Log Horizon - Volume 10 - Chapter 2.7

7 
“What’s up with the older guys?” 
“Touya.” 
Touya called to his sister as she came down the large stairway into the living room. 
Rundelhaus had concluded that the older group’s meeting—which had begun in the evening and was centered on Shiroe—wouldn’t be ending anytime soon. 
“It’s going to take longer, isn’t it?” he asked. 
“Yes, it looks that way.” As Minori responded, her expression was very serious. 
The words seemed to disappoint Serara, but she stood up and announced, “In that case, I’ll get dinner ready!” 
“It sounds as if it’s ready already; they told us to go ahead and eat without them.” 
Isuzu stood, too, mirroring Serara, and the three girls went to the kitchen to get the soup. In fact, dinner was very nearly complete. Nyanta had prepared it in the afternoon, so all they needed to do was heat it. 
“I wonder what’s going on.” 
Folding his hands behind his head, Touya flung himself onto the sofa. 
It was just past evening, and night had barely begun. The comfortable living room was illuminated by Magic Torches Rundelhaus had summoned. Shrugging in that flickering light, Rundelhaus responded: “Well, our guild master is a thinker. No doubt he’s thinking of our futures.” 
Touya was a kind boy. 
Of course, Minori and Isuzu and Serara were kindhearted companions as well, but Rundelhaus thought that, of their group, Touya was a little different. 
He was sure their experiences in Saphir were still churning inside him. Even now, when half a month had passed since the adventure, Touya sometimes stared absently into space. 
Rundelhaus thought human hearts were made up of two parts: 
One was discipline, rules, and restrictions. Those could probably be called “the things that had to be done,” or maybe “the things that couldn’t be helped.” Originally, Rundelhaus had been a Person of the Earth noble. Being an aristocrat meant living with many restraints and all sorts of obligations. These weren’t just superficial responsibilities—like orders from the family—but they were, or were not, allowed because of an aristocrat’s status. There was a lot of that, and he didn’t mean aristocrats’ specialties or anything along those lines. “Correctness” was a type of restriction. Things everyone could tell were right. Correct things, efficient things, advantageous things: That was all commonplace. 
The other part to the human heart was emotion, impulse, and motive. “The things you wanted to do” was a good way to put it. They were deep feelings, not obligations. As an aristocrat, Rundelhaus hadn’t been allowed to exercise this part much, and it was one of the reasons he’d become an Adventurer: the luxury of being able to fall in line with your own wishes. 
“Kindness” was something quite troublesome and difficult to fit into this mold. For example, say there was a mountain hut under attack by goblins. Unless someone intervened, the five hunters who’d barricaded themselves in that hut would die. However, if they dispatched knights to rescue them, a village of a hundred people would be left defenseless. 
—Take a situation like that one. At a time like that, dispatching knights would be what the world called “kindness.” 
The correct decision, however, would be to abandon them. 
One could say aristocrats were allowed to live in order to make correct decisions like that one. 
It wasn’t that they didn’t want to save them. They didn’t want to sacrifice a single person. It was likely that everyone had feelings like that. The two parts of the heart fought with each other. They vacillated between the correct and incorrect decisions. According to aristocratic values, that was weakness. It was a weak point that should be detested. However, it was also the virtue known as kindness. 
Rundelhaus had become an Adventurer because he’d admired the sort of selfless dedication that caused people to risk their own lives. He’d thought that if he became an Adventurer, the abilities he gained might be enough to save everything. 
Reality had proved otherwise. 
Of course, compared with what he’d had earlier, Rundelhaus had gained great power. His current Sorcerer level was 60. That was more than three times what it had been. As a Person of the Earth, this was a prodigious level, and it made him the equal of history’s great magicians. Rundelhaus’s Burned Stake could blast even a huge tree to ashes, and just one attack with his Lightning Nebula could kill ten Dream Imps. In terms of simple combat power, he was probably on par with the Sage of Miral Lake, the Rumbletide Demon Hunter, and the Great Mage Alisria. 
That didn’t mean he was able to avoid making choices, though. Of course, his arms had grown stronger. The number of people he could save had grown as well, but “more” was never “everything.” Rundelhaus was still making choices, even now; there were things he had to abandon, and he finally understood that there always would be. 
Rundelhaus’s friend Touya was different. It seemed as if he’d always known all of this, from the very beginning. 
Ordinarily, kindness was shown through devotion, anger at unfairness, and a sense of helplessness. 
Children didn’t understand the difference between the “correct” decision and the decision they wanted to make. Generally, they learned they were helpless by being caught between the two; children for whom those two things were still mixed simply got mad at their surroundings for not letting them choose what they wanted to choose. Rundelhaus had been a child up until just recently, and he knew this from personal experience. 
Touya could tell the difference between those two things. He knew both “correctness” and limits. 
What Touya had confronted in Saphir had been a divide. The Adventurer Shunichi’s refusal hadn’t been something he could change. The wyverns’ invasion hadn’t been anything he could prevent. Of course Rundelhaus couldn’t have done it, either, and neither could Minori, Isuzu, or Serara. What they’d found there had been refusal and a divide, and he didn’t think there had been anything to do about it. 
However, it was possible to know that and still choose the dedication your soul demanded, even if you got hurt. That was what his friend Touya was like. 
Serara and Isuzu were a little different. They’d believed they could do it. For that reason, they had been genuinely discouraged by their failure. They’d roused themselves in an attempt to conquer their own weakness. Naturally, that feeling of believing was a rare trait, and that innocence should be protected. 
But Touya was different: He had to have known that words probably wouldn’t get through. Still, he’d confronted that Adventurer who’d been trapped by nothingness. 
Even if you expanded your abilities to the point where the world called you a hero, there would still be despair you couldn’t even touch, let alone heal. Rundelhaus had finally learned this after he’d turned twenty, but Touya had known it all along. He’d known, and even so, he hadn’t stopped. 
“…I’m going home,” Touya murmured abruptly. 
“I see.” 
“Yeah.” 
Meanwhile, Isuzu and the other girls’ bright voices echoed quietly from the kitchen. 
Go home. Rundelhaus didn’t misinterpret the meaning of those words. 
The Adventurers were castaways who had come here, to Yamato, from some other “country of Adventurers” somewhere. It might be more accurate to call them victims who had been unfairly kidnapped by the Catastrophe. They were captives who’d been abruptly torn from their homes and flung into a strange land, a place they knew nothing about. 
In that town, Rundelhaus had heard the Odysseia Knights’ heartrending screams. We want to go home. The screams of Adventurers, people who could kill dragons, had rung out as helplessly as those of lost children. 
“If you have a birthplace, then returning to it is only natural.” 

That was why Rundelhaus was able to respond honestly. That decision was correct. He had the strength to say things that were correct. He’d gained it as an Adventurer, fighting as part of Touya’s group. 
It was likely that that darkness was inside all Adventurers. 
Minori, too, and Touya, and Serara. In the guild’s older members as well. 
That grief existed even inside Isuzu. 
It was like an invisible dagger had been planted in their chests. Even now, the Adventurers’ hearts were bleeding. Rundelhaus thought they should be set free. 
“I bet that’s what Shiroe and the other guys are talking about. The time when they have to discuss stuff like that is here already. Maybe we can go back, and maybe we can’t, but either way, the time when we have to say it clearly has come.” 
That was why he was able to listen to Touya’s words with pride. 
Touya was strong. Rundelhaus wanted to acquire a strength that would be worthy of his friend. 
“I’m sorry, Rudy.” 
“What need is there for you to apologize? I prepared for our parting long ago. That is what this world is like. There is no assurance that the people you meet will be able to stay with you forever. That is precisely what gives encounters their nobility.” 
Why was he apologizing? Indignant, Rundelhaus threw out his chest. It was mortifying to be considered so weak. 
“Rudy, I’m glad I came to this world. I met lots of people I really love. I got to feel how great it is to run around and be rowdy one more time.” 
It was fun. 
Hearing that made him happy, but also lonely. 
“Of course things are way fun, even now,” Touya admitted, smiling. From the kitchen, faintly, he could hear Isuzu singing quietly, and Serara explaining the cooking. 
“In my old world, I was in an accident. Nah, don’t look at me like that. It probably wasn’t a big deal. Well, no, maybe it was. Anyway, it’s not really that important. Because it happened, I got sort of discouraged…” 
Touya spoke softly; he was gazing into empty space, not at Rundelhaus. 
“I thought it would be better if I rested. I made myself small so I wouldn’t cause trouble for anybody, and I tried not to be a burden on them. There’s probably nothing wrong with that, but you can’t get anything out of it. I sort of turned into a ghost and disappeared… Everything was kinda vague then. It was all gray, both good stuff and bad stuff. And I made Minori cry a lot. I bet she cried where I couldn’t see her.” 
The two of them had to protect the girls. Since Rundelhaus was a Sorcerer, he was the weakest of their group in terms of physical strength, but this wasn’t about that. It was a matter of male pride. Not only that, if it were his big sister, as her little brother, he probably had to protect her. Rundelhaus felt Touya’s pain as if it were his own. 
At that point, Touya scratched his head a bit awkwardly and went on. “Not because I wanted to, though. I wasn’t trying to do anything at all. 
“Good things happened after we came here, and we’ve been incredibly lucky, so this time, I’ll have to understand that stuff properly. I have to say I want stuff when I want it, to struggle and fight, to tell people, ‘I told you, that’s mine!’” 
Caught off guard, Rundelhaus thought about what those words meant, then thought he understood. 
“…And so I’ll wish for a ‘next time.’ I’ll wish for a future and make a place for myself to belong. Shiroe taught me that. That means, even if we go back, it’s not the end.” 
“I know.” 
Touya was looking highly serious, and Rundelhaus nodded. 
Touya was a kind guy, just as he’d thought. 
He was also more stubborn than he’d thought, and his ideas were grander. 
We didn’t come to this world because we wanted to. That was what that Adventurer had screamed. The scream that belonged to all Adventurers. He’d roared in protest at the inhumanity of it all. Rundelhaus thought that was his legitimate right. 
However, Touya had acknowledged this, and on top of acknowledging it, he’d said, We were forced, and it wasn’t fair. That’s why I’m going to go back, and this time, I’ll come here because I want to. 
He probably wouldn’t be able to. He didn’t even have any idea how to get back. 
Maybe level and behavior were given more weight than age in Akiba, but people would probably still laugh off Touya’s declaration as something someone his age would say, and they wouldn’t take him seriously. The same thing would happen if Rundelhaus said it. Even if someone as important as Shiroe said it, it might be taken as an empty dream and ignored. 
But Rundelhaus knew his friend Touya. He hadn’t said that as a joke. It was a vow. 
Rundelhaus was Touya’s good friend. Furthermore, they were both guys. They’d never once said it aloud, but they’d made a promise. They’d sworn something to each other. Friends who stood on a battlefield together had to trust each other. They had to believe they could do it. 
Touya’s resolution might hurt him. 
It would probably hurt his sister, Minori, as well. Rundelhaus understood that that was the sort of thing wishes were. The greater the ambition, the more severely its flames burned your soul. Rundelhaus had been through death once, and he knew this. However, he also knew that some wishes could not be stopped. 
In that case, he would have to believe in Touya’s wish as well. 
He didn’t know what he could do, but he’d need to help out. 
He let his thoughts go to Isuzu, just a little. She’d probably get mad at him and tell him not to be reckless. Getting hit was extraordinarily painful. Thoughts that were almost grumbling skimmed through his mind: I wish she’d respect me a bit more. 
Still, promises between men were heavy things. He wasn’t sure yet whether Touya’s wish was correct, but Rundelhaus’s desire to help him with it was already real. 
“It isn’t as if you have any leads yet, correct?” 
“Yeah, that’s true, but still.” 
“In that case, it’s time for dinner now. Master Shiroe and the others may have hit on something.” 
“Come to think of it, you’re right. It’s a really hard wish, too. I bet there’s still time.” 
Rundelhaus nodded in agreement. 
Serara came into the living room carrying neatly cut fruit, and dishes were set out. Rundelhaus and the others ended up smacking their lips over Nyanta’s special potato soup, which was supremely delicious yet again.