53. Morning Practice and the Battle for Boomerang Pants
"So, where the hell were you guys yesterday in that rain?"
Aver jabbed at me with her question. She was tapping a wooden stick against her shoulder, thwack thwack.
I averted my eyes. Scary as hell.
It was our usual morning practice session. The regular crew was here—Ira too.
Ira sat demurely off to the side, watching us train. She looked adorable, like a manager from my old world's school days keeping an eye on club practice. It had that high school romance vibe. Not that I ever had anything like that.
"...Uh, yeah, my stomach was acting up... Had to go foraging for herbs in the woods. Happens every time it rains."
"Is that right? Fam said you got kidnapped. She looked like the world was ending."
"..."
She knew and asked anyway? Brutal.
No choice but to explain—carefully avoiding any mention of other transfers. I told her how Riley and the thieves had snatched our friends, so we'd raided their hideout to rescue them, and how she'd helped out.
Wonder if Riley's doing okay.
"One of the thieves turned himself in at the village outpost at dawn."
Probably Ito. She'd kept her promise. Meant she was recovered enough to use her Special Skill. Maybe I could too.
"Goddess Summon!"
"Eh, Master?"
"Whoa, what the hell are you trying to pull all of a sudden?!"
Fam and Mizuki rushed to stop me, but nothing happened anyway. Looked like there was a cooldown between Special Skills, varying by the skill itself. Or maybe it was down to the user.
"...Don't just blurt out random crap like that!"
Mizuki chewed me out.
"Alright, you and me again today."
Aver thrust the tip of her wooden stick at me.
"Hold up! We didn't even draw lots today!"
This was bullshit. And I'd already gone hard against Fam this morning.
"Your party's always getting dragged into crap because you're weak."
"Fair point, but look at me—I'm a middle-aged dude. My growth potential's capped. Better off leveling up Fam and Mizuki. Might be bias, but those two are geniuses."
"Genius or not, if you get taken out, it's game over. For some reason, your party's built around you."
I glanced at Fam and Mizuki. Mizuki looked away awkwardly. Had she told Aver to train me?
"Sorry... You're always collapsing in fights, and it really worries me..."
"...I'm collapsing on purpose 'cause I wanna see your panties!"
I protested to Mizuki.
"Got it. I'll train you till you're ripped—gift you a suit of quality muscle armor. Don't worry. Muscles never betray. Even if you die, your heart keeps pumping blood to 'em, and they keep fighting."
"..."
Dead is dead, idiot. Building muscle's a talent thing anyway. No way for me.
"Land one hit on me, and I'll hook you up with thong armor."
Aver's eyes sparkled. Was she serious?
"Nah, sorry, but pass on the thong armor."
"Heh, greedy bastard. Fine, boomerang pants armor too. Red to match my bikini."
"Master, let me wear them too. After you, please."
Fam whispered in my ear. Her tail was wagging like crazy.
"..."
What the hell do I even say to that?
"You look dissatisfied. Muscles and swimwear—what more could you want?"
Aver was a total perv too. I'd thought she was just a musclehead, but nope.
"I've already got Mizuki's blue panties. I'd rather wear those and dash across this world than rock red boomerang pants!"
"Hah, that's the spirit of a real man." Aver nodded, pleased.
"Stop it! For real, stop!" Mizuki yelled.
"I get it—you've got pride. So what would fire you up?"
Aver asked.
"Hmm... If Mizuki does something naughty in the shade over there."
"What the hell's with you?! No way in hell!"
Mizuki was pissed.
"I could stand in for her if you want." Aver offered.
"For real?!"
I gripped my stick, suddenly pumped.
"Aver, Master's strong. If you're joking, call it off. That bet's dangerous for real."
Fam warned.
"Your loyal pup says so, but is he really?"
Aver grinned defiantly.
Third round.
First time, I shattered her bikini armor's weak point. Passed out after, but still my win.
Second time? She beat me senseless. No gains, and she made me drop my bikini obsession. Left me agonizing over what was left without it.
But now, enlightenment.
Bikini armor's just cloth. The contents matter.
I faced Aver.
Standard stance for me, one-handed grip for her. Tips crossed.
"Here I come."
I called out. Aver smirked.
"Bring it."
I swung for her head. She parried easily.
I spun and lunged again, aiming high. Blocked.
She whipped her free arm in a hook. Felt the whoosh and killing intent. I leaped back.
Tried for another, but my foot slipped—couldn't move.
She slashed in. Blocked the first, but the second clipped me, and I fell. Rolled with it and stood. She didn't pursue.
Reset distance, re-stanced.
"You really think Mash can win in this spot?"
Mizuki asked Fam from the sidelines.
"Yes. Master always turns any situation into a win. At full power, no one beats him."
"Full power, huh..."
Fam's sky-high opinion of me was terrifying as ever.
"Aver's no pushover. Mash's strikes aren't landing at all."
"...The prize is too big. Master will win."
Fam declared.
"...Maybe."
Mizuki was starting to buy in.
"Then I'll bet on Mash losing. Prize: next date and lay with him."
Ira jumped in—I'd overheard.
"Huh? Solo? Not with Cecily?"
"Yeah. I haven't dated Mash yet."
Ira nodded at Mizuki's question.
"Mash gets sloppy at the end—loses focus and slips up."
Ira analyzed me.
"...You serious?"
"If it's a joke, fine, but don't fall for him for real."
Fam and Mizuki seemed genuinely worried for her.
Harsh rep I had, but they started betting anyway.
Aver's attacks were brutal—heavy, fast. Seemed random, but hit weak spots dead-on. Defense crumbled easy, counters crushed.
Hers was ironclad. My hits bounced off. No feints landed. She read me completely.
"What, that it?"
Aver taunted.
"Told ya, old man here. Go easy."
"Fine, nighty-night then."
She closed sloppy-like.
Backing up just got me chased, so I charged. Aimed for her wrist—dodged. Tried to slip past, hooked my leg, down I went.
Couldn't drop the stick, so awkward fall.
Aver waited, looming as I rose.
Elbow and knee scraped raw.
Stung standing up.
"Ow..."
"What now? Your pals believe in ya."
Aver teased.
"Not giving up."
"Good grit."
Aver laughed—pure confidence. Victory assured.
I knew: defense first. Break it or bust.
No tricks.
So, a strike she couldn't block.
Wooden stick, but my knife. In my hands, it cuts anything.
Standard stance.
I'll carve her.
"Aver, danger! Call it!"
Fam yelled. She'd tried stopping last time too. But why Aver, not me? Just egging her on.
"Fun. Won't dodge next—block it."
Aver two-handed her stick. Felt my resolve.
Slide-step in.
Lunge, full overhead swing, smash.
Aim didn't matter.
She'd block with hers.
Target: that. Shatter defense, steal her weapon.
Aver raised to parry. I swung true.
All-out strike split her stick clean.
"Aver—my win!"
Raised for her head.
"Too wide."
She bulled into my guard, grabbed my collar. Body twisted forward, her thigh hooked my groin, flipped me skyward.
Throw. Slammed back-first.
"Gah!"
Weird yelp. Impact choked breath, paralyzed.
"Tap out?"
Aver peered down, waiting for breath.
"Yeah... lost. Damn."
"Got a bit more grit now."
Red boomerang pants fluttered down onto my forehead.
"I recognize you as a warrior. Grow into 'em."
Aver walked off.
Ira approached, cast healing.
"Fam was right. You were strong. Though now you're a perv with weird shit on your head."
"Still lost. Like you predicted."
"You heard?"
I nodded. Just practice—I knew I couldn't win yet. Figured screw it, go loose.
But Fam believed. Wanted to deliver once.
So I made an opening.
"Mash wins in the end. We'll make sure."
Hugged Ira. Hid my face—no one needs to see this. Just scrapes hurt.
Ira stroked my hair.
Thank you for reading.
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It motivates me. I'll keep pushing.
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