Chapter 3.1: The Pretentious Blondie and the Cursed Japanese Doll

“Normally, Class A would have lessons tomorrow, Saturday, as well… but having you start class the day after your first day of school seems a bit much to ask mentally.

Besides, we have our own things to take care of. You have tomorrow off, so take this weekend to rest up and recharge your batteries.”

With that, the yakuza concluded homeroom, and the school day was over.

Phew… It’s over. Still… ahh… what am I gonna do…

He glanced down at his uniform. As it stood, Shion’s uniform was stained with blood.

Not his own, but blood that had gotten on him when he’d held Kuroda’s corpse.

A good amount of time has passed, so it’s probably useless to try and wash it now.

Should I take it to a dry cleaner… or no, maybe sell the necklace and buy a new uniform?

Shion was fundamentally a cheapskate, but he wouldn’t spare the bare minimum expense when it came to his personal appearance.

He knew that one’s looks held significant weight in human relationships.

As he was mulling over what to do,

“Shion, do you have a moment?”

Rudolf had come over to Shion’s desk.

“What is it?” (Damn, this pretty boy is irritating.)

You could say Shion’s face was handsome.

But—but it was no match for Rudolf’s flowing golden hair, his eyes that seemed to contain the Sea of Saint-Malo, or the air of elegance that drifted about him.

If Rudolf was a handsome nobleman, or perhaps a prince, then Shion was more like a host from Kabukicho.

To an outside observer, they were just two different types of handsome young men, but their essence was completely different.

“After hearing your statement of conviction, I felt I simply had to speak with you directly.

I was aware of what happened before you came to the classroom, but I never imagined you’d become such a person of interest.”

“Where did you… hear about me?”

Had there even been time for that?

“Yes, the proceedings of the B-Group meeting were being broadcast here as well.

Yakushiji-sensei is in charge of Class A, so I imagine he wanted to assess you firsthand.”

It seemed that the moment the proctor had recommended Shion, someone considerate had arranged for the yakuza in Class A to be able to see the meeting as well.

“Well, be that as it may. Thanks to you, I was able to reflect upon my own arrogance.

And that is why I wish to speak with you more. I have heard your philosophy,

but surely you must still have a direction you aim for as an adventurer, no? Would you not tell me?”

There was no way Shion had anything of the sort.

His entire plan, after all, had been to survive for three years by hiding in someone else’s shadow.

“…As I said during my introduction, my power isn’t anything special.

But the need for support is not nonexistent. Therefore, I wish to become an adventurer who can fulfill that role to the best of my ability.”

In other words, he didn’t want to do anything but provide support from the back lines.

“It’s not a glamorous role, and it won’t be in the spotlight. I’ll have no choice but to be content in the shadows of the other adventurers dancing brilliantly.”

He continued, adding more layers to his words as if to drive the point home.

“I want to become someone who can be proud of that role. To be a presence that is undeniably necessary, even if no one praises me.”

“I see. A goal befitting one who embodies such stoic simplicity.”

Rudolf’s smile deepened in admiration. Was this guy going to get scammed one day?

“It is true that those on the front lines will always be the vanguard. They slay monsters with spear and sword.

People’s eyes are inevitably drawn to them. Even fellow adventurers are likely the same.”

And that, he said, patting Shion on the shoulder, was precisely why Shion’s way of life was so wonderful.

“And yet, you are a knight. No, to put it in this country’s style… a bushi!”

Apparently, the way Shion valued something more important than flashiness was to Rudolf’s liking.

(Look at this piece of crap. A classic foreigner who’s got Japan all wrong. It’s disgusting.) “I’m not that impressive.”

That’s no way to treat someone who’s going out of their way to praise you.

That, of course, was because Shion believed he deserved to be praised as a matter of course.

He was a truly strange creature, able to make the flower of confidence bloom from baseless roots.

“That is why I alone shall watch over that will of steel, which is no less brilliant than the glow of gold.”

Even if no one else praised him, even if no one else paid him any mind, he alone would be watching.

This was Rudolf’s own proof of friendship, but…

(I-Is this guy gay…?) “Ah, thank you.”

…this was all it amounted to for Shion. Slapping labels on people was another one of his specialties.

“There is no need for thanks. However, this makes me want to be in the same party as you even more.”

“A party, huh. I wonder how that will turn out.” (The one thing I don’t want is to be in a party with this guy.)

If this were any class below A, they could all decide on parties while having fun together.

If a friend you entered school with was in the same class, you could team up with them, or with the members you were with during the placement exam.

But A-Class was different. The teachers made the decision. In the real world, you have to be able to suddenly form a team with complete strangers.

It was to prepare for such situations that the teachers in Class A assigned parties at random.

“Let us put our faith in the teachers’ judgment. But if we do end up in the same party, I’ll be counting on you.”

“Yeah, I’ll do what little I can to help.” (Like hell I will.)

Just as the two young men were talking, the scent of white plum blossoms tickled Shion’s nose.

When he turned around, he saw her.

“In that case, if I am also able to be in the same party, I look forward to working with you, Shion-san.”

Daigo Shiori stood there, wearing a sweet smile that brought to mind a sugar confection.

“Daigo, was it?”

The spring breeze blowing in from the window gently rustled Shiori’s long hair.

Several of the students remaining in the classroom were captivated by her, but Shion was not one of them.

“Yes. And you can call me Shiori. Like Rudolf-san, I would like to form a friendship with you.”

Do you mind? she seemed to ask with a slightly sad expression that no one would be able to refuse.

Not even in their own heart. She was just that charming.

“Yeah.” (I mind with every fiber of my being. You and the blond bastard both.)

But it had zero effect on Shion.

It wasn’t that he had no interest in the opposite sex; he had a perfectly normal level of interest.

The reason was simply that she wasn’t his type.

We’ll get to it eventually, but this man’s taste in women is ex-treme-ly complicated.

“Ho, so you have also taken an interest in him.”

“Yes, we are from the same country, after all. I think of him as a fine, old-fashioned gentleman.”

Not a chance.

His self-importance was inflated beyond all measure.

He was constantly seething with envy, jealousy, and malice toward others.

His personality, hardened by vanity and a need for self-preservation, could be summed up with the single word hideous.

For such a person to be called “fine and old-fashioned” was beyond a joke.

(What the hell is ‘fine and old-fashioned’?! You don’t know the first thing about that stuff, you idiot!)

And he was right.

If this were the 21st century, Shiori’s words might have carried some weight, but unfortunately, it was now the 25th century.

“A bushi!”

“Personally, rather than the term bushi, I find ‘a true son of Japan’ or ‘a man of Yamato’ to be more preferable.”

A bushi, one way or another, operated on give-and-take.

So you could probably force that label onto Shion, but it seemed Shiori didn’t care for it.

She seemed to see in Shion an illusion—a conceptual “true son of Japan” or “man of Yamato” that had no clear definition.

“The culture of Japan is so profound… I have never heard such words before.”

“…Speaking of which, Rudolf, why did you come to this country?” (Go be an adventurer in your own country, you sausage fiend.)

Sausage fiend, just because he had a German-sounding name. Truly simplistic.

Incidentally, if Rudolf had been overweight, Shion would have probably nicknamed him “beer belly.”

“I have long held an interest in this country. My grandfather lives in Osaka, so I came to stay with him.”

“It must be difficult to leave your homeland. You have to learn a foreign language and all.”

“Oh, it wasn’t so bad. I admit I had trouble with the sheer number of first-, second-, and third-person pronouns, but…”

Even so, Rudolf said he’d managed to master Japanese in about a week.

To him, it was apparently no big deal.

That attitude further stoked the flames of Shion’s jealousy.

(Is he bragging about how capable he is?! What the hell, you son of a bitch…!)

You’re so petty. Incredibly petty. What are you, one ten-thousandth of my true size?

So teased the piece of crap, but inwardly, he—? it?—had taken a liking to Shion.

They had known each other for what could barely be called a short time, but perhaps he had taken a liking to Shion’s personality, which was laced with so much venom.

Perhaps… sssince he’s a sssnake!

—Putting that terrible joke aside, for some reason, the crappy snake liked Shion so much he couldn’t stand it.

He didn’t know why, but that was something he would likely understand once his memories returned.

(Shut up! You’re tiny right now, too! You’re the size of my right arm!)

“I see, but don’t you get lonely?”

“Hmph… Well, I can’t say that feeling is completely absent. However, to return home because of it would be to forsake my pride as a man.”

Rudolf scratched his nose, looking slightly embarrassed. Still, the two of them made for quite a picture.

The combination of a handsome man and a beautiful woman is a classic that has stood the test of time.

“—Hometowns are things to be longed for from afar, is it?”

Shion, while spitting venom inwardly, opened his mouth to raise his own score.

It was a line that would likely pique the interest of Rudolf, who seemed to fond of Japanese culture, and wouldn’t sound bad to Shiori, who took pride in being Japanese.

The fact that he could utter such calculated words so nonchalantly was, in a way, quite impressive.

“Well… yes. I believe that fits perfectly. Though it is a somewhat sorrowful poem.”

“Hm, those are beautiful words. What is that from, Shion, Shiori?”

His scheme had hit the mark perfectly. Internally, Shion pumped his fist!

“It’s from a poem called ‘Furusato.’ The lyricist was a poet named Murou Saisei, I believe.”

He glanced at Shiori, who nodded cheerfully.

“It’s just as Rudolf feels. You can’t return to your hometown until you’ve made a name for yourself in the capital; you have your pride.

But you’re also lonely, and part of you wants to go back. It’s a poem about those complex feelings.”

Hearing Shion’s explanation, Rudolf’s eyes sparkled.

“Oh, that’s interesting… Saisei, a poet from this country. Does this man write good poetry?”

“Yes, Saisei himself is famous, but the people who acclaimed him are also quite famous,”

Shiori added, noting that Hakushu was one of them.

She probably wanted a foreigner to know about her country’s culture and great figures.

“Saisei had a complicated birth and was haunted by it his entire life, but the words he wove are still beautiful.

No, it is perhaps because of that complexity that his words gained their depth and beauty.

If you read all of ‘Furusato,’ which Shion-san mentioned, the pathos is enough to bring tears to your eyes.”

Look at her, acting all cultured! Shion cursed Shiori, conveniently forgetting his own actions.

Of course, he didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t have the guts.

“Oh my…”

Shiori, who had been answering Rudolf’s questions, suddenly noticed something.

“Um, Shion-san… did we, perhaps, keep you from leaving?”

“Hm? What is it, Shiori?”

“No, it’s just that I had completely forgotten myself, but—Shion-san’s uniform.”

It was fine; Shion had completely forgotten, too.

Was it really okay for him to adapt so easily to wearing a uniform stained with the blood of a girl his own age?

(Oh, crap, crap, craaaap! Too much time has passed… If I take this to the cleaners, will it even be ready in time…?)

The dampness had vanished at some point, and the stain had completely hardened.

Then again, it was doubtful it would have made a difference even if he had rushed home.

(Dammit…! This is all that pretentious blondie’s and the cursed Japanese doll’s fault! You bastards!)