The sound of a cart being carried by Filolial interrupted the tranquil morning.
Well, it was tranquil for Noritoshi. He had found a quiet corner of the Reichnott estate's upper balcony, a cup of tea growing cold beside him. Below, the training fields stretched out in the morning light, and the people down there were causing quite the ruckus.
He watched Ren and Motoyasu duel.
It was an uneven match on paper. Motoyasu was an amateur—anyone could see that. His footwork was too wide, his grip too tight, his recovery too slow. But he had instinct. Real instinct, one painfully obvious that it's innate and couldn't be taught.
He kept Ren at the edge of his spear's range, punishing every attempt to close the distance, forcing the Sword Hero to dance at the very limit of his reach.
Ren, wielding a sword against a spear, had the disadvantage by nature. His blade couldn't reach without stepping into the kill zone. His speed meant nothing if he couldn't get close enough to use it. And yet—his combat skill made up for the gap. He moved like water around stone, always testing, probing and looking for cracks in Motoyasu's defense.
Noritoshi watched Ren's legs tense. A lunge. He was preparing to end the fight in one blow.
Motoyasu's weight shifted in response. His spear lowered, just slightly, his body coiling to receive the charge and counter it in a single motion.
Noritoshi turned away from the window.
He didn't need to see the outcome. Win or lose, they would both be better for it.
He stepped out of the mansion just as the cart rolled through the gates. The Filolial that pulled it was slower than the one Motoyasu had arrived with, its feathers dusty, its gait tired. Bara held the reins, his massive frame hunched forward, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. In the back, Rhea sat guard, her twin blades within easy reach, her gaze sweeping the estate walls with vigilance. She really couldn't relax in unfamiliar territory, huh? It's not like he couldn't say anything. He also couldn't relax in places he's unfamiliar with.
Between them, Naofumi slept.
His body was curled across the bench, his head pillowed on his arms, the Shield turned into a pillow for comfort. His clothes were stained with dirt and what might have been sap.
Bara pulled the cart to a stop. He looked at Noritoshi, then back at the sleeping Hero beside him.
"He earned that." The beastman's voice was rough. "Turned almost the whole Slora green, I think. Maybe all of it. Hard to tell after a while. We just kept going."
Noritoshi moved closer, studying Naofumi's face. The dark circles were deeper than before. His face slack with exhaustion so deep it looked like he drowned.
"The village?" Noritoshi asked quietly.
Bara nodded slowly. "The fields are growing. People are already eating from it if you're asking. The lord of Slora knelt before him after that. When Naofumi told him what he'd done…" He shook his head. "The old man knelt. Called him a savior. Naofumi told him to stand up and said he was just a guy with a shield who'd gotten lucky."
Noritoshi's lips curved, just slightly.
"That sounds like him."
Rhea spoke from the back of the cart, her voice soft. "He rarely slept. At most, he slept 2, maybe 3 hours a day." She looked at the estate walls, the guards watching from the gates, the training fields where Motoyasu and Ren were still dueling. "He wanted to be ready for whatever might come next."
Noritoshi reached out, touched Naofumi's shoulder. The Shield Hero didn't stir.
"Let him rest," he said. "We'll wake him when we need him."
Bara climbed down from the cart, his joints cracking. Rhea followed, moving to Naofumi's side, adjusting the blanket that had slipped from his shoulders. Together, they lifted him from the cart—Bara taking his weight, Rhea guiding his head, both of them moving with careful tenderness as if Naofumi is something incredibly precious.
Noritoshi agreed with that thought. Naofumi is precious. And he watched as they carried him toward the mansion, the guards stepped aside and helped clear the way from the servants while also giving guide to both of them.
In the training fields, the clash of blades had stopped. He heard Motoyasu's voice, bright and surprised—"He's here!"—and then footsteps, running.
Ren appeared first, his sword still in his hand, his hair wild, his face unreadable. He saw Naofumi in Bara's arms and stopped. His expression softened, just for a moment.
Motoyasu caught up a second later, his spear clutched tightly, his chest heaving. He opened his mouth—to shout, to cheer, to say something that would break the quiet—and then he saw Naofumi's face.
He closed his mouth.
"Later," Ren said quietly. "Let him rest. Then we can talk with him."
He walked away from the field, back toward the mansion where Naofumi was being carried inside. Ren fell into step beside him, his sword sheathed, his breathing still evening out from the fight and Motoyasu followed suit.
Motoyasu stopped. "What's wrong?"
"...You're surprisingly perceptive."
Motoyasu flashed him a cheeky smile, "Heh, people do praise me for my animalistic instinct."
"What animal? A monkey?" Ren offered from the side.
"Huh?! What's up with you? You picking a fight with me?!"
Noritoshi felt his face lightening up a little. He spent these past few days holing up, gathering all kinds of information this world has and it brought a gloomy air around him. Especially information about the heroes before him. His supposed predecessor.
He looked up at the pale cloudless sky that offered no answer and let out a light sigh. "Thank you. Ren, Motoyasu. I feel a little better."
Motoyasu grinned and said, "No problemo! But seriously, what's wrong?"
Noritoshi didn't answer immediately.
"It's not looking too hopeful," he said finally. His voice was quiet. "About returning home."
Motoyasu fell silent at his words. The air turned still.
"Oh." The sound from Motoyasu was small like he didn't mean to let it out.
"Yeah." Noritoshi's jaw tightened. "Every legend and every tale that I've heard. Every account of the Cardinal Heroes that Welst and Welt could find—they always end the same way. The Heroes stayed. They lived out their lives in this world. Happily ever after, the stories say."
He paused.
"But what if the reason they stayed is because they couldn't leave? What if there was no way back, and the legends just... dressed it up? Made it a choice when it was never a choice at all?"
He heard Ren's steady voice from behind. "You've been thinking about this for a while now. No... you've been thinking about this from the start."
Noritoshi didn't deny it. "My brother..." His voice caught. He stopped, breathed, continued. "My whole family must be worried sick about me. I was supposed to come back. I promised I would come back and never use my Jujutsu ever again! And now—"
He couldn't finish. His hands were steady—they were always steady—but he could feel them clenching together with his jaw and his eyes were pointed somewhere far away, fixed to a point in the distance that is simply incomprehensible.
"Noritoshi…"
Motoyasu's hand found his shoulder. Then another hand landed on his other shoulder—Ren, stepping forward, his gaze firm in a way that was different from when they first arrived here.
Could they see it? The underlying fear beneath his eyes? The anxiety coiling around his body? People often said his neutral face was like an average person's poker face. But right now, he felt stripped bare.
"We don't know yet." Motoyasu's voice was rough, but it didn't shake. "We don't know if there's a way back. The stories—they're just stories. They don't know what we can do. They didn't have us."
Noritoshi's lips curved, just barely. "That's very optimistic."
"We have to be, don't we? Have you ever seen a hero that isn't optimistic?" Motoyasu paused. "Don't answer with me."
Noritoshi closed his mouth.
Motoyasu squeezed his shoulder, then let go. "And you haven't lost your family. Not yet. We'll figure it out and we'll find a way back. All of us. Together."
Noritoshi was quiet for a long moment. Then he exhaled, and some of the tension bled from his shoulders.
"Together," he echoed.
Ren spoke from beside them. "You've been off your games these past couple of days. And to think it's because of this."
"Are you not the one who said we should focus on what's in front of us? The children and the people unjustly enslaved? Rabiel. Are you not the one who said we should focus on the people we could save first?" His voice was softer than usual. "The rest—we'll figure out. When the time comes. When we've earned the right to think about going home."
Noritoshi let out a breath. "...You're right. I've been... anxious. More so than usual."
"It's only normal." Ren's voice was quiet. "Tomorrow's the day, after all."
Motoyasu's head snapped up. "Wait, already?! I haven't memorized my script yet!"
Noritoshi felt his lips twitch. "Honestly, there's no need to bother with that. Just focus on improvising. You're better at it than you think."
Motoyasu looked momentarily reassured, then suspicious. "That's not a compliment, is it?"
"It is what it is."
He let the moment settle for a while. Then he asked the question that had been pressing at the back of his mind since the conversation began.
"Do you want to go home? Both of you."
The familiar silence came back in full force.
Motoyasu shifted. His hand went to the back of his neck, a gesture Noritoshi had come to recognize as discomfort. "I... I'm not sure. I mean, yes, eventually, probably. But..." He trailed off.
"You don't have to answer," Noritoshi said quietly. "If it makes you uncomfortable."
Motoyasu shook his head. "It's not that. It's just..." He looked out at the training fields, where their practice dummies still stood, where the morning light was starting to turn gold. "I'm hesitant to go back. I don't know what's waiting for me there. I don't know if I want to know. But I'm not decided. I'm not..." He let out a breath. "I'm not ready to think about it yet."
Noritoshi nodded. He understood that.
He turned to Ren.
Ren's face was unreadable—more than usual, even. His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture rigid. He looked like a man standing at the edge of something he didn't want to fall into.
"I... I'm hesitant," he said finally. "Whether I should share this." His voice was low. "I feel... guilty."
Motoyasu blinked. "Guilty? Did you commit a crime or something? There's no way a bean sprout like you is a criminal, right?"
Ren didn't laugh. "No, it's not that."
He was quiet for a moment, gathering himself. Noritoshi waited.
"It's just..." Ren's voice was barely audible. "I feel guilty. For being friends with my best friend in my world."
Motoyasu's brow furrowed. "...Huh? I don't think I understand."
Ren's jaw tightened. "Yeah. No way a popular guy like you would understand."
The words were sharp, but not aimed. They feel like they were aimed at himself.
Noritoshi stepped forward. "Ren. You don't have to force yourself to talk if you don't want to."
Ren shook his head. "It's not that. I want to. It's just..." He let out a breath. "My problem is probably significantly more insignificant than the problems you face every day, Noritoshi. Than any of you face."
Noritoshi met his eyes. "Suffering is subjective. Just because a problem would be insignificant to me doesn't mean it has no meaning to you." His voice was firm, but gentle. "Don't bring yourself down, Ren."
Ren stared at him for a long moment. Then something in his expression shifted—not quite softening, but...more approachable.
He was quiet for a moment, gathering himself. Noritoshi waited.
"I was different," Ren said slowly. "When I was young. From the other kids. They thought I was strange. Scary. A loner. So I turned to VR. It was easier and safer. No one looked at me like I was something to avoid."
He paused, his hands tightening behind his back.
"In middle school, I met someone. She was... friendly. To me. When no one else was. She didn't care what people said about me. She just... talked to me. Like I was normal."
His voice softened, just slightly. "We became friends. Best friends. I thought—I thought maybe things were different. Maybe I could be normal. Have a normal life."
Noritoshi watched him. Watched the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands clenched.
"But then people started talking about her. The way they'd talked about me. Her reputation—" His voice cracked. "It was ruined. Because she was friends with me. Because she was seen with me. Because I was the scary loner thug and she was the girl who didn't know any better."
The air was very still.
"So I put distance between us." Ren's voice was flat now. Empty. "I stopped talking to her. Stopped sitting with her. Stopped being her friend. I thought—I thought if I wasn't there, people would forget. They'd leave her alone. She could go back to having a normal life. Without me dragging her down."
He looked at his hands.
"And now I'm here. And I don't know if I'll ever see her again. And I don't know if she'd even want to see me. After what I did. After I left." His voice was barely a whisper. "I feel guilty. For being her friend. For making her life worse just by being in it. For not being strong enough to stay."
The silence stretched. Motoyasu looked like he wanted to say something but didn't know what.
Noritoshi stepped forward.
"Ren."
Ren looked up.
"You said this ages ago." Noritoshi's voice was quiet, but it carried. "In the antechamber. You told us how you died."
Ren's brow furrowed. "What does that have to do with—"
"You saved your friend." Noritoshi cut him off. "The knife was meant for her. You put yourself between them. You took it." He held Ren's gaze. "That's proof enough that you're a real friend. That you were always a real friend."
Ren's lips parted. No sound came out.
"People do things when they're young," Noritoshi continued. "They make choices out of fear. Out of confusion. Out of thinking they're protecting someone when really they're just protecting themselves." His voice softened. "But you didn't leave her. You ran toward her. When it truly mattered, you were there, saving her from what is certain to be death."
He stepped closer.
"She will recognize that. When you see her again—and you will see her again—she will know that the boy who walked away was scared. But the boy who took a knife for her? That was you. That was always the real you."
Ren stared at him. His eyes were bright, his face open in a way Noritoshi had never seen before.
"You think so?" His voice was small.
"I know so." Noritoshi's voice was firm. "A person who runs away isn't the same as a person who gives up. You ran because you thought it would protect her. You didn't give up. You never gave up."
He paused.
"You're still here. You're still fighting. You're still trying to be someone worthy of the people who believed in you." He let out a breath. "Isn't that proof enough? You have no valid reason to feel any guilt over this."
Motoyasu slapped Ren's back while saying, "C'mon, aren't you supposed to be the young prodigy of the group?" He took a strange pose that he definitely thought as wise. "Do not be defeated by the past and overcome it, young one."
Ren was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, his shoulders relaxed. The rigid line of his back softened. His hands unclasped, fell to his sides.
"I don't want to get lectured by you of all people. And don't you realize just how ironic to hear that coming from you?"
"You damn brat, and here I was doing everything I can to cheer you up, and yet you—
"Thank you." Ren swallowed. "Noritoshi, Motoyasu. Both of your effort are appreciated."
Noritoshi nodded. "One thing at a time," he said. "Rabiel first. Then Valerius. Then..." He looked at Motoyasu, then back at Ren. "Then we figure out the rest. Together."
Motoyasu grinned—real this time, warm. "Together. See? I told you we'd figure it out. Heroes always do."
Ren's smiled, one that's just barely visible. "Heroes always do," he echoed.
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This one is a lot shorter than usual, I'm sorry for that. But the last few chapters of Volume 1 is coming soon and so is the arts. So stay tuned!