Chapter 17 – The Measure of a Hero

I have always tried to be good.

My entire life has been an attempt to follow a standard. A code. You help people who need it. You stand up for what is right. You work hard and lead by example. For me, it has always been a conscious effort.

Then I met Ryuuji Sato.

Ryuuji was inherently good. He did not have to try. Goodness flowed from him as easily as breathing. He never sought credit. He never wanted the spotlight. He just saw a problem and fixed it.

He was my ideal.

When I saw the goddess try to banish him, something inside me broke. It was a fury so cold and sharp it startled me. I, the class representative who never lost his cool, was ready to fight a god for him.

Even then, Ryuuji did not become angry. He found a way to smooth things over, to turn a moment of pure injustice into a lesson for us all. He was truly, unshakably good.

Even now, he had done it again.

He endured being carried through town after pushing himself to exhaustion for our sake. He found a priceless healing fruit in the forest. An artifact of incredible power that brought him back from the brink.

And he gave it away.

He handed it over to Mayor Pedro, a man I did not trust for a second. He didn’t ask for money. He didn’t ask for a reward. He gave it to him in the simple, profound hope that the mayor would use it for the good of the town.

I still don’t like that mayor’s oily smile. But if Ryuuji trusts him, then I have to believe there is a reason for it. My job is to support my friend’s judgment.

I started walking, leaving the main square behind.

The side streets of Olvido were quiet and dusty. The setting sun cast long, orange shadows that stretched like grasping fingers. I needed some air. I needed to process everything that had happened.

A figure leaned against a stone wall in the distance. The last rays of sunlight glinted off the polished silver of his armor.

It was Siegfried. He pushed himself off the wall and approached me. His smile was wide and friendly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Kenji Tanaka, yes?”

His voice was smooth as silk.

“I saw you in the square. You have the look of a true hero.”

I stopped, putting on my own polite smile. It was the respectful thing to do.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Siegfried. We’ve heard of your good deeds.”

He waved a hand dismissively, the picture of humility.

“I just do what I can. Just as you do. We are two of a kind, you and I.”

He stepped a little closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“That’s why I must speak with you. I am worried about your friend.”

My smile tightened.

“Ryuuji?”

“He has a pure heart. A truly gentle soul. But that goodness can make one… naive.”

Siegfried’s eyes flickered down the alley, as if checking for eavesdroppers.

“That fruit he gave to the mayor. It is an artifact of immense power. Far too valuable to be left in the hands of a man like Pedro.”

His words sounded reasonable. They mirrored my own initial doubts.

“What are you suggesting?”

“I am suggesting we correct a well-intentioned mistake. For the good of the world, an artifact like that must be protected. It must be held by true heroes.”

He leaned in, his smile turning predatory.

“By men like us.”

He wanted me to help him steal it.

The proposal hung in the air between us, ugly and rotten. He was cloaking theft in the language of heroism. He was using my own code against me. For a moment, his logic was almost tempting. The mayor was corrupt. The fruit was powerful.

But Ryuuji had trusted him.

And I trusted Ryuuji more than anyone.

“No.”

The word was quiet, but it felt as solid as a stone wall. Siegfried’s smile faltered. For a single, fleeting instant, I saw a flash of raw greed and anger in his eyes. It was a crack in the perfect, heroic mask.

“Excuse me?”

“I trust my friend’s judgment. If he gave the fruit to the mayor, he had a good reason.”

I held his gaze, letting him see my unwavering conviction.

“Whatever that reason is, I will stand by it. And by him.”

Siegfried’s smile returned, but it was now strained and brittle. He looked at me as if I were a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

“A noble sentiment. Foolish, but noble.”

He took a step back, giving me a shallow bow.

“I hope, for your sake, that your faith is not misplaced.”

He turned and strode down the alley, his silver armor seeming to lose some of its luster in the fading light.

I watched him go.

In the end, this celebrated hero was no good at all. His soul was hollow.

The real hero was the one who didn’t need the armor.