chap12++++++++++

Haruhiro put an arm around Shihoru and ran. He was running, but what would that do?
It was coming. Again. For real this time. From the opposite direction, behind them. Most likely, it had changed directions then done a rapid dive.
Haruhiro pushed Shihoru forward diagonally, then turned to face it. He had thought it was coming for him, but not that it was this close. It was at close range. The dragon mowed down trees as it attempted to land. It was right in front of his nose. A cloud of dust rose up, and he was blown away. Haruhiro spun once, then twice. Oh, no, it’s going to step on me! he thought, but he didn’t remember why. Whatever the case, Haruhiro was clinging to the dragon. Its rear leg, apparently. The right one, huh.
The dragon roared, Agyooooooooooooon! and thrashed around.
It would shake him off in no time.
He didn’t particularly want to cling to a dragon, but he was sure he’d die in a second if he were to let go. Haruhiro instinctively drew his dagger with the flame-like blade and stabbed the polished metal into the dragon’s scales. An ordinary sword might not have stabbed through. The flame dagger was no ordinary blade. It slid in deep. He couldn’t pull it free, either.
The dragon was still stamping its feet and jumping. Haruhiro held the hilt of his flame dagger tight with his left hand, then drew his other dagger with his right hand.
This other dagger was also a product of the dwarf hole. It could do this. In theory. He stabbed.
Good, he thought. It went in. That was when it happened.
Uwah!
The dragon was bending its legs, sort of like it would do before a big jump—
Wait, is it about to fly? Should I let go?
By the time he thought that, it was too late.
The moment the dragon jumped, he felt a floating sensation.
Fast. It was going damn fast. It happened in an instant.
He was already in the air. Way above the trees. It was a clear difference from that young dragon. The power it had to ascend by beating its wings was not to be underestimated.
“Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...” Haruhiro screamed despite himself.
The thought to look for his comrades occurred to him, but it was a little impossible. He was up in the sky, after all.
Flying, too.
Was he a hundred meters up by now? More, maybe?
It looked like the dragon kept its legs fixed in a slightly bent position while flying. Maybe if it moved too much while flying, that threw off its balance.
Thanks to that, as long as Haruhiro kept a firm grip on the flame dagger, it didn’t look like he’d fall. Right. For as long he was able to hang on. But that was pretty hard to do.
When he’d stabbed the flame dagger and dagger through the dragon’s scales, he’d given up on clinging to the dragon’s leg. Unlike a human leg, the dragon’s leg was as thick as a big tree trunk, so he couldn’t have clung to it for that long to begin with. Therefore, his left and right hands’ grip on the flame dagger and dagger were his only hope.

Haruhiro felt the wind on basically his whole body. The wind force was intense. He was going to be sent flying, seriously. It was a mystery to him how he hadn’t been yet. Well, he knew if he was knocked off, it’d be the end of him, so he was holding on for dear life.
High. It was so high up. How many hundreds of meters were they up now? Was it thousands? More? Incredible. He could see the whole of Emerald Island. He could see the other islands, too. This was on a whole different level from just being scary. Though, that said, it was scary, too. How long would his grip last? He wasn’t sure.
Each time the dragon moved its wings, he was tossed around. He felt like his whole body was being torn up. Not just his physical body, but his very existence.
Eventually the dragon began descending and ascending. It was too much. He really couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t rouse himself to action. He could only cry that he couldn’t do it, he was at his limit, and hang in there.
Then the dragon started whipping around and doing horizontal and vertical spins.
Are you trying to kill me? Enough already. Please. Stop it, he silently begged, but could still only hold on.
Once he lost his grip on the flame dagger with his left hand. It’s over, he resigned himself. This is the end. I’m absolutely finished.
However, when the dragon did a turn after that, his body swung majorly. He stretched his left hand out using the momentum from that, and he managed to reach the hilt of the fire dagger.
He was just a little relieved, but at the same time felt fed up. What, it wasn’t over yet? If it was going to end, it should’ve just ended. That would’ve been easier. He’d had enough.
Even when his comrades flashed though his mind, he couldn’t think, I’ll try again. Well, why was he hanging on by the skin of his teeth, then? Wasn’t this enough? He’d done what he could. More than anyone could have expected. If it ended here, he’d have no regrets.
Really?
He decided to stop thinking about it. Or rather, he stopped being able to think anymore.
He occasionally let out screams like, Wahh, or, Ohhh, or, Gweee.
There were several occasions where his left hand or his right was separated from a dagger’s hilt. How did he recover? He had no clue. The next thing he knew, both hands were always on their respective hilts.
The sea was beautiful.
So blue.
At some point, they had come out over the sea.
The dragon’s wings were still spread, its body tilted on a slight angle, and it was circling gently. It seemed to be slowly descending.
That was...
A town?
There was only one town on the island. The dragon was heading from the sea towards Roronea.
It flew over the ruined piers and wharves. There was hardly any trace left of the warehouses. Beyond them was the commercial district. That had been heavily damaged, too, and the former marketplace was nothing but scrap and rubble.
The dragon beat its wings. Its speed dropped instantly, and Haruhiro’s body was lifted up. He nearly lost his grip on his daggers’ hilts, or rather he wanted to let go of them, but he just couldn’t. His fingers, his hands, his arms... none of them would listen to him.
The impact of landing was intense. His whole body was shaken harder than ever, and he wondered if his head might pop off.
Haruhiro was currently clinging to the flame dagger and dagger which were thrust into the dragon’s leg, and hanging down from there. He was conscious of his current state, but it didn’t feel real.
Feelings. Yes. His senses weren’t there. He was cold. His whole body. It was like he was frozen.
The dragon shuddered a little, and let out a short, low vocalization. Woh!
He could tell it was trying to say something. Haruhiro nodded, breathing repeatedly. Eventually, he returned to something approaching body temperature.
They moved. His fingers. His hands. His arms. His legs, too. He could move them.
“...Hold on.”
Haruhiro wrapped both his legs around the dragon’s leg, pulling both the flame dagger and dagger free with all his might. They hadn’t come out all this time, but now they actually pulled free.
Haruhiro dropped to the ground with the flame dagger and dagger. He tried to land gracefully, but he couldn’t quite manage it, so he hit himself in a few places and it hurt. But he was alive...
Right? Am I alive? he wondered.
He couldn’t be confident. He looked around. This was probably the area that had once been Roronea’s market. There should have been tens of stalls and shops here, maybe more, and the remains of them were scattered around.
Why was he here? He’d been at the dragons’ nest not long ago.
This was weird. It didn’t make sense.
Haruhiro got up. He hurt all over. Dragging his leg, he staggered on.
When he suddenly turned back, the dragon had raised its head and was looking at him.
Man, it was big. Seriously.
The dragon’s mouth was closed. Its nostrils flared as it breathed in and out, and the dragons scales sparkled in time with those subtle motions. Its yellow eyes were more incredible than its scales. They were the essence of light itself. How could such a creature exist?
It struck Haruhiro’s heart. A feeling of awe, you could say.
It’s no good. No way. Something like this. This incredible creature. You can’t do something that would anger it.
Haruhiro pulled the egg from his bag and, backing away, he knelt down and placed it gently on the ground.
“Sorry. We wanted to return this. We went to give it back.” The dragon tilted its head for just a moment, then blinked.
What did it feel? What was it thinking? He didn’t have a clue. But though it probably thought and felt completely differently from how a human did, the dragon was definitely feeling something, and probably thinking, too.
The dragon stretched its neck out. Was this where Haruhiro was going to eaten now? If it was, there was nothing he could do. Not at this distance. He couldn’t run away. Whether Haruhiro lived or died was up to the dragon. There were things he couldn’t do anything about. Haruhiro took a deep breath and stayed put.
The dragon gripped the egg in its jaws. It tilted its head back.
With the egg still in its mouth, it let out a low voice. Ohh, wao, ohh!
Haruhiro stood up. The dragon beat its wings two, three times, and took off.
Buffeted by the wind, Haruhiro fell on his backside. From there, he looked up at the dragon. It climbed and climbed.
Haruhiro fell back, looking straight up. The dragon circled Roronea once, then went off into the distance. Then, finally, he lost sight of it.
Haruhiro whispered to himself, “I’m tired...”


17. Weigh Anchor



Since then, Roronea hadn’t been attacked.
Momohina, Kuzaku and the rest of the party returned four days later. His comrades had been praying for Haruhiro’s safety, no doubt, but they must have feared the worst. They were all overjoyed and mobbed him. There were a whole lot of tears.
Haruhiro’s eyes got a little misty, too.
The restoration of Roronea was proceeding at an incredible pace. The last of the piers and wharves had actually been wiped out while the party were going to the dragons’ nest, but by the time Kuzaku and the others returned, there were two temporary piers in a somewhat usable state.
Transportation using ships with barges had been restarted before then, and little by little, supplies had begun to enter Roronea. The dead were mourned, and buildings were rebuilt here and there.
The day after they were reunited, the party went to the temporary No. 1 Pier and boarded the Mantis-go, captained by Ginzy.
There were a number of other ships trying to leave port, but the loading of cargo and crew had already been completed for the most part. Despite that, not just the temporary No. 1 Pier but the No. 2 Pier beside it were packed with people, people, and more people.
“Hero of Roronea!”
“Dragon Rider!”
“Hey, rich man!”
“Spend some of it before you go, ya cheapskate!”
“Ya did well! I’m mildly impressed!”
“Haruhirooo! I’ll never forget you guys! Don’t you ever come back!”
“Come back some time and play, you damn hero!”
“You don’t need to come back, damn it! Thanks, Dragon Rider!”
Young and old, men and women of every race shouted whatever they wanted, thrusting fists into the air and jumping up and down. Looking at them from the side of the ship, it was hard to think they were talking about him.
Kuzaku poked him in the shoulder. “Why don’t you wave?”
Even as he thought, What’re you grinning for? Haruhiro waved to the people half out of desperation.
The crowd roared when he did, but what was he supposed to think about this, really? It felt like it was happening to someone else, and he couldn’t even feel embarrassed by it.
“Well, the fact of the matter is, you saved the lot of them. I would say that merits being called a hero, wouldn’t you?” Setora had an unpleasantly serious look on her face.
Nyaoh, Kiichi meowed from down at Setora’s feet.
A hero, huh. Haruhiro scratched his head at the thought of it.
Setora murmured, “Dragon Rider,” and then burst out laughing.
“You’re laughing,” Haruhiro muttered.
“I mean, it’s not as if you actually rode the dragon.”
That was true. Haruhiro had never ridden a dragon. He clung to the dragon like some piece of trash it had gotten tangled on it, and managed to fly from the dragon’s nest to Roronea.
There were some people still staying in Roronea’s marketplace because it was dangerous no matter where they went, and they had coincidentally witnessed Haruhiro returning the egg to the dragon. Yet it was unlikely anyone had witnessed exactly how the dragon had carried Haruhiro there. That being the case, the story was quickly embellished, warped, and expanded, to the point that he had come riding in on the dragon’s back, earning him the nickname Dragon Rider. He found it a bit embarrassing.
“From a Goblin Slayer to a Dragon Rider...” Shihoru was giggling.
“Hey, not you, too, Shihoru,” he protested.
“Sorry. But I don’t think you can avoid being the talk of the town...”
“He’s a hero, after all, right?” Setora looked ready to burst out in a fit of laughter at any moment.
How am I supposed to be a hero? Give me a break.
“Well, we made a solid profit, though.” Kuzaku slapped the oddly impressive bag he had slung over his shoulder. “That’s thanks to you, Haruhiro. You’re our hero, too.”
The bag was full of platinum coins. Each one was worth ten gold coins. Gold coins were one thing, but unless someone was a merchant with a lot of turnover or a wealthy individual with considerable assets, a person would almost never see platinum coins.
Even if the story about the dragon’s egg being worth five thousand gold was nonsense, the work they’d be doing had to be worth at least a thousand.
Before going to return the egg, he’d tried that line on Giancarlo, who had blown him off with a, Don’t be stupid! But after negotiating, they’d settled on the amount of five hundred gold coins.
That was five hundred gold. It was still a dizzying amount of wealth.
Incidentally, the bag Kuzaku was carrying had one hundred platinum coins which each weighed thirty grams. In other words, a thousand gold.
Giancarlo was looking vacantly up at the Mantis-go from the temporary No. 1 Pier. It must have been the continuous days of intense work. He looked pretty sleepy.
When the people of Roronea spoke of Haruhiro’s great deed, the story of how the K&K Pirate Company had rewarded him a thousand gold for his work always came with it. That was a rumor that Giancarlo and Jimmy, who was now standing next to him with one hand raised, had actively worked to spread.
There were some who were impressed by the K&K Pirate Company’s largesse, while others snapped saying, If they have all that money, they should be giving it to me. Either way, an unimpressive adventurer, or volunteer soldier, actually, but a total unknown either way, had made a fortune in no time flat. It was what might be called the Roronean Dream.
Figuring a thousand gold would be twice as impactful as five hundred, Giancarlo and Jimmy had gone all-out on the reward. In fact, Roronea was in a fever now.
For the present at least, this fever would give an extra push to the reconstruction of Roronea. Haruhiro felt inconvenienced as the one who had to carry the burden of a manufactured legend, but a thousand gold was a lot. Converted to the silver they actually used in their daily lives, it was a hundred thousand coins.
In copper, it was ten million. Unbelievable.
“Still, I’m glad.” Merry narrowed her eyes, looking off into the distance somewhere.
Looking at Merry’s smile, Haruhiro was able to honestly admit, Well, I guess I’m glad, too. A lot had happened, but now they could move on.
Ginzy pretentiously ordered, “Hoist the sails!” and the Mantisgo’s sails were hoisted.
Then he signaled for them to “Weigh anchor!” and the crew went about weighing anchor.
The people crowded on the pier whirled their coats or handkerchiefs above their heads, going, Yo ho, yo ho! and making a scene.
“Huh?” Haruhiro looked around the area.
“Huh? What’s up?” Kuzaku asked him, but he just gave a vague nod as he looked here and there.
What’s this, what’s this?
“Ah...” Shihoru gulped.
“Wait!” Merry leaned out over the said of the ship. “Hm?” Setora put her hand on the gunwale. “Oh...” Kiichi jumped onto the gunwale meowing, Nyaoh.
The Mantis-go was already moving.
“Yume?!” Haruhiro pushed in between Merry and Setora, looking intently at the temporary No. 1 Pier.
Giancarlo was there, Jimmy was there. Then there was Momohina, with a false mustache, a stern look on her face, and her arms crossed. Finally, beside her was Yume, waving a cloth scrap around and shouting, “Yo ho, yo ho!”
“No, not ‘yo ho’—Huh? Why?! Yume?! Since when...”
“She was here just a moment ago... wasn’t she?” Merry said, seeming less than confident.
“Hey, what are you playing at?!” Setora shouted.
Yume burst into a full-faced grin. “Ahh! Hey, listen! Yume, she’s havin’ Momohina train her, ’cause she’s decided to be a real kungfulier!”
“Why?!” Shihoru asked, her voice going shrill.
Yeah. Why? This was coming out of nowhere. It made no sense.
Maybe because it was so surprising, Shihoru sounded ready to cry.
“Well, you know! Yume just couldn’t bring herself to say it!” Yume was tearing up.
There was a clutching in Haruhiro’s chest, and he came back to his senses.
Yume had kind of never made much sense to being with. If he were to describe her with one word, it’d be “ditzy.” She wasn’t a boring, ordinary person like Haruhiro who tended to ingratiate himself to people, read social cues, compromise, and pick his words so the other party could understand him.
Yume had her own thoughts and feeling, and a unique way of expressing them. That was why, honestly, Haruhiro never sufficiently understood exactly what Yume was feeling or thinking.
He’d thought that was just how she was. That he didn’t really need to understand. It’d probably be fine.
They’d gotten by like this all along. Everyone loved Yume, and they wanted her to stay that same Yume forever. Even if they didn’t say a word, Yume would be Yume, and she’d stay with them as if that were a given. He’d believed that without a shred of doubt. The truth was that Yume probably had worries of her own, and hopes for something, and might even have her own secret ambitions, but he’d never thought about that.
“Sorry, everyone! Yume wants to get stronger! She’s been thinkin’ she wants to get way, way stronger! If she’s with Momohina-chan, it fells like she can make Yume stronger! We’ll meet back up in Alterna, half a year from now! By that time, Yume, she’s gonna get realllll strong!”
Now that she mentioned it, on their first day in Roronea, Yume had been asking Momohina if she could get stronger. He had the feeling Momohina had answered that Yume might be on the right track already, and if she trained her for three, four months, she’d be an honest to goodness kung-fulier or something like that. But, really, she wanted to get stronger? Haruhiro couldn’t say that was stupid, or that she didn’t have to get stronger. This was what Yume had wished for, what she had chosen. It might be coming out of nowhere, but that was a very Yume thing to do.
“Half a year...!” Haruhiro sniffled. He forced a smile. He took a deep breath. “We’ll be waiting! Half a year from now, in Alterna!”
“Yep!” Momohina slapped Yume on the back as hard as she could. “Leave her to meeee! I’ll raise Yumeyume to be a real honest to goodness kung-fulieeeer! Indeeeed!”
“Seriously...?” Kuzaku collapsed to the deck and hung his head.
Shihoru had no words, just waving her hand.
Setora and Kiichi were dumbfounded.
Merry put an arm around Shihoru’s shoulder.
The Mantis-go picked up speed.
Thus was a legend born, and for months and years to come, it would continue to be handed down.




Afterword



How was it? Volume 12 of Grimgar of Fantasy and Ash?
As announced in advance, I think it was cheery, fun, fluffy adventure story.
This doesn’t only apply to Grimgar, but when writing novels, it is common for me to not decide on the minute details of what is going to happen, who is going to do what, and why in advance. It’s only common; there are also times when I plan everything out in detail before I start writing. However, when I do that, it tends not to go well. I can make progress writing, but I can’t get in the mood, and I have to come up with various ways to make writing fun.
You can write novels however you like, and I love them for that freedom, but I have just one rule that I follow.
I want, more than anything, for people to enjoy the novels that I write. If I’m not having fun writing a novel, it’s probably boring, so I try to enjoy writing. I won’t let a manuscript I didn’t enjoy writing out into the world.
If I feel like, This is no fun, I decide to stop writing at that point.
There are times I don’t realize it while writing, or I notice I’ve been lying to myself that it’s fun, or I’m under time pressure and forget to have fun as I write. If I reread it and think, Yeah, I wasn’t having fun here, I immediately throw it out.
When I go, This happens, then this, and it turns out like this, deciding all the details before I write, I’m often unable to have fun.
Still, that said, if I don’t decide on anything, I have no idea where the story is headed, and I can’t even get started writing.
The point at which I’ve planned enough and can figure out the rest is something that I’ve more or less learned from experience.
However, when something occurs to me, I try testing to see whether I should decide more in advance. Can I assemble a more complex story? Or if I reduce the number of things I decide in advance by one or two, what will happen?
For volume 12, I chose the key points of the first half in advance, or the first third of the story, and then left the rest to the flow of things.
What will I do next time? I have a number of ideas. Which will I choose? I’m looking forward to finding out.
To my editor, Harada-san, to Eiri Shirai-san, to the designers of KOMEWORKS among others, to everyone involved in production and sales of this book, and finally to all of you people now holding this book, I offer my heartfelt appreciation and all of my love.
Now, I lay down my pen for today.
I hope we will meet again.
Ao Jyumonji
 

Bonus Short Stories
Scene #5: My Peter-kun

Mimori-san was over one hundred and eighty centimeters tall. She didn’t know exactly how tall she was, but it was definitely taller than that.
Once she’d gone over a hundred and eighty centimeters, she’d started cheating when it came time to measure her height. She would bend her neck and hips, look down, anything to make herself a little shorter. Even when the school doctor scolded her, Mimori-san didn’t care. She would keep quiet, no matter what was said, and the doctor would have no choice but to give up.
That was why Mimori-san didn’t know her own height precisely. She didn’t want to know.
When Mimori-san got into high school, she was invited to join the girls’ basketball team, volleyball team, softball team, track team, judo team, and kendo team. But she didn’t join any of them.
Her peers all said that was a shame.
Mimori-san didn’t say anything back, but she thought it was none of their business.
Soon, there was a chance for her to play basketball in P.E. Mimori-san threw the ball at the hoop from the center line. She only did that because anything else would be too much effort, but it went in for some reason.
Her classmates said it wasn’t too late for her to join the basketball team, and she really should. Mimori-san just kept quiet, resolving never to take a shot again, even in class.
Mimori-san had a dog at home. He was a french poodle, and his name was Peter-kun. Peter-kun was a energetic, cute, friendly dog, but for some reason Mimori-san was the only member of the family he wouldn’t approach.
Whenever Mimori-san called, “Peter-kun!” he’d tuck his tail and run away. And if she tried to pet him, Peter-kun would take off like a ghost was appearing in front of him.
Mimori-san didn’t like scaring Peter-kun, so she usually watched him from a distance.
At school, it was decided that the class would be making a large paper lantern for a float in the school festival.
The parade they would be dragging their paper lantern float around was a regular event that locals looked forward to.
Mimori-san was interested enough to take part in drawing the pictures for it, but she couldn’t voice her opinions, and she stopped halfway through. Working on cutting the wood for the float instead, she repeatedly made mistakes and broke things. Her classmates covered for her, but she felt bad enough about it that she quit.
On a recommendation, she took part in painting the pieces of paper to be pasted on the float. Here she managed to paint not just the paper, but her hands and uniform as well. Well, it would be solved easily enough by washing off, but her classmates made a huge fuss about it and said she should just go home for the day, so she did.
That sort of thing happened a few times, and more and more, Mimori-san was left to just watch.
All the work made a lot of garbage. An idea occurred to Mimori-san, and she decided to carry all the garbage out to the designated spot for trash collection. Checking with her classmates, asking, “Is this trash?” she went around collecting rubbish. Once she had enough, she’d throw it all out at once.
She didn’t want to admit it, but Mimori-san was tall, her body was large, and she was strong, too. She tried to take as much garbage with her as she could, but she misjudged what she could handle, and nearly tripped going down the stairs.
“Oh, Mimori-san. I’ll carry that.” One of the boys in her class was passing by and snatched some of the garbage out of Mimorisan’s arms.
She was spared from falling down the stairs as a result, which made things easier on her, but she was a little upset. Still, she couldn’t explain it, so she kept quiet.
“...What’s wrong?” her sleepy-eyed classmate asked hesitantly.
“Nothing, really,” she replied.
“Oh, okay then,” her classmate replied, before stealing a few more pieces of garbage from her.
“You took more.”
“Oh. Sorry. Should I not have?”
“It’s not that you shouldn’t have. But...”
“But...?”
Without replying, Mimori-san started going down the stairs.
One piece of garbage fell from her arms, and her sleepy-eyed classmate went, “Whoa there,” and caught it.
Mimori-san glared at him.
“Ha ha...” Her classmate let out a forced laugh.
Mimori-san bit her lip a little, hurrying onward. Her sleepyeyed classmate walked a little ahead of her, peeking back at Mimori-san occasionally. He seemed concerned she might drop something again.
They threw out the garbage where they were supposed to.
“I only know your first name,” Mimori-san said.
“Huh? Oh, come to think of it, we’ve never talked before, huh.
My family name’s...”
“Haruhiro.”
“Uh, yeah. That’s my first name...”
“I’m Mimori.”
“...Yeah, I already know?”
“You can call me Mimorin. If you’d like.”
“Sure... Mimorin?”
Her classmate with the lost and sleepy eyes reminded her of Peter-kun somehow.

Scene #6: Your Sin
Moguzo was holding his head and groaning. “Hmmm...”
Ranta in the seat next to him noticed and asked, “Oh? What’s up, Moguzo?”
“Uh, well...” Moguzo fumbled to try to explain.
Ranta went, “Whoa! Hold on!” and looked down to his smartphone before bursting out laughing like an idiot.
“...What are you looking at?”
“Huh? Videos. It’s Pikahyon. Pikahyon. You know what that is, right?”
“Pikaryon?”
“No. Pikahyon, man. What? You don’t know? You’re behind the times, Moguzo. You’ll never be able to run through this dangerous modern society and come out the other side like that. Well, then again, I guess you don’t seem like the running type to begin with.”
“Y-Yeah. I think I’d like to walk nice and slowly...”
“That should be fine, right? I mean, we all go at our own pace. I’m running, though! At top speed! I’m gonna race through at the speed of light!”
“Ranta-kun, sometimes, I dunno, it’s like you’re in a hurry to get through life...”
“Huh? Do I look that way? Me, in a hurry? I’m rushing like crazy?” Ranta seemed bashful. It seemed he’d taken it as a compliment.
“Y-Yeah. Maybe you do...”
“Well, I guess? I’ve always been all about living life in the fast lane. I mean, time stops for no one, right? Like, you’ve gotta do all you can in life. It’s all about living short and well. Oh, come to think of it, Moguzo, man, you were moaning before, right?”
“No, I wasn’t moaning.”
“You weren’t? Of course! It’d be creepy to hear you moaning!
Moaning, in broad daylight, in your own seat in class! ...Hey, wait! Everyone’s acting creeped out! They’re all totally creeped by me!
They’re giving me the ‘What’re you making pervy jokes for, you
Great Perverted Demon Lord!’ look, too! This is your fault, Moguzo!”
“Huh...? M-My fault?”
“Well, whatever, I don’t care.”
“Oh. You don’t...”
“I could keep digging, but I’m not going to strike comedy gold here! So I’m pulling out immediately! Wise decision, right? I make wise decisions. I’m a real wiseman. Get it? I’m Mr. Wise.”
“Y-Yeah. It means you’re smart. Because wise is English for wise...”
“That’s too on the nose! Give it a twist! Come on! Be a tornado!”
You make no sense, Moguzo thought, but for now he just said, “S-Sorry...” and apologized.
Ranta sighed, crossed his arms, and went, “So...?” urging Moguzo to continue. “What were you groaning for? Is it trouble? Is there something troubling you? Is it the usual troubles of a boy
in his youth? A woman, maybe? You fall for someone? Huh?”
“No... it’s nothing like that.”
“It’s not? Boring. You’re a devilishly boring man. Yes, you are. Well, what then? Oh, I’ve got it. Let me guess. It’s that, right? You wanna go to karaoke today.”
“...Wh-Why?”
“And you’re going to sing.” Moguzo was silent.

Chapter end