The armory sat at the very end of the hallway.
Swords hung in neat rows on wall racks, while spears and axes rested on the floor below them. The farther back one went, the thicker the dust became; only a single corner in the foreground had been swept clean. The room’s sole window was small and boarded shut, leaving the glow of a candlestick to run across the flats of the blades one by one.
Kaito Dojima stood before a table. A cloth lay spread across its surface, bearing three swords placed with their hilts facing him. They were weapons selected and brought by the castle guards for the "Hero." He had been the one to insist on checking his equipment before nightfall, and having said as much, he wanted to get it out of the way.
He gripped the first one. His fingers couldn't wrap fully around the hilt. On the second, the guard dug awkwardly into his wrist bone. With the third, it finally felt right in his hand. Setting all three back down, he picked up the third blade once more. This one seemed best.
The guard waiting beside him gestured toward the first sword with an open palm.
"For you, Lord Hero, we would recommend this one. It is the very blade wielded by His Majesty three generations ago."
"Thank you... but it's a bit too heavy for me. This one is easier to swing."
"Understood. That one, then... My apologies, the scabbard's leather has dried out. I will summon someone from maintenance."
"It's fine. I'll break it in as I use it."
The guard bowed, gathered up the first sword along with the cloth, and left the armory, presumably to call for maintenance anyway.
When Kaito slid the blade into the throat of the scabbard, it caught briefly halfway down. With a firm push, it slipped all the way in. If it went in, that was good enough. He fastened the scabbard to his waist belt, the dry smell of leather clinging to the fabric of his uniform.
(Good grief. A Hero, huh? Sure, I looked up to them as a kid, but...)
He had never imagined that, as a high schooler, he would end up strapped with a sword and forced to play swordsman for real.
Just then, the door swung open roughly, and Gakuto Goda strode in. His hands were empty. He had likely handed the burlap sack to the two of them in the courtyard, just as Kaito had asked him to do.
"Dojima. Delivered the luggage."
"Thanks, Gakuto. That helps a lot."
"No big deal....Though that guy just took it without a single word of complaint."
"Heh. What did he say?"
That came as a bit of a surprise. He had expected Kuze to whine at least a little after seeing how meager the rations were.
Gakuto sat down on an empty wooden crate by the wall, propping his elbows on his knees. Intending to inspect the edge, Kaito drew the sword once more and angled it toward the candlelight.
"'Thanks for the help,' he said. Talk about an anticlimax."
Kaito's fingers froze on the hilt.
He didn't even understand why he had stopped. It wasn't the condition of the blade, nor was it the way Gakuto said it.
(...Well, there's nothing strange about that, is there?)
No one felt bad about being thanked. Even Kuze would manage that much after receiving food. That was all it was.
Relaxing his fingers, he slid the blade back into its sheath.
Moments later, Miu Kiritani appeared in the doorway. Silhouetted against the hallway light, she glanced around the room before stepping inside. It was the familiar trio who had always hung out together back in their classroom.
Gakuto shifted his crossed legs on the crate, breaking the silence casually.
"Where are Shirakawa and Kuze?" Miu asked the two of them.
"They already left," Gakuto answered in his place.
He let out a short sigh, his shoulders slumping.
"Shirakawa really went and did it, huh..."
He sounded a little lonely.
Well, that was only natural.
There wasn't a single boy in their class who didn't think highly of Yuna. Gakuto was surely one of the many who admired her.
Though he really ought to know his place.
"Kaito. Was it really okay to let her go like that?"
Miu walked over to the edge of the table and looked Kaito in the face.
Her eyes searched him, as if trying to confirm something—or perhaps size him up.
It grated on his nerves.
Kaito answered nonchalantly.
"Yeah. Right now, I don't think anything I say would get through to her."
"Why do you think that?"
"Shirakawa is too kind for her own good. In moments like this, she lets her emotions take over. Once she calms down, she'll understand. I have faith in her."
The answer wasn't something he had cobbled together on the spot. He had decided on the exact phrasing beforehand so he wouldn't be caught flat-footed if questioned. He had simply retrieved the prepared lines and delivered them in order.
Miu's gaze flicked down to the sword at his waist, then drifted back up.
"...I see."
She accepted it readily enough. Perching on the edge of the table, Miu tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
For whatever reason, she seemed to be in high spirits. He had a pretty good idea why, but he deliberately acted oblivious.
Keeping her eyes lowered toward the tabletop, Miu spoke.
"Personally, I don't really think she needs to come back at all."
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
She casually looked away, offering nothing more.
Even though he had gone out of his way to pretend he hadn't noticed, she had the nerve to lay it out in the open herself.
(As blatant as ever.)
He had known for a long time that Miu harbored no love for Shirakawa. Back in class, whenever the conversation turned to Shirakawa, Miu's reactions were always a beat behind. He had a rough idea why: Kaito’s attention was always on Yuna.
(It's probably just making her face her own inferiority, but... know your place. As if you could ever hold a candle to Yuna.)
Kaito spat venom inwardly.
It wasn't that Miu was unattractive. In fact, she was undeniably pretty, and Kaito acknowledged as much. It was simply that, even with that in mind, his eyes never drifted her way. And he certainly had no obligation to explain that to her.
"Besides, girls throw in the towel fast anyway, don't they? She won't even last three days," Gakuto said, stretching lazily on the wooden crate.
"Gakuto. Watch your mouth."
"Yeah, yeah."
She won't even last three days. Kaito didn't offer a single rebuttal to the claim.
Deep down, he agreed entirely.
From what the Prime Minister had told him, the place Yuna and Kuze had been sent was nowhere close to an environment fit for human survival.
It was harsh even for people born and raised in this other world; there was no way kids like them, brought up in Japan with an infrastructure and standard of living unmatched anywhere on Earth, could ever endure it.
Gakuto pushed himself up from the crate, raising a finger as if suddenly remembering something.
"Oh, right. When those two were heading out, Shirakawa asked the guards something. She wanted to know where Dojima was."
The corners of Kaito's mouth curled up on their own.
(I knew it. Shirakawa's hesitating.)
She had looked for him because she was having second thoughts. And looking for him meant the door was still open for her return.
Checking the fastening on his scabbard, Kaito turned toward the exit.
"Where are you going?" Miu called out from the edge of the table.
"There's just something I need to check with the guards. I'll be right back."
"Gotcha."
"See ya."
Gakuto and Miu gave offhand waves from the crate and the table.
There was no need to bring them along.
There was just one small detail that had caught his attention.