ท้องฟ้าที่ดาบนับพันร่ายรำ — Section 1

## Illustration

## Chapter One

Ah, a bird just flew across the sky. How rare. I thought that as I watched the distant sky, so lacking in any sense of reality. Of course, now was no time to be thinking about such things. A streak of silver light cut from the upper left of my vision down to the lower right. The blade's gleam slashed diagonally from my shoulder. I hopped back a short step, trying to evade the attack, but my reaction was half a beat too slow. From my left shoulder to my right hip, I had already made intimate contact with my opponent's longsword. Guarding against a follow-up, I opened the distance between us and reset my stance. He did not press the chase either. As if he were watching what I would do, he slowly raised his sword overhead. Strong. You could say he ranked among the top three of everyone I had fought so far. But I could still fight. So long as I still had the ability to fight, I had not lost. All my focus gathered at my fingertips. Was he aiming to finish me in one blow? I carefully predicted the timing of his attack. "Hey, this isn't a matchmaking meeting. Get on with it." From within the circle of people watching our duel, Asumi's voice rang out. I know. Just watch quietly. On my side, I measured the timing with a light breath. One. Two. Three! If I don't get to sleep soon, tomorrow will be a real hassle. Being late on the first day of school is no good at all. Sitting at a desk at school is "reality." The world where I swing a longsword and aim to be the strongest swordsman in the world is "illusion." My opponent's sword came down at me as I charged into his range, and—

## Chapter Two

Monday, one week after the second-semester opening ceremony. After sixth period, homeroom ended as soon as they handed back the old kanji quizzes. (Note: this refers to kanji in Japanese.) But it was my turn on cleaning duty, so I couldn't go straight home. My classmates on duty and I took brooms and swept every corner of the classroom. Even when we played rock-paper-scissors to decide who would take out the trash, I didn't say a word to them. I lost the game almost at once. By the time I came back from dumping the garbage, there was no one left in the classroom. My eyes went to the seat in the very center. Of course, Mayama Asumi wasn't there either. She always went home the moment homeroom ended. To log into the game world a little sooner, of course. Sometimes she was online even earlier than I was, and I lived close to school. I didn't know why she, who by anyone's eyes seemed to be living a happy school life, had such passion for an online game. Maybe, like me, she had some reason. Or maybe she simply found playing more fun than wandering the streets with friends or joining a sports club. None of that mattered to me. I grabbed my bag, slipped through the gaps between classmates still buzzing with the excitement of dismissal, and headed for the bike lot. I swung a leg over the bike and pushed hard on the pedals. The autumn sun was still strong. I passed once more through the shopping street I had crossed countless times since starting high school. Even now, nearly half the shops were shuttered. And the thriving ki—

## Chapter Three

That night, unusually, I had a dream. A dream with a powerful sense of reality. I stood at one end of a square ring laid out in the gymnasium, wearing a sleeveless karate gi. It was a deeply nostalgic feeling, as if I had still been wearing it only yesterday. I had practiced karate back in elementary school, but the me who appeared in the dream looked like the high school student I was now. Facing me, standing on the other side of the ring, was another boy who looked like a high school student, just a little more solidly built than I was. His face was very blurred. I didn't know who he was. Only a pair of keen, bright eyes was especially clear. The referee standing between us waved a hand, and the two of us, like magnets drawn to each other, advanced carefully and boldly toward the center of the mat. We kept going until we were close enough to shake hands and bow. Then both of us exploded into motion at once. Like beasts freed from their chains, we swung fists and feet and went at each other. Strikes, kicks, straight punches driven into an opponent I held no grudge against, an opponent I had never even spoken to. Strike, kick, kick, blow, strike. I feinted a kick and drove in a straight punch. I took his straight punch head-on and kicked it back. That went on and on. Pain like nails being driven into muscle came in waves. After a brief exchange, a heavy fatigue spread through my whole body. I was dreaming, and yet the feeling was utterly real. Why did it have to be this hard? The me in the dream thought that. Thinking it, I kept giving my opponent—

## Chapter Four

I glanced at the clock in the room. The hands pointed exactly at 11:30. Thirty minutes remained until the duel time I had arranged with Yami. As a warm-up before the decisive match, Asumi and I each fought five players ranked between 10th and 100th. I won all five with more than three-quarters of my health bar left. My condition was better than it had ever been. The white-robed swordsman, though, was in no such shape. Asumi had also gone undefeated, but four of those fights were won only after her health had been cut to below half, and the last one was a bitter victory fought down to an empty bar. The one who had nearly driven Asumi into a corner was a player ranked 15th, whose rank had been climbing lately. His attacks were precise, and his combos were polished. It probably wouldn't be long before he broke into the top ten. But he was not someone who should have been able to force the usual Asumi into a hard fight. It was something only I, who was always with Asumi, might have noticed: a very small flaw. The gap between technique and technique was a little longer than usual. A flaw that small looked enormous now, when we meant to defeat Yami, the one hailed as "the strongest." "I'm a little off. But I'm the type who comes through when it counts." I looked at the text on the screen and pictured Mayama Asumi on the other side, typing through the pain. At last the hour hand and the minute hand both pointed straight up at the sky. Sunday, just after midnight. A scattering of players—

## Final Chapter

Even inside the classroom, the white breath I exhaled made me narrow my eyes without meaning to. More than a month had passed quickly since Mayama left. It was already mid-December. Final exams were over, and all that remained was waiting for winter break. Classmates' laughter and chatter drifted now and then across the empty seat that still sat in the center of the room. The day the teacher announced that Mayama was transferring, the whole class had talked about it. Now almost no one said her name. It wasn't that everyone had forgotten her. It was only that Mayama Asumi was no longer here. Since then, never mind meeting Mayama again—I hadn't even contacted her. When I thought about it, I didn't even know how to reach her. Not only me. It seemed no one in the class knew Mayama's address in America. Not even Nagai. Learning that did surprise me a little. "Huh? Nagai, you don't know her address either?" "If anything, it would be stranger if I were the only one who didn't. Don't you think?" "I don't." At my answer, Nagai gave a wry smile. We weren't especially close, but we could still joke a little. "My last contact with her was the same as everyone else's. Right after the teacher told us Mayama was transferring, I got that text she sent from the airport." The text Nagai meant had gone to the whole class—Mayama's phone…