I was now six. My day-to-day life hadn't changed much. Mornings, I
worked on my sword training. In the afternoon, if I had time, I'd do some
fieldwork, or practice magic under the tree on the hill.
Recently, I'd been experimenting with ways to augment my
swordsmanship with magic. I'd use a gust of wind to accelerate my sword's
swing, create a shockwave to quickly turn myself around, turn the ground to
mud under an opponent's feet and mire them in place, and the like.
Some people might think that my swordplay wasn't improving, since I
was spending all my time on these little tricks, but I didn't agree. There were
two ways to get better at fighting games: keep practicing to improve, or find a
different way to beat your opponent with your inferior skills.
Right now, I was only thinking of the latter. Defeating Paul was the
challenge at hand. Paul was a tough guy. He might have a ways to go in the
parenting department, but as a swordsman, he was first-rate. If I were to
focus on the first method, and hone my physique to an absurd degree, I was
sure I could beat him someday.
However, I was six years old. In ten years, I'd be sixteen, and Paul
would be thirty-five. Five years after that, I'd be twenty-one, and he'd be
forty. So, yeah, I could beat him someday, but by then, it wouldn't mean
anything. Defeating someone far older than you just got brushed off with
claims of, "Oh, if this were back in my day…"
Defeating Paul while he was still in his prime—that would mean
something. Right now, he was twenty-five years old. He might have retired
from the frontlines, but he was currently at his physical peak. I wanted to beat
him at least once within the next five years. With the blade, if possible, but if
that proved unfeasible, then at least in a close-combat situation where I could
weave my magic into the mix.
That was what I kept in mind as I headed out for my day's training.
***
Under the tree atop the hill, Sylph came by, as he usually did. "Sorry,"
he said. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting."
"Not at all," I replied. "I just got here myself." That's how we'd start
things off: like a couple, where one would wait for the other before we began.
Back when we first started playing, Somal or some other local punks
would come by. Sometimes older kids—school-aged or in their early teens—
would be in the mix, but I drove them all off. Whenever I did, Somal's
mother would come by my house to yell at me.
That's when I figured out that Somal's mother wasn't so much
invested in castigating children as she was fond of Paul. She was using
scuffles between little kids as an excuse to come and see him. She was
absurd. At the barest scratch, she'd march over to our place with her son in
tow, which Somal didn't seem too pleased with. So, yeah, he wasn't faking
injuries after all. Sorry for doubting him.
I think they came after us about five times. Then, one day, they stopped
coming our way altogether. Occasionally, we'd catch sight of them playing
off in the distance, or we'd pass each other by, but neither side ever said
anything. We'd apparently agreed to just ignore one another.
With that, the issue seemed to be resolved, and the tree on top of the
hill became our territory.
***
Anyway, less about those punks and more about Sylph.
What we referred to as "playing" was, in fact, magic training. If Sylph
picked up a bit of spellcraft, he could fend off bullies by himself.
In the beginning, Sylph was only able to cast five or six entry-level
spells before getting short of breath, but a year had gone by, and his magical
reserves had grown significantly. Now, he could train for half the day without
an issue.
I had very little belief in the idea that there were limits on a person's
magical reserves anymore.
Still, there was work needed on the spells themselves. Sylph was
especially poor with fire. He could handle wind and water magic quite deftly,
but fire was his weak spot. I wondered why. Was it because he had elven
blood?
No, that wasn't right. During my lessons with Roxy, I'd learned about
"affinity schools" and "opposition schools." As the names suggested, some
people had an affinity for certain schools of magic, while other schools
inherently gave them trouble.
Once I asked Sylph if he was afraid of fire. He shook his head and said
he wasn't, but he showed me his palm, where he had a burn scar. When he
was about three, he'd grabbed a metal skewer set over the hearth while his
parents weren't looking. "I'm not scared anymore," he said, but I bet he still
had some instinctual fear.
Experiences like that had an impact on what became one's opposition
schools. With dwarves, for instance, water was a very common opposition
school. Dwarves lived close to the mountains, and spent their childhoods
playing in the dirt before following in their parents' footsteps by learning
blacksmithing or mining and the like, which made them naturally more adept
with earth and fire. Up in the mountains, there was also the risk of geysers
suddenly erupting and causing steam burns, or heavy rains drowning people
in floods, so it was easy for water to become an opposition school. So, yeah,
there wasn't a direct relationship between magic and what race you were; it
was more of an environmental thing.
Incidentally, I didn't have any opposition schools myself, due to my
comfortable upbringing.
You didn't really need fire to create warm water or a warm breeze, but
since trying to explain that concept was a pain, I had Sylph practice with fire
as well. He had nothing to lose by being able to use it whenever he needed.
For example, heat could be used to eradicate salmonella, so if you didn't
want to die of food poisoning, you needed to use a bit of fire. Though I
guessed even Beginner-tier detoxification magic could neutralize most
poisons.
Despite his struggles, Sylph didn't complain as he went through his training, probably because he wanted to back up his claims of not being
afraid. He looked so cute with my wand (the one I'd gotten from Roxy) in
one hand and my magic textbook (the one I brought from home) in the other,
his face steeled in concentration as he chanted. And if a boy like me was
thinking that, he was sure to be super-hot once he grew up.
A father's heart is a jealous heart…
The words rang clearly in my head as if they'd been said aloud, but I
quickly shook my head and banished the thought. This wasn't a matter of
jealousy. Besides, his being good-looking was part of my plan: Operation Hot
Friend Bait.
"Hey, Rudy?" Sylph asked. "What's this word here?"
His voice banished the song from my head. He was gazing up at me,
pointing at one of the pages in A Textbook of Magic. And that look he was
giving me was a powerful one. I wanted to just wrap my arms around him
and pull him into a kiss. But I managed to resist the urge.
"That says 'avalanche.'"
"What does it mean?"
"When tremendous amounts of snow build up on a mountain, it can't
bear its own weight, and it all comes collapsing down. You know how when
snow builds up on your roof it sometimes comes flumping off? It's like a way
bigger version of that."
"Oh, wow. That sounds incredible. Have you ever seen one?"
"An avalanche? Of course I…haven't." Not outside of TV, anyway.
Sylph had me read from A Textbook of Magic. This was also part of
teaching him how to read and write. No harm in learning literacy. There was
no spell in this world that could do that for you. The lower the literacy rate,
the more valuable being able to read was.
"I did it!" Sylph cheered. He'd managed to cast the Intermediate-tier
water spell Ice Pillar. A shaft of water sprang from the ground, glinting
brightly in the sunlight.
"Hey, you're getting pretty good," I said.
"Uh-huh!" Sylph replied, and then he tilted his head. "But there's stuff you do that isn't written in here, huh?"
"Huh?" It took me a few moments to realize he was talking about that
thing I'd done with the warm water. I flipped briskly through A Textbook of
Magic, then pointed at two entries. "No, it's written in here. Waterfall and
Heat Hand."
"Hm?"
"I used both at the same time."
"Huh?" Sylph inclined his head even further. "How can you chant two
things at the same time?"
Crap. I'd given myself away. He was right, of course, it was impossible
to chant two incantations at once. "Uh, well, you create the Waterfall without
doing the incantation and use Heat Hand to warm it up. I think you could
chant one of the spells if you wanted, and you could also put the water into a
bucket and then heat it up after."
I then demonstrated casting both spells without the incantations. Sylph
watched me with wide eyes. Silent spellcasting was clearly a very high-level
technique in this world. Roxy wasn't able to do it, and I'd heard that only one
of the instructors at the University of Magic was capable of it. Sylph was
better off using Combined Magic than trying the no-incantations route. I
figured that would let someone achieve very similar effects without having to
do something so difficult.
"Hey, teach me how to do that," Sylph said.
"How to do what?"
"How to do magic without saying anything." Apparently, Sylph had a
different opinion from me. Maybe he saw the ability to do something in one
go as better than alternating between two spells?
Hmm. I supposed that if teaching him that wound up being futile, he
could just use Combined Magic, anyway.
"Right. So, you know the feeling you get when you're going through
the incantation for a spell? That feeling throughout your body that collects in
your fingertips? Try doing that without saying the incantation. Once you feel
like you've got the magical energy gathered up, let the spell you want to cast
come to your mind and then force it out through your hands. Try to do something like that. Start with something like Waterball." I hoped that got the
point across. I wasn't good at explaining things.
Sylph closed his eyes and began muttering and murmuring as he did a
weird, wriggly little dance. Trying to convey something you did through
feelings was really hard. Silent incantation was something you did in your
head; different people probably had different methods that worked for them.
Figuring that fundamentals were important, I'd had Sylph use
incantations the entire past year. Maybe the more you used incantations, the
harder it was to go without. It'd be like trying to use your left hand to do
something you'd always done with your right; suddenly being told to switch
was easier said than done.
"I did it! Rudy, I did it!"
Okay. Maybe not, then.
Sylph beamed with pride after managing to conjure a series of
Waterballs. He'd been using incantations before, but it had only been a year,
I suppose. I guessed this was like removing the training wheels from a
bicycle. Perhaps it was a matter of youthful perspicacity? Or maybe Sylph
had an innate talent?
"Good! Now, try casting the spells you've learned so far without
chanting the incantations."
"Okay!"
Besides, if he was able to skip the incantation part, it would make it
easier for me to teach him. I'd just be able to explain things the way I already
did them myself.
I felt a few drops of rain. "Hm?" I looked up and saw that, at some
point, the sky had been overtaken by a dark bank of rainclouds. A moment
later, the rain started pelting down. Normally, I watched the skies to make
sure we'd be able to get home before it started raining, but today I'd been
distracted by Sylph's learning silent spellcasting, and I'd slipped up.
"Oh, wow. This is some pretty bad rain," I said.
"Rudy, I know you can make it rain, but can you also make it stop?"
"I can, but we're already soaking wet, and without rain, the crops
aren't going to grow. I make a point not to mess with the weather unless it's going to cause problems."
We were already off and running by then. Since Sylph's house was too
far away, we made for the Greyrat estate.
***
"I'm home!" I called out.
"Uh, h-hello," Sylph added.
Our maid, Lilia, was standing just inside, waiting with a large cloth in
hand. "Welcome back, young Master Rudeus, and your…friend," she said.
"I've already drawn some warm water for you. Please wash up and dry off on
the second floor so that you don't catch a cold. The lord and lady of the house
will be home soon, so I'll go get ready to tend to them. Will you be all right
on your own?"
"Yes, I'll be fine," I said. Lilia must have seen the downpour and
expected I'd come home soaking wet. She was a woman of few words, and
didn't speak to me very much, but she was quite the talented maid. I didn't
have to explain anything; she took one look at Sylph's face, headed back into
the house, and came back with another large cloth for him.
The two of us took off our shoes, then dried off our heads and our bare
feet before heading upstairs. Entering my room, I saw that a bucket filled
with warm water had been set out. In this world, we didn't have showers, or
bathtubs even, so this was how we cleaned up. According to Roxy, there
were hot springs where people could bathe, but as someone who wasn't fond
of bathing in the first place, this method was fine by me.
I undressed until I was fully naked, and then saw Sylph fidgeting
awkwardly, his face blushing bright red.
"What's the matter?" I asked. "You need to get out of your clothes or
you'll catch a cold."
"Huh? Oh, y-yeah…" But still, he didn't move.
Was he shy about getting naked in front of someone? Or maybe he'd
never undressed himself before? I mean, he was only six. "Here," I said, "lift up both your hands."
"Um, okay." I helped Sylph lift his hands overhead, then peeled off his
sopping wet coat, exposing his stark white skin, along with his lack of
muscular definition.
I reached for his lower garments next, but he grabbed hold of my arm.
"N-no, not that," he muttered. Was he embarrassed about me seeing him? I
was like that, too, when I was little. Back in kindergarten, we'd have to get
naked and shower when it was time to swim in the pool, but it was always a
little awkward being exposed to people in the same age bracket.
In any case, Sylph's hand was freezing. He really was going to catch a
cold if we didn't hurry. I grabbed his trousers and forcefully pulled them
down.
"H-hey, stop it…" he squeaked, hitting me on the head as I took hold
of his baggy children's underpants.
I looked up and he was gazing fixedly down at me, tears in his eyes. "I
promise I'm not going to laugh," I assured him.
"Th-that's not—erf!"
He was being quite obstinate. In all the time I'd known him, Sylph had
never so staunchly refused to do something. I was a little shocked. Did elves
maybe have some rule about not being seen naked? If that was the case,
trying to forcibly strip him was a bad call.
"All right, all right," I said. "Just make sure to change after we're done.
Wet underpants are pretty gross, and once they get cold, you'll wind up with
stomach problems."
I removed my hands, and Sylph gave me a teary-eyed nod. "Mmf…"
He was so cute. I wanted to get even closer to this adorable boy.
And as I thought that, my mischievous streak suddenly sprang to the
fore. After all, it was hardly fair that I was the only one naked.
"Gotcha!" I snatched hold of his underwear with my hands, then
yanked them down in one fell swoop. Come to me, Zenra Pendulum!
Sylph shrieked. A moment later, he squatted and curled up into himself
to hide his body from sight—but in that moment, what flashed before my
eyes was not the pure short sword to which I'd grown recently accustomed;
nor, naturally, was it a dark blade bearing ominous sigils.
No, what was there—rather, what wasn't there—was, well, replaced by
something that shouldn't have been there. It was something I'd seen many
times over in my past life, on my computer monitor. Sometimes it was
covered with a pixelated mosaic; other times it was uncensored. I'd stare,
always thinking about how much I wanted to lick and be inside the real thing
someday, my dark lust inevitable causing my white cannon to hit the mark on
a handful of tissues.
One of those. That's what Sylph had.
He…was a she.
My vision went white. What I'd just done was not okay at all.
***
"Rudeus, what are you doing?"
I came to my senses to see Paul standing there. When had he gotten
home? Had he come into the room because he'd heard Sylph cry out?
I stood petrified; Paul did likewise. There was Sylph, hunched and
curled up, naked and sobbing. There I was, also naked, with her underpants
clutched in my hand.
There was no talking my way out of this one.
It was raining just outside, but it sounded so very far away.
[Paul]
I came home after work to find my son assaulting the young girl that
he always liked spending time with.
I wanted to tear into him on the spot, but I managed to stay level.
Maybe this was another case where there were circumstances I wasn't aware
of. I didn't want to repeat my previous failure. For now, I decided to put the
sobbing girl in the care of my wife and the maid while I helped my son clean
up and dry off.
"Why were you doing something like that?" I asked.
"I'm sorry."
When I'd scolded him a year earlier, he seemed completely unwilling
to apologize, but now the apology came right out and he turned meek,
shriveling up like sautéed spinach. "I asked you for a reason," I said.
"Well, they were soaking wet. I figured I should take them off."
"But she didn't like that, did she?"
"No…"
"I told you to be nice to girls, didn't I?"
"You did. I'm sorry."
Rudeus had no excuse for himself. I wondered if I'd been the same at
his age. I felt like whatever I might have said would have been full of "buts"
and "you sees." I'd had an excuse for everything when I was a kid. My son
was more honest than that.
"Well, I suppose that, at your age, it's natural to want to pick on girls,
but you can't do that."
"I know. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
Something about seeing my boy so utterly dejected made me feel
guilty. That fondness for women came from me. When I was little, I was full
of youthful vigor and virility, and incessantly chased after cute girls who
caught my eye. I managed to keep myself more subdued these days, but I
really couldn't restrain myself in the past. Maybe I'd passed that on to my
son.
Of course an intellectual boy like him would struggle with these
instincts. How hadn't I noticed it? But no— this wasn't the time to
sympathize with him. I needed to give him proper guidance based on my
experiences.
"Don't apologize to me," I said. "You need to apologize to Sylphiette.
Right?"
"Is Sylph…iette going to forgive me?"
"You don't apologize just because you hope to be forgiven right
away." At this, my boy looked even more despondent. In hindsight, it was
clear he'd been infatuated with the girl from the very beginning. The whole
fuss from a year ago was because he'd decided to protect her. And all he'd
gotten for it was a smack from his old man.
Even after that, they'd played together almost every day, my son
protecting her from the other kids. He had to keep up with both sword and
magic training, but still made as much time for her as he could. He was so
close to her that I think he even offered to give her his wand and magic
textbook, which he valued more than anything.
I understood why he was feeling so glum at the idea that she might hate
him now. I'd dealt with similar rejection in my day.
"Hey, it'll be all right," I said. "If you've never been mean to her
before this, and if your apology comes from the heart, I'm sure she'll forgive
you."
My son's face brightened at that, if only a tiny bit. He was a smart kid;
he'd messed up this time, but he'd recover from it soon enough. Hell, maybe
he'd find a way to turn this around completely and win her heart. It was both
a promising and foreboding prospect.
Rudeus stood up from the bath, looked to Sylphiette, and opened with:
"I'm sorry, Sylphie. Your hair's short, and so I thought you were a boy this
whole time!"
I'd always thought our son was perfect, but maybe he was a lot dumber
than I'd thought. And that was the first time I'd ever thought that.
[Rudeus]
After a lot of apologies, compliments, and reassurances, I got her to forgive me somehow.
Since it turned out Sylph was a girl, I figured I'd call her "Sylphie"
from now on. Apparently, her full name was Sylphiette? Paul looked at me as
if he were dumbfounded by how I ever mistook such a cute little thing for a
boy. But I never expected Sylphie would actually turn out to be a girl.
I suppose it really wasn't my fault. When we first met, her hair was
shorter than mine. Like, not cut "fashionably" short or anything, but also not
so short that she looked like a monk or something. She'd also never dressed
in anything that looked like girls' clothing—just a plain shirt and trousers. If
she'd worn a skirt, I wouldn't have made that mistake.
Okay. I needed to calm down and think. She'd been getting bullied
because of the color of her hair. Maybe that was why she'd cut it so short—
so it wouldn't stand out as much. And if bullies came after her, her only
option was to run fast as she could, which would explain why she wore
trousers instead of a skirt. Sylphie's family didn't seem particularly well-off,
so after making her a pair of trousers, they probably couldn't afford to make
her a skirt, too.
If I'd met her three years from now, I wouldn't have mistaken her for a
boy. I only thought she was a cute boy because of my own preconceptions,
not because she was androgynous or anything like that. Like, if she'd—
No, enough with that. Anything I said now would just be an excuse.
Learning that Sylphie was a girl changed my attitude. Seeing her in her
boyish getup made me feel kind of weird.
"You're really cute, Sylphie," I said. "Maybe you should try growing
your hair out?"
"Huh?"
I figured it'd be easier for me to see her in a new light if she changed
her appearance, hence the suggestion. Sylphie may have hated her hair, but
that emerald green color would look dazzling in the sunlight. I definitely
wanted her to try growing it out—and, if possible, for her to style it in either
pigtails or a ponytail.
"No…" she said.
Ever since that incident, Sylphie had been wary of me. In particular,
she conspicuously avoided physical contact. Since she always went along
with whatever I'd proposed, I was kind of shocked.
"All right," I said. "Did you want to practice some more silent
spellcasting today?"
"Sure."
I forced a smile to mask my feelings. Sylphie was my only friend. At
least we could still play together. There might be some lingering
awkwardness, but at least we were still hanging out together.
For today, I told myself, that would be good enough.
***
My skills, according to this world's standards, were as follows:
Swordplay
Sword God Style: Beginner; Water God Style: Beginner
Attack Magic
Fire: Advanced; Water: Saint; Wind: Advanced; Earth: Advanced
Healing Magic
Healing: Intermediate; Detoxification: Beginner
Healing magic was divided into the same seven ranks as usual, and
comprised four schools: Healing, Protection, Detoxification, and Divine
Strike. But these schools didn't come with cool-sounding titles like Fire Saint
or Water Saint; you were simply called a Saint-tier Healing caster, or a Saint-
tier Detoxification caster.
Healing magic, as the name implied, was used to heal injuries. Beginners would expend most of their effort simply to close up wounds, but
it was said that people at the Imperial level could regrow lost limbs. But not
even someone at the Divine level could bring a dead creature back to life.
Detoxifying magic helped to purge poisons and disease. At higher
levels, one could create toxins, craft antidotes, and the like. Spells that dealt
with abnormal status effects were all Saint-level or higher, and were
apparently quite difficult.
Protection magic included spells to increase one's defenses and create
barriers. In simple terms, it was a form of support magic. I wasn't too clear
on the details, but my understanding was that it included things like
increasing your metabolism to heal minor wounds, or generating chemicals in
the brain to numb you to pain. Roxy couldn't use that kind of magic.
Spells in the Divine Strike school were apparently very effective at
doing damage to ghost-type monsters and wicked demons, but such spells
were the secret purview of human Priest Warriors. Not even the University of
Magic taught this school. Roxy couldn't use this kind, either.
I'd never seen a ghost before, but apparently, they existed in this
world?
It was rather inconvenient that you couldn't silently cast a spell without
understanding the theory behind it. Elemental Attack magic, for instance,
worked on scientific principles. I wasn't sure what principles, if any, applied
to other spell types. I knew magic was like some kind of all-powerful
element, but I didn't know how to rework it into doing just anything.
Take psychokinesis, for example: the ability to make objects float and
come to your hand and all that stuff. Even if I thought that was something
that could be reproduced with magic, I had no way of finding out how to
reproduce the effect, since I'd never had psychic powers.
In the same vein, I remembered very, very little about how wounds
healed, so I didn't think I could do Healing magic without incantations. If I
had a doctor's know-how, I bet it would be a different story.
Beyond that, though, I was pretty sure I could reproduce most other
effects through spells. Hey, maybe if I'd participated in sports, I'd have been
better at my swordplay.
In retrospect, maybe I had wasted way too much of my past life. No. It wasn't a waste. Sure, I didn't have a job or go to school, but it
wasn't like I'd spent the whole time hibernating. I'd immersed myself in all
sorts of video games and hobbies while everyone else was busy with things
like studying or working. And all the knowledge, experience, and
perspectives I'd gained from those games would be useful in this world.
Or, well, they ought to be. They hadn't really been, so far.
***
One day, I was outside doing sword training with Paul when I
unwittingly let out a loud sigh.
I thought my father would be angry with me for being so obviously out
of breath, but he flashed a grin instead.
"Hehehe. What's the matter, Rudy?" he asked. "Feeling down because
Sylphiette doesn't like you?"
That wasn't what I'd sighed about, though. Granted, Sylphie was one
of the things weighing on my mind.
"Well, yeah. Sword practice isn't going so well, Sylphie is mad at me
—yeah, I sighed."
Paul grinned again and thrust his wooden practice sword into the
ground. He leaned against it and looked directly at me. Oh, please tell me
he's not about to make fun of me…
"Want some advice from your dad?"
I hadn't expected that. I thought about it some. Paul— my dad—was a
popular guy with the ladies. Zenith was definitely what you'd call beautiful,
plus there was the whole thing with Mrs. Eto. Sometimes he'd touch Lilia's
butt, and the look on her face suggested she didn't mind at all. He had to have
something: some way to keep girls from hating you.
Granted, Paul was more the kind of person who acted on intuition, so I
wasn't sure I'd understand him, but if nothing else, it'd be food for thought.
"Yes, please," I told him.
"Hmm. How to put this…?"
"Should I go and lick her boots?"
"No, that's—wow, you got all servile all of a sudden."
"If you don't tell me, I'll let Mother know how you were making eyes
at Lilia."
"This is a very high-pressure situ—whoa, hey! You saw that?" Paul
balked. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry for acting high-and-mighty."
I'd only mentioned Lilia to bait the conversation into going my way,
but…was he actually having an affair? I mean, if he was, then hey, whatever.
That was all part and parcel of being a ladies' man. I'd have to ask him how
to play the part properly.
"Listen, Rudy," he said. "So, about women…"
"Yeah?"
"They like things about men that make them strong, but they also like
some of our softer aspects."
"Ohh." I'd heard as much before. Did that have something to do with
maternal instincts or whatever?
"Now, you've only been showing Sylphiette the things that make you
strong, haven't you?"
"Maybe? I haven't really noticed one way or the other."
"Think about it," Paul said. "If someone clearly stronger than you
came at you with their intentions for you on full display, how would you
feel?"
"Scared, I guess?"
"Exactly." I could only assume he was talking about what had
happened on that day—the day I'd learned "he" was a she. "That's why you
need to show her your softer aspects, too. Use your strengths to protect her,
and she'll protect your weaknesses. That's how you keep a relationship
going."
"Ohh!" That was simple to understand! I didn't think a vague guy like
Paul was capable of such an explanation!
You couldn't just be strong, but you also couldn't just be weak. Only
by being a little of both could you pull in the girls.
"But how do I show her where I'm weak?" I asked.
"That's simple. You're worried about stuff right now, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"Take what you're bottling up and share it with Sylphiette. Say 'I've
got a lot of stuff wearing me down, and having you avoid me is making me
worry,' or something along those lines." Paul flashed a broad grin. It was an
unsettling look. "If things go well, she'll bridge the gap. She might even
console you. So, cheer up. You've got a friend who'll make things right with
you. Anybody would be happy with that."
"Aha!" Now I got it! I could use my attitude to control other people's
emotions. Of course "B-but, wait, what if things don't work out?"
"If that happens, come to me. I'll teach what you do next."
Wait, this was a multi-stage plan? This guy was a total schemer!
"Oh, okay. I get it. Anyway, I'll be back!"
"Good luck!" Paul said, with a wave of his hand.
Unable to wait any longer, I dashed off. As I left, I could've sworn I
heard him say one final thing.
"What the hell did I just teach my six-year-old son?"
***
I got to our spot under the tree earlier than usual, so Sylphie hadn't
shown up yet. I'd brought my wooden practice sword, as always, but I hadn't
cleaned up before heading out like I usually did, so I was all sweaty.
What should I do? There was nothing to be done, really. Times like
this, I just had to do mental exercises. I swung my sword around as I ran
through some simulations in my head. I'd shown her my strengths. Now I had
to show my weaknesses. Weakness. How was I supposed to do that again?
Ah, right—let her see that I was feeling down. But how? When was the right
time? Should I just come out with it right away? That seemed like it'd be
weird. Should I try to work it into the flow of the conversation? Could I do
that, though? No—I would.
Caught up with thinking about this while idly swinging my sword, I
must have loosened my grip, because the sword slipped right out of my hand.
"Whoops!" I followed its path as it skittered along the ground, landing right
at Sylphie's feet.
My mind went completely blank. Crap! What should I do? What
should I say?!
"What's the matter, Rudy?" Sylphie was staring at me, her eyes wide.
What was the matter? Was it because I'd shown up super early?
"Uhh…hmm…well… Y-you're… You're really cute, and I, err…
wanted to see you, but, uh…"
"No, not that. The sweat."
"Hmff… Ahh… S-sweat? Whaddya mean?" I approached, causing her
to flinch and recoil. As usual, she wouldn't let me get within a certain
distance of her. It was like we were the same poles of two different magnets.
Sweat dripped off my forehead. My breathing leveled out. Good.
I reached down to pick up the wooden sword in dejection, then struck a
remorseful pose, facing away from her. I allowed my shoulders to slump, and
let out a heavy sigh. "Man. I feel like you're really cold lately, Sylphie."
For a few moments, there was silence. Had I done okay? Did I do it
right, Paul? Should I have made myself even more vulnerable? Or was I
being too obvious?
"Ah!"
Suddenly, something grabbed my hand from behind. The sensation was
warm and soft, and I looked to see Sylphie there.
Oho! She was close. Sylphie hadn't gotten this close to me in a long
while. Paul! I did it!
"You know, Rudy, you've been acting really strange recently," she
said, her face a touch lonesome as she said it.
That snapped me back to my senses. I mean, she was right. She didn't
need to say it for me to know that I hadn't been treating her the same way I
had before. From Sylphie's perspective, this change must have come
completely out of nowhere. As sudden a switch as the moment a young woman who's looking for marriage prospects discovers you've got a fair bit
of money.
I wasn't acting like this because I enjoyed it. But how else was I
supposed to deal with her? I couldn't well treat her the same way I had
before. There was no way I wouldn't be nervous around a cute girl like her.
A cute, young girl around my age. I hadn't the foggiest how to be
friends with someone like that.
If I'd been an adult, or Sylphie more grown up, I could have used my
knowhow of adult visual novels. If she were a boy, I could have leveraged
the experiences from my past life when my brother was younger. If I'd been
an adult, or Sylphie more grown up, I could have gotten by with my
knowledge of adult dating sims. But she was a girl my age. And sure, I'd
played games where you could romance girls around her age, but besides,
that wasn't even the sort of relationship I wanted with her. We were both way
too young.
Well, for the time being, anyway. I definitely had high hopes for the
future!
All that aside, this was a girl who had been bullied. Back when I'd
been bullied, I didn't have anyone on my side. So, I wanted to be there for
her. Boy or girl—it didn't matter. That much hadn't changed. Still, treating
her the same way was just too hard. I was a boy, and I wanted to forge a good
relationship with a cute girl.
But, like, for later on!
Ugh. I just didn't know what to do. Maybe I should have asked Paul
about this, too.
"I'm sorry," Sylphie said. "But Rudy, I don't hate you."
"S-Sylphie…" I must have had a pathetic look on my face, because she
patted my head. Then, Sylphie flashed me a wonderful, carefree smile. It was
so soft.
I was moved almost to the point of tears.
I had clearly been in the wrong, but she was the one who'd apologized.
I took her hand and gripped it tightly in mine. Her face blushed red with
surprise even as she gazed at me and said, "So, could you please just act normal?" Those upturned eyes of hers added weight to her words.
Hidden away within me was the power I needed to make this decision.
And so, I did.
That's right. What she hoped for was normalcy. A relationship the
same as the one we'd always had. So, to the best of my ability, I would treat
her normally, and do my best not to frighten or fluster her.
In other words…I would become one of them. I supposed I might as
well.
It was time to be an oblivious protagonist.