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△──One──▽
1
When you turn ten, you slay a dragon alone.
That was normal for Hayabusa Wizards Goka. Until he turned twelve, Hayabusa had never once questioned the "normal" ways of the clan in which he was born and raised.
Hayabusa's clan was called the War Mages. They were a warrior people, and their shared clan name, Wizards, struck fear not only into the hearts of the evil servants plotting the Demon King's resurrection, but across the entire Pentagram Continent.
Following clan tradition, Hayabusa Wizards Goka had defeated a dragon at the age of ten, and since then, at the request of various nations, he had lived his life battling the servants of evil who plotted the Demon King's resurrection.
Hayabusa had thought that was simply all his life would be.
Until, at the age of twelve, he met a girl in a foreign land, and fell in love for the first time.
She was a student a year older than Hayabusa, and wore a jet-black ribbon that looked wonderful with her silver hair. She spoke her every word with such care, and seemed to love reading books so much that, to a twelve-year-old Hayabusa, she appeared very mature. She would read aloud from a school mystery novel called "Fledgling Detective Oscar" and taught Hayabusa, who had never attended school before, about the joys of student life.
When she spoke so cheerfully about her hectic daily life with classmates and teachers, her eyes would sparkle brilliantly. She knew of a world that Hayabusa had never experienced.
See you tomorrow, Hayabusa!
The girl would always say that with a smile at sunset when the street vendors began closing their shops.
The days he spent with her were so enjoyable that Hayabusa could hardly contain his excitement for the next day when he could see her again.
But that next day vanished in an instant. It happened when a demon attacked, and Hayabusa used his power to protect the marketplace and the girl. After finishing off the three-horned monstrosity, Hayabusa rushed to where the girl was slumped over among the destroyed stalls and jumbled cobblestones.
It's ok now.
But by then, everything had completely changed.
D-don't come near me . . .
Her voice trembled as she backed away. His first love's eyes were more fearful of Hayabusa than of the demonic enemy. The cold sensation left by that gaze, piercing his chest, was sharper than any blow dealt by a dragon or demon.
With the spilling of the demon's blood, her cheerful "See you tomorrow" was gone forever.
Apparently this was a common experience for young War Mages.
Hayabusa's mentor and childhood friends who had accompanied him all said this was normal.
Was it really okay to continue living such battle-filled days?
Was it really okay to live a life that sought only what could be gained through bloodshed?
It's alright, Hayabusa. Our blood boiling in the face of strong enemies is our purpose in life. That is who we are.
His father, Hayate, the clan chief, never made hesitant declarations.
Hayabusa's mentor, his childhood friends, everyone he knew—none of them showed even a hint of uncertainty in their eyes.
No one in his clan sympathized with his doubts.
I want to live differently from my clansmen, who make battle their pupose in life. I want to try living a normal school life, like I've read about in books. I want to become a decent person.
From the age of twelve, Hayabusa wished for this.
If you want to live an ordinary life, defeat every member of our clan first.
Everyone in the War Mage Clan was vehemently against his idea. It took him five years to convince them otherwise.
Speak with strength.
The War Mage Clan held this as their creed.
They were a warrior people whose name reverberated through the Pentagram Continent. During his days fighting those plotting the Demon King's rebirth, Hayabusa had traveled across the six countries of the Pentagram Continent with his childhood friends and mentor, and he had seen parents threatening mischievous children with "The War Mages are coming!" more than a few times.
The War Mage Clan had taken part in the great Decimation War, and fought to divide the Demon King into six parts and seal him away. Throughout the 2000-thousand year history of the Pentagram Continent, the Demon King had been resurrected four times, and the Decimation War had defeted him five times. According to legend, the founder of the clan had grabbed his own severed head and used it to strike down the Demon King during the First Decimation War. Everyone in the clan, including Hayabusa, believed in this legend. Outsiders often scoffed at it, but once they saw War Mages fight, they often began to believe.
The War Mage Clan was based in Fire Country, at the northern tip of Goka in the north of the Pentagram Continent. They had fought for generations against the dragon threat from the peninsula even farther north across the sea. On the Pentagram Continent, when people said mage or sorcerer, they meant War Mages.
Breaking through by force—that was the War Mage Clan's way.
Forcing one's way through with sheer power alone.
That was the way to convince the clan and fulfill Hayabusa's request.
If he could defeat the entire clan, he could go to school. Therefore, he had no choice but to beat them and make them acknowledge it. He had to prove just how strong his will to live a normal life truly was.
He desperately wanted to live an ordinary life.
He wanted to go to school.
He wanted to be decent person.
He wanted to find a purpose in life other than fighting.
To do this, Hayabusa trained for five years, beginning when he was twelve. He focused on mastering just one spell—space compression—and honed it through actual combat. Space compression magic, which brings two distant points closer for teleportation, was extremely difficult to handle. Once mastered, one could even manipulate the attracting and repelling forces of space compression, generating tremendous kinetic energy that could be used as a powerful attack. However, if used incorrectly, the spell would eviscerate one's body into a bloody mist. Hayabusa stopped counting how many bones he had broken after the hundredth time. It became routine for his arms and legs to fail to keep up with his torso when he messed up the space compression spell, requiring healers to reattach his severed limbs.
Fight expecting that your arms and legs can be torn off.
Hayabusa came to understand just how thoroughly this clan teaching was backed by practical experience.
We won't let you go, little Haya—not to some school. We won't let you live such a mediocre life.
All the clan members who stood in Hayabusa's way were formidable enemies. They were relentless. They were stronger, more reckless, and more terrifying than any dragon or demon he had encountered in actual combat.
Hayabusa made repeated attempts to persuade them, only to be thoroughly defeated each time.
He had been chased by fireballs raining down on him and muddy streams bursting into the air. But that was just the beginning of it. He had been blasted eight hundred meters into the sky along with the ground he was standing on and lost consciousness.
He had nearly died when his lungs were frozen solid the instant he drew breath.
His entire body had even been magnetized and then he had been trapped inside a mass of iron sand.
All the surrounding air had been sucked away and suffocated him.
Even pebbles, weeds, twigs, and individual grains of sand became deadly weapons in the hands of War Mages.
He didn't stand a chance against the clan adults, and whenever he thought he had finally gained some ground, they crushed him in an instant. Every day felt like he was being dragged back to square one, as though all his hard work meant nothing.
Even so, every time he was knocked down, he got back up.
Get close and deliver the killing blow.
This was both the foundation and the very essence of the War Mages, an unparalleled warrior race. His father Hayate, the clan chief, said it like a mantra.
Magic is something you use when you're close enough for skin to touch skin.
The stronger a warrior, the deeper their understanding of the fundamentals was. Recognizing this, Hayabusa carefully repeated the basics.
I want to become a good person.
That single conviction was Hayabusa's rock.
He kept honing his power and gradually convinced each clan member. He challenged his final and most difficult opponent—his father Hayate, the clan chief—and after a fierce battle that caused mountains to crumble, rocks to turn to sand, and that sand to become storms that muddied hot springs and even changed the flow of rivers, Hayabusa won the right to live an ordinary life.
Before he even realized it, he turned seventeen.
I can finally go to school. I can learn how to be normal. I can become a good person. But why do I feel like . . . I made some kind of fatal mistake during these five years?
The trace of anxiety mixed with the accomplishment he was savoring left a bitter taste in his mouth.
However, he had to quickly shift his mindset.
He had managed to convince the clan, but even after that, his troubles continued.
Hayabusa sent applications to high schools in the Fire Country, but his admission was denied.
We don't want our school turned into a battlefield. Having a War Mage enroll would be problematic.
In recognition of Hayabusa's achievements in helping prevent the Demon King's resurrection, the Lord of Fire of Fire Country pulled every string he could, even writing recommendation letters to royal high schools within the country, but still he was not admitted.
It wasn't about academic ability or character; it was his background that was the problem.
Force alone wouldn't work.
That was what being normal meant, and it was what Hayabusa longed for. How ironic, then, that this longing now stood in his way more fiercly than even his father.
Studying abroad might offer some possibilities.
Relying on this advice from the Lord of Fire, Hayabusa sent applications to royal high schools in various countries.
It would disrupt the order of our school. If students and parents found out that a War Mage had enrolled, our school would lose all its students.
He was turned down.
The Water Country in the east, Tearlake, the Thunder Country in the southeast, Balcrad, the Ice Country in the southwest, Micelli, and the Earth Country in the west, Shuzhi—all the countries gave the same excuse for the rejection.
Though the phrasing was eloquent, it all ultimately came down to one reason.
Hayabusa's enrollment would be problematic.
Hayabusa kept getting denied admission.
Rejection letters kept arriving one after another. Hayabusa grew despondent, until the king of Willbreeze arranged for an interview opportunity at the royal castle of the Wind Country, in the center of the Pentagram Continent.
For Hayabusa, after facing so much rejection, that someone was willing to meet and listen to him was enormously appreciated. However, he was terribly late to that precious interview.
In the square in front of the royal castle, there was a mother desperately calling out her child's name.
When he asked what was wrong, he found out her four-year-old son had gotten lost.
Hayabusa could only vaguely remember his own mother's face. Hayabusa's mother had crossed to the northern peninsula where the dragons made their stronghold, and he had never seen her again.
Your mother is incredibly strong. She's just having too much fun fighting the dragon king to come home.
Hayate had always said this with unwavering eyes.
Hayabusa couldn't abandon a mother desperately calling her child's name.
Finding the lost child took time, and he ended up being an hour late to the interview.
He assumed the enrollment opportunity was gone.
Kings were invariably busy. A king's time was limited, and naturally the interview time was the same.
Opportunities were fleeting. Miss one, and there was no next time. Having learned this all too well during his days of battle, Hayabusa realized that five years of effort had vanished like foam.
At the very least, I should express my gratitude for arranging the interview . . .
With drooping shoulders, Hayabusa headed to the royal castle gardens with heavy steps.
Unexpectedly, the king kindly overlooked Hayabusa's lateness.
Even Hayabusa could tell it was an unofficial interview. After all, the interview was conducted under a grape trellis in the gardens of the royal castle. The king, the Lord of Wind, and the principal of Capital High School One were both present. Despite hardly discussing anything substantial, they agreed to admit him under certain conditions.
What are those conditions, my lord?
I would like you to respond to royal requests and assist in battles against those plotting the Demon King's resurrection—mainly demons. I will need you to hide your War Mage background, live in designated housing, and act alongside a liaison. Your food, clothing, and shelter will be guaranteed. You'll be compensated in accordance with your service.
I understand. However, I'd like to limit the time I spend responding to royal requests. I want to prioritize my school life.
Hmm . . . Indeed, that's reasonable.
In the sticky July heat, with the sound of waterways in the background, the Lord of Wind nodded while stroking his abundant mustache.
Then, Hayabusa. How about after school or before classes begin?
That's no good. I need time to prepare for school, and I want to deepen my friendships with classmates during after-school hours.
Then how about only on Saturday and Sunday holidays?
No. A student's main duty is to study. Studying is also work. And work requires days off.
Hayabusa made his wishes clear.
Of course, he felt nothing but gratitude toward the Lord of Wind.
He was thankful, but he wouldn't compromise on certain things.
No matter how much he owed the Lord of Wind, if he compromised carelessly here, those five years he had spent fighting all the clan members would be meaningless.
The Lord of Wind's face clouded over, but Hayabusa's gaze didn't waver.
Then, Hayabusa. When would you be available?
Hayabusa racked his brain harder than ever before in his life and barely managed to come up with an answer to the Lord of Wind's question.
Break time . . . maybe. Yes, I read in "Fledgling Detective Oscar" that school classes have something called break time that lasts about ten minutes. I could respond to royal requests during those ten minutes.
Hayabusa thought it was a good idea, but clear confusion appeared on the Lord of Wind's face.
Only . . . Ten minutes?
Yes.
Hayabusa . . . I have indeed heard that you are a master of teleportation. However, against powerful demons plotting the Demon King's resurrection, just ten minutes . . .
Ten minutes is enough time to defeat any demon that appears anywhere on the continent and return to school.
Hayabusa wouldn't budge. If royal requests came constantly, he wouldn't be able to focus on school life at all. That would make his hard-won admission meaningless.
Besides, Hayabusa was confident he could settle things in ten minutes, just as he said.
Your proposed conditions are . . . quite something, Hayabusa. Would it be all right if I put you to the test?
Yes.
Hayabusa nodded firmly and proved on the spot that his words were no lie.
As a result, the conditions changed a little.
These were the conditions for guaranteeing Hayabusa's admission, food, clothing, and shelter: he must respond to royal requests and assist in battles against evil servants plotting the Demon King's resurrection, but his help would be limited to the ten minutes of break time, excluding the lunch break. He will hide his War Mage background, live in designated housing, and act in coordination with a Wind Country liaison.
With that, the negotiations ended.
There were many conditions attached, but the Wind Country was the only nation willing to grant admission to a War Mage.
The Lord of Wind, king of Willbreeze, encouraged him.
The Wind Country respects everyone's right to education. Hayabusa of the Fire Country, apply yourself to your studies.
To live the school life he'd always dreamed of and to one day become a normal person free from battle, Hayabusa accepted the conditions. He was then granted admission to the Wind Country's Capital High School One.
Please return home and wait until preparations for your enrollment are complete.
Hayabusa waited excitedly.
In August, a message arrived.
The preparations will take a bit longer to complete.
In September, another arrived.
The preparations should be complete soon.
In October, another arrived.
Your admission may not be possible after all.
Then, the moment November arrived, another message was sent.
How about transfer admission starting in December?
The message arrived.
Schools in the Wind Country started in September.
Even though Hayabusa was accustomed to being put off and sent back to square one, it must have been difficult to wait for his admission. He steeled himself to wait until the following September, or, in the worst case scenario, for the whole thing to be called off.
The possibility of a December transfer was welcome news.
Hayabusa. The normalcy you seek is a stronger enemy than any of our clan members. Face it with resolve.
Taking to heart these words that Hayate sent along with his farewell gift, Hayabusa left the Fire Country.
He would travel by ship along the canals.
Following the great river that flowed from the Water Country, the source of the Pentagram Continent's waters spanned the six countries with six different names. They passed through the Earth Country in the west of the continent and finally entered the Wind Country at the center of the continent.
Frankly, he could have made the trip in an instant with space compression magic, but Hayabusa was committed to the ship journey. In "Fledgling Detective Oscar," the protagonist, Oscar the Chick, set out from his hometown to become a magnificent rooster like his late father, and on his way to the dormitory at Hinadori Academy, he sailed in a ship made of leaves.
Hayabusa deeply admired that scene.
More than anything, Hayabusa wanted to be ordinary, normal, and good. Normal people didn't just casually use space compression magic whenever they felt like it. He would avoid using magic except for royal requests.
That was his personal resolve.
Young master, we're almost there!
A voice called from above the wind-filled sails, and Hayabusa stopped turning the pages of his novel to look up. In the winter breeze, tempered by the sun, a familiar bearded sailor waved at Hayabusa from atop the mast.
They were on a schooner, a two-masted vessel rigged with square sails. Leaning slightly as it caught the crosswind, it surged forward along the great river. The number of passing ships had increased dramatically. Along the canal banks, farmland, houses, and roads were visible, and land yachts using sail power were rolling back and forth across the land on their wheels.
The wind constantly blew from the same direction with the same strength.
This was due to the spirit magic that Willbreeze Wind Country specialized in.
Looking where the bearded sailor pointed, Hayabusa could see ships of all sizes moored with their sails lowered on the far side of the great river. Beyond the large river port, there was an even larger city.
Hayabusa tucked his novel into his jacket and nimbly climbed the mast.
The capital!
Hayabusa gasped in admiration with wide eyes.
The towering, majestic royal castle was impossible to miss.
Even though he had come here just six months ago, it felt as though he was seeing not only the royal castle, but even the tall, green-tiled cityscape for the first time. Arriving this way was completely different from the bland flavorlessness of teleportation via space compression.
Hayabusa was deeply moved by the unique charm that only a ship journey could provide.
This was Centralbreeze, the capital of Willbreeze Wind Country, located at the center of the Pentagram Continent. A previous Lord of Wind, who organized the national intelligence agency now known as the Wind's Eyes and Ears had prevented the foretold rebirth of the Demon King sixty-two years ago, and was widely remembered as a wise ruler. So too was his successor, who developed the talismancy system and laid the foundation for the current peace. Among the monarchs of the six countries of the Pentagram Continent, both were held in high regard.
The river port was almost within reach.
Glancing at the open deck, he saw other passengers coming up the ship's stairs in droves, clutching their luggage. Hayabusa slid down from the mast, tucked his novel into his cloth bundle, and shouldered it. As he busily prepared to go ashore, he heard singing coming from the stern.
Ah, poor little leaf, dancing on the breeze. Proud upon silk, bowed upon rags. Forgetting the wind—how strange it seems. A leaf is a leaf—how strange it seems. With no will, nor pride, this poor leaf. It sees not, hears not, a leaf. Forgetting the wind—how strange it seems.
It was the voice of the captain gripping the ship's wheel. He had said he was from the Wind Country. Perhaps he was celebrating the safe completion of the voyage? It seemed to be a Wind Country folk song. During the journey, the captain and the bearded sailors had often sung it.
It was a song from a foreign land.
Every time Hayabusa heard the captain's cheerful singing voice, he felt excited.
The bustling port was right before their eyes. Soon the mooring ropes were tied, a gangplank was laid to the pier, and passengers began streaming off the ship.
The voyage was over.
Hayabusa exchanged farewells with the sailors and tried to scrape off the reluctance to leave that clung to the soles of his feet against the ship's rail. Down in the water, small fish huddled together in the pier's shade, and gentle waves lapped with soft splashing sounds.
The pier planks creaking beneath his feet, he stepped down into the Wind Country's capital.
Hayabusa looked up at the clear sky and flared his nostrils as if trying to breathe in the fleecy clouds. The smell of spice faintly mixed with the scents of the shore and port—either from the moored ships or from the port's bonded warehouses. Even the crisp December air couldn't cool his excitement one bit.
At seventeen years old, he was attending his first school. It was also his first time studying abroad.
It was the very first step into a completely unknown and thrilling new life.
Ahh . . .
It had been a long journey. That's what Hayabusa thought.
It had taken five years to get this far. Five long years, but he had made it. After basking in his deep emotions for a while, he headed toward the shore and looked around in every direction.
The liaison is supposed to come up and speak to me, but . . .
All Hayabusa knew was the name Kikka.
He didn't know her face.
She was a royal liaison working directly under the king, a young woman the same age as Hayabusa. She was a talismancer working for the national intelligence agency, the Wind's Eyes and Ears, and was apparently already attending Capital High School One.
While he stayed in the Wind Country, Hayabusa would be boarding at Kikka's house, because of a specific request he'd made of the Lord of Wind.
I want to know about normal Wind Country families.
His request had been accepted.
First impressions are important.
Hayabusa had learned this through his days of battle. The first impression you give someone determines the success or failure of everything. In battle, it was crucial to drive home the difference in strength from the very first strike.
For normal human relationships, making a good, personable impression should be what matters.
Don't frighten people. Be polite, keep your voice gentle, don't give a bad impression.
That was crucial. Hayabusa had taken it to heart.
I wonder what Kikka is like? I hope she's nice . . .
According to the Lord of Wind, Kikka apparently knew what Hayabusa looked like. There had apparently been a thoughtographer in the royal castle gardens six months ago, and Hayabusa's detailed appearance had already been shared. That was the Wind's Eyes and Ears intelligence agency for you—a glimpse into Willbreeze Wind Country's superior intelligence capabilities.
Kikka had been told when he would arrive. If he waited at the port, she should come up and speak to him.
Hayabusa stretched lightly letting out a small groan.
He was good at waiting. Being kept waiting, having things called off, being sent back to square one—he had experienced all of this exhaustively over the past five years. That's just how things were. For Hayabusa, it was old hat.
More than anything, there was plenty to see right now without moving a single step.
The captain was taking a break on his moored ship, while the sailors unloaded cargo. Officials and merchants were arguing in front of the bonded warehouse. He could see the impressive skill of workers deftly rolling round barrels. A woman and child were selling what looked like paper-wrapped lunches. Flocks of six kingdom crows perched on warehouse roofs, eyeing them hungrily. One carefree wind heron was casually mixed in with the flock. Land yachts constantly came and went, carrying goods from the city to the port and back again.
Hayabusa felt like he could watch all day without getting bored.
Shifting his gaze to the river port's slope, he saw several stray cats in their winter coats, gathered hopefully around children who were cheerfully fishing together, occasionally meowing impatiently as if to hurry them along.
Meow.
The fire ox got loose!
An urgent voice rang out from one of the moored ships, shattering the peaceful scene.
Following the sound of hooves smashing wooden crates, Hayabusa turned to see people scattering like spiders, hiding behind stacked cargo boxes or scrambling up onto wagon beds.
Right in the middle of the fleeing crowd, an enormous ox was spearing wooden barrels with its horns and hurling them higher than the ship's rigging. Ropes dangled loosely from its neck and nose ring.
Several burly sailors tried to approach with fishing nets and clubs, but when it spun around swinging its horns, they hastily leaped back.
Hayabusa locked eyes with the fire ox.
Its eyes told him that it had chosen which prey it would gore.
Steam rose from its massive body. It was nearly two meters tall and its crimson fur was flickering like flames. Perhaps its handlers had neglected to give it regular cooling baths, because it seemed unable to release its internal heat and had become agitated.
Watch out!
Young master, run!
Shouts rang out from all directions.
But behind Hayabusa were the children fishing and the cats.
It's not wild . . .
Even as the fire ox pawed the shore with its hind legs and readied its horns, locking eyes with him, Hayabusa didn't move an inch. Wild fire oxen wrapped themselves in flames, were about twice as large, and had even more violent temperaments than this one.
The fire ox before him was a domesticated breed.
Compared to the fierce gazes of War Mages, dragons, and demons, this agitated fire ox's eyes were practically gentle. While he thought this, the lowered-head fire ox came thundering forward with heavy footsteps until it was right in front of Hayabusa's face. He instinctively grabbed the tip of one of the fire ox's horns with his right hand and threw his weight into it.
It was lightning-fast work.
The most surprised was probably the fire ox itself. It crumpled forward over its front legs and its own momentum sent it rolling down the port's slope before it splashed into the river. It scrambled back up the slope, but having been doused in the cold flow, it cooled down. The beast shook off the water and its eyes regained considerable calm.
Ah, maybe I went a little too hard on it . . .
Hayabusa looked down at his right hand and hastily released the fire ox's horn he had broken off. If his grip strength was questioned, it could lead to his War Mage background being exposed. Glancing around, he saw that the cats had fled, but the children were standing frozen, clutching their fishing rods.
His decision to drop the fire ox into the river seemed to have been the right one.
You all right, young master?!
Are you injured?! Does anything hurt?
Hayabusa nodded at the sailors who came running over.
I'm fine. Nothing hurts.
O-oh. Well that's good then.
Man, young master, you sure were lucky!
If that fire ox hadn't slipped, you would've been seriously hurt!
What a clumsy kid, honestly.
Apparently, no one thought that Hayabusa had grabbed the fire ox's horn and knocked it down. They seemed to believe the fire ox had slipped and hit its head, breaking its horn in the process. Relieved that a major accident had been avoided, the onlookers smiled, relaxed, and returned to their respective tasks. The fire ox in question was also led away docilely by a sailor gripping its nose ring while seawater was splashed onto its back.
Good. They didn't notice.
Probably because he hadn't used magic.
Maybe it was also because he was small in stature with an innocent face.
Hayabusa was also relieved. However, among the departing onlookers, only one girl stood still without smiling. She appeared to be about the same age as Hayabusa. From her simple culottes and white blouse, she was probably from the Wind Country, which favored simple clothing.
Fear could clearly be seen in her round eyes.
She had seen what Hayabusa had done to the fire ox and understood why he was capable of such a thing.
Ah . . . so, are you . . . Kikka?
Hayabusa gave a small bow.
When the girl approached, returning his bow, a floral scent wafted over. It smelled almost like soap or a common perfume, but was subtly different. Hayabusa detected the difference keenly. Talismancy was a type of spirit magic, and those who wielded spirit magic also controlled scents.
Perhaps the girl's scent was that of someone familiar with spirit magic.
As if to confirm Hayabusa's insight, the girl straightened her posture with a tense expression.
Th-that was incredible magic, taking down such a big ox so easily.
. . . But, I didn't use any, though.
Huh?
I didn't use magic just now.
That wasn't magic?!
Seeing the girl's expression to change to one of clear shock, Hayabusa nodded anxiously.
No, it wasn't.
I . . . see . . .
Beads of sweat appeared on the awkwardly nodding girl's forehead.
Hayabusa also felt sweat forming under his arms. This was incredibly awkward. The good first impression he had been trying so hard to make already seemed to be ruined.
Doing something like that without using magic makes it feel so awkward.
I messed up. Hayabusa inwardly held his head in his hands.
I probably scared her right off the bat . . . and she seems like such a nice person too.
Hayabusa sensed at first glance that the girl was a good person.
Perhaps his ability to sense these kinds of things about other people had been honed during his battle-filled days because this sense of his was rarely wrong about people.
I'm Hayabusa from the Fire Country.
Hayabusa straightened his collar and introduced himself as clearly as possible.
Hayabusa Wizards Goka.
My apologies for not introducing myself sooner. I'm Kikka from the Wind Country. Kikka Willbreeze.
Kikka's expression was tight with nervousness.
For Hayabusa, this was nothing new. Commoners who knew about his background typically reacted this way. He was all too aware of how the world viewed the War Mage Clan.
I can't scare her any more than I already have.
The sharp fragments of his shattered first love throbbed painfully in Hayabusa's chest, and drove home what he needed to prioritize right now.
Before I even think about something as ambitious as becoming friends with Kikka, first I have to make sure I don't frighten her any further. If Kikka comes to dislike me, I won't be able to attend school.
The condition for attending school was:
Work alongside a royal liaison.
If Kikka Willbreeze said "This person is too scary, I can't do this" and quit her role, it would definitely interfere with his school life.
He wouldn't be able to respond to royal requests either.
Rather than just interfering, it could make his entire school life disappear.
Above all else, normal people don't go around frightening others.
Someone who frightened others just to get their own way wasn't a decent person. Hayabusa had come to this country after five grueling years specifically to become normal and decent.
I want Kikka to trust me.
Hayabusa put his full effort into being cheerful and tried to use a gentle voice.
Nice to meet you, Kikka.
Likewise, Hayabusa. Um . . . the clan name Wizards refers to the War Mage Clan, so you shouldn't mention it to people who don't know your circumstances. Commoners don't openly use clan names.
Kikka, lowering her voice and breaking out in a cold sweat, was thoroughly stiff.
This probably wasn't what she was normally like.
Hayabusa realized the difficulties that lay before him. He steeled himself, resolving to work on becoming a decent, ordinary person so that Kikka would eventually stop being afraid of him.
Hayabusa, this way. I'll show you around the capital.
Following nervously behind Kikka as she began her tentative tour, Hayabusa asked about the daily lives of ordinary Wind Country citizens. While she answered, he took a good look around. The bustle of people and wheels increased even more as they moved from the main street to the central boulevard.
The streets were wide, and all the buildings lining them were at least four stories tall.
Many people were playing accordions on the streets, which Kikka said was popular lately. A few years ago, harmonicas and clarinets had apparently been the trend instead for street performances.
Stalls lined the squares, and according to Kikka, every day there was a market on a different street. There were antiques and secondhand book, as well as pottery, cooking utensils, and ingredients all sold there.
Willbreeze Wind Country sat at the center of the Pentagram Continent. Its culture and customs had been complexly influenced by its neighboring countries, making it similar to any other nation's culture but still maintaining its own uniqueness. It was a country that had focused on water and land transportation, and actively welcomed immigrants from neighboring countries.
Come to the Wind Country and you'll experience what's trending across all six countries.
That was what was written in the travel brochure Hayabusa had read in the Fire Country.
Just walking a little bit brought all sorts of smells—delicious, awful, sweet, sour, bitter, aromatic, and rotten. They all mixed together chaotically, impossible to distinguish. Every time he came to a city, Hayabusa was confused by the strange amalgamation of smells.
There were roads called wind roads where the wind was controlled by spirit magic, and windmills of all shapes and sizes spun in the breeze. Some districts had orderly grid-pattern roads, others had winding streets so confusing you could easily get lost, and there were also parks as vast as open fields. Land yachts of all sizes traveled the main streets, their sails and wheels bouncing as they busily transported people and cargo.
The people passing each other in the streets didn't exchange so much as a nod or wave.
It's a city . . . it's so stylish and trendy, but everyone blends together . . .
Hayabusa glanced around restlessly, not knowing where to look. He'd been traveling and fighting across the continent since he was ten, and he had visited cities many times. Perhaps because of that, he wasn't feeling admiration but rather discomfort.
War Mages don't like towns and cities.
They aren't good in places where people build immovable houses and live in dense clusters.
Hayabusa was no exception.
Because when fighting broke out there, something always got destroyed, and someone inevitably would grumble and complain.
Remote fields, forests, mountains, and rivers were better. No one complains when things get destroyed there.
Adult War Mages always said that with deep feeling while sitting around campfires under starry skies, sharing drinks.
Will I start to feel the same way, if I stay here . . . ?
Hayabusa watched people passing by.
Wanting to shake off that thought, Hayabusa immediately shook his head vigorously.
No, no—I came here to live the kind of life where I won't end up thinking that way.
Hayabusa looked around at the townscape once more.
I'm going to like it.
Hayabusa clenched his fists tight.
My school is here. This is where I'm going to live from now on.
Hayabusa?
Kikka's voice brought Hayabusa back to his senses. He'd even zoned out the sounds of the bustling crowd.
Yes?
Hayabusa, is there anything you'd like to buy?
Well . . . I'd like a pocket watch. I gave mine to my childhood friend.
The Wind Country's watches were famous for their variety. When he first started learning space compression magic, he made awful mistakes and would often lose track of his location and get lost. Each time, he'd managed to get back by using celestial navigation. A watch, sextant, celestial almanac, and map had been essential items.
When I receive the king's requests during break time, I want to make sure I get back before the next class.
I understand. A watch shop, then.
Kikka pulled a thin, square piece of paper from her pocket. It was a talisman. She cupped it firmly in her left palm, and made strange shapes with her fingers. Hayabusa knew this was called hand movements—the method for operating talismans.
Kikka contacted the Wind's Eyes and Ears and apparently got directions to the nearest watch shop. The watch shop Kikka guided him to had such an impressive storefront that even Kikka was surprised.
The shopkeeper was unusually polite to such young customers who could easily be dismissed as browsers—perhaps because word had been sent ahead.
There were mechanical wind-up pocket watches, watches that used spirit power to tell the time, and strange timepieces whose hands moved according to their bearer's subjective perception of time. While the spirit watches had interesting functions, they required incense to be burned every four days to keep the spirits happy, and neglecting this would cause the watch hands to go completely haywire. Hayabusa's eye was caught by a chrome-plated pocket watch with an ornate winding crown. It was mechanical, with beautiful gold detailing. He liked it immediately upon seeing it, and it felt perfect when he picked it up.
I'll take this one.
Without hesitating, Hayabusa wrote out a check and completed the payment.
How about you, Kikka?
Would you like to buy one?
Kikka shook her head as if surprised.
I'll pass. It's not exactly affordable.
Oh, it's not?
No.
Maybe even my attitude toward money isn't normal.
Hayabusa was startled by the realization.
Spend it today because tomorrow might never come.
That was part of the War Mage Clan's creed. But judging from Kikka's reaction, normal people apparently didn't think that way. There were deep-rooted differences even in how they viewed the cost of things.
As soon as they left the store, Hayabusa remembered there was something else he wanted.
Kikka, I'd like to get a map too. Of the city.
A detailed one?
No, a pictorial map would be good.
If you want a tourist one, there's a stall on the street ahead. Would that work?
Hayabusa nodded with relief. Kikka's tone was becoming smoother. Just walking around the capital and chatting a little seemed to have somewhat eased Kikka's worries.
While memorizing detailed maps of the entire Pentagram Continent to improve the accuracy of his space compression magic, Hayabusa had discovered the charm of the pictorial maps sold in each town. Pictorial maps possessed a charm that could never be matched by the symbols and contour lines of detailed maps.
As Hayabusa walked along fiddling with his pocket watch's winding crown, Kikka tilted her head slightly.
Why did you give your old pocket watch to your childhood friend?
They threw a tantrum saying they absolutely had to have it. Said they wanted it as a parting gift.
But isn't a parting gift something you should have received?
Right? I thought it was strange too, but it was right before the ship departed, and before I knew it I'd been talked into it. Oh well, I guess it's fine. We'd been together for so long.
Hayabusa laughed cheerfully. While Kikka smiled in response, her eyes held a gentle but somewhat concerned look. It was a strange sensation, as if a single flower petal had been placed beside a fold in his heart, and Hayabusa felt a little confused. He'd intended to be the one looking out for her, but instead found himself being cared for.
The royal capital's streetscape changed subtly as you walked along. You might see rice balls from the Fire Country being sold, then steamed meat buns from the Earth Country. Next door, someone was munching on a sandwich from the Wind Country, and smoked fish from the Water Country would be hanging in a shop front. Then came the smell of spices and oil he'd smelled before in the Thunder Country, while a drunk reeking of the Ice Country's alcohol lay sprawled at the edge of the road.
Hey there, old-timer. You're gonna catch a cold.
Two officers were helping the drunk man.
Come to the Wind Country and you'll experience what's trending across all six countries.
It was an accurate description.
The map stall was on the corner of a busy intersection where land yachts passed back and forth.
There was probably a tavern nearby as the smell of liquor hung in the air. Kikka quickly completed her payment without a word and received a pictorial map from the elderly woman manning the stall, when it happened.
That ain't right!
What'd you say, you bastard?!
The sound of breaking bottles and men's angry shouts could be heard, followed by the screech of land yachts braking hard.
A fight was happening right in the middle of the intersection.
Two burly, tough-looking men with flushed faces were grabbing each other by the collar, wrestling around. It was an evenly matched fight. From the way onlookers were pouring out of a nearby tavern, it seemed the dispute had moved from indoors to the street.
A traffic jam of land yachts and carriages had already formed.
While Hayabusa watched absentmindedly, Kikka started walking toward the middle of the intersection.
We need to stop this quickly . . .
Do you know those two men, Kikka?
I don't know them, but if the Capital Police come and this gets bigger . . . The way things are going, it won't end well for anyone—including those two.
Kikka's face was anxious, but she was still trying to step in and mediate.
