Akatsuki Translations

New Moon Fortress, located at the southernmost point of the country of Murakumo’s strongholds in the Abyss, served as a lid to seal off what lay beyond.

Compared to Coral’s Uzumi Castle which faced it from across the border, New Moon Fortress’s function as a defensive stronghold was minimal. Despite being one of the most important strongholds, it was unduly underestimated and operated on a shoestring budget.

A silky drizzle poured down from the dull, damp sky.

From deep within the gray forest of the Abyss, the eerie howls of the rabidaemons rose, and the Alabaster Road, tinged with moisture, painted the colorless world with a pale streak of light.

Enjoying the pleasant sensation of his nostrils moistening from the strong scent of water, Shuou entered the watchtower of New Moon Fortress with Borge and gazed at the unique tranquil scenery emanating from the world of the Abyss.

Borge stroked his spiky hair and inhaled the damp air through his large nostrils.

“Spring rain is nice,” he said.

The air of the world that had bid farewell to winter, while not quite warm, was pleasantly comfortable on the skin. Occasionally, the drizzle, blown by the wind, dampened their faces, but even that felt pleasant.

“I don’t dislike the air this time of year either,” Shuou replied.

“If it weren’t for the impending battle, the others could relax a bit more too.”

In the courtyard, young squires and hired mercenaries were diligently training and checking their equipment with grim faces. Even the men who seemed to be chatting amiably had eyes that weren’t smiling.

Based on information that Sango was beginning full-scale war preparations, Al Baden, the commander of this region, had gathered troops from Ode to New Moon Fortress.

With no entertainment district functionality in the small fortress isolated in the Abyss, the roughnecks, deprived of a means to relieve their growing anxiety and irritation, had been frequently engaging in brawls over trivial matters as of late.

Borge spoke matter-of-factly, saying that while everyone puts on a dignified face as men living on the battlefield, they are all equally exposed to fear when faced with a situation where they are about to exchange lives.

Most creatures, when faced with a life-threatening crisis, first think of running away. However, what is required of many of those present here is to be warriors before being living beings. They are beings who are required to fight for their lives while trembling with fear.

However, as Borge had said before, there are exceptions to everything.

Amidst the heavy atmosphere flowing through the fortress, the Brights, who were stroking their horses’ necks with calm demeanor, possessed an elegance not seen in the others.

“They sure have composure,” Shuou muttered, gazing down at the Brights from above.

“Well, of course. Those who can use special powers and have a higher chance of survival are that much more at ease than others,” Borge responded.

“Brights, nobles… Just because they were born in a different place…” Shuou said with a hint of sarcasm.

In response to Shuou’s words, Borge replied, “The Brights of this country are doing relatively well for themselves. You know, since you’ve been with those noble ladies, that they’re thrown into educational institutions from a young age and undergo intense training. There’s a reason for the high quality of Brights in this country.”

As his words suggested, Murakumo had a well-developed Bright education system of high standards. In other countries, those possessing Sun Stones did not necessarily engage in combat, but in Murakumo, regardless of birth rank or gender, attending an institution called the Gemstone Academy to cultivate appropriate abilities as a Bright was an unwritten custom. It was they who, riding horses freely and wielding a diverse variety of crynetic energy while dashing across the battlefield, had long served as the shield protecting Murakumo from invasions by neighboring countries.

“This is your first time going to the battlefield, right?” Borge asked.

“Yeah,” Shuou replied.

“Then be prepared now. The colors you’ll see on the battlefield are terrifying. Most guys, once targeted, will bid farewell to this world in the blink of an eye.”

Borge, with his extensive battlefield experience, shrugged as he spoke.

“But Borge, you’ve been to war many times, yet you’ve survived until now,” Shuou pointed out.

Borge grinned. “I’ve been lucky. That’s what matters most on the battlefield. I’ve been to the battlefield many times, but I’ve always survived by the skin of my teeth. Even when I was left behind in the Abyss, you came and saved me. I’ll make sure to come back alive from this battle too.”

Shuou bumped his fist against Borge’s outstretched one. “Yeah. But I’m not carrying a heavy guy like you on my back again.”

“Heh, say what you want. But you’re the kind of guy who would do that if it came down to it, no doubt about it. I never used to believe in anyone like this before, but when the rabidaemon appeared right in front of me and I had given up on everything… Seeing you single-handedly break through that, something changed in me.”

“Something?”

“I don’t know. I’m not educated, so I can’t put it into words, but it’s like something that was bent out of shape became straight. I used to live with a rotten nature, but now I can’t help but enjoy every day. Seeing your face again after a long time made me feel that way even more.”

As if embarrassed by his own words, Borge turned away to hide his face.

As the hour approached dusk, Shuou and Borge spotted a group of people who appeared to be merchants, pulling cargo wagons, coming towards them from the end of the Alabaster Road.

“They can’t be enemies,” Shuou remarked.

“Well, they certainly look like traveling merchants,” Borge agreed.

As the merchants drew closer and waved, the squires on guard duty in front of the gate drew their swords and approached the cargo wagons. A representative from the group of traveling merchants stepped forward, showed them something, and exchanged a few words. The squires then sheathed their swords and signaled for the gate to be opened.

Borge shouted the order to open the gate, and the group of traveling merchants passed through the opened doors. After undergoing a cargo inspection, they leisurely made their way to the other side.

There was a reason for allowing passage to those whose identities could not be definitively confirmed, aside from their travel documents, in this situation where the two countries continued to glare at each other across the border. If the path were closed to traveling merchants belonging to major trading companies, they would retaliate by obstructing the flow of trade goods behind the scenes and take economic retaliatory actions. In fact, countries that had belittled merchants and suffered such retaliation had learned the hard way the foolishness of blocking their path. Merchants who wielded power behind the scenes had unknown connections, and the wiser one was, the more they would provide a certain degree of convenience to such counterparts.

Of course, during wartime, vigilance had to be heightened. Regardless of which major trading company the traveling merchants seeking passage belonged to, they could not avoid a thorough inspection of their cargo, and for the trouble, they were charged a higher toll than during peacetime. However, from the merchants’ perspective, it was a choice made after carefully calculating the benefits and associated risks, as they could significantly save on travel expenses by avoiding a long detour.

As the hour of their shift change arrived, Shuou and Borge yielded their seats in the watchtower to a pair of young squires.

Fires were lit in the fortress’s hanging baskets, and preparations for the evening meal began here and there.

Shuou was heading towards his sleeping quarters with Borge, but when they passed through the courtyard bustling with meal preparations, they ran into Sanji, one of his subordinates.

“Sanji, have you finished checking the equipment?” Shuou asked.

Sanji placed his hand on the back of his head and gave a forced smile. “Yeah, yeah, I finally did it. I tossed out the stuff that was in tatters like you said, but even if I tell the higher-ups, they won’t provide replacements.”

“It’s worth a try asking. More importantly, how about working up a bit of sweat before the meal?” Shuou gestured as if gripping a sword, but Sanji shook his head with a perplexed expression.

“Give me a break, I know your skills all too well. Sorry, but I’m gonna go. If I don’t hurry, there won’t be any food left for me. Let’s do training tomorrow.”

Shuou granted permission to Sanji, who was eager to leave, and watched him jog away.

“You’re starting to look quite the part of a squad leader, aren’t you?” Borge teased, nudging Shuou with his elbow.

Shuou scratched his head and sighed. “In what way? It’s exhausting to treat those who have lived longer than me as subordinates.”

However, compared to the early days, the mercenaries had become much more obedient. The fact that he had been beating them in training with wooden swords and such over the past few days might have played a role, but the most plausible reason was probably that he had established personal employment relationships with them using money.

To avoid being looked down upon by them, Shuou had been acting as high-handedly as possible, following the advice of the Old Man Jin, but he still hadn’t been able to shake off the awkwardness in that regard. If he were dealing with his superiors, Shuou had a good grasp of how to interact, thanks to the days he spent with his master in what could be called training. However, when it came to the opposite situation, he was a complete novice.

For the young Shuou, who had little military experience, gaining people’s trust on his own was a much more difficult trial than when he was diligently practicing unfamiliar swordsmanship under Kazahina.

“I’m going to check on my guys for a bit. Those two idiots skipped out on cooking duty again this morning and are nowhere to be found,” Borge said.

The two idiots Borge referred to were Hario and Saburi, both of whom Shuou knew.

Perhaps still clinging to the spirit of the Winter Fortress, where they could enjoy boredom so intense it made one’s heart melt, the two focused their attention on slacking off at every opportunity. Whenever they managed to escape the watchful eye of their stern-faced squad leader Borge, they would always engage in idle chatter in inconspicuous places, grumbling and complaining.

“Got it. I’ll head back and put something in my stomach,” Shuou replied.

After acknowledging each other, Shuou parted ways with Borge and headed towards the barracks, pressing his stomach that signaled its hunger.

As he walked along the corridor leading to the barracks, he heard cheerful laughter coming from the shadow of the stables off to the side. Recognizing the voices, he investigated and, as expected, found two men lying on bundles of straw, sipping from wineskins.

“In a place like this…” Shuou called out to them.

The two slackers, gnawing on what appeared to be bone-in meat they had procured from somewhere while gulping down wine, waved in response.

“Oh, Shuou, it’s about time you joined us,” Hario said with a silly grin.

However, Shuou, with a sense of displeasure brewing in his stomach, warned them, “Borge was looking for you. I heard you skipped out on morning meal duty.”

“Borge? Bah, what does that muscle-headed old man want? Never mind that, here, have a drink too. As fellow natives of the Winter Fortress, I’ll treat you specially.”

After staring at the offered wineskin, Shuou forcefully knocked it away. Startled by the sudden action, Hario and Saburi’s eyes widened, their drunkenness sobering up.

“Wh-what the hell? What are you doing?!” Hario shouted, enraged.

He stood up and reached out to grab Shuou by the collar, but Shuou seized his wrist, restraining his movement. Saburi watched anxiously.

“Hario, Saburi. Both of you, return to your squads immediately,” Shuou ordered, addressing them by name in a commanding tone.

Hario twisted his mouth into an ugly shape and spat out in a drunken breath, “Who the hell do you think you are, ordering us around? You’re just a newcomer who joined the other day. Don’t get cocky just because you’ve got a bit of skill with a sword!”

Shuou tightened his grip on Hario’s wrist, causing him to yelp in pain. “I’m not ordering you as a newcomer. I’m ordering you as your superior. If you have a problem with that, you’re free to leave the fortress whenever you want.”

Hario’s face contorted with anger, but he couldn’t find the words to retort. Saburi timidly tried to smooth things over. “H-Hario, let’s just go back for now. We don’t want to cause any more trouble…”

Hario clicked his tongue in annoyance and shook off Shuou’s hand. “Fine, I got it. But don’t think this is over, Shuou. We’ll settle this later.”

With those parting words, Hario and Saburi stumbled away, leaving behind the stench of alcohol. Shuou let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping.

Being a leader was far more difficult than he had imagined. Not only did he have to deal with insubordinate underlings, but he also had to navigate the complex web of relationships within the fortress. It was a heavy burden for someone as young and inexperienced as him.

But he couldn’t afford to show weakness. He had a duty to fulfill, and people were counting on him. With renewed determination, Shuou straightened his back and continued on his way to the barracks, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

“Hario… you say? You’ve got some nerve addressing us so casually!” Hario shouted, his face flushed with anger. “Just because you got promoted a little faster than us, don’t think we’re your lackeys! You can’t even ride a horse, you weakling!”

Hario tried to pull his arm free from Shuou’s grip. Judging from his stance, he likely intended to throw a punch at Shuou. However, Shuou, who had been training his body daily, possessed strength surpassing that of an average man, despite his slender appearance. Against Hario, who was naturally lazy and constantly guzzling alcohol, it felt no different than dealing with a child.

Shuou released Hario’s wrist and, before he could make a move, grabbed him by the collar and glared at him. “If you hate it here so much, then leave. If you can’t do that, at least fulfill your minimum duties.”

Hario’s face turned red, his anger evident, but he didn’t attempt to lay a hand on Shuou again after being sternly rebuked. As silence fell over the scene, Saburi touched Hario’s back and spoke to him.

“Let’s go, Hario. We were in the wrong for slacking off, after all.”

Hario glared at Shuou for a while longer, but upon Saburi’s words, he averted his gaze, cursing under his breath.

As the two shook off Shuou’s hand and turned to leave the stable, Shuou delivered a final warning. “If I catch you slacking off again, I’ll do the same thing as today.”

Hario, his back still turned, spat on the ground and walked away. Shuou ignored Saburi’s perplexed gaze directed at him and waited until they were out of sight before letting out a deep sigh.

Honestly, he didn’t really care what those two did, and he didn’t feel he had become important enough to lecture them. However, as Jin had warned him before, it was troublesome to continue interacting with subordinates in a familiar manner. Moreover, Borge, despite his high-handed demeanor, diligently carried out his duties as a squad leader, even sacrificing his sleep. Shuou was genuinely fed up with the attitude of those two, who slacked off behind the back of someone like that and ran away every time they were caught.

“What a hassle,” Shuou muttered to himself.

With each new person he had to deal with, the muddy emotions accumulating at the bottom of his heart grew deeper.