Kays Translations

Chapter 06: A Life with Magic

As I washed my face at the well one morning, I noticed the massive ice statue of a kaiju, its head alone visible from the mountaintop.

“Wha—?”

I dropped my foam-covered toothbrush.

What even is that? Tokyo Snow Festival? But…it’s summer?

It was too big to process, too massive to comprehend.

What is it? What’s going on? A monster? A sculpture? Real? A mirage?

As I stared blankly at the frozen kaiju, I felt someone’s gaze on me. Startled, I turned to see the Blue Witch peeking out from behind my gate, her face obscured by a mask.

“Ahh!” I practically jumped out of my skin.

If you’re here, just say something! Why are you standing there silently, without making a sound?

“Could you at least say hi? You scared me half to death.”

“?”

“Yeah, I did ask you not to talk to me, but still…”

The Blue Witch nodded as if to say, Exactly.

Fair enough.

I was slowly getting used to her masked face. At first, I’d thought of her as just another delivery service worker, but now she felt more like a fairy from the neighborhood. I didn’t mind speaking casually to her anymore.

I hated meeting people, but I didn’t hate meeting fairies.

Hmm.

“Wanna try talking to me for a bit?”

“?”

“Yeah, I know I told you not to, but I’m asking now. Just a little, for a test.”

“Uh…good morning?”

Her muffled voice came through the mask, sounding strangely devoid of humanity—almost like hearing someone talk through a radio. Surprisingly, it didn’t stress me out at all.

“Alright, cool. From now on, just talk normally. Writing everything down must’ve been a pain, right? But no shouting. And you have to keep the mask on. No touching, either.”

“You’re a demanding man. Fine, I’ll do as you ask.”

“Thanks. So, what’s up with that thing?”

I pointed at the frozen kaiju in the distance. The Blue Witch tossed me a paper bag filled with supplies as she answered.

“I came here because of that. It’s a monster that attacked Tokyo yesterday.”

According to her, the kaiju had emerged from Tokyo Bay and gone on a rampage, destroying the city. She had managed to freeze it and take it down. Impressive.

However, her magic had also frozen the city, and the ice wasn’t melting—not even with fire. The cold air radiating from the ice had plunged central Tokyo into an unseasonable chill.

Apparently, the Witch of Rekindling Flames had begun thawing the city with fire this morning. But given that the freezing extended across the entire area of Hamura, it was anyone’s guess how long it would take to defrost everything.

“Cities are scary. Glad I live deep in the mountains.”

“It’s not someone else’s problem for you either, Dairi. People found out I have a magic staff.”

“Wait, isn’t that a good thing?”

Her tone made it sound like something terrible had happened, and I tilted my head in confusion.

Wasn’t the plan for her to advertise and sell the magic staves I made? With how spectacularly she’d taken down that kaiju with Kyanos, it seemed like perfect publicity. The more people who saw it in action, the better, right?

As I puzzled over her reaction, the Blue Witch sighed.

“There’s a limit to how much publicity is good. If you make a gun, you can sell it. If you make a missile, you can sell it to the right buyers. But if you make something on the level of a nuclear bomb, no one’s going to buy it. You’ve become Oppenheimer, Dairi.”

Her words sounded serious, so I nodded solemnly, though I didn’t entirely understand. Oppenheimer? Who’s that?

“The other witches are already questioning the origins of this overpowered technology. I’ve been deflecting and dodging their inquiries all day.”

“Why, though? This is the perfect chance to sell!”

If potential buyers were interested, wasn’t it only natural to seize the opportunity and make a sale? That’s what I’d entrusted her with!

As I tilted my head further in confusion, the Blue Witch clutched her head in frustration.

I realized I might have said something strange, but I couldn’t figure out what.

A magic staff capable of wielding nukes-level spells can’t be sold? Why not? Thanks to my staff, that kaiju got iced and defeated, right? Wouldn’t everyone want one? Just sell it.

I voiced my doubts, and the Blue Witch, exasperated, explained everything.

She patiently walked me through concepts like the responsibility of inventors, gunboat diplomacy, and the balance of power.

Finally, I understood my position.

Basically, if nuclear-level weapons fell into the wrong hands, it’d be a disaster—and it would be my fault for inventing them.

But that’s so unfair! All I wanted was to make an amazing magic staff and bask in the glory.

I mean, I get it if no one buys it because it’s weak. But to not sell because it’s too strong? Does that even make sense?

But once I understood, I could see where the Blue Witch was coming from.

Yeah, she’s right. Not everyone is going to use my magic staff for the right reasons. Thinking about it, that’s obvious.

This isn’t like selling fan-made anime merch. What I’ve created is a weapon capable of easily destroying the world.

Of course, there are going to be people who misuse it—to threaten, to kill, to dominate.

It would make me sick to know that a tragedy happened because of a staff I made. I want my staff to have a good reputation, but I don’t want it to come from notoriety.

NO! No to viral scandals!

I folded my arms and pondered the gravity of the situation for a while, but seeing the Blue Witch looking just as troubled made me realize something.

She says my magic staff is like a nuke, but she used it responsibly, didn’t she?

She’s a hero who took down a monster that was destroying Tokyo.

They say, “It’s not the tool that’s bad; it’s the person who uses it.”

So… why not just carefully choose who to sell it to?

Actually, I wouldn’t even mind giving it away for free.

A magic staff imbued with incredible power, bestowed only to those with noble hearts! How awesome is that? Feels way better than selling it for a high price.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I still want to sell them. But I’m not hung up on the price. Can’t you pick out people who seem like they’d use it responsibly and sell it to them?”

When I suggested this, the Blue Witch looked visibly troubled—even through her mask.

“I understand the appeal of that idea. In these turbulent times, the more responsibly used power there is, the better. But I have no eye for judging people.”

“You’ve got a better eye than me.”

“That’s true. But comparing yourself to someone with zero interpersonal skills is meaningless.”

Rude! But zero points? That’s too harsh! I’d say I’m at least a three.

“Come on, I’m begging you! I don’t want the magic staffs I made just sitting around unused. A creation only comes to life in someone else’s hands, right? I don’t even mind selling it to collectors or people who’d use it as a stage prop, as long as they won’t misuse it.”

“But what if you sell it to someone you trust, and it still leads to a tragedy? What then? I’m a woman who’s been betrayed by the people I trusted most: my parents and my childhood friend.”

“Uh, what? I mean, isn’t it the betrayers who are at fault there? I don’t know the details, but still.”

She keeps saying she has no eye for judging people, but getting betrayed by your top three pillars of trust isn’t her fault.

Even my parents—who gave up on me due to my antisocial behavior—never outright betrayed me. They just left me to my own devices.

“If you sell the staff to someone you trust and it still goes wrong, well, that’s just bad luck. I’ll admit it’s irresponsible to sell it carelessly, but if you’re thoughtful about who you sell it to and something still happens, it’s not your fault.”

If you try to take responsibility for everything that stems from your actions, you’ll never get anywhere.

The Blue Witch seems to have gone through some tough times, judging by her gloomy aura, but she doesn’t need to be so pessimistic.

Sure, there are plenty of bad people in the world, but there are also plenty of good ones. Somehow, it’ll work out. Let’s just believe that for now.

Of course, if I stopped making magic staffs altogether, the whole sell-or-don’t-sell debate would vanish. But I want to make them, and I want to sell them, so that’s non-negotiable.

I tried my best to convince the Blue Witch, but if I actually succeeded in persuading her, I’d have to give up my title of “socially inept.”

In the end, she brushed me off with something like, “I’ll sell it if I find someone I think is worthy,” which felt as vague as saying, “I’ll come if I can.”

Yeah, this isn’t going anywhere. Looks like I won’t sell a single one.

For now, I’ll just have to let it go and wait patiently for her to change her mind.

There’s no urgent need to sell them anyway. As long as the Blue Witch is using the staff, my fragile self-esteem and inflated sense of pride will be placated.

Let’s take it slow.

Three months had passed since the Great Kaiju Freezing Incident.

I was still living a reclusive life in Okutama. Thanks to the Blue Witch, who diligently delivered food and supplies, my need to go hunting had decreased significantly. Instead, I had more time to tend to the rice fields.

For now, there were still canned goods and preserved foods left over from before the collapse of civilization. Ironically, the drastic reduction in population had slowed consumption, leaving the city’s stores of food largely untouched.

But they would run out eventually. Ensuring a stable food supply was a major issue.

If this rice field succeeded, at least my personal food needs would be covered. Honestly, I was getting tired of eating old rice—I wanted some fresh, new rice for a change.

At one point, I tried to domesticate some wild chickens I found in the mountains, likely escapees from somewhere. But they just escaped again, rendering my attempt a failure. When I saw one perched atop a two-meter-high fence, wings fully spread, I was devastated.

They looked like they couldn’t fly, with their “Oh no, my wings are atrophied” face, but they took off anyway. I was deceived! Damn you, chickens!

On the other hand, there had been some successes.

My fishing methods, which had previously been limited to rods and traps, saw a major improvement—I learned how to use magic to catch fish.

When I spotted a large school of fish, I blasted them with a magic beam. The stunned fish would float to the surface, and I’d scoop them up with a net. Simple, but effective.

According to the Blue Witch, who taught me this method, I apparently had a relatively large amount of magic power. She estimated it to be about 1/200th to 1/250th of hers.

Ever since the Gremlin Disaster that collapsed human civilization, everyone now had some degree of magic power.

Every human naturally produces bioelectricity—a minuscule amount of electricity, but it generates just enough magic energy to naturally dissipate without harming the body.

People with an overly conductive constitution, however, generate large amounts of magic energy. Unfortunately, this leads to the crystallization of gremlins inside their bodies, which then destroy them from within. So, I was lucky to have a moderate amount of magic power.

While I admired the immense magic power witches had, I wouldn’t want to risk my life to achieve it.

And so, I spent my days learning magic and working in the fields.

One day, while practicing beginner-level magic in the backyard, I was taking lessons from the Blue Witch.

I held Hendenshaw (a staff), while she stood unarmed. We each aimed at paper targets drawn on thick cardboard and hung from the branches of a tree.

“Vaa-laa!”
“No, it’s ‘Va-ah-rah.’ Don’t stretch the ‘Va’; pronounce the ‘ah’ clearly afterward.”
“Va-ah-rah?”
“Closer. Now work on the tone. Listen carefully and repeat after me—freeze, Va-ah-rah!”

The Blue Witch sharply chanted the incantation as an example, and from her outstretched palm, a pale blue freezing beam shot forth, striking the target. The target froze instantly, covered in a thin layer of ice that emitted a faint white mist.

Impressed, I clapped my hands. The Blue Witch snorted dismissively.

“This is the absolute basics. Now, practice the pronunciation. Repeat after me: Va-ah-rah.”
“Va-ah-rah.”
“Again. Va-ah-rah.”
“Va-ah-rah. This is starting to feel like English class. It’s less like a spell and more like learning a foreign language.”
“Of course it is. It’s the magic language.”
“Magic language?”

Intrigued, I asked further, and the Blue Witch, noticing I had lost focus on practice, suggested a short break. She sat down on a log, and I took a seat on a tree stump across from her.

It was time for a lecture.

“I’m not an expert, but according to linguists who study spells, the magic language has proper grammar and syntax. It’s a fully developed language.”
“Huh. So, where did you learn magic language?”
“All witches and wizards instinctively learn it when they wake up from the coma caused by their mutation. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like suddenly knowing how to swim or ride a bike.”
“Yeah, I think I get it.”

It was something you gained later in life—intuitive, and once learned, impossible to forget.

“I don’t know why the spells are engraved in our minds, but it seems that even monsters are able to use magic suited to them right after their mutations. It must follow the same principle.”

“So, does that mean monsters are born knowing the magic language?”

“It’s actually the opposite. The magic language incorporates the pronunciations of monsters. For example, the spell we’re practicing now, ‘Va-ah-rah,’ means ‘freeze.’ According to linguists, specific pronunciations have been assigned particular meanings.”

“…Huh?”

“In other words, when you pronounce ‘Va-ah-rah,’ it triggers freezing. So, this pronunciation was given the meaning ‘freeze’ and integrated into the language. That’s essentially how the magic language was developed.”

“Uh, so it’s like translating a scream like ‘Eek!’ when scared into ‘I’m scared!’?”

“That’s pretty much it. Probably.”

The Blue Witch nodded vaguely, as if even she wasn’t entirely sure. She had said it was more of an intuitive thing, after all.

“Because witches and wizards can control their magic power, they can accurately pronounce spells without accidentally setting off magic. But you’re not a wizard. If you accurately pronounce a spell near gremlins or magic stones, the spell will activate even if you didn’t mean to, so be careful.”

“Wait, that’s a problem if I accidentally chant a spell during conversation!”

“The pronunciation of the magic language is entirely different from Japanese. It’s highly unlikely. Besides, at least seven sounds in the magic language require the mutated vocal cords unique to witches and wizards to pronounce. This is especially true for advanced magic.”

“Sounds that I can’t even pronounce? That’s a thing? I’d love to hear one of those.”

“Alright… here goes: ××・×× Fifi・Eeva-ah-rah.”

The Blue Witch lightly chanted in a melodious voice, like a bird singing, and placed her palm on the log she was sitting on. The log transformed entirely into ice while retaining its shape.

Whoa, seriously? That’s insane! Alchemy? No, this is more like ice transmutation!

“Oh, wait—was that log meant for firewood?”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. That was incredible!”

Having been treated to such an impressive demonstration, I applauded enthusiastically. She looked a bit proud of herself now.

I see. So that’s a witch-exclusive spell. How enviable.

Still, I’ve got my own original “spell,” or rather, a unique scream.

“Does my unique resonance spell have some kind of meaning in magic linguistics?”

“Your unique… what?”

“You know, that thing! Like a screaming beaver shooting a white beam!”

“Ah, that. Hmm, who knows? Like I said, the knowledge I just shared is second hand; I’m not an expert in the magic language myself. I just happen to know a few spells.”

“Got it…”

“If you’re that interested, should I grab some materials from researchers who study spells?”

I eagerly nodded at the Blue Witch’s suggestion.

Knowledge about the magic language would surely provide great inspiration for crafting magic staffs.

“Alright. I’ll bring it after the next witch gathering… so wait five days.”

Yes! I can’t wait for five days from now!

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