Chapter 182 - From Student to Teacher
"—So, about what happened after the skill manifested…"
"Okay, stop."
He was probably trying to explain his own position regarding this whole affair.
I had kept silent ever since Irori started telling his story, but I had to stop the guy from continuing to recount his heavy past in such an almost too lighthearted tone.
"What? I'm not done yet."
"Don't 'what' me. You… you told me to just listen casually because it was 'no big deal,' and then you drop this…"
What part of that was 'no big deal'? Huh?
"…Is your left hand still bad?"
I only played sports in middle school, but even I understand what it means for an athlete to ruin their body.
If he weren't speaking in that dazed tone, I probably would have hesitated to ask so directly. But Irori just laughed, playfully waving the left hand of his avatar—a virtual body untouched by injury.
"My rehab went well. I never got most of my grip strength back, but I recovered enough that it doesn't cause any problems in my daily life."
"…I see."
I think that's a good thing. But I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud.
"Why are you looking so down? I'm not finished yet, and I told you at the start that it wasn't a negative story."
"If this isn't negative, then how is your brain even wired…?"
"So, anyway… I bowed my head to my teacher that very day and asked to stop attending the dojo."
"Continuing on so matter-of-factly after that—I'm taking it as a hostile act against my mental health, you know?"
I shot him a glare, but Irori just laughed it off, clearly having no intention of stopping. He opened the mouth that had been steadily dumping stress into my stomach and gave me a look that was almost mocking.
"I don't know why you're making a face like your stomach hurts, but were you even listening to me from the start?"
"I'm making this face because I was listening, you know?"
"Then you must be lacking in reading comprehension."
What'd you say, you jerk? I'll have you know I'm a liberal arts university student—
"—I'm the kind of guy who ends the story with, I felt a little sad that the path of kendo I'd dedicated myself to since childhood was closed off to me."
"Huh…?"
"I can't master the Sword Saint's techniques? The system told me I'm incompatible? So what? You really think something like that would be enough to make me give up?"
—…
"Seriously…?"
What is this guy, a mental monster?
"No, come on, that's…"
"Well, it'd be a lie to say I wasn't frustrated. But just because I can't follow in her footsteps doesn't mean it's been decided that I can't catch up to her."
The smile he let slip was so utterly natural… I could tell that every word coming out of Irori's mouth was what he truly felt.
"If one path is closed, all you have to do is find another and run down it. It's nothing to just repeat what I learned when I came here to this virtual world."
"…"
…Sigh.
Haaaaahhh… What is with this guy?
—Dude, that's just too cool.
"My teacher's… the [Sword Saint]'s path wasn't a good fit for me. So I'll forge my own sword on a different path—and I'll stand beside the woman I fell for at first sight."
Leaving me speechless and dumbfounded, the [Sword Protector] gazed into the distance and finished his thought.
"I have a body that will never break again, no matter what. If I just keep running without stopping… I'll reach her someday."
…Seriously, what was I supposed to say?
No matter what words I chose, I couldn't imagine them being a fitting response. Seeing me quiet, unable to think of anything, Irori turned back and broke the atmosphere with a light smile.
"When I said 'fell at first sight,' I meant as a swordsman. It's not like that, so don't go teasing me, junior?"
"…Hah, who's teasing who…"
I'd been sunk, swallowed, and set adrift—my emotions had been thoroughly scrambled, and all I could manage was a drained, limp reply.
"…So? What was with that weird look you were giving me?"
That was the 'something on his mind' I'd asked about. I still hadn't gotten an answer, so I glanced at him sideways.
"'Expectation.' And… well, 'gratitude.'"
"Expectation and gratitude…?"
The answer Irori gave so casually was the complete opposite of what I had imagined.
"You thought I, the 'student,' was jealous of you, the 'disciple,' didn't you? Hah, don't underestimate me."
"Well, I mean, uh…"
Anyone would think that in this situation, right…?
Back to his usual self, Irori nudged me as I averted my gaze, having hit the nail on the head. The fact that he aimed squarely for my solar plexus was probably a sign of his dissatisfaction.
"I have no regrets about leaving my teacher's side. But I did feel indebted. All I ever did was receive; in the end, I was never able to give anything back to her."
Just as he said, he likely had no regrets. And as he spoke of his debt, his usual refreshing smile seemed like it wouldn't falter again.
"I told you I welcomed you, didn't I? I had 'expectations' for you. I thought that you, who could use the 'Outer Force' without even knowing it, might just be able to master her techniques."
"…You noticed, back during the selection match?"
"Of course. Whose student do you think I am?"
He said he was expecting it—this guy, who looked straight ahead just like someone else I knew, must have been carrying a weight far greater than his words suggested.
I could guess as much from how he'd been so proactive in approaching me since our match, even while trading banter.
And it wasn't so much for my sake, but rather—
"You magnificently lived up to my expectations, Haru."
For her, the one he likely revered more than anyone.
A way of paying her back—the 'student' delivering a 'disciple' to the 'teacher.'
"…Not satisfied with just the match, now I'm dancing in the palm of your hand again, huh?"
"What, you got a problem with that? I'm not apologizing this time."
Teasing me like that… get bent, you jerk.
"How could I have a problem with it…? Thanks, senpai."
"Right back at you. I'm glad you came to this world, junior."
He offered his hand, an invitation for a handshake we'd shared several times before.
But this time, it carried a weight that made me hesitate to accept so easily. When I did, his 'left hand' gripped mine firmly, and it was, indeed, heavy.
"Take care of our teacher for me. Let her achieve her dream, to its fullest."
With a wry smile, I felt the weight of expectations from two people—my master and him—settle on my shoulders. I couldn't help but squeeze his hand back, hard.