Kays Translations

Chapter 44: Recovery and Recent Events

My hospitalization, which began due to appendicitis, lasted six days.

When I returned to Okutama with Hiyori accompanying me after my stitches were removed, I was met by a group of furious fire lizards.

Apparently, in their search for food, they had ransacked every shelf and storage space in the house. The ash from the workshop furnace and the earthen kitchen stove had been scattered all over the place, leaving the house in complete disarray. They even melted the warehouse shutter with their flames and wandered inside, leaving traces of their mischief.

I had hoped to leave their care to Hiyori, but since they weren’t fond of her, any attempt on her part might have just made things worse.

The three fire lizards, lying in the coal basket in the dirt-floor kitchen with their bloated bellies exposed, let out indignant squeaks upon seeing me and bit my finger a little harder than usual.

Sorry for leaving you all alone so suddenly!

But I had my own problems too! Forgive me!

They continued to let out small embers from their mouths in protest, but once I took out a toothbrush and started scrubbing their bodies, which were covered in soot, dust, and dried mud, they wagged their tails and calmed down.

Ah, these little guys are just too cute.

Although dealing with the mess right after recovering from illness was a pain, these fire lizards were still just babies—not even a year old. I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at them.

Honestly, I was relieved the house hadn’t burned down completely.

The doctor had advised me to avoid intense physical activity for a month, so I turned down visits from both Hiyori and Professor Ōhinata. For now, I was officially off-limits.

Hanging out with friends is fun, but it’s exhausting. Being alone is the most comfortable.

They understood, though, and instead, they sent messages using floating eyeball familiars and sparrows (Hiyori ended up keeping two, after all).

While I slowly tidied up the house, selected rice seeds, and prepared the seedlings, things continued to move forward. Their letters, arriving frequently, served as my personal newspaper, and I spent early spring recovering at a relaxed pace, temporarily putting my staff-making business on hold.

The new currency introduced at the start of the year was being distributed smoothly.

There were some hiccups—long lines for exchanging ration tickets for the new money, people stubbornly trying to use the old currency despite repeated announcements—but overall, the transition was going well. Even witches in isolated regions, such as the Spider Witch, the Zombie Witch, and the Pebble Wiych, had accepted the monetary system. With the inclusion of the Tōhoku Hunting Guild and the Hokkaidō Monster Farm, an economic zone was taking shape.

The Tōhoku Hunting Guild had started using the newly opened land route, which had been made possible by slaying the Daidarabocchi. Trading caravans, escorted by wizards, now traveled back and forth. Work had begun on repairing the heavily cracked and overgrown highways, and there were even talks of restoring freight trains to the rail lines.

As the name suggests, the Tōhoku Hunting Guild specialized in hunting, and many of its citizens were skilled in butchering. Unlike in Tokyo, where magic beasts were simply slain, in Tōhoku, their materials were carefully harvested and put to use. Thanks to trade, Tokyo was now benefiting from these techniques.

Some specialty goods from the previous era, such as beef tongue, zunda mochi, and the branded rice “Hitomebore,” had survived in small quantities and were now being imported. As people and goods flowed between regions, currency became a vital lubricant for economic activity.

Hokkaidō’s Monster Farm had also seen a boost. With the Kraken gone, the Pacific coastal shipping route had reopened, revitalizing the Hokkaidō–Sendai–Tokyo trade route with the help of aquatic magic beasts pulling ships.

There were still challenges: the number of ship-pulling monsters was limited, bad weather often disrupted transport, and some amphibious monsters would occasionally appear and halt the ships.

Hokkaidō’s main exports were, of course, domesticated monsters. Their meat, along with cheese and yogurt made from monster milk (which, if consumed in excess, caused stomach problems), were high-value commodities.

Dried salmon, scallops, and kelp—foods that had been produced since the previous era—were also still being manufactured.

I heard that coal from the Ishikari coal fields was now available at a lower price thanks to Hokkaidō’s exports. I placed an order for 100 kilograms on the next trade ship. It cost me 20,000 yen (equivalent to 200,000 yen in the old currency), but since I was making good money, it wasn’t much of a burden.

The fire lizards deserved high-quality food, after all.

Meanwhile, outside this growing economic zone, the last two major survivor communities—Lake Biwa Accord and Arataki Group—were showing signs of unrest.

Lake Biwa Accord had already been in turmoil due to a government shake-up following the Mushroom Pandemic.

Then, around the start of the year, the Arataki Group, which was based in Kyūshū, launched a sudden attack and took control of Lake Biwa Accord.

In other words, Lake Biwa Accord was no more—it had been absorbed by the Arataki Group.

When the Dragon Witch visited Lake Biwa as an envoy for the Tokyo Witch Assembly around February, she was officially welcomed. However, she later reported back, saying,

“I feel like they were probing me for information… Something about it smelled dangerous.”

Not a good sign.

Then again, the Dragon Witch isn’t exactly the most reliable source of information.

From what I’ve heard, the Arataki Group seems more like a criminal syndicate.

This post-apocalyptic world operates on raw violence. Thanks to Japan’s cultural tendency to avoid direct conflict, Tokyo’s Witch Assembly has managed to maintain loose unity, law, and order. The same goes for Tōhoku and Hokkaidō.

But the Arataki Group?

They’re the bad kind of post-apocalyptic gang—one that wields violence openly.

Attacking and taking over other survivor communities? That’s terrifying.

Of course, I only have one source, and it’s not the most reliable.

For all I know, this “invasion” could have been framed as a humanitarian intervention—something like, “The infighting within Lake Biwa Accord was getting out of hand, so we stepped in to restore order and protect innocent civilians!”

If they must be yakuza, I at least hope they’re the honorable kind.

However, for the Witch Assembly, problems in a distant, rarely interacted-with region were secondary to the pressing issues at home.

For example, just last week, on April 4th, school education was officially restarted.

And with it came a mountain of problems.

The new system reinstated a six-year elementary school as mandatory education. But what do you do about kids who were supposed to start first grade when the Gremlin Disaster struck? Those six-year-olds had now turned eleven without proper schooling.

You can’t just throw an eleven-year-old straight into sixth grade.

But you also can’t stick an eleven-year-old in with six-year-olds and call them a first grader. Their physical and cognitive development is completely different.

Each school district handled it differently. Some, struggling with a shortage of teachers, grouped children of vastly different ages together. Others tried to keep age gaps to a maximum of one year. Some placed kids in their age-appropriate grades while supplementing with extra lessons.

But, of course, this led to complaints like, “Why does so-and-so get this special treatment, but I don’t?”

And that was just the beginning of the issues.

Even just dealing with academic issues is a hassle, yet there are constant problems: students being attacked by monsters on their way to school, entire groups of children getting lost while walking home, schools overcrowded with parents picking up their kids out of fear, major fights breaking out with students recklessly using magic and injuring each other—the list goes on and on.

Just reading these sugar-coated stories in the letter is exhausting.

It’s endlessly troublesome.

And to think, they only resumed education after handling the biggest problems—how terrifying.

Even after narrowing the curriculum down to just four subjects—language, math, science, and ethics (including health)—they barely have enough teachers. They’re trying to merge social studies into language classes and incorporate art into science, showing how desperate the situation is.

Looking at it from another angle, it really makes you realize how fortunate Japan’s education system was before the Gremlin Disaster. Back then, the biggest issues were overbearing parents and the occasional trespasser. Now, in more dangerous areas, actual man-eating monsters show up on school grounds instead. That’s beyond a joke.

I’m really grateful I got to finish my education in a peaceful era.

Just hearing about all this as an outsider is exhausting—imagine how chaotic it must be for those actually dealing with it. I can only offer my condolences.

But it’s not just education—monsters have also become a serious issue troubling the Witch Assembly over the past few months.

The extermination of the Daidarabocchi at the end of last year is still fresh in memory.

Recently, a mysterious black Gremlin that was found with the Daidarabocchi has started appearing among high-tier and some mid-tier monsters.

Since that event, there’s been a disturbing trend: powerful monsters are getting even stronger.

Specifically, high-tier monsters have begun using time acceleration magic.

And every time a monster with time acceleration is killed, its corpse always contains the same mysterious black Gremlin—which disintegrates into dust after a while.

High-tier monsters are already a massive threat. Only witches or wizards can defeat them.

The fact that these monsters are now gaining troublesome new abilities is extremely concerning.

Right now, only about 20% of high-tier monsters possess these black Gremlins, and their time acceleration lasts only a few seconds. Witches are still managing to handle them.

However, the frequency of their appearance is increasing.

There have already been cases where even battle-hardened witches were caught off guard by a suddenly accelerated monster and ended up injured.

If these creatures continue to grow in number and further develop their abilities, who knows what will happen?

In the worst-case scenario, witches and wizards could be overwhelmed, and Tokyo itself might be overrun by powerful monsters.

It’s been five years since the Gremlin Disaster.

Why are monsters only now gaining new abilities—especially ones so uniformly dangerous?

To investigate this mystery, the university’s monster studies department has been granted an increased research budget this year.

The combat department has also expanded its enrolment, and the Gremlin studies department is apparently developing anti-high-tier-monster Gremlin grenades using refined Gremlins.

Okutama remains one of the safest areas, as only the weakest tier of monsters ever appears here. The region is also constantly covered in the “Fog of the Lost,” making it a secure zone within Tokyo.

But after hearing all these reports, I can’t help but stay on guard.

Any increase in monster power is a disaster waiting to happen.

While recovering, I read through these troubling letters, but with May approaching, it’s almost time for rice planting.

My recovery period is over, so I decided to take a walk to get my body moving again, accompanied by my fire lizards.

Rice planting is hard labor. If I don’t regain my strength by then, it’ll be a problem.

The fire lizards, understanding their place in the group hierarchy, never walked ahead of me. They followed behind, trotting along.

Tsubaki, the boldest one, was busy catching grasshoppers with his front legs.

Mokutan, the curious one, was flitting between chasing butterflies and blowing fire at dandelion fluff.

Sekitan, the laid-back one, kept lagging behind and was frequently prodded forward by Tsubaki’s tail.

Because of the ever-present “Fog of the Lost,” visibility was limited to just ten meters.

So while I couldn’t enjoy the scenery, walking familiar paths was still a refreshing change of pace.

My body felt fine.

Even after jogging a little, there was no pain in my stomach.

Looks like I’ve fully recovered.

I’m back! The great Dairi Kenshi has returned!

Just as I reached the outskirts of Okutama and turned back to head home, I suddenly stopped.

I thought I heard something through the fog.

Straining my ears, I could make out a faint voice.

“…san… ji-san…”

A child’s voice.

A little girl.

I frowned.

No one should be wandering around here.

Wait—could this be related to that news I read in the letter?

The one about schoolkids getting lost on their way home?

Ah, I see.

A little brat must’ve wandered all the way out here along the train tracks.

I can believe it.

After all, I once ended up in the next city over as a kid just by walking straight, thinking I’d eventually reach a familiar place.

Back then, my parents called the cops, and they had to come find me.

Even if she’s just a lost kid, she’s still a person.

I don’t exactly want to interact with people, but…

The “Fog of the Lost” is a magic mist.

Once inside, people can get trapped and wander until they starve to death.

“OJi-san! Oji-san! Oji-saaaan! …Where are you? Oji-saaan!”

The girl’s voice called out for her uncle, sounding anxious and lonely.

Ugh… Uuugh. I really wanted to pretend I didn’t hear anything and just go home.

But if I ignored her, she’d probably keep wandering until she died.

Yeah… That would be bad.

I considered calling Hiyori to deal with it, but this was way too trivial for that. If it were a dragon sighting or a serious illness, that’d be different. But this? No way.

After taking several minutes to muster up the courage to meet a stranger, I picked up Mokutan and Sekitan, holding them like makeshift flamethrowers just in case, and headed toward the voice.

I figured I’d just guide the lost kid to the train tracks on the Ōme Line and point her in the direction of the city. Whether she actually made it home wasn’t my problem. I wasn’t about to take on that much responsibility.

Emerging from the fog was exactly what I expected—a young girl.

She looked to be about early elementary school age, with delicate, youthful features. Her long green hair was adorned with an elegant red flower ornament. She glanced around nervously in the mist, her presence carrying a gentle floral scent—one that felt both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

As I stepped forward to call out to her, she turned and noticed me.

And that’s when I noticed something, too.

The thing she was wearing on her lower half—it wasn’t a skirt.

It was leaves and flower petals.

Her upper half was human, but her lower half was a plant!

“Aah! Oji-san! I finally found you!”

Her worried expression instantly lit up with joy as she ran toward me.

I was so shocked I nearly collapsed.

Whaaaaaat!?

You’re one of the Flower Witch’s seedlings!?

What the hell are you doing here!?

Previous chapter | TOC | Next chapter