After just a brief greeting, the group of delinquent adventurers—twelve in all—lined up in front of the Adventurer Guild.
Then, with sudden vigor, they bent their bodies at ninety-degree angles and shouted a greeting in unison.
Doing something like that in the middle of town naturally drew the stares of everyone nearby.
Shrinking under the weight of those gazes, I quickly had them raise their heads and led them toward my next destination: Darson’s shop.
"Good morning!"
"You're here. Well, come on in for now."
I called out to Darson, who was, as expected, busy shoveling snow out front. He thrust his tool into a white mound, paused his work, and invited us inside.
"Darson, would it be alright if I let them look at the merchandise?"
"Yeah, go ahead and look all you want."
"Thank you. Alright everyone, please choose the weapon you are most proficient with. However, handle the merchandise with care."
"Sir!"
"Also, be quiet."
"Understood, Big Bro," they replied in hushed voices.
Their responses were a bit quieter now, though something about it still felt... off.
As I was pondering that, Darson called out to me from the checkout counter.
"Ryoma, those guys are that group of delinquent adventurers everyone’s been talking about lately, right? I heard a bit from Wogan. Sounds like you’re handling them pretty well."
"You think so? For now, they’ve at least stopped being rebellious."
"Those guys used to stand out for all the wrong reasons. Getting them to settle down is plenty. Besides, they’re calling you 'Big Bro,' aren't they?"
"I suspect they’re only being quiet because they’re scared. As for the 'Big Bro' thing, they seem convinced that I’m older than I look. You know how some races look like children even as adults?"
"Ah, I can see that. Sometimes you don't act like a kid at all; you’ve got the aura of a middle-aged man."
"What!?"
But I'm a fresh eleven-year-old... though even thinking that felt a bit dated.
In reality, I was well aware that my spirit was that of an older man, which was likely why I couldn't bring myself to strongly deny it.
"But why buy weapons for those guys? You're paying for everything today, right, Ryoma?"
"Actually, on the first day I was put in charge of them, I ended up ruining every weapon they had."
That day, I had lured them to a place where no one was watching and let them pick a fight with me. Then, following the Guild Master’s instructions, I gave them a thorough dressing-down, but...
"I did a fair amount of provoking, too."
At first, I repelled them when they attacked bare-handed, but they were more stubborn than I expected and wouldn't admit defeat. On top of that, they started making excuses like "I wasn't at full strength yet," so I repeatedly cast healing magic on them and fought them exactly as their excuses demanded, crushing those justifications one by one.
"In the process, I let them use their weapons and made every single one of them unusable. Those weapons were their personal property—their tools of the trade. Even if they were the ones who picked the fight, since I provoked them into drawing their blades before destroying them, I felt it was only right to compensate them."
"Even so, did you have to come buy them together? I think most people would just hand over the coin."
"There was something I was curious about."
"Curious about?"
"While we were fighting, I got the feeling that the weapons they were using didn't really suit them. For example..."
I noticed one of them who had just finished picking out a greatsword, so I called him over.
"Benno."
"Yes, Big Bro! What is it?"
"That greatsword is quite similar to the one you were using before."
"Ah, yes. I thought it’d be better to have something close to what I was used to."
"Try taking a stance for a moment. You don't have to swing it."
He looked slightly puzzled but obediently took a stance with the greatsword in front of him. However, the tip of the blade wavered slightly under its own weight. Additionally, when we fought the other day, I’d had the distinct impression he was being swung around by his weapon rather than the other way around.
"I see. The weapon and his physique don't match. I'd recommend either a slightly lighter greatsword, a longsword that can be used with two hands, or switching to a blunt weapon of similar weight. If you absolutely want to use that, you should at least train your body a bit more first."
"So he says," I added.
"Is that so?" Benno asked, looking surprised.
"Darson is an expert in armaments and a veteran adventurer. After all, he’s a former S-Rank. He’s the man who used to be active alongside Wogan, the Guild Master you all know."
When I explained that, not only Benno but the other eleven who were listening were floored. Apparently, they had no idea who they were talking to.
"S-Rank is ancient history. That said, I'm not blowing smoke. Regardless of size, a sword is a bladed tool. If you don't align the edge, you can't cut what needs cutting. Well, most rookies are like that, though."
"Do you have some kind of special attachment to greatswords?" I asked Benno.
"Not particularly... I just used the one that was gathering dust in the shed back home."
"If you were just using it because it was there, I recommend taking this chance to change weapons. It affects your work and your life, so I won't force you. Also, you should take the guild’s instruction course. Even knowing the basics of how to choose a weapon can change the outcome when it really counts."
"Y-Yes, Sir."
After receiving advice from a former S-Rank, Benno began looking at the shelves for arming swords and bastard swords. He even started checking the war hammers.
"Sorry, Big Bro. I’m good at skinning prey, so I’ve just been using knives, but what do you think?"
Another boy, having seen what happened, came to ask a question. I pointed out what I could see and had them consult with Darson as well. Before I knew it, I was helping every single one of them choose their equipment.
"...Alright, looks like everyone has decided."
"Sir!"
"Darson, the bill, please."
"Right. Hang on a second."
I paid the amount Darson quickly calculated, and our shopping trip concluded. At the same time, the expressions of the twelve men began to turn grim.
"Hey, why did those guys suddenly look like they're headed to a funeral?" Darson asked.
"It’s likely because we’re scheduled to head to the training grounds to test the feel of these new weapons."
If you buy a new weapon, you need to get used to it. Therefore, we headed to the security company to borrow a vacant lot. For the training, I intended to use Metal Slimes that mimicked the shape, size, weight, and center of gravity of their new weapons. That way, they could train boldly without damaging their brand-new gear.
If they got hurt, I had healing magic, and in an emergency, there was a hospital in the same building. We could respond immediately. Though, of course...
"I don't intend to do anything as extreme as I did the day you picked a fight with me, so you don't have to be that scared."
"..."
"Or rather, isn't this the time to show that rebellious spirit from before? You're adventurers—what are you going to do if you get discouraged by one or two losses?"
"Yes, Sir..."
"Look, the result from the other day was only natural. I have been training for much longer than you probably think, and I had a proper master. Aren't you frustrated that you lost to a kid like me!?"
"!! W-We are frustrated!"
"Then come at me with the intent to kill me!"
"Yes, Sir!"
"Your voice is too small!!"
"YES, SIR!!!"
"Good! Well then, Darson, we’ll be taking our leave. Thank you for everything. Come on, you guys too."
"Thank you very much!!"
"O-Oh. Good luck, alright?"
Since things were getting stagnant, I had used momentum to force their morale up, but I wondered if I’d gone too far. Darson looked a bit weirded out as we left.
"...Ryoma, isn't he surprisingly suited to leading those kinds of guys...?"
The murmur reached my ears from behind. I started to worry again if I really did come across as a yakuza boss.
By the time afternoon arrived...
The courtyard of the security company was littered with the exhausted bodies of the delinquent adventurers.
"Hey, pull yourself together..."
"Are you alive..."
"Barely..."
The twelve remained collapsed, unable to rise. However, I had only pushed them to their physical and mental limits. I had pulled my strikes and left them without any actual wounds. It was nowhere near as bad as our first encounter.
"Even when you think you've hit your limit, you can move surprisingly well when pushed, can't you? This state is your true limit. Remember this sensation. If you ever find yourself this exhausted during a real battle or while working outside the city, you can consider yourself dead. Even a child could finish you off right now. You wouldn't be able to escape a wild animal. Therefore, before this happens—or better yet, before your movements even start to slow—you need to either finish the enemy or escape to safety."
"We understand..."
If they could squeeze out an answer, they were fine.
How nostalgic... My father probably held back in his own way, but he wasn't shy about using wooden swords or landing kicks. He pushed me until I lost consciousness. Compared to that, I was being quite gentle.
However, if they stayed like this, they would get in the way of the security company's training. I used the healing magic I had just learned from Mafrar.
"Energy Charge."
"Ngh...!?"
"How is it? Do you feel a bit better?"
"Y-Yes, Sir."
Good, it was working properly. The effect was meant for "stamina recovery," but I preferred to think of it as converting mana into physical endurance. The base was the foundational "Heal" spell, which I had used many times. Mafrar had explained that while Heal-type magic is for mending wounds, it has a secondary effect of restoring physical stamina.
Energy Charge was a spell that discarded the wound-mending effect to specialize entirely in stamina recovery. It was ineffective for injuries, but useful for weakened patients. I was using it outside its intended medicinal purpose, but they had worked hard, so I figured a little bit was fine.
Once I cast the magic on everyone, they were all able to stand and walk.
"Alright, everyone. You shouldn't have any major injuries, but you might have light scrapes from falling. Go get checked out at the hospital just in case. In the meantime, I'll prepare lunch. We'll meet in the dining hall when you're finished."
"YEAHHH!!"
They were like members of a sports club after practice. These rookies were actually still in their late teens—around high school age. They looked older because of their builds, but they were still growing boys. After that much exercise, they needed a solid meal.
I saw them off to the hospital and hurried to the kitchen. The security company employees had finished their lunch, so I borrowed the vacant equipment. I even got some help from the professional cooks who were curious about my recipes and the pressure cooker. Everyone was surprisingly helpful.
When the hungry boys arrived, I began lining up the food.
"Whoa!?"
"What a huge amount..."
"Is it okay to eat all this!?"
"Yes. You worked hard today, so eat as much as you like."
Today's menu: 1. Bread 2. Vegetable and sausage soup 3. Root vegetable medley 4. Simmered Kabote 5. Sprint Rabbit stew
The bread and soup were leftovers from the staff lunch. For the simmered dishes, I’d chosen things that were filling and nutritious. The Sprint Rabbit was an experiment to see if the pressure cooker could make the meat tender.
When I told them to eat up, they dove in. Pots were emptied, and plates were cleared in record time. As the initial frenzy settled, they began to talk amongst themselves.
"This potato dish... the taste is different, but it feels like something we used to eat back home."
"Yeah, it’s nostalgic."
"We used to grow Kabote in our fields, too..."
"It’s a luxury to have soft bread like this. In my village, we just eat wheat porridge."
"My village, too. Most farming villages are like that."
"Luxury is having meat in winter. Usually, it's just salted meat or pickles this time of year."
"By the way, where are you all from?" I asked, joining the conversation. "What are the local specialties there?"
"My village is just a normal farm. We mostly eat wheat porridge and boiled tubers, Sir."
"In my region, potatoes are the specialty. We mix potato flour into wheat to make noodles because wheat is expensive."
As I listened to their stories, I realized their dish was similar to the starch udon from my old world. I continued to eat and listen until...
"I can't move..."
The food was almost entirely gone. I’d only eaten a single portion, but the boys were rubbing their bulging bellies with satisfied grins.
"You guys really packed it away."
"It was so good, I couldn't stop..."
"I haven't eaten this much in a long time."
"I'm glad you liked it," I said. "If you're interested, can I call on you again?"
"Are you serious!?"
I told them it would likely be more prototypes or leftovers, but they didn't mind at all. They had been living quite difficult lives, it seemed.
"It must be tough, coming all the way to the city from your villages."
"That's exactly it, Big Bro!"
"I thought I'd make a name for myself when I left, but things just didn't go well once I got here."
With their bellies full, the thorny attitude from before had vanished, replaced by honest words. Life changes when you move from a family home to living alone in a strange place—that was true on Earth and in this world.
In rural areas, many people couldn't read or write, and they rarely used money. Most of their life was based on bartering and mutual aid. These boys had learned the basics of reading and writing, but they weren't good at it. They struggled with money management, and as their dreams diverged from reality, they became defensive and aggressive.
The cold response from the city residents only made things worse. Fearing isolation, they huddled together and rebelled to maintain their self-esteem, falling into a vicious cycle.
"Big Bro, you don't really preach at us, do you?"
"I feel like I'm fairly blunt with you."
"No, you definitely beat us up and tell us what's what, but it's not like the people at the guild."
"He means you're not preachy," another added.
"Ah... well, I'm not exactly a perfect person myself."
I’ve messed up plenty in my own way, after all.
"Besides, the Guild Master has already lectured you, hasn't he? There’s nothing for me to add. You already know what you did wrong."
They were stubborn on the surface, but simple and honest at their core. When I asked if they were aware of their faults, they all looked away or fell silent. That silence was all the proof I needed. I’d dealt with truly hopeless people in my previous life—the ones who look at you with an unconcerned face even when they're in the wrong. These boys weren't like that.
"Of course, if I see you doing something bad, I’ll stop you by force. If you have worries, I’ll listen. But in the end, it’s up to you. Personally, I'd like to see you succeed. It takes courage to admit your faults and change, but you're still in a place where you can start over."
"Start over..."
"You can't get trust back overnight," I continued, answering their despondent murmur. "And people will look at you harshly for a while. But that's a separate issue from whether or not you can reform. A truly lost person feels nothing when they do something wrong. If you feel even a hint of regret for what you've done, you're still in a place where you can return. And if you can return, you should do so with everything you’ve got."
They fell into a contemplative silence as they finished their meal.
"Well then, Big Bro, we’ll be heading out."
Our business for the day was over. I saw them to the gate of the security company.
"Yes. Be careful on your way home. Get some rest—I'll see you at the workplace again."
"Sir!"
"Thanks for the weapons and the food!"
"Thanks, Big Bro!!"
"Hahaha... Just to be safe, don't use those weapons for anything criminal. If you do..."
As the one who provided the weapons, I felt a weight of responsibility. If they hurt someone innocent with the blades I bought...
"As the only way I could atone, I would have to take your heads with my own hands—"
"WE WOULD NEVER DO THAT!!!"
"—Just kidding. I trust you, after all."
"W-What? It was a joke?"
"That’s a mean joke, man..."
"I don't know, it didn't sound like a joke to me..."
I watched the boys depart with their nervous, dry laughs.
"Now, shall I head to the church?"
I’d been busy since returning from the Fatma Territory and hadn't shown my face in a while. I had no more plans for the day, so it was the perfect time.
"What should I talk about today? I’ve got quite the backlog of stories..."
With that thought in mind, I began the walk toward my usual church.