A WANDERING MINSTREL SHOWED UP
We recently placed a board in the dining room for sticking notes.
We had administrative notes, like whose turn it was to cook or clean, but there were also other things on it as well.
DAY 1: 25 ← You can do more
DAY 2: 23 ← Moving around too much
DAY 3: 26 ← Steps are loud
It kept going on and on after that, so I’ll stop there, but the day with the number next to it was how many slimes Laika killed that day.
Over twenty was her general goal.
She apparently got motivation from looking at it. Keeping a record wasn’t a bad thing at all.
I knew she could easily kill over a hundred in a day without breaking a sweat, even if they could be hard to find.
But I was the one who told her not to do that.
That’s because if she couldn’t do it without pushing herself, it would eventually become too difficult and leave her unable to do it at all.
That would just be putting the cart before the horse, so I was having her do enough each day that it became pure habit.
And the remarks beside the numbers were Flatorte pushing her onward. They were apparently killing slimes together. It didn’t seem like they were really at odds, so I was letting them do as they pleased.
The two came back at around sunset that day. It was Laika’s turn to cook dinner.
“We’re back, Lady Azusa.” “Mistress, we’re home!”
The two greeted me as I sat at the table reading a book about especially valuable plants.
“Good work today, you two. Now go wash your hands, and be sure to gargle.”
They went to the washing area that drew water from the well and came back. The house in the highlands was very civilized compared to the rest of the world.
Even after Laika went to the kitchen, she did some practice swings—more like practice punches. Cute as she was, she was a dragon, so one of those hits would kill a normal person. It would be like getting clocked by a pro martial artist who was throwing a serious punch.
“Your movements are much sharper than they used to be. I don’t know if there’s much point in practicing in human form, though…”
“Do you think so? I’m so glad! And there is a point; no matter what form I am in, my perception is the same as it is when I am a dragon.”
Then she could continue training to be the strongest.
“Perseverance is power. I will become the strongest dragon!”
I wasn’t very preoccupied with strength, so I had no idea what could come of being the strongest dragon, but it was probably like an athlete aiming for even greater heights.
That was the kind of thing you called competing with yourself. It was always good to try to improve yourself, no matter what it was. As long as you didn’t stray into the realm of overwork.
While I pondered that, Laika called out as she opened and closed all the cupboard doors.
“What? We don’t have any carrots or onions.”
Uh-oh. That wasn’t like missing herbs for some extra flavor. Those were key ingredients.
“Oh right, Falfa and Shalsha went out for shopping and haven’t come back yet. I wonder if they got sidetracked…”
They were both diligent kids, so I doubted they would give up halfway through their shopping. Oh no—maybe they’re so cute that they got kidnapped…?! All because they were too cute… I guess it’s possible…
As that thought crossed my mind, the two came home.
“Sorry we’re laaate.”
“Something caught our eye, so we went on a hunt.”
They each carried one pack of woven wood, both stuffed to the brim.
Looks like they did bring home some vegetables.
“You are late. Hurry up and give the veggies to Laika. She won’t have anything to cook with.”
“Big Sis Laika, I’m sorry.” “My apologies.”
The two apologized to Laika as they handed their shopping over to her. They were just in time.
But I was interested in Shalsha’s comment. Indeed, not only were they late, but they had a reason.
“Hey, Shalsha, what was it that caught your eye?”
For better or for worse, very little ever changed in Flatta. Idyllic was the perfect word to describe it.
“There was a poster on the announcement board saying a famous minstrel had come to the village.”
“A minstrel? Didn’t know that.”
There were generally two types of minstrels: ones who were invited to various royal courts (and eventually became court musicians) and drifting artists.
If one had come to Flatta, then it was very likely they were the wandering type. Some of them were still well-known, so it made me wonder.
“Falfa helped Shalsha search the village. But we couldn’t find anything.”
“All our effort was wasted.”
So that’s why they were late coming home. That made sense.
I glanced at the calendar. Luckily, I had tomorrow off. Halkara didn’t have work that day, either.
Which meant the minstrel’s plan was probably to perform on the holiday.
“Now you’ve got Mommy interested, too. All right, tomorrow, we’ll go looking for this minstrel.”
Shalsha nodded eagerly, and Falfa jumped up with a “Yay!” Their reactions were so different.
But by the ceiling above us, Rosalie wore a dubious look.
“I know quite a bit about renowned minstrels, you know. They used a square near the building I once lived in as the town’s performance venue, so I caught a lot of shows.”
“I see. You’ve been watching the wandering minstrels for a long time, then.”
“Has there been anyone recently who would come all the way out here because they’re famous? There’s Mohawk Santol, I guess. Or maybe Raikkonen the Phoenix…? But they wouldn’t come out to Flatta…”
I didn’t know much about the music industry here, but there had to be someone. Probably.
The following day, the family left the house in the morning for Flatta.
And sure enough, there was a garish-looking poster hanging on the bulletin board outside the town.
“What the heck is this…?”
This was not the kind of minstrel I was imagining…
It looked like an ad for a rock concert…
“Hey, Rosalie, do you know this Schifanoia?”
“They’re probably no one. I’ve never heard of them.”
Something smelled really fishy about all this. Yet another weirdo had come by.
My gut was telling me we’d probably be better off staying away from them. Trouble always seemed to find me.
“This is different from the minstrels I know,” said Laika. “Long ago, when I used to visit human towns, I would go into the town halls to listen to their performances. I almost never listened to the wandering minstrels performing in the streets.”
I guess it was like people in Japan who only ever listened to musicians who’d debuted professionally.
“Judging by what Laika said, I guess there are some odd ducks among wandering minstrels. I’m positive we shouldn’t—”
“Wooow! What songs are they gonna sing? Falfa wants to know!”
“Shalsha did want to see it in person at least once.”
Oh, great! My daughters are way into this!
“Hey, you two, I’m sure there are other things that would be much more interesting… Oh, maybe we should go to Nascúte for the day?”
“Falfa wants to see the minstrel.”
“The poster was written by someone very confident, and it could be fun to give them a listen at least once.”
Crap! Should I just drag them somewhere else, then? But that wouldn’t be fair to my daughters…
Flatorte had been silent the entire time as I struggled with some minor inner conflict.
I started to think maybe she wasn’t very interested, but something felt different about her.
“Schifanoia, huh? She’s been around for ages. Could call her a veteran, even.”
“Wait, you actually know her?!”
“I am obsessed with minstrels. I believe I know over a thousand groups.”
So that’s where she was putting all her energy.
“A thousand…? And here I was, pretending like I knew anything about minstrels. Now I’m just embarrassed…”
Rosalie, who’d declared that Schifanoia was a nobody, looked like she wanted to disappear. She’d probably crawl into a hole if there was one nearby—but she was a ghost, so she could hide in a wall or a rock even if there wasn’t. But I wouldn’t want her to get stuck like last time.
“There are types of minstrels who travel to every little town and village by foot, and others who only change venue within larger cities and never bother to travel to places with smaller populations.”
To put Flatorte’s explanation in terms of Japan, some rock bands traveled all throughout the country, but there were also bands that only ever performed in Tokyo.
“Schifanoia was the type to perform every once in a while in the royal capital, but she’s suddenly started a worldwide tour. I’m not surprised Rosalie doesn’t know about her.”
I’ll trust the word of the great critic, Professor Flatorte. It wouldn’t be a waste of time to go check out an artist who a family member was familiar with.
“All righty, then, let’s go find this minstrel Schifanoia!”
“Okaaay!” “Understood.”
Falfa and Shalsha almost immediately dashed into the village.
We spotted a woman in the town square holding an instrument resembling a lute.
Except it was less of a lute and more of a guitar. The angular design reminded me of an electric guitar.
Long rabbit ears stuck out from the top of her head—she was part of an animal race called the almiraj. You could spot those ears from a distance. That and the puff-ball tail were the unique characteristics of the almiraj.
The rest of her looked like a regular human girl, but almiraj were also considerably long-lived.
Everything about her outfit was aggressive.
Her skirt was really short, and she wore spiked bands around her arms and neck.
There wasn’t much in the way of entertainment in the village, so there were about thirty people gathered around her. It looked like the concert was just about to start.
The almiraj strummed her lute and began to sing.
“WOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAH, DESTRUCTION, DESTRUCTION, DESTRUCTION! WOOOOAAAAAAAAHHHHH, EXECUTION, EXECUTION, EXECUTION! THE SUUUN, AAAAAAAAAAAND THE MOOOOOOOOOOOON, START TO DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANCE! HELL AND HADES AND THE UUUNDERWOOOOOOOOOORLD!”
After about fifteen seconds, I knew I was right.
We shouldn’t have come!
It was kind of fun to watch her ears bouncing back and forth when she was headbanging during her guitar solo (look, it was more guitar than lute, so I’m calling it a guitar), but I didn’t really understand this kind of musicality…
I guess it was generally the style to scream something. She was playing the lute well, but her voice was too loud. I think she should’ve just played the lute without any singing…
“My old ears are ringing.” “Let’s go home, Grandpa.” “Daddy, can I have butter candy?” “Let’s play chess over there.”
Oh, the audience around her was gradually disappearing.
“Waaahhh! I’m scared!” “Let’s go, Big Sis.”
Falfa started crying, and so Shalsha took her away…
I knew I should’ve stopped them. I’m their mother, after all…
Laika, Halkara, and Rosalie were all looking on, dumbfounded.
It was true that I wasn’t sure how to interpret this.
When the first song was finished, the only ones left in the audience were pretty much just my family (minus two). Everyone else had been waiting for the song to be over to go home.
But in the middle of it all was Flatorte, standing with her arms crossed and listening intently.
“Hmm, that was a very Schifanoia-esque song. I knew it was her within the first five seconds or so.”
She was talking about something…
“You knew that song?”
“Mistress, of all the itinerant minstrels, Schifanoia is considered to be more of the death style within the crime subdivision of the emotional style. This is a very typical death-style song. That being said, Schifanoia leans more toward isolation style within the death genre. Isolation-leaning involution style, you could say.”
There are too many subgenres!
“Ha-ha-ha! Is my glorious voice tearing y’all up?!”
Oh no! Schifanoia was starting to MC. Now it was even harder to leave…
“This is my first time here in Flatta on tour, but I can feel the energy!”
Hold on. Literally nobody was clapping even after the first song!
“This is the countryside, so this glorious set list is comprised of my most famous songs. This next one is my signature song, ‘Gray Dreams’!”
It might be her signature song, but I’d obviously never heard of it!
“BLACK AND WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITE, WOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! PUT THEM TOGETHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRR, YOU GET GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! ADD MORE BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK, MAKES IT GRAYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!!”
Sloppy lyrics. Needed to have a little more of a message.
Flatorte still stood with her arms crossed and occasionally nodded.
“Ahhh, this is an over-the-top involution style. I’m surprised this is enough to whip up her audience.”
“Sorry, I don’t understand a thing you said.”
“See, crime style places the lute front and center over the vocals, but death style, especially, creates an earsplitting sound. And isolation style, as its name suggests, tends to have passionate lyrics about loneliness and isolation, and involution creates the feeling of the performer and audience becoming one during the live performance.”
I got the impression that she was talking the entire time about a magical system I knew nothing about.
Laika tapped me on the shoulder. “Excuse me, but Miss Halkara is not feeling well, so I am going. And Miss Rosalie said she’s not interested, so she’s leaving, too.”
“Oh, okay, sure…”
“My heel is very itchy in my shoe,” Halkara said, “but I can’t seem to scratch it, so I need to leave.” Okay, I understand that having an itch you can’t scratch is tough, but that’s not even a fake illness.
Maybe I should’ve said that we were leaving… But I couldn’t find the heart to say that I was going, too. Flatorte was listening, after all.
The second song soon ended.
“Well! Looks like my glorious power left some people so breathless, they had to leave!”
And she kept calling everything “glorious.”
“Our third song will be ‘Drownin’ in the Moon,’ which makes the crowds go wild in the capital!” she said as she started tuning her strings. It looked like this was going to take a while.
A few things were bothering me, so I took the opportunity to ask Flatorte my questions.
“Are people in the capital really into this stuff?”
“Well, minstrels like Schifanoia will draw audiences of about thirty.”
“That’s…not a lot…”
It’s not like no one was listening to her, but I couldn’t say the number was high.
“Of those thirty, I believe about fifteen would be fellow minstrels in the same industry.”
That’s half!
“Of course, those kinds of numbers won’t pay the bills, so I think Schifanoia makes ends meet with money from a part-time job.”
She was just a crappy one-woman band…
“How many crazy fans are there who know all these minstrels like you do…?”
“Actually, I’m just one of many all over the country. I’d say most live in the capital, since many minstrels are only active there.”
“If you can pick out Schifanoia, does that mean she’s good?”
“She’s lower-middle. There are plenty of other minstrels with more skill. Her worldview is conventional, and she lacks originality.” Flatorte was quick to shut her down.
“Then why are you listening to her, Flatorte? She’s not that good, right?”
A bitter smile crossed Flatorte’s face. She must have gotten that question a lot.
“I don’t only listen to good musicians. I will listen to anyone, so long as they’re a minstrel. That’s part and parcel of being a minstrel fan.”
Words of one who was in way too deep.
I’d never been such a serious fan about anything, so I didn’t really understand.
“Actually, even if they are over-the-top or just bad, I find myself getting more excited the more extreme or terrible they are.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about that…”
I remembered the people who would perform on the street at night when I was a corporate slave.
Sometimes they’d be playing and talking the whole time while only one or two people listened…
That made it really awkward to stop and listen, so I always just passed straight by, but there were people who would take time to listen. Flatorte was one of them.
It looked like Flatorte was listening, so I figured it was a good time to excuse myself.
It was so painful to stay in this climate, and I wasn’t even interested.
—And then the minstrel lifted her head and met my eyes.
“I’m so thankful I have so many believers out here in the countryside! Two…two thousand! Glorious!”
She multiplied us by a thousand! And she’s totally recognized me as a fan… I can’t leave now!
“I can hear your screams!”
You’re the only one talking!
“And we’ll go straight into the fourth song after this!”
Crap! Timing my escape is getting more and more difficult!
Afterward, there was a string of songs that employed a technique Flatorte called “lute shredding,” and Schifanoia was screaming almost all the lyrics, so I had no idea which song was which. What song were we on now…?
“THE CLOOOOOOOOOOOOOWN SMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILES AT NIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT! WOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAH!”
I stood there blankly, but it looked like the performer was hard at work. She was dripping with sweat, exhausted.
“Bwa-ha-ha-ha… You finally caught up to me… So I guess now I’ll explain our glorious merch… Here we have the Schifanoia original towel for one thousand gold… It’s very absorbent, so it’s great when you’re as gloriously sweaty as I am…”
It was time for some announcements.
The towel, by the way, had a cute bunny pattern on it. I wouldn’t mind one.
I completely missed my timing to run for the hills, though. At least it sounded like the concert was going to be done soon.
“N-now… It’s time for the last song… ‘Necromancy’… Urgh, I—”
With that, she collapsed.
The song was called “Necromancy,” so maybe she was going to perform a dead body coming back to life. That was pretty complex.
……
Twenty seconds passed but still nothing. This would be a broadcast disaster if she was on TV or the radio.
……Hmm?
Could she really have collapsed?!
“Mistress, this is bad! Schifanoia has lost consciousness!”
“I knew it! We have to help her!”
If this was a proper live concert, then she would have tour staff, but this was definitely a solo gig. Her whole audience of two had to take care of her.
This wasn’t peaceful at all.
It was because in my past life, I’d collapsed and died of overwork. This was too much like my own situation for me to look the other way.
I approached her and cast some recovery magic on her.
This typically would solve everything, though. But even when the color came back to her face, her pained expression didn’t change. Could she have a terrible illness…?
“Th-thanks… To think one of my believers would save me… This is the greatest blunder of my glorious life…”
Phew. She was conscious again.
“Um, I know that might be your stage persona, but you can act normally now. Is there anything wrong? Please tell me!”
“M-my glo—”
“If that ‘glorious’ thing is an act, then please stop it.”
Schifanoia didn’t say anything for a little while. “My…health is fine… In all my eighty years as an almiraj, I’ve never gotten sick…”
I knew she’d talk normally once she quit acting.
“I’m hungry… I have almost no money while I’m on tour, so I haven’t eaten all that much…”
“I see. I get it. I think I’ve got a grasp on the situation now.”
Her body was weirdly light. Way too light, in fact.
It would be no trouble to carry her to a doctor and have them solve this. She’d definitely been pushing herself all this time; I could look after her for a bit. Flatorte knew a lot about the industry, and she was already here.
“Flatorte, get Laika and the others. We’ll take her home and fatten her up.”
“Are you sure, Mistress? You seemed like you couldn’t be bothered before.”
“We’ve come too far to turn back. I collapsed like this once. This is probably a chronic problem, so I want to solve it the right way.”
There wasn’t much I could do if the minstrel herself refused, though.
“Thank you… My real name is Kuku…”
It didn’t seem like she was going to run away.
And her real name was much cuter than her stage name…
“Would it be bad for your schedule if you canceled your concerts?”
“I did not announce my dates beforehand, so it’s all right.”
She really was going freestyle.
I assembled my family, told them the situation, and took Kuku to the house in the highlands.
Laika cooked food and brought it over, but the plate was empty in the blink of an eye.
She was like a bear right before hibernating who had to eat everything in sight at any chance she got.
“It’s so good! It’s so good!”
She tore into the food like she’d been on the brink of starvation, and Halkara and Flatorte watched on with mouths agape. “It is all worth cooking to have someone eat so happily!” Laika said. That was reasonable.
The more food filled her stomach, the more color came back to Kuku’s face.
It was like I was watching a game where the recovery items were cooked food. Like your life gauge filling up the second you ate a pizza. When I played a long time ago, my child’s mind thought the character’s body was weirdly constructed to recover right after eating.
In the end, Kuku scarfed down enough food for about five people. Afterward, I let her use the bath.
After she got rid of her heavy eye makeup, she looked like a frail and timid girl with bunny ears.
Once Kuku finally caught her breath, we decided to talk.
I sat her down with Flatorte, who was extremely knowledgeable about wandering minstrels, and Rosalie, who knew some things about them.
“I know it’s none of my business, but you’re not living a sustainable lifestyle, are you? Have you collapsed like that in the past?” I asked her, and she suddenly acted like she was being interrogated.
She didn’t seem to be the very sociable type.
She had been so concentrated on eating, she must not have paid much attention to us until now.
“I have…collapsed in the past… Several times…”
Her voice was relatively quiet, which made her sound sweet. It was totally different from when she was yelling and glorious-ing everything.
“Being a minstrel isn’t enough to feed me, so I work a lot of part-time jobs… Most of them late at night so they don’t conflict with my music… And so sometimes I’m sleep-deprived…”
“Ahhh, I get it now.”
Some people pushed themselves too far in pursuit of their dreams.
“I thought I would get more tips on my on-foot tour this time… And…there are many days where I don’t even get a single gold… I’ve done my best to make my food budget last…”
Of course she would collapse. I almost got the impression that she was even working to collapse.
“They do say that there is a small percent of wandering minstrels who make good money. Of the ones known to me, Flatorte, there’s Pilot Fish and Andersen and Snow White and the Cold Black Tea Group…”
I didn’t know any of the names that Flatorte listed, but I did get that it was a tough business.
“But those kinds of minstrels gather an unbelievable amount of money. I have heard that they can make three million gold in one day.”
“Three million in one day… Theoretically, one day of work could feed me for a year,” Kuku commented with a murmur. “I’ve…always wanted to be like them, too… I left the almiraj village sixty-three years ago… I said I’d become a big minstrel one day…that I’d become a great death-style minstrel, that I’d throw away my weak self and live the death lifestyle…”
Just like a kid leaving their home to go to Tokyo to become a famous artist. She must have chosen that character for herself because her own personality was timid as well.
“But—” Kuku cut herself off.
A teardrop hit the table. She was crying.
“I-I’ve remained totally obscure… No one comes to watch me… I’ve thought about quitting so many times, but I always tell myself, just one more year…”
Ahhhhh! Just listening to her was making me sad! Knowing when to throw in the towel definitely isn’t easy…
“Waaaaaaaahhh! What a sad story!”
Rosalie was bawling!
Tears were streaming down her face. Her ghost tears weren’t corporeal, though, so nothing got wet.
“You’ve been through so much! I completely understand. Minstrels who came to Nascúte were like that, too, and so many of them struggled to put on a smile!”
Rosalie had seen much of the world, so she could sympathize.
I could understand Kuku’s story to some extent. I didn’t have any personal experience, but my friend’s little brother had gone to Tokyo to be an actor. Luck hadn’t been on his side, and he hadn’t done all that well. He’d said half of his income was from part-time work…
It wasn’t at all unusual for someone who periodically appeared in movies and dramas to barely make ends meet, and it was apparently very tough to become famous doing that.
“You were undernourished enough that you collapsed, so you can stay and relax here for a while.”
Kuku looked shocked, but her face clouded. It seemed forced.
“I’m glad. But, um…”
“But?”
“I-I’ll have to get the okay from my agency…I think, so…”
“You have an agency?”
Something was fishy here.
“Mistress, Schifanoia has never been a part of any agency. She’s an independent artist,” Flatorte, the minstrel nerd, informed me.
“I-I’m sorry… That was a bluff… I wanted to sound cool…”
Why was she trying to put on a cool front now? Well, everyone had a line they wouldn’t cross for the sake of their pride, so that was probably it.
“Stay here for at least five days to get your strength back. We’re in the highlands, so the air is fresh. It’s not a bad place to recuperate.”
“Yes, Mistress! How good of you! So generous!”
I thought Flatorte wanted to praise me, but it sounded like she was making fun of me…
Rosalie stood before Kuku. Floated—not technically standing.
“Then I’ll show ya to an empty room. I’m sure you’ll be ready to jump back into those creative endeavors, too. Pump out those new songs!”
Kuku responded with a miserable half smile, but her expression turned downcast. “Thank you, but, um… I’ve been thinking that it might be time to stop my music career… That it might be time to break up Schifanoia…”
“You’re breaking up even though you work alone?” Flatorte pointed out.
“That’s… I’m sorry; I was acting again…”
This girl had a tendency to be self-conscious when it came to stuff like this.
“I was thinking that it might be time to punctuate Schifanoia’s long career and announce a final act… And then maybe start walking a new path…”
It sounded like she was being dramatic again, but I knew what she wanted to say. Everything came to an end eventually. That wasn’t a bad thing in and of itself. It was her own choice. She could stop today or in ten years. She didn’t need anyone’s permission.
But when I saw Kuku’s expression, something caught my attention.
“Hey, Kuku, do you have any plans or dreams for your next life?” I asked outright.
“I’m going to buy a lottery ticket, win the hundred-million-gold prize, and spend the rest of my life lazing around—that is my first choice.”
“I don’t want your jokes. Answer honestly.”
She was taking life more lightly than I thought, so I was a little irritated.
“You’re right… I’m sure if I keep working part-time…I think I might find out who I really am…”
“I didn’t expect much, but you really have no idea, do you?!”
Even if this girl took a break from the music life, she didn’t have a plan for afterward.
“Well, Mistress, even if she continued acting as Schifanoia, she wouldn’t make any money, so as a result, she would be better off working more hours part-time than she is now.”
“Flatorte, those scathing comments just come to you as naturally as anything, and you’re not even being sarcastic.”
Not that I could exactly offer her any empty encouragement about how continuing her music would bring her lots of money.
But then Kuku’s face flushed red, and she pressed her right hand against her mouth. After all this time, I couldn’t imagine that her real character was hopeless, too.
“A-actually…I’ve received plenty of offers like these in the capital city…”
Kuku placed several pamphlet-looking things on the table.
“…”
There were others, but most of them were like this.
They were all extremely sketchy.
“Oh, animal races are in high demand for such jobs… I, Flatorte, was once scouted when I was walking around the capital. ‘You think I would work at such a low-brow shop?’ I said. ‘How dare you mock a blue dragon!’ Then I gave them a taste of my ice breath for good measure.”
You can’t just breathe ice on people. But I know how you feel.
“Almiraj are especially popular. To make matters worse, such establishments even make use of what they call ‘bunny girl’ outfits. I’m not surprised that Schifanoia was scouted.”
Actually, I was surprised to learn there were bunny girls in this world. But since this was a world of humans with horns and animal ears, such things would probably seem normal to anyone else.
“I’m often told that I can make a lot of money in this industry and that I’m a good fit, since I will look young for a long time…” Kuku dropped her shoulders with a fragile smile. “I always turned them down at first because I was confident I would keep going with my music, but I haven’t gotten anywhere after all this time. Maybe I should just work for people who ask me to…”
Wait, all occupations might be equally honorable, but this would not do.
“Well, let me ask you one thing. Are you okay with this, Kuku? Are you not interested in music anymore?”
Kuku immediately shook her head. I could see more willpower in her eyes than there had been earlier.
“Of course I’m not okay with it! I love music!”
“Well, then you don’t need to waffle on anything at all.”
I nodded vigorously.
“You shouldn’t quit music. You need to keep going!”
I declared it with confidence.
“You might not be making any money as a minstrel right now. But you must love it to some degree; otherwise, you wouldn’t have been doing it for as long as you have. To just put a lid on it and lock it up inside you—I think you’d regret that someday.”
People often got absorbed in things when they were young.
That was why they sometimes got bored of it and ended up interested in something else.
But the artist Schifanoia wasn’t someone who’d finished her career after such a short time. She loved it so much for how bad she was at it, but in a way that made her and music complement each other well.
I lifted myself a little out of my chair to lean forward and grasp Kuku’s hand.
“Ah, um…”
I caught her by surprise.
But I had to show her that my feelings ran deep. Otherwise she might view me as a complete stranger offering advice from the comfort of my own home.
“I wouldn’t stop you if you were to look ahead for different work. But you’re facing backward, moving on because you think you have no other choice. And that’s why you need to keep working!”
I’d lived in Tokyo in my past life, so I saw and heard plenty of people with shattered dreams who went back home.
Most of them wore bitter smiles to try and trick themselves into believing they didn’t mind.
Their true feelings, I’m not okay with this, were written all over their faces. But whether they wanted to or not, they would sometimes have to go back for familial or financial reasons.
But people still had to make up their minds. No one could live out all possibilities at once. That was why I held those decisions in high regard.
But Kuku hadn’t made up her mind—she’d chosen a path other than music by process of elimination.
I had to stop that.
“First, you need to think long and hard about music. If the problem is that you’re not selling, then think about that. You can stay as long as you need to until then! You’ll be fed three times a day! And then, when you decide what to do about your future, you can go back to the capital!”
“Wah… Are you sure…? I don’t think I can pay rent…”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m the one who told you to keep making music, so I’ll keep up with you however I can! I want you to go back to the capital with pride!”
I might’ve decided too much on my own, but I couldn’t just wave her off and wish her good luck back home.
“Our mistress is our mistress, isn’t she?”
“Big Sis is Big Sis. Yep, I knew it!”
Flatorte and Rosalie sounded like they were giving their approval or something. I thought what I was doing was pretty natural, though…
And so, that was how we temporarily gained another family member in the house.
“I’m Kuku the almiraj… It’s nice to meet you…”
Kuku introduced herself to the rest of the family that night. She must have been wondering what sort of relationship my family had. Thinking about it rationally, we were an odd bunch.
“There aren’t any houses around here, so you can play the lute at night, too. You can play as much as you want until my daughters’ bedtime.”
“O-okay… To commemorate our newfound relationship, I’ll perform a bit…”
Kuku stood before everyone, lute in hand.
She spun around then faced us again.
When she did, her expression was way different from the meek one she had just been wearing.
Wait, she’s changed character?!
“WAH-HA-HA! WELCOME TO THE BANQUET OF GLORIOUS DEATH AND DESTRUCTION! AND NOW, THE FIRST SONG! POISON POISON POISON, POISON POISON, POISON POISON POISON POISON, POISON POISOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!”
Oh, she changed into her Schifanoia persona!
There was a deafening metallic scream coming from her lute.
“ABSIIIIINTHE, ABSIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINTHE!”
But, as always, her lyrics were a mystery to me.
Falfa wasn’t a fan, as she covered her ears with her hands, and her eyes were squeezed shut like (> <). It didn’t suit her at all.
Shalsha was Falfa’s complete opposite, in her own way, sound asleep in a chair. Seriously? You can sleep with noise like this? Wait, it’s supposed to be music, so I suppose it’d be rude to call it noise.
The elegant Laika had her head tilted, and Halkara seemed bored.
Either way, I could tell by their reactions that they weren’t liking it very much.
Rosalie really was relatively hardy, so she was listening with some interest.
“She’s not wearing any makeup right now, so the impact is a little weak. Maybe she should spike all her hair straight up?”
You want to make this more extreme…?
And of course, Flatorte was the unique one of the family. She stood with her arms crossed, as though she was making sure of something.
“I see. This first song is ‘The Era of Poison (Demon Year 28 Version).’”
“What are demon years, Flatorte?”
“Schifanoia has created her own calendar called the Demon Calendar to represent the years she’s been active. In essence, that means that was an arrangement she wrote in her twenty-eighth year after debuting. The original song, ‘The Era of Poison,’ is from the year after she debuted and is the classic example of her early work. The first time she performed was at a bar in the capital called Life Is a Dream, attracting an audience of sixteen.”
Wow, Flatorte really knew a lot. Too much, actually. And it would’ve been nicer to have a bigger audience…
As we chatted, the song ended.
“Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! I’m gloriously pumped up now! Our second song is ‘The Flower Blooming on the Execution Grounds’!”
“I see—she’s including headbangers as well.”
“Where are you getting this information, Flatorte? You don’t even bang your head.”
“I, Flatorte, am the kind who simply wants to listen to music. I will not go wild. It’s dangerous for a blue dragon to lose control.”
The reason was more realistic than I thought. Even though she was in human form now, it sure would be a big problem if she got so worked up by the music that she transformed back into a dragon…
“All riiiiiight! Next, we’ll go straight through ‘A Million Years at War,’ ‘The Bloody Saint,’ and ‘The Crow’s Sins’ all at once!”
Ohhh, this was bad. This was going to take more time than I thought. She wasn’t going to stop after just one or two songs.
“Waaah! I can’t tell the difference among the songs! They all sound the same!”
Falfa, your criticism is way too honest for this! Keep it to yourself!
“Sorry, Kuku. Do you think you could stop now?”
More than half of the people here didn’t want to listen, so it was probably best to stop this.
“Wh-who are you talking about? M-my name’s Schifanoia! I don’t have such a cute name! I’m here to deliver you true, glorious despa—”
“Yeah, you don’t have to do that anymore.”
“…Okay, I understand… I’m sorry.” She was Kuku again. “It was such a sudden performance that I don’t think I played very well… I think I messed up on my lute twice…”
“I don’t think that’s the problem.”
By all appearances, we would need more time to solve this than I thought…
There wasn’t much point in asking the opinions of the family members who weren’t interested in music, and they probably wouldn’t know what to say anyway. Thus, I had Flatorte do the coaching.
We moved to Flatorte’s room and started our review session. I joined in, too, as the one who’d decided to let her stay here. It would be odd if I acted like an outsider.
“First, let me just say this from the listener’s perspective—isolationist death style isn’t popular in this day and age. It’s not a good choice because it’s not attracting any listeners.”
“Y-you’re right…” When she was Kuku, this girl was honest and kind of negative, so she readily accepted what Flatorte had to say.
So it was the genre that wasn’t catching on after all.
“Why don’t you change Schifanoia’s music to the floral subgenre of overkill style? I mean, it’s extremely compatible with crime style, don’t you think?”
There she goes again with jargon I don’t know! The minstrel industry is too complicated!
“I—I…am going to stay within the crime genre… Actually, I’m proud that I’m different from the overkill artists… Even though it is popular…”
Oh no. I’m glad I came, but I don’t understand anything at all, so I have nothing to contribute.
“I know what you want to say, Schifanoia. I am questioning the recent trend in the minstrel scene that only values overkill. But it wouldn’t be bad to incorporate the good elements. Like the crime-style minstrels the Church of Holy Tears—they switched to overkill and were a big hit.”
“I understand, but…I prefer to prove myself as a skilled death artist…”
It seemed creators who were insistent on their ways existed in every world.
“Hmm. Schifanoia, you’re afraid of creating a hit, aren’t you?”
Flatorte’s eyes were cool as she spoke.
“Th-that’s not it… That’s not true at all… I just have an attachment to death style since it emphasizes skill…”
“That seems like an excuse to me. It sounds like you’re looking down on minstrels whose styles bring in lots of fans.”
Is this really a conversation I’m hearing in a fantasy world…?
It was so vivid, it almost felt like it was happening in Japan…
Young band members would’ve had this kind of conversation for sure…
“Be it skill or proving yourself, you’re still worse than the Church of Holy Tears. They actually have technique.”
“Th-that’s just your opinion, though, Flatorte… See, what’s important in music is if you can feel the soul—”
“And there we go. Now you’re trying to fool me with your abstract expressions.”
Flatorte is relentless!
“P-please stop! I’m doing my best!”
“Sigh… Fine. I’ll show you what I can do, then. Let me have your lute.”
It was the tool of her trade, so Kuku seemed a little nonplussed, but she handed it over.
Please don’t suddenly snap it over your knee…
“Are you ready? Watch.”
And then Flatorte started strumming a beautiful melody on the lute. Her fingers danced on the strings at such high speed!
What sophisticated technique! And it wasn’t just technical; the melody was good, too!
Then Flatorte started singing.
The sunlight on this day of rest just makes me cold instead~
I’m yawning as I wait for you to come~
I dropped my glove some time ago~
So I hope you’ll warm my hand in yours~
Let us fly, fly, fly above the clouds to a quiet place~
Yeah, yeeeaaah~
That was a real song! A real and proper song!
And she was good at singing, too! Her voice control was incredible!
Heck, that was quality I’d expect to hear on a TV show!
I almost thought I saw an imaginary drummer and bassist standing behind her.
I knew it—this lute was practically just a guitar. It sounded exactly the same.
The song was over, and the last notes faded.
I inadvertently started clapping. “I didn’t know you were so talented, Flatorte! I almost thought I was going to cry!”
“I played a little bit with my friends when I was young. I’m not incredibly skilled, so it’s a little embarrassing, though… At most, I’m an above-average amateur.”
I knew what she wanted to say. She was good, but that didn’t necessarily mean she could make a career out of it.
On the other hand, Kuku’s expression was blank.
It was almost as though she had a different song playing in her head. She hadn’t come back to reality.
“See, even I, Flatorte, can give such a performance. You say you concentrate on your technique, but you’re worse than I am. If you’re going to stick with death style, then you should at least raise the standards of your playing. Do you understand better now?”
Kuku was pale. It was almost like she’d frozen to death…
“I-I’m sorry… I will try my hand at many different things, then… I’ll stop obsessing over death style…”
“Listen. I know this is my opinion as an outsider, but the reason you don’t have any listeners is because your worldview is too peculiar. Why don’t you write lyrics that are easier to understand?”
“B-but… I’ve been performing in this style for so long, I can only write lyrics about blood and poison and destruction and the apocalypse and transient pleasures and devils and knives and drowning fish…”
“You haven’t actually written that much about drowning fish, have you?”
“I wrote six songs about them in the past.”
Ah, she’s the type to use her favorite phrase over and over!
Her other topics were all from the same perspective. It was too narrow. Actually, I was impressed she spent such a long time writing about them. In a way, her desire to stick to the same through line, even if she was running out of things to write about…
Then a good idea came to me.
“I’ve got it. We’ll use the strengths of this environment.”
It was a good idea in my head, at least—would it work out?
“We have a big family, so we should make everyone write lyrics!”
Two days later, the whole family brought over the lyrics they each wrote.
But since Flatorte had already performed once, I gave her a pass on this one and asked her to act as a commentator. If I let her get serious, the risk of her being the sole winner was high.
Kuku would improvise a melody to go along with each set of lyrics. She might create a whole new perspective this way.
“All right, we’ll start with the first song. These are Laika’s lyrics.”
“Wah-ha-ha-ha, I, Schifanoia, can sing all words with my gloriously beautiful voice!”
“Okay, it’s time to put that character away.”
“…Okay. Understood.”
And now, the first song.
Kuku started strumming her lute.
“An Ode to Diligence”
Words: Laika
Music: Kuku
The only way to success is by diligently taking one step at a time~
And once you overcome something, that becomes nothing more than a checkpoint~
I crossed my arms to make an X. That was my signal to stop.
“Laika, your message is much too direct for lyrics.”
“Are they no good…?”
“That’s not even a question. Lyrics are poetry. You don’t understand poetry. Do it again.”
Flatorte, our commentator, relentlessly shot her down.
Laika seemed pretty shocked…
Next was the second song. Halkara seemed very confident in herself. The more confidence Halkara had, the more of a sign it was that things were going to turn south.
“These lyrics are fantastic! This will be very lucrative! Please spread it throughout the town of Nascúte!”
Nascúte was where Halkara’s factory was and where Rosalie used to live. Why only there?
“Even if your lyrics are weird, it won’t cause any trouble. It’s fine. Go ahead; go ahead.”
“You’re awful, Madam Teacher… However, once you hear these lyrics, I believe you’ll understand why I said it’ll be lucrative. I do plan on distributing this.”
Well then, we’d see what she got. Kuku was the one composing the song, though.
She started strumming her lute again. The intro sounded very poppy.
“Halkara Pharmaceuticals Nutri-Spirits”
Words: Halkara
Music: Kuku
Another round of work today? Nutri-Spirits!~
You know what to use for a night of cramming! Nutri-Spirits!~
Nonalcoholic, so it’s safe for kids! Nutri-Spirits!~
A remedy for everything, and it's good for you! Nutri-Spirits!~
Nutri-Spirits~ Nutri-Spirits~ Nutri-Spirits~
Halkara Pharmaceuticals Nutri-Spirits gets you through the day~
I see, so that’s where it was going. I get it now.
With a big smile on my face, I made an X with my arms.
“All right, let’s go to the next one!”
“Hey! Madam Teacher! At least give me some comments! Ignoring me hurts the most!”
“Then why’d you make an ad jingle?! That’s not what we’re trying to do here!”
“It’s a lucrative song, isn’t it?! Nutri-Spirits would rake in the dough with this!”
“It has to be lucrative for the artist!”
We’re not talking about selling products here!
“Listen, even if by some mistake this ends up a hit, it would just be a one-hit wonder. It’ll be old news in two months or so! Seventy-five days is as long as they last!”
“I-if I was a hot topic for two months… I wouldn’t mind that…”
Kuku was caving!
You can’t! You’ll never be even a one-hit wonder if that’s your stance from the get-go! You need to have big dreams and big ideals!
“If you were to sing songs that advertise my products while you’re on your world tour, I would be ready and willing to hire you as PR rep at Halkara Pharmaceuticals.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad idea… That might be the right answer to living off my music…”
“Kuku, calm down and think! The first six months might be fine, but three years down the line, I think you’ll just repeat the pattern by telling yourself that isn’t what you want to do! You’ll end up quitting!”
It was a life decision, so I was not going to be shy about interfering.
Being too careful about finding employment was the perfect amount of careful!
I’d died from overwork before, so I would say it out loud!
“Hmph… Madam Teacher, you sure do interfere with me a lot… My company, business dealings, and treatment of employees are all perfectly legitimate. I even hand out bonuses on time.”
“I’m not denying that, and having a more stable livelihood would be a plus for her, but I feel like the change wouldn’t be in her music but in her whole line of work…”
I felt like there were plenty of people even in Japan who would sing about destruction then start singing mediocre love songs seven years later. That could be explained by one’s musical style gradually getting more universal.
But if she started singing advertising songs for a company, that would be like a cat turning into a dog. It was far from a gradual transition.
“Um, I’d like to decide after seeing the rest of the lyrics,” Kuku said hesitantly.
She was right. She couldn’t decide when she was only halfway through.
And incidentally, our commentator, Flatorte, didn’t seem to have anything to add about it. Guess she didn’t have comments this time…
“Next, we’ll have the collaboration between Falfa and Shalsha. Aw, you’re so cute; this is great.”
“Yaaay! Thank you, Mommy!”
“The master of ceremonies is showing favoritism toward a relative! She’s treating her daughters differently!” Halkara insisted, but I ignored her.
“We don’t need favoritism, because Shalsha is convinced that this song will win. That’s because we are participating together. Putting the strength of a hundred thousand with another hundred thousand makes not two hundred thousand but a million.”
I didn’t quite understand Shalsha’s logic, but Kuku was going to play.
“The Field”
Words: Falfa and Shalsha
Music: Kuku
Mister Mantis scares me~ What is he praying for?~
Mister Grasshopper hops~ His little legs shake as he springs~
Nature is so big~ And I’m part of nature, too~
God is big~ Everything lies within the thing most vast~
What am I?~ I’m not a grasshopper or a mantis, so what am I?~
I am nothing else, so I must be me, I believe. Even after I have repudiated everything else in the world, that will remain the only thing I can claim. Once I have lost everything, once nothing is left, my self will show itself—the great paradox~
So in the end, it is what I’ll find if I spend an eternity peeling an onion~
I chase grasshoppers in the field as this runs through my mind~
Near the end, the lyrics were written without any concern for the melody, so it sounded like a folk song.
Once it finished, the mood had changed.
The first one to speak was Flatorte.
“I thought this would be a more childlike song at first, but…then some theological elements slipped in… Hmm, could this be new territory? It’s very avant-garde. It has potential.”
“I thought the same…”
It was pretty obvious that Falfa wrote the first half and Shalsha took over from the middle, but as a result, it produced an unusual story-like feel. It seemed to match Kuku’s style, too.
And music was originally a mostly religious thing, even used for preaching. It could work.
Kuku seemed dumbfounded for a little bit, but her expression slowly brightened.
“This is wonderful! I don’t think there are any minstrels with songs like this in the capital! This trend might be a good thing!”
Falfa jumped and cheered, and Shalsha nodded, somewhat pleased with herself.
To think their lyrics would actually win the competition.
“Okay, then. Kuku, why don’t you try your minstrel work again, going in that direction?”
“Yes, okay!”
I’d never heard her more energetic.
“With that kind of melody, you could even keep the name Schifanoia. There were probably some mythic motifs to some of your songs about destruction.”
“No, since I’ll be changing the essence of my musical genre, I’ll be changing my moniker, too. I’m thinking ‘Encyclopedia, Explorer of All Creation.’”
And the name was still edgy.
“Hmm, that’s not really my taste, but I guess your name should stand out… Well, you’re the one making the decision anyway.”
All right, now we’d decided on the direction of Kuku’s future. This was great!
“Wait, please wait! I haven’t shown you my lyrics yet!”
Then Rosalie appeared. Oh right, we still had Rosalie!
“Sorry, sorry. It just suddenly started feeling like the grand finale, you know? It’s time for Rosalie’s lyrics.” While Rosalie didn’t have a physical body, she could manipulate a pen to write sentences on paper. “I didn’t know what would be a good fit, so I wrote about my own experiences.”
“Right, that’s fine. The point is to broaden the horizons of our minstrel Schifanoia anyway.”
“Nothingness”
Words: Rosalie
Music: Kuku
When you stay put for so long, even high noon looks like night
It’s so dark, so dark, full of nothing
Am I dead? But even if I’m alive, I’m already dead
I don’t know how to smile anymore
I want to die, but I can’t—it’s just one of those nights
The soft sound of the lute came to an end.
……
It was in the song, too, but that was way too dark. I knew she said it was her own experience, but…
There were lots of songs in Japan with heavy lyrics, but people who committed suicide wouldn’t have written songs afterward. It was pretty intense.
“Big Sis, you know I’m having a fun life right now, right? You know I don’t actually feel this way, right?” Rosalie added, probably thinking she’d made a mistake.
“Um, Rosalie, I think the listeners would be happier to hear a song with a more positive outlook on life… I’m not taking your past for granted, though…”
…But maybe I had been.
There was nothing wrong with dark songs. It was probably more of a problem to only ever acknowledge happy songs. But this would probably be hard to sing about over and over.
Um, anyway, I want to see how Kuku is reacting to this… I haven’t heard her opinion yet.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She wasn’t outright bawling, but several silent tears dripped from her face.
“What’s wrong, Kuku…?”
“I’ve never… I’ve never thought of expressions like this… I always—I always sang about…death and destruction, but…they were only words… I mean, I’ve never died before…”
Yeah, of course not, I thought, but that comment was a little insensitive, so I kept it to myself.
“My words will never be…as strong as those…of someone in pain…even after death… I’ve been Schifanoia for a long time, but I don’t think I ever said anything meaningful…”
Then Kuku finally raised her head.
“I…am going to get rid of the name Schifanoia. In fact, I’m going to get rid of monikers or stage names. I will go by my own name, Kuku!”
In her eyes, I could sense a powerful will to face her troubles. I was sure Kuku would be fine.
“I want to incorporate the trends from Falfa’s, Shalsha’s, and Rosalie’s lyrics and give the listeners something deeper… There’s no point in being a minstrel for decades or centuries if I can’t do that…”
“Yeah. You’re the one who decides where you’ll be taking your next step, so I think this is very meaningful.”
I didn’t know if this path would be easy or not. It might turn out to be thorny and rough. But if it was the path chosen by the one who would walk it, then any obstacle could be endured.
The air in the room suddenly became very emotional. Even Laika and Rosalie were crying.
“All right, I guess that’s a wrap for—”
Halkara tapped me on the shoulder.
“We haven’t seen your lyrics yet, Madam Teacher. Show them to us, please.”
Urgh… I was trying to use my MC position to get out of presenting them…
“You have to. It’s only fair.”
“Special Love”
Words: Azusa
Music: Kuku
We can go far with our special love~
Because our destiny~is in! Our! Hands!~
I had her stop right at the beginning.
I let Flatorte do the commenting, since they were lyrics I’d written myself. Well, more like Flatorte took over commenting entirely.
“Conventional. The theme is clichéd; I get a strong impression that these were thrown together, like a patchwork quilt of lyrics the writer had heard from other places. The emotions of the speaker aren’t represented at all. Is the singer of these words actually glad to be in love?”
“Okay, enough! I know they’re embarrassing, too!”
I wrote a song about romance because I wanted something easy to understand, but in reality, it felt way off. I’d tried to just sweep it under the rug, but Flatorte wouldn’t let me.
And so, Kuku made the splendid decision to live on as a minstrel and choose what kind of minstrel she would be.
Kuku stayed in the house in the highlands for a while, writing songs.
According to her, she couldn’t write at all when she was in a slump, but here the songs just came to her one after the other. Even she was surprised.
She told me about it as we sat at the table having a snack.
“Oh yeah, I think that makes sense. There’s no entertainment here at all. It’s night and day compared to the royal capital, at least.”
There weren’t any houses around us, after all, and even if we went all the way to the village, they sold only daily necessities. That meant there were few temptations, and the only thing to do was what you were supposed to do.
“I guess that’s true, but… Oh, I didn’t mean to insult this land!”
“You don’t have to apologize for that.”
Kuku was a particularly timid person, although that wasn’t strange; there were a number of similarly introverted people involved in music.
Introverts paid more mind to things that normal people wouldn’t notice. To put a positive spin on it, they were more in tune with emotions.
Maybe that was why she had so much trouble going in an aggressive direction with Schifanoia…
“If I’m stuck, I just walk around the highlands. And then whatever’s sticking just goes away. That’s happened many times now. I’ve been writing every day.”
“Oh yeah. It’s just a plain old highland here, but when you walk around, your mood starts getting much better, doesn’t it?”
No one would feel dispirited living an easy life in this hilltop house anyway, but when the occasional bad mood struck, I would take a walk outside.
And strangely, I would always feel motivated again.
“How many songs have you written?”
“Seventeen. A few I’m not very satisfied with, though.”
Sitting with us, Flatorte commented, “You could do a whole show on your own with that.” Minstrel performances were long.
“Um, truly, I thank all of you…for everything you’ve done for me…,” Kuku said, clasping her hands before her face. Her gentle personality was just oozing from her. It was hard to imagine she’d been screaming about destruction.
But my heart clenched to hear it.
“I’d only be bothering you if I stayed here, so I should head back to the capital soon…”
Well, that was the next step. That was the promise we’d made at the beginning.
Kuku was a minstrel, so she couldn’t live in the countryside forever.
There weren’t enough people to make an audience for her here.
“Sure. But if you come back on tour, drop by the house in the highlands, okay? Actually, you should visit your home here on purpose.”
With tears brimming in her widened eyes, Kuku said, “Yes, I will!”
“You’ll put on a good show. As long as you do that, it’ll work out,” Flatorte said, the air of a teacher about her.
“Yes, thank you for all your help, Miss Flatorte!”
“Of course. And to be honest, you have no musical talent.”
I almost fell backward out of my chair.
Kuku looked like she was going to cry for a different reason now.
“But success in the world isn’t determined by your talent.” Flatorte wasn’t joking around at all as she continued. “So there might be a chance that you are successful. First, you fight! Even if your weapon is different, you will keep on fighting!”
“Yes! I will keep on fighting as a minstrel!”
Oh, there was a real friendship blooming here.
“Tell me when you’re going to the capital. I, Flatorte, will take you back as a dragon.”
I could tell there was a hint of sadness in her expression. Partings were hard for everyone.
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to—”
Knock knock, knock knock.
Someone was at the door.
I had a pretty good guess as to who it was from the bold knocking as I went to the door and opened it.
There was Beelzebub. She had a lot of stuff with her today.
“I’ve obtained some good alcohol, so I’ve brought it. Let us drink together!”
“You’re here all the time, aren’t you? What about your work?”
“I have taken care to give it all to my under— I mean, I have finished it all.”
“I really want to tell you to stop pushing all your work onto your subordinates, but you’re the agricultural minister. I guess it’s better for the agricultural minister to delegate instead of doing it all on her own.”
“I am doing my part, too, you know. I rest on the weekends and holidays. I spend them with Falfa and Shalsha.”
That was her goal? Well, I could understand, though.
I couldn’t just chase her off, so Beelzebub entered.
Of course, since Kuku was in the house, I did simple introductions.
“Oh, a minstrel, are you? Then we shall have you play some songs at our drinking party,” Beelzebub said as though it was a given. High-and-mighty might be her style, but she was overdoing it.
“Hey! Can you stop acting so unreasonable? Everyone who lives in this house is family. I don’t want you treating her like some street musician you saw in town, okay?”
“But minstrels are for adding life to banquets, are they not? What is so wrong with requesting work for such an honest reason? I will pay, of course.”
There were people who did that sort of thing in royal courts, sure…
“Miss Azusa, I’ll do it. If you’ll let me, please.” Kuku’s expression was full of confidence. “I want someone who’s never heard my music before to listen to me. To see if I can keep going as my new self.”
If she was saying it, then I had no reason to stop her. “Okay, Beelzebub. Kuku is going to bring you to tears now!”
“What? I asked for this during the drinking party, not now. First, I must give your daughters gifts.”
Like a slap in the face…
It was less of a drinking party and more of a dinner plus Beelzebub. There was alcohol, so she probably wouldn’t complain.
The stuff she’d brought was pretty strong. I only had a sip, and that was still too much.
“Isn’t there too much alcohol in this…? It burns, like fire…”
“I don’t quite understand the concept of alcohol content, but I understand when you call it fire. This was made by lizardman artisans on Flame Mountain, where fire constantly spews from the ground. It’s called the Great Salamander.”
“Yeah, this is spicy… I hope Halkara doesn’t get sick from this, too.”
Halkara waved both her hands in denial. “I cannot drink this, Madam Teacher!”
“You heard her. Don’t you have anything lighter?”
“Most of what I have is hot and spicy. I have one that’s essentially water. It’s called Essentially Water.”
I wasn’t sure if this was peculiar to demons or Beelzebub’s own character, but these drinks were only the extremes.
Laika had a little bit of the weaker alcohol, too. That probably meant it was all right. Age-wise, everyone in the family was an adult. Laika drank, too.
“I, Flatorte, am fine with the spicy drink.”
In our house, Flatorte was the best when it came to holding her liquor. She glugged it down with such vigor, it might as well have been water. It seemed like it was fairly high-grade, so it felt a bit like a waste.
“Mommy, can Falfa drink, too?”
The two sisters reacted differently to alcohol—Shalsha didn’t even look at it, while Falfa seemed interested.
“Absolutely not, Falfa. You can’t have any until you’re grown up.”
Even though they were fifty years in age, their bodies were too small, so I didn’t allow them to drink. Conversely, Laika and Flatorte were enormous dragons, so they wouldn’t have any problems even if they looked ten years old.
“Awww, Falfa wants to grow up!”
Beelzebub didn’t seem happy with that statement. “Falfa, you do not need to grow up at all. Stay as you are. Being an adult is terribly boring. It is more fun being a child,” she said with a grave expression.
I had a feeling this sort of education could prove problematic…
“Awww, but Falfa isn’t like a big sister at all. I’m not much bigger than Shalsha…” Falfa deflated as she explained herself.
That made sense. She had her own earnest reasons.
“I don’t know how to be a big sister… I’m not much faster, and Shalsha is smart about other things, so I thought maybe I could lead when it came to alcohol…”
Beelzebub was getting worked up. “Oooh! She’s too cute! I must adopt her as my own!” But I ignored her. No way would I give her up for adoption.
“Don’t worry. You do act like a big sister every now and then, Falfa.”
It was times like these that I had to give her a good consoling.
“Yeah…”
“And if you do drink, you’ll end up like that.”
At the far end of the room, Halkara had collapsed, her stomach sloppily exposed.
“I thought it was mostly water, so I drank too much too quickly. It’s like I’m drunk enough for ten thousand large armies and it’s hitting all at once… I feel like I’m going to throw up, but nothing’s happening… It’s the worst… Uuugh…”
Rosalie placed a damp towel on her forehead, but it slipped from its spot. Halkara looked like she was on her deathbed.
“Okay, maybe Falfa won’t drink…”
Good examples of what not to do did have some power over children… Halkara was a great example for that. But our great example needed to learn a bit more herself. Some people just wore themselves down whenever they drank, didn’t they?
“Erm, I hate to interrupt while you chat, but…I think it’s about time that we have Kuku perform for us…,” Flatorte said, and then I remembered!
Oh, shoot! I completely forgot!
Kuku had a hesitant look on her face that said, Should I say something? Maybe I should keep waiting… I wanted to speak up when the conversation lulled, but it just keeps going…
Ahhh, Kuku is so shy! She can’t come out and say she’s starting!
“Sorry, sorry. I’ll listen to your song. Depending on how I evaluate you, I may even invite you to the demons’ music festival.”
“What’s this music festival?”
I’d never heard of this event. I could imagine the gist of what it was, though.
“You guys have a pretty high standard of civilization, don’t you? You have performances and stuff.”
“It is not a performance. We have no miserable events such as that. It is a music festival, one large event that takes place throughout the whole of Vanzeld town.” Beelzebub took offense to my expression.
“Oh, is it one of those things where there are lots of performances at once? Like ensembles come out and march on the field?”
“Hmph, there are some of those, yes, but I feel you do not have a grasp of the fundamental concept. The music festival is to confirm that the demon king controls sound on behalf of the demons.”
After that explanation, the atmosphere suddenly changed.
“Do you understand? Sound is everywhere in this world. Voices hawking wares as you walk around town, animals rustling through the brush in the forest, and even when you meditate in a quiet room, you can hear a soft ringing in your ears that signals an absence of sound. Nowhere will you find true silence.”
The idea that the ringing itself was a sound was a point of view unique to the demons.
“In short, sound is just as important an element as the four great elements. The music festival is to confirm whether the demon king, as the ruler of the demons, is properly managing sound.”
I see… They regarded sound with great importance. It was like universities in Europe during the Middle Ages treating music not like an art but as a basic science…
“So it is not just one or two performances like you mentioned. It is a celebration with a more fundamental meaning. Get it now?”
“Yes, I get it now. There’s a strong religious implication to it.”
“It is customary that the demon king performs music at the main event. Oh, you all might be invited this time.”
Pecora would definitely invite us. Even if it was for the purpose of some joke of hers.
“Erm, I’d like Kuku to perform sometime soon…”
“You’re right! Kuku, Flatorte, I’m sorry!”
Kuku held her lute and stood by the table.
This was the stage for Kuku, reborn.
“And now I will play you a few songs.”
She started strumming her lute.
Compared to that intense genre Kuku had been playing at first—death style, was it?—this was completely different.
A thoughtful mood filled the room.
We were probably supposed to eat as we listened, but everyone was focused on her.
We were listening so intently, no one clapped or said anything between songs.
Flatorte had said something that could be generously interpreted as, Talent alone doesn’t make a minstrel, but I understood what that meant.
All the songs Kuku was playing now had words that she had carefully chosen and woven together on her own. They stirred us easily; they went straight to the heart.
What she had been doing before might have been restricted by the genre she was playing in, which meant she had to be very successful within the genre for it to be worth anything.
But since she was a poet before she was a singer, she had to be able to do as poets did and speak in her own words.
There were sometimes too many words in her poems, so they didn’t exactly fit the melody, but they reminded me a little of folk songs I’d heard in Japan before. They had their own unique merits.
After she played five songs in a row, her performance was finished.
At the end, Kuku bowed slowly. “Thank you for listening.”
She might’ve made a few mistakes here and there, but she looked accomplished.
Like the whole family had been suddenly brought back to reality, we all burst into applause.
And what did Beelzebub think? I hoped she liked it. Beelzebub suddenly stood from her chair.
“That was wonderful!!! Excellent!!!”
Woo! It really must have struck her heart!
“To be honest, I thought this would not be as impressive, only good enough for side entertainment. I did not expect it would be so lovely…”
Those rude remarks were a little too honest.
“Mm, it was good. Very good. First, I shall give you fifty thousand koinne.” Beelzebub whipped out coins of the demon koinne currency.
“Ah, if possible, my preferred unit is gold. I would have to exchange this.”
The value was practically the same as gold, so it might as well have been in gold.
“Very well. Here, fifty thousand gold.”
And she paid it. Getting paid for your work sure is great.
“Thank you… If I could make fifty thousand gold per day working ten days a month, I believe I could live a stable life…”
Kuku also seemed touched to have actually gotten paid. Her days as Schifanoia must have been really tough. I never really felt like giving her money after hearing any of her old songs…
“And please do come to the music festival. If you are successful, you may just find your fortune,” Beelzebub said. It sounded suspicious, but demons were an excitable bunch. Maybe Kuku really would get a sudden windfall. Beelzebub retrieved documents on the music festival from her things and handed them to Kuku.
“Um, how might I be able to get to the demon castle…?”
“If you’ll participate, then we’ll have someone come get you.”
A leviathan or some other method of fast travel would come for her.
“If you’re all right with me… I’m a nobody, though…” At that moment, Kuku became unsure.
“Whether you are a nobody or a somebody in the human world does not matter. A majority of the demons know nothing about anyone’s reputation in the human world anyway.”
“I understand. Then if you’re all right with me going, I’ll go…”
Kuku had performed in front of people before. She would keep going forward.
“Mm. I do not know which stage we’ll use yet, but you’ll likely be performing before anywhere between ten to twenty thousand people.”
“Wha—?! That many?!”
That was way too dramatic of a change. If you multiplied her original audiences by a hundred, it still wouldn’t come close…
“Ah, do you think…you could put me in a smaller venue, maybe for about three hundred…?”
Oh no! Kuku’s cracking under the pressure! She’s sounding weak again!
“Every venue in the music festival is full of people. There will be no place with only three hundred. You will do this. All you have to do is play about twenty of those songs you just did, no?” Beelzebub patted Kuku on the shoulder. “Believe in yourself. Your feelings have reached the heart of your listener. I know well how serious you are. There won’t be any problems!”
“O-okay!” Kuku answered, overpowered by Beelzebub’s energy.
“All right, all riiight! You will do your best. And now I shall take a bath.”
Beelzebub was the kind of person to enthusiastically use her status as the guest to take the first bath.
I wondered if she would announce that she was moving in soon…
“You will come with me, Falfa and Shalsha.”
“Okaaay!” “Sure.”
And so Beelzebub left the room.
To put it frankly, I wasn’t going to disturb them, since her goal was to play with my daughters.
On the other hand, Kuku started shaking after Beelzebub left.
“An audience of ten to twenty thousand… I couldn’t…I couldn’t perform in front of that many even if I faced the wall… There are too many zeros in that number for me to understand…”
“I know how you feel, but this is your chance. Make it count!”
All I could do was support her.
“Um… I’ll practice really hard, so would it be all right to stay here a little longer…? I’d have to work if I go back to the capital, and I won’t be able to squeeze in any practice…”
That was a very clear reason. The girl sounded like she really didn’t have any money.
“Got it. We’ll feed you as much as you need, so practice hard, okay?”
Kuku gripped her lute. “Okay!” she said.
It seemed our life with Kuku wasn’t over just yet.
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