kscans

Chapter 594 - Indigo is Like the Sea

The Sword Saint's theory of Shukuchi.

In a virtual world where such mysterious 'powers' actually exist, it could be called a 'beautiful art' that is logically sound, aside from its sky-high technical difficulty.

The inner power and the outer power, two principles that should never intersect. Kesshiki Ittoryu, which lies beyond the point where that boundary is shortened and removed, is the ultimate orthodox and kingly path, acknowledged by the [Sword Queen] herself as 'the technical pinnacle of a player in the virtual world.'

—In contrast, my Shifu Ittoryu.

An art that leans heavily toward the 'Outer Force' may not be 'evil,' but it is undoubtedly a distorted technique that deviates greatly from the orthodox path. The price for that is a dead avatar that won't move properly.

I remember with nostalgia the past struggles when I unconsciously lost sight of my 'Inner Force' output.

This is different from that, but the current situation is that the insane operational load of Shifu Ittoryu's 'Outer Force' has temporarily messed up the output lines of both.

Hence, my avatar is dead. Dragging my body, which responded poorly no matter which line I connected to, I went to visit the sender of the message I had received earlier—

"Hey, you're the one who called me. What's with that look?"

After knocking, I opened the door, and the moment we met, my exclusive artisan froze with a textbook-perfect, dumbfounded expression. I laughed at her, and for some reason, she took a small, deep breath, looking flustered.

"...Hey, I didn't call you, I just sent a message asking 'How are you doing?'... Besides, I didn't think you'd be able to come! What about the selection match?"

Normally, the details of the selection match are forbidden to be discussed with anyone outside the Eastern Faction.

It's an unwritten rule left to each individual's conscience, but that's precisely why one must uphold it as long as they trust their own conscience... but it's a different story for an artisan from the Western Faction.

Among the four factions, Vestol is the only one that has sworn 'non-aggression' and maintains a neutral stance. And if it's someone from there who is also a close friend and tight-lipped, then letting things 'slip' is tacitly approved.

Therefore,

"I lost. So, my job is done for now."

I gave a concise answer, and Nia let out a small "Eh?" and froze again.

Pure surprise. The fact that her first reaction to my 'loss' was that emotion made me feel ticklish and embarrassed—...ah, standing is still a bit tough.

"Can I borrow your sofa? I pushed myself a little too hard and I'm a bit wobbly—whoa, hey, I'm not that seriously injured, you know. I appreciate it, though."

The moment I played up my exhaustion, Nia flew over at a speed that only her civilian-level agility stat would allow and supported my body.

Her momentum was so great that it looked less like she was supporting me and more like she was 'apprehending' me... but her expression conveyed her feelings perfectly, so I had no complaints.

None, but.

"I told you, I'm fine. You don't need to treat me like a seriously injured patient you're carefully laying in bed—...no, I get it. You just wanted an excuse to hug me, didn't you?"

"Ah, you caught me?"

"And here you were, putting on such a demure and worried face. Are you an actress?"

This was, nine times out of ten, the handiwork of my best friend, Mitsueda-san. Nia has been picking up all sorts of strange wisdom and techniques lately, and my days are filled with dread—

"...Was your opponent [Peerless]?"

Next to me, as I sank into the cushions, Nia, who had perched on the armrest of the sofa, changed her expression again and muttered hesitantly. This time, it probably wasn't an act...

"What's the basis for your deduction?"

"Among the Eastern rankers participating in the selection match, the only one who could win against you in a straight one-on-one fight... well, I thought it would probably be him."

She was trying her best to understand a man's heart, even if she couldn't see it.

To her gentle face, which was honestly trying to show me consideration, I returned an honest smile.

"You're underestimating my senpais from our faction. Tetra isn't a direct combat type, but both Hina-san and Gen-san are seriously strong."

"So, you can't beat them?"

"I can. My win rate is about eighty percent and forty percent, respectively."

"I don't know whether to be shocked that Hina-chan has a twenty percent chance of winning against you in a straight fight, or impressed that [Twin Fists] has a sixty percent chance."

"By the way, against Goldow, under certain conditions, I have a one hundred percent chance of losing."

In a one-on-one, it's about fifty-fifty, though. As an aside, I declared, "Against my master, it's basically a hundred percent," one part joke and nine parts truth, and Nia let out a small laugh...

"Um, hey."

"Yeah?"

As far as I could tell, Nia didn't have any particular reason for being here either.

And I, who had said I had an errand and came here, hadn't come for any specific purpose either.

It was almost lunchtime. I would log out, eat lunch, and then go watch the afternoon matches with my senpais as promised... just passing the time until then.

So, I had thought.

"...I'm really weak against that look on your face. Did you know?"

A troubled, yet incredibly gentle, gaze and tone.

I tilted my head at the incomprehensible words she gave me along with it... and as I tilted my head, I vaguely considered what kind of expression I was making.

"...,...—"

I tried to say something, but for some reason, no words came out. At that moment.

Finally, I was able to admit—that I wasn't okay at all.

"...That kind of thing between guys. I don't really get it, but."

As my head was pulled, and I was restrained against her stomach, where she had once body-pressed me... unrelated to my physical discomfort, I couldn't put up any real resistance.

"I'm starting to understand you, at least, a little bit."

I didn't even feel like trying to escape from her soft hand gently combing through my hair.

"So...—don't make that face like a lost puppy trying so desperately to act tough. You can just let it all out. I'll pretend I don't see, okay?"

"...Who are you calling 'big sister'?"

As I muttered a last-ditch, losing retort, I relaxed and sank into the indigo.

...Ah, that's right. I'll admit it.

I had unconsciously, of my own volition, sought out this place.

To her, the one who, more than anyone, tells me to "show me your cool side," yet, more than anyone, loves to expose my uncool side. The doting, meddlesome girl.

I had come here of my own free will.

"...Just so you know."

"Mhm, mhm."

"...I'm not going to cry or anything."

"Ehh, I wouldn't mind if you did, you know."

"Don't get cocky."

"Ahaha. When you try to act tough right now, you just look cute."

"You little..."

Without realizing it, and quite out of character for me.

I had been so, so frustrated, and deep down, I had been completely dejected.