Akatsuki Translations

“The way I see it, something only becomes merchandise if there’s someone out there who actually wants to buy it.”

The afternoon sunlight bathed the courtyard of the Gemstone Academy, where Shuou and Shiga sat side by side on a spread-out mat, their faces dark with gloom. Lined up in front of them were grotesque wooden figurines—an attempt at business that was going nowhere fast.

Hugging his knees, Shuou scowled as Shiga, who sat cross-legged beside him, spoke with a voice dripping with cynicism.

“What you mean to say is that these aren’t selling, right?”

Shuou muttered in response, his voice hoarse and dry, like someone who had spent the whole night drinking. Shiga, seemingly unable to contain the frustration boiling in his gut, raised his voice in irritation.

“Of course they aren’t, damn it! If I’d known we were hauling a load of worthless junk, I wouldn’t have bothered carrying it all the way here!”

Shuou tilted his head slightly. He wasn’t so sure Shiga had been all that diligent in the first place, but he couldn’t argue with the complaint. After all, their labor had been for nothing.

As the morning lazily gave way to midday, the courtyard of the Gemstone Academy was filled with the lively chatter of students enjoying their lunch. Many had chosen to eat outside, drawn by the pleasant weather, but every single one of them kept their distance from the peculiar display of wooden figures Shuou and Shiga had arranged. Instead, they watched from afar, whispering among themselves.

They had hoped—foolishly—that at a prestigious academy filled with the sons and daughters of nobility, there would be someone willing to buy their wares. But it had taken them less time than a bird’s quick dip in a water basin to realize just how absurdly misguided that notion had been.

All they had accomplished was proving two things: these eerie wooden trinkets held no value as merchandise, and Shuou himself had absolutely no talent for business.

Just then, an elderly gardener passed by, his tools slung over his shoulder. Spotting him, Shiga called out.

“Hey, old man! How about buying one of these?”

Lifting one of the grotesque figurines, he held it up as if advertising its worth. The gardener, dressed in a long, baggy robe that hung loosely over his thin frame, turned around with a slow tilt of his head. His long, white eyelashes fluttered as he peered at them, his dull eyes narrowing slightly. Then, with a small chuckle, he jerked his chin up.

“Heh… hoo-hoh.”

His laugh was eerie—like the hoot of a night bird. Without another word, he shuffled away, his frail steps fading into the distance.

“Did you see that?” Shiga groaned, slumping forward. “Even that old geezer—who looks like he’s about two breaths away from keeling over—wanted nothing to do with this crap. Ugh, screw this. I’m gonna sleep. At least then, this whole stupid waste of time will feel like it had some meaning—if only the size of a sesame seed.”

With that, Shiga flopped onto his back, stretching his long limbs as he shut his eyes. Maybe it was the fullness in his stomach after lunch, but his mood seemed slightly improved.

For all his bold and brash exterior, Shiga had a habit of grumbling—constantly, persistently, almost obsessively.

Shuou had given up on his prospects as a merchant early on—and for good reason. 

For one, he had absolutely no grasp of market prices. The wooden figurines he had lined up for sale had no price tags because he had no idea how much they were worth. He also hadn’t put any effort into attracting customers, nor had it even crossed his mind to do so. The only method he could think of was mimicking the street vendors who called out to passersby in town, but the mere thought of raising his voice to advertise his wares was smothered by a deep-seated sense of embarrassment. 

Letting out a quiet sigh, Shuou shifted from his proper seated posture, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his hands. 

His gaze drifted aimlessly, observing the scene before him—the students enjoying their midday break, each in their own way. 

School was an interesting place. People of similar backgrounds gathered in one space to learn and train according to a shared purpose. In some ways, it reminded him of the fortress he had once called home in the Abyss—a confined space where individuals were grouped together. But unlike the rigid hierarchy of castles and strongholds, where one’s place in the pecking order was clearly dictated by rank, the Gemstone Academy was supposed to be different. And yet, it was obvious that a hierarchy existed here, too. 

All it took was a glance at the students walking through the halls to see it. 

The most apparent form of hierarchy was age. The smaller children naturally stepped aside to make way for the older, taller students. But there were also moments when senior students deferred to those who were clearly younger. That, Shuou guessed, was the invisible order dictated by lineage—by noble blood. 

A perfect example had just entered his field of vision. 

A group of five girls moved down the hallway, their presence commanding immediate attention. Every student in their path stopped in their tracks, stepping aside to let them pass—some even bowing their heads slightly. 

At the front of the group walked a girl Shuou recognized: Yuuhina, the young noble lady of the Adulelia family. The girls following closely behind her, as if in attendance, were also vaguely familiar—the daughters of the Adulelia clan, unmistakable in their aristocratic grace. 

The daughters of the Ice Wolves House strode forward with their chins held high, parting the crowd like a royal procession. Their every movement exuded the dignity of high nobility, but beneath that polish, a quiet arrogance seeped through. 

Then, Yuuhina suddenly came to a halt. A flicker of anger ignited in her otherwise composed features. 

Following her gaze, Shuou spotted the cause of her irritation—a girl standing frozen in the middle of the hallway, a thick book clutched tightly in her arms. 

Azua of the Serpentia House. 

Even from a distance, Shuou could feel the tension in the air. The hushed murmurs of the students around them fell away into silence, leaving only an unspoken pressure weighing down the corridor. 

Yuuhina’s lips parted slightly. Though he couldn’t hear the words, her expression spoke volumes—her gaze sharp, unyielding, like a predator eyeing its prey. 

Azua’s body stiffened. She gripped her book even tighter against her chest, visibly unsettled. Her lips moved as she responded—perhaps a retort, a defense of some kind—but Yuuhina remained unfazed. She said something else, her words smooth and precise. 

Azua’s expression shifted instantly. Anger flared in her eyes, but she bit her lip, forcing herself to swallow whatever rage was threatening to spill over. 

With a triumphant tilt of her chin, Yuuhina turned on her heel and strode past Azua, her entourage following close behind.

Azua remained standing alone in the hallway for a moment, as if collecting herself. Then, with a smooth motion, she ran her fingers through her hair, crafting a composed expression as though nothing had happened. It was only then that she noticed Shuou watching from a distance.

Their gazes met.

Instead of turning away, Azua walked toward him, her steps measured and deliberate. Shuou blinked in mild surprise. Had she noticed him observing? Did she have something to say?

But when she finally reached him, she lowered herself slightly, resting her hands on her knees as her eyes dropped to the ground.

It seemed she had a different purpose.

“…Why are these lined up here?”

Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. She was staring intently at the wooden figurines arranged before them.

“Uh… Well, we’re trying to sell them,” Shuou admitted, his tone a little uncertain.

“They’re for sale?” Azua repeated. “Then… um… may I have one?”

Before Shuou could respond, Shiga, who had been lounging beside him with his eyes closed, suddenly sat up. With a swift movement, he extended his palm toward Azua.

She recoiled, startled. “W-what—?”

Shiga, exuding an almost serpentine menace, growled in a low, gravelly voice.

“All the money you’ve got. Hand it over.”

Shuou gawked at him, dumbfounded. The first real customer they’d had, and Shiga had just greeted her like a highway robber.

To Shuou’s further astonishment, Azua didn’t lash out in anger. Instead, she reached into the folds of her uniform with a serious expression, fumbling through her pockets and even shrugging off her outer jacket in search of coins.

“…Wait—why?” she murmured under her breath, confusion settling over her face.

After another moment of searching, she realized she had nothing. Shoulders slumping, she cast her gaze downward.

“I… I don’t have anything on me right now.”

She looked genuinely embarrassed, a faint flush dusting her cheeks. Perhaps she felt ashamed for offering to buy something only to realize she lacked the means. The contrast between her current demeanor and the arrogance she had displayed toward Yuuhina earlier was striking.

She murmured a soft apology and turned to leave.

Just as she did, Shuou spoke.

“Here.”

Azua stopped. She turned back to see Shuou holding out one of the wooden figurines.

“But…”

“You can pay me whenever.”

She hesitated briefly, then carefully accepted the figurine from his hands. With a small, polite bow, she clutched it close and hurried away.

Beside him, Shiga groaned dramatically as he sat up again, his voice thick with exasperation.

“You idiot,” he drawled. “If you just hand it over for free, that’s not business—that’s charity. She’s never gonna bring you any money.”

Shuou shrugged. “Then that’s fine. If something this worthless can’t be sold properly anyway, whether it sells or not doesn’t make much of a difference.”

Shiga let out an exaggerated sigh.

“You are so not cut out for this.”

Shuou scowled, crossing his legs and stubbornly looking away.

“Hey.”

Shuou let out an irritated grunt as he was nudged in the side.

“What?”

“Look at that kid over there. Seems like he’s interested in this junk, too. Maybe it’s not as worthless as you thought. Might be too soon to give up.”

Following Shiga’s prompting, Shuou turned his gaze toward a boy approaching them, staring intently at the display. There was something vaguely familiar about him.

The boy walked right up to the stand, crouching down just like Azua had earlier, and picked up one of the wooden figurines. The moment Shuou got a closer look at his face, he remembered where he had seen him before.

It was that blond-haired boy—the one who had snuck into Shuou’s room. The same one who had been pinned down and humiliated in the training grounds.

“Hey, that’s for sale,” Shiga grumbled, extending his palm greedily. “You touch it, you buy it. That’s yours now.”

Without hesitation, the boy placed a heavy pouch into Shiga’s outstretched hand. The weight of it made Shiga’s eyes gleam. He peeked inside, and his expression immediately turned into the same delighted grin he had when faced with fine liquor and a feast.

The boy then met Shuou’s gaze.

“This thing has no value as a product,” he said flatly. “It would be better to chop it up for firewood.”

Shuou furrowed his brows at the contradiction.

“Then why are you paying for it?”

“Because I have a request.”

The boy’s grip tightened on the figurine.

“I’ve been saving up most of my allowance from home since the start of the year. I’ll use it all to buy these ugly things. So in return—teach me the sword.”

The sheer weight of the money Shiga now held, combined with the unwavering determination in the boy’s eyes, made it clear—this wasn’t a joke. He was completely serious.