds stuffed into five baskets the size of her torso. Guess even the party gopher needed a side hustle? Though three quests should’ve paid decently enough.
“Jina?”
Orphe spoke first. I’d been thinking about saying hello myself; having her do it for me was pure convenience.
“Oh? Orphe! And Robin too? Hello~”
Jina greeted us brightly. After all the time and talk, she and Orphe had gotten pretty close. Our whole party had easygoing personalities, so we got along without major drama. Honestly, even that Satton bastard was just a pervert and a motor-mouth—not some anti-social yakuza.
“Why are you selling herbs here? Did you go into debt?”
“No… I bought medicine for my father and some gear, so living expenses got a little tight.”
Jina answered sheepishly. Two daggers hung from her belt. Holy shit, she finally bought some! And arrows too, right? If not, I swore by the Buddha I’d at least flick her forehead ten times.
“I should head home and get ready soon. See you both later.”
She stacked all five baskets on her head and stood. Jina had more muscle than she looked—solid build. I’d tried archery myself while crafting the perfect ninja body, so I knew drawing a bow took real strength. No high muscle mass, no archer. The biceps on her arms proved it.
“Hold on. Since we ran into each other, let me help carry. You’re just stopping by home and coming straight back, right?”
Orphe shot me a look that asked if it was okay. I was only walking anyway, so whatever.
“Y-you don’t have to… Thank you.”
Even as she said it, Jina was already setting the baskets down fast. The body never lies. She tried to hand me one too; I ignored it and kept walking.
“Nin-nin.”
Of course Orphe took that one as well.
Ten minutes past the market, out in the sticks, a crumbling thatched hut half-swallowed by weeds came into view. The exact same weeds Jina had been selling lay drying everywhere. Total scam artist.
“Dad~ I’m home~!”
Jina dashed ahead with a cutesy voice that didn’t match her size. A man opened the door.
“My Jina’s back~? Oh, and who might these two be?”
He lit up at the sight of her, then froze when he spotted us. Jina’s father leaned on a crutch—a middle-aged man dripping with decadent good looks. Top-tier handsome middle-aged man in the whole province. Orphe’s heart… stayed exactly as expressionless as usual. Maybe she was asexual. Anyway, now Jina’s daddy-complex made perfect sense. Face equals plot armor. Watching her excitedly introduce us to her father, she looked like a little kid.
“I’ve heard so much about both of you from Jina. Thank you for looking after her. It’s humble, but please come in for some tea.”
I didn’t particularly want to, but backing out now would be awkward, so in we went. Orphe followed without much thought once I stepped inside.
Her father immediately served tea—steeped from the exact weeds drying outside. I was going to lose it.
“Is today your fourth request already? Time flies. Our Jina’s amazing. She’ll be a real adventurer soon.”
Pat, pat. Mid-conversation he suddenly stroked Jina’s head like he had zero sense of shame. She beamed and leaned into it. Fanatical family love. Still, seeing ordinary people happy always felt good. As long as someone you love is beside you, you find a way to smile and keep living.
I half-listened to the father-daughter chatter, then said I needed some air and stepped outside. Jina turned into a total chatterbox around her dad. Exhausting.
“Hah.”
I regulated my breath with ninja breathing technique for the first time in a while. Planned to catch some sleep in the carriage.
Creak.
The old door opened and Orphe came out. Guess she couldn’t take it either. She walked slowly, scanning the weed-choked surroundings, then stopped beside me. Wind stirred the “herbs” Jina the scammer peddled and Orphe’s deep-blue hair. She’d been taking better care of it since the mine; the texture looked healthier.
“At first I thought you were someone whose heart had frozen solid. I know that’s not true now, but… I’ve never seen you smile like that. It’s strange.”
“Nin?”
“You were smiling while watching Jina talk with her father. You seemed to enjoy seeing that.”
“Nin-nin.”
“You said the reason you fought the instructors in the mine was for the people who’d been captured. Shin Nobin’s mission and a runaway ninja’s duty? Honestly I never fully believed that. After today, I’m changing my mind.”
“Flattery. Awkward.”
“I’m bad at flattery and lies. That’s why I usually keep quiet.”
While we were shooting the breeze, Jina emerged fully geared and packed.
“Dad, I’m heading out~! Take care of yourself, and stay home if you can~!”
“Alright, alright. Robin, Orphe—please look after our Jina.”
“Don’t worry, Dad~!”
“Understood. We’ll be back soon, so don’t worry too much.”
“Nin-nin.”
Rotting corpses half-eaten by monsters reeked of horror. Stefan clicked his tongue at the nauseating stench before he could stop himself.
“Sir Stefan, is something wrong?”
Only one person in the world still called him “Sir” after the sins of his youth had stripped him of his knighthood. Stefan turned his weathered, time-worn face toward the young lady of House Blowfelt. Rachel Blowfelt—heir to the count’s house that had believed in him and hired him when even his wife and son had left in contempt, leaving him waiting only for death—was the sole reason he still drew breath.
“Just… the scene is too gruesome for a moment. Forgive me.”
Rachel nodded that it was fine, then resumed watching the man examining the tragedy of the abandoned mine. The man who had proven his identity as a special investigator carefully inspected the carelessly discarded corpses, then pulled out paper and pen to jot notes.
“Lady Blowfelt. Is it true this information is being suppressed?”
“Certain. Even the villagers who reported monsters prowling the mountain had no idea what truly happened. Only a handful within the count’s house know of this incident.”
“Judging by the traces, quite a few people walked out of here alive. Yet no one knows where they went?”
“We discovered it too late. The house took no measures. It shames me.”
“Hmm. No matter.”
The man in the impeccable tailcoat produced a state-of-the-art pipe stamped with the Red Whale Magic Tower’s mark and sought Rachel’s permission with a glance. She waved him on. He infused the pipe with mana and lit it. Stefan, standing watch a short distance away, grimaced. After a brief smoke the pipe went out.
“Ahh. I feel alive again.”
“So—have you figured out what happened?”
“Mm.”
The man tapped the pipe thoughtfully.
“Is it something you cannot say?”
Rachel’s voice shrank. She desperately wanted the truth of this bizarre affair.
“No harm. Policy’s already set anyway.”
He smirked and slipped the pipe into his breast pocket.
“Every corpse here belongs to executives of an assassin syndicate called the Snake’s Tail. Confirmed by the tiny tattoos carved into their long bones.”
“…”
“They mostly take noble contracts to eliminate other nobles. Enough high-born blood has spilled that the kingdom’s been hunting them in secret. Their peculiar techniques let them move like ghosts—hard to track, so even their true scale remains unknown.”
“Snake’s Tail…”
Rachel’s pupils dilated. A name she had never heard.
“They secretly train assassins. Judging by the facilities and scattered tools, this was one of their nests.”
“Some kind of internal purge?”
“Internal?”
The man laughed—a refined, deep, low sound.
“Nothing of the sort. The entire Snake’s Tail was unilaterally massacred by a single person.”
He reconstructed the scene from corpse positions, sword wounds, and equipment.
“Is that even possible?”
“Impossible. First time I’ve seen anything like it. Looks like the Snake’s Tail raised a monster and got eaten by it.”
“…Knowing such a dangerous killer is still roaming the territory is terrifying. We must warn the people.”
Even a special investigator lacked absolute power. Rachel’s deference was pure professional courtesy and formality. However he had learned of this place, every incident on Blowfelt land had to be resolved the Blowfelt way. That was how the Iregal Kingdom respected a lord’s rights. Should anything go wrong here, she still had Stefan and the loyal soldiers outside the mine. The instant the man drew steel, Stefan would charge; Rachel was confident she could hold him off until then.
“If the investigator has a preferred direction, House Blowfelt will accommodate as much as possible.”
“A fine idea.”
He agreed readily—then asked an abrupt question.
“Lady Blowfelt, do you know of the Seven Sword Kings of the Sword Saint Society?”
The Sword Saint Society: the kingdom’s strongest knights sworn to protect the king.
“My father spoke of them. The seven most exceptional knights within the Society receive that title.”
“And among those seven, have you heard of the Severing Sword King?”
“…”
The forced smile on the man’s face turned unnervingly cold. Stefan sensed something; his hand settled on his scabbard as he slowly closed the distance.
“Step away. Hands against the wall.”
Even under Stefan’s threat the man continued.
“No answer? The Severing Sword King is famed for peerless skill at cutting foes at close range. Lately he is said to have overcome even his weakness at mid-range. If you do not know the Severing Sword King, then you will not know his hobby either. Allow me to enlighten you.”
“…Stefan.”
The man advanced slowly on Rachel. She reminded herself never to yield distance and backed away. From his waist he drew a strange device.
“Stefan! Call the soldiers at once!”
Bang!
A thunderous roar punched a hole straight through the center of Rachel’s body. Smoke curled from the bizarre object in the man’s hand.
“The Severing Sword King most enjoys chatting with the people he is about to kill. Handling the kingdom’s most secret affairs leaves one’s tongue itching so badly one simply must tell someone.”
Rachel collapsed without even a scream.
“My lady!”
Stefan howled and charged. The man spun the weapon that had killed Rachel once, holstered it at his waist, and waited for Stefan with a hand on his sword hilt—the arrogance only absolute superiority allows.
Shhk—!
Stefan’s body split cleanly in two before he could even react. The man who had sheared through thick plate armor in a single stroke never took a single step.
“Hngh…”
Still clinging to life, Stefan burned with questions—why the man had done this, why Rachel had to die. Yet the knight’s heart he had never discarded, even after losing his rank, demanded only the name of the one who had stolen his life in a single blow.
“Name…”
“Hm?”
“What is your name…”
Stefan’s eyes clouded as he fought to hold the thread of consciousness.
“Bonk. James Bonk.”
The man smiled a magnificent smile.