“*Tadaima*~” I opened the door to see Ria sleeping on a bed and Tagalong Girl sitting cross legged on the floor. Perfectly piling previously packed parkas...okay, so they were heavy cloaks, not technically parkas, and they only made up a portion of what was there, but I digress. Going through our clothing it seemed like she was looking for something, though for a moment I didn’t realize what for. Most of what we had came from the village, and Pan didn’t know she would be tagging along— I quickly answered my own question.
“If you’re looking for something that’ll fit you better, I can modify one no problem. You’ve but to ask.”
“I understand.” She started gathering the clothes to put them away. Although she left one out, her hurried manner belied the unease of being caught.
“Why do I get the feeling that you really don’t understand?” I crouched down next to her, setting aside the stack of books. “Acting serious is understandable, and self reliance is admirable, but you’re my apprentice. I've at least some measure of responsibility for your wellbeing.”
This was far from the first time I’d given this spiel, and though it grew old, I wouldn't be letting up on it. She acted reminiscent of a number of paranoid and overly cautious friends I played with; her tune wouldn't change from words.
I felt uneasy with manufacturing the required dangers as I had in the past to accelerate things. Such ironic methodologies were best left behind with Jester; if I was to be Tagalong Girl’s tutor, that meant more than just the surface appearances of the role. Even if it meant dealing with painfully repetitive dialogue and one sided conversation at times.
“Anyhow, I chanced upon a scrivener’s place, and found an old book for you. I picked up a few for myself as well; you’re free to read through any of them, but I wouldn’t try tearing through them just yet. There’s a displaced couple that wants to hire us as mercenaries, and it’s an opportunity for you to fight against goblins in real combat.”
“I'll prepare myself.”
“It won't be much different than hunting, you’re not being shoved out of the nest. Just keep a cool head when the time comes and we’ll see what you’re capable of.”
Expecting the following silence, I turned to Ria for the moment. Breathing peacefully with her eyes closed, she was asleep at the moment, but her arms were above the cover in a manner that didn’t reflect her sleeping habits. She’d also been moved in the direction of the headboard; chances are she had been sitting up in bed while awake earlier. Hopefully if she tried talking with Tagalong Girl she had better luck than I in eking out a conversation.
Considering our slow goings in our quests, they would be spending a lot of time together, I wished they would get along. Tagalong Girl seemed intent on keeping that dream a fantasy for a while yet; hopefully Ria wasn’t too dissuaded. Though I’d not known her before the illness, I felt things must be uncomfortable for her— not having anyone to casually converse with. Her brief chats with me were— and I hate to phrase it this way, but it’s likely the most accurate— the result of stockholm syndrome putting her more at ease.
Perhaps we could come to a more normal relationship when she recovered, but while able to maintain consciousness for extended periods, the end wasn’t in sight. It would be silly to think merely injecting mana would fix whatever afflicted her; as her horns greedily ate my mana, I was doubtlessly fulfilling their purpose, perhaps even feeding some magical parasite. Of course, were that the case, it at least alleviated the need for it to feed upon her.
Sitting on the side of the bed, I examined her skin. Fully transforming from crimson to an equally vibrant orange, her hue didn't stabilize, instead taking a golden sheen. Would she pass through each color of the rainbow, or was it merely a transition from red to yellow? It was a little early to make out anything more than a hint on her torso and back, and it had yet to spread to her limbs, so I could do little other than speculate.
Other than that, Ria remained in good health. No strange discolorations, no fever, and she’d regained enough strength to toss about while unconscious, so even the chance of developing bedsores had all but disappeared. She did seem to sleep too deeply, but even back in my original world I had friends that slept through being picked up and carried around. Such a habit may be troublesome in a world full of danger, but it wasn’t that important, just something to keep note of.
I thought on my next move for the day; I wanted to head back to the Broken Axe by evening, but there weren’t actually many ways to pass the time productively. I could practice magic in the meantime, or simply let time pass, but I've been told it can be unnerving to watch me stare blankly at a wall. Besides, it wasn’t just about waiting, it needed to be something that involved Tagalong Girl.
Though she kept quiet, was reluctant to make a fuss over anything, and came up with adorable ‘plans’, she couldn’t hide the fact she was a roiling ball of energy. Practical combat lessons, exercises, and the like, she overwhelmingly favored training she had to take an active role in. It wasn’t childish to prefer such things, but she hadn’t yet learned how to make use of time when her movements were restricted.
“Before I head out again, why don’t we work on your sight some? You said before that your vision felt cloudy when using it, but since you were able to pass *Projectiles 101*, it can’t be holding you back too much. Is there a change to your sight, or are you just getting more used to things?”
“It’s easier to ignore it, since I know how to search actively now.”
“Ignoring it, hmm? Well, if that works for, it’s alright. Perhaps once you learn some magic we can try a different *tack*.” Also once I actually learned the underpinnings of magic myself. Though the spell shapes were consistent and seemed to have certain themes, I really was more of a sorcerer with little understanding of how or why my magic worked.
Still, with creativity even simplistic innate knowledge was enough for a lesson plan. Forming a spell shape, I held it without casting. I waited a bit for Tagalong Girl to understand my intentions on her own.
Unfortunately without context of what the spell was, she grew frustrated in silence, unwilling to concede. A vibrant determination to waste time.
“Start with describing the shape.” Being able to see it made the task trivial, but learning to enumerate the components would be helpful. Probably.
“A...sphere? No, a…*toroid*?”
A toroid, huh? That's a decent description, though it really described the orientation of connections rather than the shape of the spell.
“I would say it's a *bithex*, but you have the general idea. Now the color.”
She looked incredulous at the answer and the question. She couldn't be blamed for either, I hadn't really gone over much geometry, and
“A...silver blue? With dark...red sparks?”
“Trying to fit in patterns when I asked for colors? No, that's perfectly alright, in fact I wouldn't mind if you'd taken it further. Communicate the idea of the color, if there's not a word for it, you've got to define it on your own.”
“Then a rigid yellow, and circular green?”
“Mmn. Encompassing-clear burning *taiji* is what I thought, but good, one can see the outline from that.”
Once again, her eyes glazed over in internal struggle, in an attempt to compute the lesson, trying to figure out how this would help. After all, our other lessons that seemed like nonsense eventually came to make sense. Precedent helped keep her focused, even if I remained unsure of the payoff.
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Releasing
I thought about contemplating the nature of teaching what one doesn’t know but decided against it. Encouraging her had to be the best path forward, wasn’t it?
Her eyes trembled lightly, and I kept the spell up for only a few more moments when she truly lost focus. In much the same way mortal eyes become strained when staring, Tagalong Girl couldn’t use her ‘
Again, pressing herself to her limits. I’d never played teacher before to such a dedicated student, feeling unsatisfied with balancing her needs. There was a first time for everything, but I also had to be aware of what couldn’t be undone.
“Continuing to strain yourself like this can be detrimental to your health. I more than understand the desire to push your limits, but you’ll overburden yourself if you do so at every moment. Here, why don’t you take a break to read while I head back out.” Pulling out the books of trade summits and fables, I handed them over. “Well, it’s probably not what you had in mind, so I also got this storybook.”
“Erm…” Vigorously blinking, Tagalong Girl reached out to take both books. “Thank you?”
“I’ll be back in a bit.” I laughed a little at the questioning tone. Repacking the clothes, I patted her head before leaving.
As I walked through the lower floor, I pulsed my senses, seeing if I could catch any reactions without giving myself away. No footsteps, or startled noises from upper floors sounded either. All scenarios that gave that result were promising for our safety, so I left without worry.
At ease from upcoming quest, I headed back to the Broken Axe, wondering if Local still remained. Unlike Matthias who was waiting for an escort, surely he couldn’t just waste noon til evening drinking away. It’s probably unjust to call the economic situations of such a large country schizophrenic, but seeing him still there brought into question how he afforded the dozen mugs and several plates of food in the meantime.
Rather impressive to see him up and talking clearly with a lady after that many drinks.
“Ah, would this be Sayla?” Interrupting as I sat, the lady gave me a stern look. No, not a stern look, she just possessed taut lips and a certain direction to her gaze. Not unattractive, as usual, but it did give the impression she was glaring.
“A friend of yours, Ordon?”
“He was just drinking with me earlier today. Kazma, was it?”
“Kazuma. A traveling alchemist, pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Merely a dip of the head as I introduced myself, but Sayla didn’t seem to think highly of it. Ordon noticed the same thing, and his face lit up with a thoughtful, mischievous smile.
“We got into a little debate earlier, and he claims he could beat anyone here in a contest of strength ten times in a row, wagering drinks for the night. Is that bet still on?”
Hay hey hey, you really want a drink that badly? We were on the same side in that debate you rascal. And now you want your wife to beat me? Her presence has more gravitas than yours, but it’s not going to be enough, you’re just going to make her feel bad.
“Haa~” Sayla also grinned confidently as I let out a sigh “Well, I don’t particularly want to lose, and the point is undermined if I refuse. So I suppose…”
“Kazuma, while it’s no good to be meek, making claims like that are bad too.” Ordon’s wife looked like she was relishing the chance for a challenge. Her muscles, though moderate, were defined to the point where I could see her flexing them in anticipation.
“I can only beat her one in five times. Good luck my friend.” So this is just supposed to be a shared suffering among comrades, is it?
Well, I’ll leave you alone then.
Not that I felt any ill will now, it seemed to be just a bit of fun. Of course a culture built around self-reliance and power would favor these kinds of direct competitions.
“So what’ll we be doing? An arm wrestle? Lifting?”
“Hmm, you don’t know?” Ordon lifted his brows. “I guess as a traveller...here a test of strength refers to Sumo.” I asked for an explanation, and the rules he explained were basically sumo, although one was not allowed to lift their feet from the ground. For such reasons, matches were held on a dirt floor, although professionals would compete on polished stone or hardwood while wearing silky socks.
Interesting how professional and amateur versions of a sport could diverge depending on the equipment available. A surface with reduced friction would be a whole different game than one where the ground was malleable… anyhow, as I asked my questions and pondered the nature of ‘Sumo’, a chant was already starting throughout the bar. I caught some background characters even cheering her name. Seems like it isn’t an unusual event.
While the town was fairly developed, a small dirt yard was shared behind the Broken Axe with a few other buildings. A spectator volunteered to ref, drawing out a circle for us to step into. In addition to Ordon, seven others unrelated the matter followed us out.
“I’m not sure how great a victory this will really be, since you’ve never done Sumo before.” Sayla seemed a little less excited knowing her opponent wasn’t familiar with the challenge.
I didn’t have anything to say that wouldn’t be contrary to my persona, or otherwise enrage her so I said nothing, stepping into the ring with a smile. Derrish sumo also varied slightly in that you start standing up with your hands contacting your opponent’s, locked, but not with fingers intertwined.
Since I wasn’t staying, upending the reigning champ was no good.
“Start!”
Whumph.
“Eh?”
No good, but hey, since when do I choose good decisions over fun ones?
Swiftly moving our arms into a position her joints could take the strain, I simply shoved her so she’d stumble back out of the ring, still able to catch herself on reflex.
There were mutters of disbelief from the crowd, except for one who I assume was a stranger, and Ordon, whose mouth simply hung open.
“Haha, you surprised me there. You’ve got more muscle in those thin arms than I thought. Once more!” Knocked out so quickly, Sayla hadn’t depleted any of her energy. Now she looked fired up as well.
Our hands locking together a second time, I could feel her muscles trembling in anticipation, ready to bend and negate the force of my push. As charming as the sports competition was, I began feeling embarrassed partaking when my opponent’s stats were so far below my own. Especially when they had technique to show for it as well. Not that I couldn’t pull out techniques as well, but that would be grinding the heel wouldn’t it?
“Start!” Ref seemed more on edge this time, leaning towards us as if that would help his view. Just take a half step closer.
Sayla drew back her arms anticipating my moves, but instead I just kept our hands locked together, and she drew herself towards me. Keeping her momentum going, I began to spin her out the rink. Almost catching her balance, I released her hands at just the right moment.
“While I’ve never played Derrish sumo, I am familiar with a similar sport. It depends more on weight, but it seems the principles are the same.” Playing it off, I flamboyantly cracked my knuckles.
“Ten times...?” Muttering to herself, Sayla steadied herself and walked back to the ring. Oh, don’t make me do this ten more times, this is unbecoming for the both of us. Of course ceding or showing mercy didn’t go well with this type.
“Start!” This time she came in for a tackle, making use of her lower center of mass. Theoretically, this would be the best option against an opponent who was relatively light for their height. Indeed, she successfully grappled me, but she ran into a wall.
As a master hammerer, of course I know how to plant my feet.
Thinking quickly, she changed course from pushing to lifting. A better strategy, as I was not supernaturally heavy. Yet letting her win by just standing still wasn’t the answer either. Returning the favor, I grabbed her waist, and vastly exceeding her resistance, lifted her into the air as well before setting her down outside the ring.
Thankfully several spectators were drunk enough to cheer, despite the foregone conclusion. Their energy helped drain tension from the atmosphere. To keep things lighthearted, I gave them a smile and a thumbs up.
“Woo! Knock ‘er down again!”
This time, after trying to contest my strength instead of being thrown out instantaneously, Sayla needed to take a short breather.
“Alright, I’ll keep him from recovering!” Ordon stepped up this time, with a complicated expression. A mixture of surprise at my abilities and a light-hearted determination to help his wife. It was a bit cute, a small boy fighting for his crush against a bully, even though he stood no chance.
Wait, that’s pretty bad. I should really put something more like a kids sports team facing varsity team. Although that metaphor is a little on the nose; just please don’t think of me as a bully.
“Sorry for thinking you were full of yourself before. Though Sayla might not have gotten so worked up if you’d been as forceful as before.” Locking hands, we waited for the ref, and then I pushed him out. I waited a second, so it could seem like he bought time for his wife to rest up.
“So, who’s next? Remember, drinks are on me if you win.” I tried inviting more people to the ring. More challengers, less personal.
“Well, got nothing to lose at this point!” One of my hype-men awkwardly flailed out of his shirt as he ran over. I couldn’t suppress a grin.
“Haha, you’re that excited to lose?”
“Sayla and Ordon both already lost, no big deal if I join them.” Yes, precisely my intention! Sometimes some randomness out of left field can help. Laughing as we started, the challengers just kept getting worse, and he soon found himself out.
Even so, the pace of things sped up. With my swift and gentle removal of opponents, they could quickly cycle back in after catching their breath. Clamoring and cheering one after another, more people came around to see what was happening. Those hot blooded folk, stirred up after a quick defeat wanted another go; but with the champion occupied, they set up their own circles.
The barkeep started making trips out to the yard with drinks, and some other nearby building brought along some small fajita-like dishes. The sun was setting and a party spontaneously erupted around the four rings that developed. Winning well over ten, probably closer to three score, matches, Sayla seemed to have let go of beating me. Instead she and her husband competed in the other rings, seeing who could defeat the most opponents.
Ordon wasn’t usually her match, and now that she needed to let off steam, only the hesitance of her contenders let him keep pace.
“Now what’s all this Kazuma?” I heard a familiar voice trying to shout over the noise, Matthias struggling to push through the crowd. At last an opening to free myself; at some point people stopped watching me as a champion of sumo, and more as just a curious event.
“This should cover a few barrels, aye?” Simply slinging a sucker out of bound, I placed an aurum into the palm of the passing barkeep, loudly announcing my intention. I could now exit the stage with no ill will.
“And bring out as many of these things as you got.” I cried, handing over another to the cook. “*I am quite the young master, aren’t I?*”
Chuckling to myself, I enjoyed the vibrant energy of the night.