Volume 6 Chapter 75 Shinano’s
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
On an early summer afternoon, I began pedaling Akagarei-go, my road bike.
I carried only a single bag—though quite a large one. It was a bicycle travel pack that had belonged to my uncle. Despite its size, it was nearly empty, making it light. Inside was a special pocket holding a sports drink pouch, with a thin tube reaching up to my mouth so I could sip while riding.
I chose this backpack to hide the magic bag. With something this bulky, it wouldn’t seem strange if all sorts of items came out of it.
The summer heat didn’t bother me much while cycling. The breeze cut through, whisking away sweat before it could soak in. Maybe this is what they mean by evaporative cooling?
The sun blazed, and cicadas screamed in the trees. These days, even in Kanto, the large mountain cicadas—Kumazemi—had made their presence known. Their sheer number was overwhelming. Since they emerge every year, it meant countless more were still underground. When I scanned the trees with my radar, I could see them squirming below—fat ones, everywhere.
Not just cicadas, either. I picked up signs of beetle grubs crawling beneath the soil too. If this were another world, kids would be hunting them down as snacks. I remembered hearing the tastiest ones were those that live inside wood—like kirigirimer grubs—rather than the ones buried in dirt.
Ah… just a random memory, floating up. Things never go quite how you expect, do they?
The cycle computer showed 20 kilometers per hour. It had a GPS too, though an older model—one that only received satellite signals. That meant no tracking. No one would be able to follow me.
I liked machines like this. Simple. Reliable. Just like magic. I had an idea earlier, but it slipped away when I stopped at a red light. Oh well.
This morning had been unpleasant. I failed to convince my mom to let me return to high school. But now, the frustration was fading. Moving your body really does help when your mind’s cluttered.
”Why are moms always like that…” I muttered, adjusting my grip.
As I rode deeper into the suburbs, traffic thinned out, and the path grew smoother. Some patches were cracked, but overall it was better than anything in the other world.
A group of cyclists zipped by in streamlined gear, their posture sharp.
”Keirin pros, maybe,” I murmured, watching their forms.
I sped up to match them. The cycle computer read 38 kilometers per hour. So that’s a normal speed for this kind of group, huh?
Up until now, I’d been taking it easy. But on a road bike, 40 km/h wasn’t anything crazy.
They pushed harder. I clung to their tail, and soon we were cruising at 50… no, 55 kilometers per hour.
The road sign said the speed limit was 60. At this rate, we were basically keeping pace with the cars.
Except, the cars were tearing past us. None of them followed the limit. Probably 70 km/h at least.
Still, for me, 55 km/h was a milestone. The first time I’d reached this speed on a road bike. I had strength thanks to the other world. But pure strength alone wouldn’t cut it.
I studied the riders ahead, adjusting my form. So that tight clothing wasn’t just for looks. My sleeves were flapping like crazy. It was making things harder than they needed to be.
Even the bikes were different. Modern road bikes use carbon fiber and resin to stay light. The frame was shaped to cut through wind. The wheels weren’t normal either—aero-carbon types, or whatever the term was.
The faster you go, the harder the wind pushes back. Those riders used pro-level tech to fight resistance, while I relied on brute muscle power.
Then it hit me—a memory of Ms. Claire’s magic. Claire-sensei… a graceful centaur woman with a kind heart. In that other world, I did terrible things to her. I used her. And yet…
”I wasn’t a villain,” I told myself, the wind stinging my eyes. “Still… maybe it was meant to be.”
A dull ache pressed against my chest. What was that feeling?
* * *
Right when I recalled the spell, the wind resistance seemed to vanish. I surged forward, almost crashing into the cyclist ahead.
Luckily, my uncle had outfitted Akagarei-go with top-tier brakes. I eased on them, wheels unharmed, and swerved to the side, overtaking the group in one smooth motion.
”Whoa, what?!” someone behind gasped.
Yeah… I messed up.
Imagine being in their place. A kid with a giant backpack zips by on an outdated bike. That wouldn’t sit well with anyone.
Acting like I was out of breath, I slowed down.
”Just a lucky burst,” I whispered, easing off the pedals.
They passed me again, regaining the lead.
I figured it out then. I could maintain around 50 kilometers per hour without drawing attention. At that pace, I could go 100 kilometers in just two hours. Not bad. I’d stick with that plan.
When I stopped at a red light, the group kept going. Sure, it was annoying to lose momentum, but blowing through a red light? That seemed a bit reckless.
I’d go at my own pace. My goal today was to reach Ms. Shirakaba’s family home.
A little farther along, I saw the same cyclists sprawled across the parking lot of a convenience store, shaped like the kanji for “big.” They looked exhausted. So they weren’t pros after all.
No point sprinting only to collapse later. I’d go slow and steady. The drink pouch turned out to be useful. I used to think it was silly, but being able to hydrate while riding was way more helpful than I expected.
Eating while riding was another matter. I heard Earth had convenient things like energy jelly drinks. I’d have to try one sometime.
My food was in the magic bag. I’d eat once I found a good spot.
* * *
With GPS set, I aimed for Saku City in Nagano Prefecture. The road climbed steadily. My old self would’ve quit already.
The mountain terrain was complicated. One wrong turn and I’d be stuck climbing up and down over and over. My uncle used to say Sengoku-era warlords had it rough. Back then, they didn’t even have paved roads.
Maybe it was the altitude, but the air felt cooler. Even so, my moving body kept me warm. I wasn’t freezing, not yet.
This was my first time in Saku. Back in middle school, when I heard the Nagano anthem “Shinano no Kuni,” I thought places like Inasa and Saku were famous rice fields.
It was on Nagano’s eastern edge, not far from the Hero’s hideout. Maybe even within summoning range.
Saku wasn’t a tourist spot like Karuizawa, but just seeing the tall mountains made it feel like a vacation.
Locals probably thought it was nothing special.
GPS showed Ms. Shirakaba’s home was deep in the mountains, far from the city. I followed a clear valley road and soon reached a small cluster of houses.
An elderly woman was peeling gourds in front of a shed, laying them on mats to dry. Dried gourd—kanpyo—was often used in sushi.
I watched her hands move skillfully, until she noticed me.
”Where are you from?” she asked.
”Tokyo. By bike,” I answered.
Her eyes widened. “By bicycle? That’s impressive. You did well.”
It felt like honest praise. I smiled.
”If you keep going up, you’ll reach… what was it… the Alps Flower Garden Village?”
That name sounded freshly made.
But her face changed. Her warm smile vanished, replaced by something cold.
”You shouldn’t go there.”
No matter what I asked after that, she said nothing more.
It gave me chills. This felt like one of those warning scenes from a horror story.
But I figured it was just some local drama. I heard some rural places still held grudges from centuries ago.
Still, the name Alps Flower Fields sounded like something made this century.
I shook off the uneasy feeling and pushed forward. My cheat-powered legs carried me up the trail.
Then the road ended. Asphalt gave way to a dirt path. Not good for a road bike.
I got off and pushed.
Fresh tire tracks cut through the mud. A car had come this way not long ago. Local? Tourist?
The trail wound between tall horse chestnut trees. My sense of direction was sharp thanks to my skill, but with GPS, it wasn’t needed. Guess I was just average.
A handmade sign stood crookedly.
”Welcome to Alps Flower Fields Village.”
Beneath the paint, I could faintly read the old name: “Seven Stream Hollow Village.” That sounded better.
Off the side of the road stood an old stable with a red tin roof. I stepped aside to look.
The concrete trough held clear water, leaves floating on top. Water striders danced across it.
Even after people leave, the world goes on. Just like in the other world. The ruins… triggered something in me.
* * *
The worn-out signs led me higher. One read “Wonder Vogel Tournament,” likely from a forgotten event.
Rusty ski lift towers poked through the slope. It had probably been a ski resort once. Wildflowers blanketed the grassy field.
Midway up the slope, I saw a pension with a design based on an anime Alps girl. This must be the Shirakaba family inn.
Near the base of the hill was a cluster of prefab houses. Staff dorms?
Two mud-caked Land Cruisers were parked nearby. Definitely not tourist cars. Their Nagano plates confirmed it.
In the open lot stood a concrete statue titled “Girl of the Mountain.”
It was… not good. Not even three heads tall. Clearly meant to look like a certain anime character, but the resemblance was painful.
They must’ve painted it bronze first, realized it looked wrong, and tried to fix it with anime colors. Still wrong.
Its face was creepy—flesh-colored paint with marker-drawn features. Red circles on the cheeks made it worse. Any small kid would cry.
Was this a theme park? Or just someone’s hobby taken too far?
Beside the statue stood a prefab shop. Inside, canned juice sold for 1,000 yen, cup noodles for 1,000 yen, and rice with mountain vegetables for 2,000 yen.
”Mountain price,” the overweight woman at the counter said, waving her hand. “You’re lifting fortunes from below. Same logic as Mount Fuji.”
Please don’t let this be Ms. Shirakaba’s mom.
”Rice is tasty! Has wild yamabuki! I opened it! You must buy it!”
I never agreed, but her pushiness could’ve swayed a timid person. My old self might’ve bought it.
With steel will, I turned and left. I heard her click her tongue.
I came all this way. There had to be someone reasonable around here.
Behind the overpriced shop, I spotted a container house. Someone was inside.
Peeking through the window, I saw an old man lying in a checkered cloth, watching horse racing on TV. Probably not the one to ask.
Across the square was another shop: “Alp’s Lamp Shop.”
More stylish than the other one. The window displayed colorful lanterns, teddy bears, scarves, and sunglasses.
The prices were outrageous. But strangely, I didn’t mind as much.
Maybe because this one at least had taste.
I parked my bicycle by the wall and pushed open the door. It clattered a little as I stepped inside.
A woman in a maid outfit sat behind the counter, flipping through a fashion magazine. She looked up slowly.
She was about the same age as Ms. Shirakaba. Her hair was done in twin-tails, but sadly, she wasn’t wearing a headband.
”Welcome. Thanks for dropping by Alrm’s shop,” she said with little interest.
She looked like she didn’t want to be here.
”Uh, I’m looking for someone named Niimi,” I said, glancing around.
”Niimi? Are you one of Fuu-Fuu’s buddies?” she asked, tilting her head.
”Fuu-Fuu?”
”Fuu-Fuu is Fuu-Fuu,” she said, waving a hand. “Ah, I mean Fubuki? That name sounds kinda rare, right? You a ninja or something?”
Niimi Fubuki, huh? According to the files, he’s Ms. Shirakaba’s younger brother. Same age as me.
Ms. Shirakaba never talked much about her past in Japan, so I couldn’t ask about her family. But Kondou’s little brother had all the details—names, ages, even their house layout.
”Where does Fubuki live?” I asked. “Is it that pension at the top of the mountain?”
”Yeah. He hasn’t been to school lately,” she said, then smirked. “Oh! I’m not telling you! Unless you buy something, you’re not a customer. And only customers get info. That’s mountain law.”
That counts as a law? Well, even in another world, weird customs still exist. My uncle used to say the same thing—Japanese people expect too much for free.
Guess I’ll have to buy something cheap. I looked around the shop, but nothing really stood out.
Huh? That lamp over there…
A Nelson lamp. Old sailing ships used to hang those on their masts.
The brass was dull and stained, probably from spilled oil over the years. But if I saw it as rustic charm, it had its own beauty. Worst case, I could polish it back to life.
The thick glass dome felt tough, almost military-grade. The burner seemed added later—plain, no frills, but finely crafted.
Wick lamps like this used to be common in the old days. My uncle had a few at home, but none this size. Could be a decent souvenir—or maybe a sample for something.
Looking at it somehow reminded me of old dwarves with thick beards.
”What about this worn-out thing?” I asked, pointing at it. “How much?”
I wiped some dust off it, but there was no price tag.
”It’s dirty, but it’s big,” she said, grinning. “Thirty thousand yen.”
”That’s kinda high, isn’t it?” I muttered.
Even brand new, it’d probably go for twenty thousand yen at most. Then again, plenty of cheap lamps sell at triple the fair price just for the look. So maybe this wasn’t too bad.
”Mountain law, remember?” she said, smirking. “No talk about Fuu-Fuu unless you buy.”
”Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll take it. Now tell me about the Niimi family.”
”Thanks a bunch,” she said, her grin growing. “Leave the gossip to me.”
She wrapped the lamp in old newspaper and stuffed it into my empty backpack. It barely fit, and carrying it made me feel awkward, but it already proved its worth.
”The Niimi family came from outside. Niimi’s uncle used to work with my dad. Got fired for doing something dumb, I think. Dad felt sorry for him and quit too. That’s how they came here and started the flower field stuff. All this land belongs to my grandpa, so they kinda rent from us.”
I should take her words with some caution, but the story felt interesting.
At least she didn’t seem to be lying. Doesn’t mean she knew everything, though.
As for the job stuff, Kondou’s little brother could probably look up their work history.
”And after Yukina ran off…” she said, trailing off. “Fuu-Fuu kinda lost it. He hasn’t been going to school since.”
My heart jumped. This was about Ms. Shirakaba!
”Oh, Yukina is Fuu-chan’s big sister. Same age as me, but she’s really shy. Guys treat her like some elegant lady ’cause she’s quiet. Just a pretty face, honestly. But I know why she ran away.”
”Hmm,” I said, keeping my voice flat.
She talked a lot. Jumped from topic to topic like it was nothing.
But the moment she brought up Ms. Shirakaba, I felt a shiver all over me. This was the info I wanted the most.
Still, if I showed too much interest, she might stop talking. I had to act casual. Not too cold, not too eager. Just the right balance—that was the trick here.
”My stupid older brother stole Yukina’s first kiss, you know?” she said, looking annoyed. “It was supposed to be some arranged thing our parents wanted. Dumb, right? He even showed up at her class trying to kiss her in front of everyone. She bit him. He bled a lot. Huge mess.”
That made something dark rise in my chest.
I didn’t know if Ms. Shirakaba was always scared of men… or if it came from something like that.
Either way, that guy needed a solid punch.
”Just a kiss, and she freaked out. What an idiot,” the woman went on. “Because of that, he doesn’t go to school anymore. And that dumb brother of mine ended up joining the local thugs.”
”So… what happened to Yukina-san?” I asked quietly.
”No clue. I thought she was holed up at home, but now they say she vanished. Honestly, Niimi’s uncle is hopeless. I think loveless marriages are stupid.”
”That’s a smart view,” I said, nodding.
The brother might be trash, but the sister still had some common sense.
”Men are easy to read,” she said with a huff. “Sorry, but I’ve got high standards. I’d never date someone like you. Only someone like Fuu-Fuu is my type.”
Seems like she misunderstood something. Her confidence was kind of painful to witness.
So, Fubuki must be good-looking. Well, he is Ms. Shirakaba’s real brother.
”Why do men always chase after perfect flowers?” she muttered. “Even my dad’s a fool. He flirts with Fuu-Fuu’s aunt. She’s still pretty, sure. But my mom got jealous and stabbed him with a knife.”
Stabbed? That sounds serious…
But that’s adult drama. Probably cheating involved. I didn’t want to think about it.
”Is the woman working at the store across the street your mom?” I asked.
”Yeah, and if you say we look alike, I’ll punch you. I’m not turning into some fat pig like her.”
Suddenly, her mood shifted.
She looked uneasy, almost scared.
”Grandpa’s seriously dangerous. If you mess with him, he might actually kill you.”
A grandfather that even his granddaughter fears? Something about that felt real.
The woman, who had been chatting nonstop, suddenly shut her mouth tight. Like a clam.
Guess that was all I was getting out of her.
Still, I learned enough to make the lamp worth it.
A lot of it was unpleasant, honestly. Part of me wished I hadn’t come. But I finally understood what weighed on Ms. Shirakaba’s heart.
She was brave. Proud. Just knowing that was enough.
Those traits aren’t really needed in Japan anymore. Maybe it was better that she got summoned.
Maybe I missed something important. Did the ones sent to another world actually find peace there?
Just living isn’t enough, right? For people who feel out of place, dying a hero in another world might be their only way out.
I never saw it because this world felt fine to me. But some people are trapped in pain, even now.
Japan has a lot of suicides. But over there? No suicides. Those who give up become slaves. And with the right skill, they follow orders and find peace. Maybe that’s another kind of salvation.
Everything I thought was right feels flipped now.
Why do I feel like this?
Maybe because I finally saw how hard Ms. Shirakaba’s life had been. I thought I understood sadness from watching dramas. But I was just a clueless kid.
Speaking of which… wasn’t Mr. Kondou involved in a marriage scam too? That was a mess.
Maybe Heroes only get summoned if they’ve got too much pain in their lives.
Maybe the summoning is picking the ones who want to escape Earth. Professor said something like that once.
Maybe the Hero Bureau isn’t as evil as I thought. Maybe they really are thinking about saving people.
Hero summoning… could it be a rescue too?
I remember yelling at Mr. Kondou’s little brother, telling him to stop summoning people. But now, I’m not so sure anymore.
* * *
I pushed my bicycle up the green slope. The trail was faint, barely visible in places, like no one had come this way for a long time.
The sun was leaning low in the sky. Long shadows stretched across the ground, painting the hill in sharp contrasts.
Summer days really were long. I managed to reach Nagano in just one day.
The pension looked old and faded up close. The father built it after leaving his company job—before Ms. Shirakaba was summoned. Probably borrowed a lot of money for it.
Looking back at everything I’d learned… this dad might be the kind of person who causes trouble.
I leaned my bike by the wall and walked to the front door. A bell jingled as I stepped in.
Inside, a greasy man was trying to talk to a beautiful woman. She backed away quickly.
I already knew from my Radar Scan what kind of guy he was.
In that moment of distraction, the woman slipped through a door and vanished.
”Ah! Lady Yukie!” the man called after her, his eyes full of regret.
Niimi Yukie. Ms. Shirakaba’s mother. They really did look alike.
”What’s your deal?” the man snapped, turning to me. “You a guest? I’m Takai. This is a fancy pension. Thirty thousand just for staying. Forty with dinner. Twenty for breakfast. Take it or go!”
His attitude was unbelievable.
”Hey, Kamitake,” a voice said from behind, “don’t change the rates on your own.”
A sharp-looking man stepped out from the back, dressed like a high-end hotel manager.
That must be Niimi Joji—Ms. Shirakaba’s father. The one who might be trouble.
He looked amazing. Tall. Well-dressed. Full of confidence.
Standing next to greasy Kamitake, they didn’t even seem like the same species.
”Tch,” Kamitake clicked his tongue loudly, then stomped off.
Mr. Joji kept a cool face. He didn’t react at all to the rude behavior. Maybe because I was watching? Or… did he really not notice Ms. Yukie getting hit on?
She’s a beautiful wife. He’s her husband. It reminded me of those older married couples from the other world… like Ms. Flare.
Too much jealousy is bad. But no jealousy at all? That’s weird too.
”Welcome to Grandpa’s mountain hut,” he said. “Are you alone? One night’s stay with two meals is ten thousand yen, paid up front.”
”Who are you?” I asked.
”I’m Niimi Joji, the CEO,” he said, handing me a business card with a perfect smile.
A CEO? But didn’t the woman down below say he was just a tenant?
Either way, this was definitely Ms. Shirakaba’s dad…
”Just one night, please.”
Asking for his daughter right now would be too much.
I did plan to convince them, but Kondou’s little brother warned me—never talk about other worlds with untrustworthy people.
First, I had to know what kind of people they really were.
I wanted to believe in them. They were her family, after all.
But maybe they were part of what went wrong.
Even I have relatives like my uncle. But at least he knows how to keep secrets.
* * *
The man himself showed me to the room. So what is Kamitake? Not a staff member?
”Please look,” Mr. Joji said, pointing at the window. “The world is glowing red. It’s called Abendrot—the most beautiful time of day.”
He was right. The view was stunning.
”I built this pension to share that with everyone,” he said.
”Is that what people call leaving the company life?” I asked.
”Yes,” he replied, nodding. “It was a tough seven years. But seeing guests smile makes it worth it.”
I wasn’t smiling. I couldn’t smile.
He was just like Uncle. Dragging family into some dream? That’s even worse than Uncle.
But no. Too soon to judge.
What matters is whether the family really wanted it too.
Still… the fact that Ms. Shirakaba’s place is gone now makes me feel guilty.
Notes:
• Ms. Claire – 22-year-old centaur attendant to Joa, with a chestnut horse body and wavy hair. Level 18 mounted archer. Recently enslaved, retains her own will. Her bow skills are sealed due to subservience. Bought by the protagonist as a companion, alongside Joa
• Shirakaba – A paladin who seems to be a skilled fighter. He’s introduced as someone with a strong defense and healing abilities.
• Fubuki – Male. Ms. Shirakaba’s younger brother. Handsome and around the same age as the protagonist. Not attending school recently. Lives in a mountain-top pension. Has an older sister named Yukina.
• Yukina – Ms. Shirakaba real name. Female. Fubuki’s older sister. Introverted and considered beautiful. Ran away from home after an incident with her older brother. Her family’s circumstances are a source of worry for her.
• Yukie – Female. Ms. Shirakaba’s mother. Beautiful and resembles her daughter. Her relationship with Jōji appears to be troubled, with hints of jealousy and infidelity.
• Kamitake – Male. Employee at the pension. Greasy appearance and rude attitude. Attempted to approach Yukie, Ms. Shirakaba’s mother, inappropriately.
• Joji – Male. Ms. Shirakaba’s father. Described as handsome and charming. CEO of a pension in the mountains. Quit his corporate job to build the pension. His relationship with his wife, Yukie, seems strained.
• Flare – Munin’s 19-year-old wife, village’s most beautiful woman and village chief’s daughter. Bewitching beauty with fiery red hair, seductive features, and a curvaceous figure. Reserved but unintentionally captivating, her pheromones spellbind men. Childhood friend and dominant in their relationship.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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