13. Of Lords and Serfs
I’m so done with this day.
At least Hikari wrote me that Tarō got his demon-hunter license and that Rin is helping him. That's like a huge relieve. Everything is back on track. The hero is out there doing hero things and I can relax.
It's good to know I don’t have to come up with an excuse to get Hikari and the girls to skip town for a week to avoid three natural-disaster-level demons they know nothing about. That event is like months and months away, so our hero Tarō will make it. He'll save us.
I'm sure.
Maybe I should get someone to look into the abandoned water park tho, but I can’t remember nearly enough of the light novel. Why did I have to end up here? I don’t even know how the story continued past the calamity demons. Also my memory is so bad! It's no use. I started reading the story back in high school, dropped it in college… lost interest in reading what some male protagonist would do. I relate better to girls.
Night shift has been here for a while, but I’m still waiting on that damn truck, can’t leave before I’ve singed off on it. Mr. Kataoka and Shiro have abandoned ship, so I’m standing here all on my own in the alleyway next to the konbini with only the cold fluorescent light humming away for company.
I’d love to be home by now, to train and then travel to ■■■■ district, where one of Mrs. Fujita friends is waiting for me. I promised them I’d look into their minor demon problem; hopefully it’s one of those giant stick-bug things, then I can help them out.
I watch the cars drive by, one by one. The cones of their headlights announcing them in advance as they wash across the wall. This is so frustrating. I’m losing quality time I could’ve used for training.
I hear a door open behind me. It’s the back entrance of the dry-cleaner next to us. A man walks out, probably somewhere in my age range. He's big, his hair held down by a piece of cloth.
He gives me a nod of recognition and takes a hit from his vape.
He asks, “You the new guy?”
"For the past couple of months.”
“Got lucky then.”
I shoot him an inquiring look.
The stranger comes over to join me, “Yukio is the name.”
“Katsumi. So how did I get lucky?”
"Today is Obito’s shift—the driver? He’s a slacker. That’s why Mr. Kataoka usually has the new guy waiting for him. And if it’s your first time waiting on Obito, you must have gotten lucky. You’re gonna be here a while.”
“Fuck.”
“What? Got prior engagements?”
I flash a smirk and shake my Hunter’s Mark at him.
“Oh shit! Mad respect, wouldn’t have the balls to do that.”
I mumble a hesitant, “Thanks.”
Yukio chuckles.
“Hope you’re not one of those suckers who do it for fame and glory.”
I shake my head, “Nope.”
I do it so I get to be a girl one day, but that’s not something I can tell you. You wouldn’t understand—no guy ever does—and I don’t want to hear whatever comes out of your mouth regarding my dream.
(¬_¬")
The sweet smell of Yukio’s vape wafts in my direction, he seems to be lost in thought.
“Typical, isn’t it Katsumi?”
“What?”
“That they have the likes of us hunting demons for them. Those corporate drone fuckers in their glass towers. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that all your fellow hunters—I’m not taking about the ones on TV or Social Media—the poor sods like you who do the actual dirty work, that they are all either poor, immigrants, or undesirable. We wash their clothes, we cook their food and we kill their demons and then we say with a smile—"
“Thank you very much and have a nice day.”
"Exactly. They live their peaceful, cushy lives while we toil. Lords and serfs, hasn’t changed.”
“I never… umm, thought about it like that.”
“Don’t blame you. You’re probably too busy not getting your head chopped off by a lamppost who decided taking bites out of little school kids is its new favorite past time.”
I stare at him wide eyed.
He gives a wry smile.
“Happened at my school when I was little. Don’t we all have a story like that?”
I don’t. I didn’t really grow up here, but the more I hear, the more fucked up it sounds. This is kind of a bleak world if I think about it.
“Yup.”
He nods.
Good that guys are not big into feelings or sharing their trauma, saves me from having to come up with a convincing lie.
My focus drifts back to the steady trickle of cars, while Yukio puffs. Not sure what he even wants from me.
With his voice still blanketed by his last hit, he nudges, “Then let’s see it.”
“Hu?”
"The only perk of your night-time gig. The thing where you hunters summon weapons out of thin air.”
“Oh, that.”
I perform a small flick and manifest a simple sword in my hand. Imitating Haruki, I give it a show-offy twirl, and to my surprise, I land the trick without a hitch.
“Sick! Nice katana!” Yukio face shines bright with a thrilled grin. His voice drops with judgement and the opening of a chuckle, “But… what’s with that color?”
(●__● )
Shit.
Didn’t think about that.
It was even mentioned in the original light novel that the hero focused to give his weapon a glow in a solid color. Most choose a pure white. Only girls keep the rainbow.
“Uhm… it takes extra concentration to change and… who gives a fuck what it looks like, as long as it kills demons. I’m not doing this to get followers or to look cool or something.”
“Yeah, keep it practical. Fuck those assholes who do it for clout.”
I study Yukio carefully. He seems to have bought my explanation. His agreement was enthusiastic enough.
Good.
Because I really like the rainbow glow, it’s super pretty and I find it comforting that a manifestation of my mana could shine with such beauty. I don’t want to change it.
With another twirl I dispel my weapon.
“Wait a sec, be right back.”
I can’t leave yet anyway, so?
Yukio flashes a mischievous grin and runs off. My eyes trail after him. I have to admit he has a disarming kind of charm. It's that juvenile smile of his.
He emerges a minute later with two cans of beer in his broad hands.
He's about to hand me one as he halts at the last second, “You're over nineteen?”
I snatch the can, “Would you care if I wasn’t?”
A chuckle. He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“And yes, over nineteen.”
He pops it and takes a sip, “Fuckin baby face.”
“I’ve come to appreciate it.”
“Yeah whatever you have to tell yourself new guy.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“Nah, the machines are running, got half an hour to kill. Technically speaking I should watch over them, but whatever.“
Pulling out a small wooden crate, he gestures me to sit down beside him.
Following the invitation I ask, “So, you do this often?”
“Whenever I can catch one of you unlucky konbini drones who's worth talking to. Shits boring otherwise. And you meet all kinds of people, students, foreigners, housewives, job hoppers, some really unlucky ex-salarymen, even got a grandpa once.” He sighs, “But nobody stays for long, not that I blame them.”
“So you’ve been doing this for a while?”
“Six years and counting.”
“Oh.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. It suits me. What else am I going to do? Grades are shit and family’s a bust. Won’t get any cubicle work, not that I’d want to. And your stuff? With all that fake smiling? Fuck no.”
“It’s actually a lot of cleaning and restocking for the most part.”
He gives me a friendly shove.
“Yeah? You tell yourself that konbini boy? I’ve seen you at the till with your pleasent smile and nice wave.”
He chuckles some more.
I let the silent sips pass between us before I ask, “So what do you do besides giving out beer to strangers and doing other people’s laundry?”
Yukio puffs his chest and I receive a long ramble about how he’s repairing his dad’s old motorcycle and how he takes it up into the mountains on his days off. He fills his long explanation with heaps of technical details that have me lost the moment he starts, but I don’t get bored.
Yukio is a decent conversationalist, far better than Shiro.
It's kinda nice, not as good as that day with Hotaru, but still. I do miss just hanging out with people. Back in my old life after graduation, nothing really worked, I couldn’t bring myself to go out. It all seemed to insurmountable, so strangely exhausting. Everything a slog.
We talk far more than the half hour Yukio said he had time.
I let him talk for the most part. What would I have to add anyway? That I got reincarnated and settled with someone else's life? That my singular focus for the past months has been to become an A-rank hunter so I can turn myself into a girl? That I spend every waking moment I’m not at work or hunting, training — training my sword skills, training my voice, experimenting with makeup and scrolling fashion feeds about cute outfits? That I crossdress at night?
I can’t tell him any of that.
Yukio gives me another shove and asks sheepishly, “Got a girl?”
I don’t want a girl, I want to be one.
“No.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you got that boy-band idol group look going on, and if the likes of you can’t get laid, then what hope is there for me? You know what you should do? You should lean into the whole I’m a demon-hunter thing. Chicks dig that, shows them that you can be their protector.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah!”
“I’m not sure I should take dating advice from the guy who just told me he has difficulty getting laid.”
“Oi, careful new guy or I might stop liking you.”
“And then what? Share your next beer with Shiro?”
“Oh fuck, no. That guy is a fucking loser.”
“So am I.”
“Me too, but there are different grades of losers. You and me, we're like buddhist monks okay. We know what we are, living off the rice people leave for us. Shiro still thinks he is hot-shit. Fucking pathetic. Like the monk at my aunts funeral said, you have to know your place in life. And I know I’m on the bottom rung. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. But denial man, denial will eat you like a demon.”
There is a story here, a story about denial, but I won’t pry. I’m not allowed to. Guys don't ask questions like that. I pivot instead, “Could you imagine Shiro getting eaten by a demon?”
“Ha, it would get instant indigestion, eating something that self-obsessed gotta churn your fucking stomach.”
“Also that demon? Real easy to avoid afterwards.”
He shoots me an inquiring look, so I elaborate: “I tell you Shiro wouldn’t stop playing his stupid gacha games until he’s fully digested. You’d hear the demon from half a street away, muffled jingles and fanfares blaring.”
Yukio snorts a laugh.
“Fuck, you’re right.”
He taps my arm.
“Hey konbini boy, your salvation has arrived.”
He nods to the truck that rounds the corner, picks up the two empty cans, and walks to the back exit he originally came from.
He turns.
“Be seeing you, so don’t be stranger.”
“You too.”
“And Katsumi, don’t get yourself killed. Whatever the Guild is paying you, it’s not worth dying for.”
“Okay.”
“But, you know, do your best! Show those demon fuckers who’s the boss.”
“Will do.”
Yukio gives another nod and vanishes.