Chapter 84

“You don’t remember?” Iroha asked, her head popping out from behind Yahiro. She understood the girl was afraid of her and tried not to startle her. “Amnesia…? No, maybe she’s confused, having just woken up. Do you remember your name?” Yahiro asked. The girl closed her eyes and battled to follow her hazy memories before coming up with just one thing: “Ellie.” “…Ellie? No last name?” Iroha asked. Ellie shook her head, still somewhat afraid of Iroha. It didn’t seem like she was lying. “Okay, Ellie. Do you remember anything else?” “……” Ellie tilted her head inquisitively in response to Yahiro’s question. He realized he was being too vague and focused first on what most interested him. “How did you reach this island? Surely not by swimming, right?” Ellie just blinked. Then she raised her hand above her head. She pointed at the blue sky visible from the cabin’s skylight. “From the sky?!” Yahiro exclaimed. Clearly she couldn’t have gotten to this island in the middle of nowhere by normal methods, but dropping out of the sky sure was out of left field. “Like, a plane crash?” “Oh… That would explain why only she arrived here…,” Yahiro muttered to himself after considering Iroha’s uncharacteristically realistic remark. If the plane she was on had to make an emergency landing, perhaps she miraculously ended up unharmed in the sea. Then she happened to wash up on this island. It seemed contrived, but not impossible. “Maybe the plane was looking for the island to begin with.” “That would also explain why she knows our names.” Iroha nodded with satisfaction once she realized that Yahiro had accepted her theory. “But why would she be looking for us…?” “Hey, she wanted to meet you, didn’t she?” “Listen. No more bias stuff, got it?” “Hmm…” Iroha narrowed her eyes as she looked back and forth between the two. It was impossible to get any more information from Ellie’s jumbled memory, though. Thankfully, she only seemed scared, with no intention of causing harm. No need to confine her or tie her up. “All right. How about we have breakfast? You must be hungry, right?” Yahiro smiled at her. Ellie touched her belly on reflex and nodded slightly. Then Iroha’s stomach growled. Of course. Iroha’s stomach is right on cue, Yahiro thought, chuckling. 5 Gunshots reverberated as a burning pain ran across Shigure’s right arm. The bullet had gouged the flesh of his shoulder, dyeing his sleeve red. Yet the pain did not last long. The flesh surrounding the wound grew and healed the wound in the blink of an eye. It felt like watching a video rewind. “…The shooter is hidden in that building.” Shigure glared through the broken window to a building two blocks away and gripped his machete tight. He was in an artificial ruined city in a desert in North America: a training facility for PMC Kyuos. Shigure had been toiling away at combat simulation training for the two months since he reawakened. Almost none of his memories had returned, but his fighting skills had improved. As well as a certain other skill: “Open, Talaria!” Shigure whispered. He felt a revolting floaty sensation in his gut before his field of view instantaneously changed. Two operators armed with assault rifles stood with their backs to him. “…?!” They spun around and cursed the moment they noticed him, but it was too late to counterattack. Shigure hit them with the back of his machete, knocking them into the wall. The enemies’ comrades heard the noise and entered the room. They were about twenty meters from him, and they were armed with guns. He could not possibly reach them. He swung his machete anyway. The blade went beyond the limits of space and swept the reinforcements down. Talaria—his Regalia—had the power to control space. He did not teleport himself; he opened a portal in front of his enemy and launched the attack through it. The exercise continued for a while, with unchanging results. Alone, Shigure defeated a dozen helpless operators in under fifteen minutes. The enemy used real bullets, while he struck only with the dull edge of the machete, or not at all. It was the only way to keep a battle against the Lazarus fair while giving him real training. “Training is over, Shigure.” A beautiful woman in a suit welcomed him back to the waiting room: Shigure’s self-appointed employer, consultant Suria Almiron. “Battle time of thirteen minutes and forty seconds. Two minutes and nine seconds less than the same conditions two days ago. You’ve grown accustomed to the Regalia, I see.” Shigure grimaced at the review. “Uh-huh. I still feel weird, to be honest.” He knew he was getting stronger, but he still couldn’t feel the power as his own. He had no idea who he was or what he was fighting for. “Also, my healing was slower this time, wasn’t it? I don’t know what to do about the weapons’ corrosion, either… It’s inconvenient that it becomes unusable after only one battle.” “I understand. I’ve already taken action to solve the issue.” “How?” “First, take this.” Suria glanced at the subordinates behind her. Two women lab workers were carrying a metal box secured with multiple locks. It wasn’t very tall or wide, but it was nearly three meters long. The researchers unlocked the case and opened it, revealing a terribly long iron sword with nearly no curvature. An ancient straight sword. “A…sword? It reminds me of a katana, but is it one?” “People prefer calling it a sword, but to be precise, it is a type of katana. It is the Kotofutsu-no-Mitama. A divine sword passed down in the Heavenly Imperial House. A Relict Regalia.” “Relict… Regalia…” Suria silently urged him to take it. Naturally, it was heavy, as the iron blade by itself was over two meters long. But a stronger, odd aura came from its hilt. “Guh…” Shigure groaned at the feeling flowing into the palms of his hands. It didn’t feel good, but he could tell his body was powering up. Like famished beasts, every one of his cells absorbed the dragon aura that remained in the sword. “Your bodily regeneration was withering due to the lack of dragon factor. This Relict Regalia, a crystallization of it, should help. And the divine sword will not corrode at the touch of your power.” Suria smiled at the look of surprise on Shigure’s face. “So this is the Relict Regalia… Yes, I feel that with this, I’ll be able to use Talaria without inhibition.” Shigure gave the sword a swing. The heavy Kotofutsu-no-Mitama couldn’t possibly be easy for most people to handle, yet it felt at home in Shigure’s hand. Its size was too long for close combat, and should be a good match for his space-manipulation ability. “But should I be taking the Heavenly Imperial House’s Relict Regalia? Isn’t this a national treasure? What do you plan on having me do with all this training?” “Kyuos is preparing to put into action a small-scale plan in Japan soon,” Suria replied. “Japan…?” Shigure was confused by the location; he had heard it was his homeland, but without his memories, it felt as foreign as any other place. “You will take part in the plan. Your Regalia will be indispensable.” Shigure nodded. Kyuos was investing its precious human resources into training him because they expected results out of his Lazarus powers. He could not refuse to cooperate. “But can we do combat in Japan when it’s still under reconstruction?” “Don’t worry. We will be up against a fellow private military company. Although nowadays they act as art dealers—a gallery—on the surface.” “A gallery…?” Shigure’s brow furrowed. Art dealership sure was a bizarre facade for a private military company. Suria nodded with a serious look on her face. For a moment, something flashed behind her emotionless eyes. The gleam of enmity—of resentment. “Yes. Our enemy is arms dealer Galerie Berith’s Japanese branch. Our ultimate goal is to take the power of the Ouroboros they monopolize.” 6 Sumika and the rest arrived safely in Japan after a thirteen-hour flight. The New Haneda Airport they arrived at had opened only a few weeks before. It was a symbol of Japan’s revival, a re-creation of the old Haneda Airport that had been devastated during the J-nocide. It was built at top speed as part of international relations strategy. Naturally, though, the bustle surrounding the building was far from what it had been during the original airport’s heyday. Many parts of the terminal were still under construction, too. Yet this incompleteness conveyed the enthusiasm in trying to rebuild Japan. There was a sincerity to it that expressed they had nothing to lose anymore. “It’s more proper than I thought. It looked more like a burned field when I came here six months ago.” Sumika sighed with admiration as she saw the view from the windows in the lobby. Beautiful, wide roads. A cluster of new buildings. The New Haneda Airport truly was a modern marvel worthy of being the entrance to the new Japan. “Foreign capital invested a lot of funds into it. Those investors abroad sure have a good nose. I heard our Noah’s raking it in with construction and material transport, too,” Zen explained. Sumika shot him a glare. “Could you please not bring up capital talk when I’m feeling inspired?” “I simply stated the facts.” Zen remained serious. “And no matter how it looks here, it doesn’t mean the problem of public security has been solved. Keep your luggage close and watch out for pickpockets. Don’t let your valuables out of your sight.” “Chill out, please. Don’t you get tired of being so on edge?” Sumika sighed and looked at Honoka beside her. “Right?” Honoka looked up at her with a bold smile. “Public insecurity means a plethora of cases. Which means it’s our time to shine.” “What?” “Honoka’s dream is to be a detective.” Kiri smiled. Honoka pouted. “It’s not a dream—it’s fate. And I won’t be any regular ol’ detective. I’m gonna be a Master Detective. It is my duty and destiny to help people trapped in hard-to-crack cases.” “A detective, huh… It’s really fitting, y’know? You really are Iroha’s sister.” Sumika smiled brightly at her. The way she asserted she would be a Master Detective reminded her of how Iroha proclaimed she was a famous streamer. Sumika expected Honoka to get mad thinking Sumika was making fun of her, but Honoka’s reaction surprised her. While her expression showed worry, her eyes lit up. “Really? You really think so?” “Yeah. You talk just like her. I’m sure she would be glad to see you now. Don’t you think, Zen?” “Indeed. After all, she and Yahiro Narusawa gave their lives to protect this world. We have a duty to make it a better place, and trying to help people in need is a good mindset.” “No, I’m not talking about anything that grandiose… I just mean she reminds me of Iroha.” Sumika shook her head and sighed. Honoka giggled before looking out into the horizon with a terribly mature expression unbefitting of a girl who had just entered middle school. “Iroha… I wanna see her…” “Huh? Wait, you haven’t? Not once?” Sumika asked with surprise. Iroha Mamana, the seven kids’ big sister, in reality their adoptive mother, had disappeared three years earlier. She and Yahiro Narusawa headed to the Afterlife to save the world from collapse. She became the sacrificial medium to give birth to the new Ouroboros and vanished from the world—or so they thought. “But she’s always streaming, isn’t she?” “She just streams; we don’t meet her. Not even the twins can track where the streams come from.” “S-seriously?” “Considering what happened, she might as well be streaming from the Afterlife…,” Zen muttered to himself with a frown. “She is this world’s goddess, after all. But is that possible…?” Sumika shook her head in confusion. Even after Iroha disappeared into the Afterlife, somehow, she kept streaming. It was just recently that her account popped back up, but she had been posting almost daily. She did game playthroughs, just chatting with viewers, things so peaceful and ordinary that one wouldn’t think she was the dragon medium who had saved the world. The creator with the power to freely mold the world to her whim was livestreaming from the Afterlife. It was definitely something Iroha would do, but was that all right? “By the way, I have a question,” Kyouta said as the mood turned pensive. Honoka pursed her lips at the carefree sound of his voice. “What?” “So you were just talking about how Japan isn’t very safe, yeah?” The rest looked at the baggage claim area they were headed toward. The conveyor belt had just begun moving and releasing the flight’s luggage. The other travelers gathered around, ready to claim their bags. Among them was a strange group. A party of big men who looked like soldiers. They wore aircraft engineer uniforms, but the real workers wouldn’t normally be in this part of the airport. “Isn’t that Zen’s suitcase those guys over there are taking?” “What…?” Zen frowned and looked more carefully at them. The men were holding and checking the sturdy metal case he had brought to transport the art piece he handed to airport staff in Germany. “Zen! Those aren’t airport workers!” Sumika yelled as she pointed at them. That was not a good choice. The men heard her and noticed Zen approaching. “Wait, Zen! They aren’t regular thieves!” Honoka warned, her voice shrill. The men moved into formation to intercept Zen. Two of them remained to stop him while the other two ran off with the case. They were well trained and in sync, like army special forces. “Kyouta! Kiri!” Honoka shouted. The trio’s eyes met, and the boys dashed forward. They knew what Honoka meant with just a look. The siblings were in sync, too. The baggage claim was crowded with travelers. The fugitives struggled to weave their way through the crowd due to the length of Zen’s case. Meanwhile, Kyouta and Kiri rushed toward the luggage trolleys. They pushed the row of carts and crashed it into the exit, barricading the men’s escape route. The men yelled upon noticing the obstruction, but by then, the boys had already distanced themselves. They had spent their childhood among the dangers of the 23 Wards; they were alert. Airport security took notice of the commotion and ran to baggage claim. Kyouta and Kiri only needed to buy time. They didn’t have to fight. However, fiery Sumika did not agree with the passive plan. “Catch them now, Zen!” She spun her handbag as she ran to his aid, and he scowled at the sight of it. “Don’t! You stay back!” “Sumika, no!” Honoka screamed from behind. The men blocking Zen’s way drew weapons. Black bundles of crude metal glowed in their hands—large automatic pistols. “Guns?! No way!” Startled, Sumika came to a halt. The men set their sights, not on Zen, but on Sumika behind him. In that moment, Sumika understood. They knew Zen was a Lazarus. They knew how to stop him. They took aim and pulled the trigger. Sumika instinctively covered her belly. “No!” Honoka jumped in front of her. She extended her small arms, trying to cover the young woman as much as possible. The men fired without a moment’s hesitation. Dazzling lights burst from the barrels as a barrage of bullets rained down on them. Yet the bullets did not reach their target. A translucent wall of ice blocked the bullets before their eyes. A wall instantaneously created from the humidity in the air. Acedia’s power. Zen’s Regalia. Zen glared at the men in the same moment their screams echoed. Their faces drained of color as their skin frosted over. Zen’s burst of emotion instantly froze the men’s blood. However, that was the only thing he could do. Kyouta and Kiri’s blockade hadn’t worked, as the pair who stole the luggage escaped while the guns distracted everyone. Zen couldn’t get the case back. He let out a soft sigh and released the ice walls. He walked up to Sumika and held her tight without a shred of embarrassment. “Thank goodness you’re okay… Sumika…” “Whoa… Zen, wait. Everyone’s looking…!” Sumika struggled, red in the face. Everyone’s attention was already on them due to the gunfight. She couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. “I owe you my thanks for covering Sumika.” Zen turned to Honoka and bowed. “No, you saved me.” Honoka chuckled and shrugged while looking at the ice shards by their feet. Zen nodded before looking at the frozen men. “It’s been three years since I used the Regalia.” “Yeah…,” Sumika said. Zen had no need to use his powers after the Moujuu disappeared from the world when Yahiro and Iroha closed the Ploutonion. This event proved that he could still use it. Or perhaps the Regalia returned to him when he saw Sumika in danger. Still, neither of them intended to change the world with the dragon’s power. The problem at hand was the men before them. They knew Zen was a Lazarus, and they were here to steal his luggage. “What was in that case again?” Sumika asked. “My sword. I couldn’t take it on the plane, after all. I had to check it,” Zen answered. Zen’s Western sword was legally considered an art piece. He could take it on a flight without issue if he properly wrapped it and went through the necessary procedures. “Why were they after that trinket…?” Sumika cocked her head. “It’s not a trinket. Although…it’s not valuable, either,” Zen said with a grunt. His sword was only a tool to control his Regalia; it had nearly no power as a weapon or value as an art piece. And even without it, he could still use his powers. He only brought it to Japan for peace of mind. He probably wouldn’t have even remembered it if it weren’t for Galerie Berith’s intel about Moujuu sightings in Mexico. Yet his sword had been stolen. And not by petty thieves—by an armed group of soldiers. “So they took the favorite sword of the water dragon’s Lazarus. Interesting,” Master Detective Honoka muttered with a fire in her eyes. Sumika chuckled at how similar to Iroha the young girl really was; she had almost been killed just now, and she didn’t care at all.