Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 9 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: A Chance Meeting with an Old Friend 

Stepping composedly through a dark alley that reeked offensively, Koichiro Mikoshiba pulled his hood down below his eyes. He was walking quite steadily; one wouldn’t imagine he’d been drinking since morning at the tavern. 

This was all calculated, of course. 

Koichiro always was good at holding his liquor, and he’d paced himself appropriately, knowing the job he was about to embark on. The number of bottles he’d emptied was impressive, but since he’d also taken care to eat appropriately, he was very much sober. His limbs were full of strength, and he was prepared for any situation. 

And it was only natural he would be so cautious; this was, after all, the other Earth. Had he been foolish enough to get blackout drunk in such a suspicious tavern, he’d have been stripped of all his belongings before he’d be sober enough to even realize it. 

Or worse, he could have been simply sold off to slavery before he knew it. He thought back to one of the four great classical novels of China, the Water Margin, where a man was given poisoned sake. He was then stripped of all he had, and after he succumbed to the poison, his flesh was chopped off and sold for money. Koichiro was lucky enough not to run into a place lowly enough to do that, but he wouldn’t be surprised if such a business did exist in this world. 

This was a world where any kind of madness, no matter how absurd, could occur. 

Heh. They took the bait... 

Ever since he left the Echo Hall, he’d felt a gaze fixed on him. And it wasn’t the gaze of a curious onlooker, but rather, a more adhesive, clinging gaze that always seemed to come from the shadows. 

Koichiro had a clear objective. But to achieve it, he had to rely on an old, archaic method. 

Now, then... I’d like to think it went as planned, but did it really...? 

He was up against an Organization that had extended its tentacles across all corners of the continent, while keeping its existence hidden from the populace. They didn’t exactly have a nameplate at their doorstep like a regular business in town. Of course, Koichiro knew of its existence, and had ways of contacting its members. 

After all, before he’d found his way back home to Rearth, Koichiro was one of their leading members. 

But this was a thing of the past by now. He had no way of knowing if the signal he’d sent out at the pub in Lentencia was even being used anymore. For all he knew, everyone who saw it thought it to be some drunk sot’s bad idea of a joke. 

In fact, given the nature of the Organization, the likelihood that it would keep using this cypher for so many years was non-existent. He fully believed it was abolished years ago. True, he’d been tailed since he left the tavern, but he didn’t know why. 

After all, he’d stepped out of the lights of the main street and into the dark alleys. And the shadows cast by the dazzling lights of the city and its pleasure district hid a great deal of sludge and muck. Put simply, these alleyways were essentially Lentencia’s slums, the city’s dark side. 

Whoever lived here had no hopes for the future. The only way to make a living in these slums was through manual labor. Women could sell their bodies for cash. And in both cases, the wages would be terribly low. So low, in fact, that in some cases one couldn’t afford their life necessities. And in those cases, even slavery was preferable. 

There was no honest, respectable way of escaping the dark embrace of these shadowy slums. That was why anyone confident in their brute strength turned to crime. And in that regard, there was no difference between both worlds here. 

So it was quite plausible that someone had mistaken Koichiro for a drunk with money to spare, and thought to gather their group of thugs to mug him. 

Given their skill, I doubt whoever’s tailing me is just a casual passerby. The question is whether they’re related to the Organization... 

He knew they’d kept up their tail ever since he left the Echo Hall, but whoever it was, they were following him stealthily. They weren’t quite on Koichiro’s level, but they were certainly skilled. They were silent and kept their presence masked. 

And most importantly, the way they seemed to corner their prey was perfect. Most people wouldn’t even notice them until their throats were already slit. No, perhaps they wouldn’t even realize it then. Whoever was following Koichiro was a hunter specialized at stalking human beings. 

No, even if someone this skilled isn’t working under a country or a group, that could mean... 

Feeling an ominous suspicion surface in his mind, Koichiro shook his head as if to banish such thoughts. Of course, this was hardly an opponent he couldn’t overcome. Koichiro’s prowess was out of the ordinary, and few people on this continent could likely match him in combat. 

He’d given away one of his beloved katanas to Asuka, but that did little to take away from Koichiro’s skill and lethality. Even still, Koichiro thought the people tailing him wouldn’t voluntarily pick a fight with him for no reason. 

After all, there was no world where people this skilled would stoop to mugging people in a pleasure district’s alleyway. It would be like making a five-star chef work at a fast food restaurant. 

Of course, there were no absolutes in this world. Maybe one such “chef” would fall on hard times and wind up unlucky enough to work in such a lowly place. But having many such chefs gathered to work in one place made no sense. So by that reasoning, Koichiro doubted they were mere thugs. 

The question remained, though. Whoever these people were, could they be working for the ones he was looking for? 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps against the flagstones reached Koichiro’s ears. 

I can feel their presence all of a sudden... Two, three... No, there’s five of them... Which means... 

The presences surrounding him grew more conspicuous at once, and they all seemed to close in around him from all directions. His pursuers probably sought to force him to go to a specific spot. 

Fine, I’ll take the bait... Let’s see how this turns out. I’m curious to see what they can do... 

Koichiro’s katana shuddered slightly at his waist, seemingly out of concern for him. 

Don’t worry, girl... If worse comes to worst, I will put you to use. 

He gently tapped the scabbard twice, as if to soothe the blade as he waited for the time to come. 

“You there, with the hood,” a voice called out to him from behind. 

It was just as he was about to turn back after heading into a blind alley. His assailants likely saw this as their chance to strike. Koichiro turned in the direction of that voice. 

Hmph... So they’re trying to cut off my avenue of escape. They don’t intend to let me get away. 

A group of men stood at the entrance to the alley, blocking his way out. Tall stone walls surrounded him from three sides, and with the sole exit from the alley blocked, Koichiro was, for all intents and purposes, trapped. It was a truly hackneyed situation, but from the attackers’ perspective, they had Koichiro firmly in their grasp. 

“Can I help you?” Koichiro composedly asked the smug men standing in his way. 

“Oh, nothing special,” one man with an Arabic visage and finely-chiseled facial features said. “We just had a little too much to drink in the pub. We were hoping you could help us to some of your coins. See, we’re a bit down on our luck. We’re the sad sort that can’t hold a job, right?” 

Of course, they said ‘help us to some of your coins,’ but the real intent behind those words was clear as day. The other men laughed riotously. 

“We’ve heard of you,” another man said. “You’re the one who’s been drinking his ass off all day at the Echo Hall, right?” 

“Living the dream, aren’t you?” yet another man piped in. “C’mon, share a bit of that fortune with us.” 

The group once again raised their voice in laughter, after which they regarded Koichiro with a nasty smile. Their eyes glinted with murky greed. 

Hm, so that’s their angle... I figured they’d pull some kind of performance, but they’re convincing actors. 

At first glance, they looked like nothing more than greedy thugs out to shake people down, but Koichiro was smarter than to fall for their act. He wasn’t proud of it, but he’d lived his life up to his neck with people’s lies, and he knew how to tell when someone was acting. The way they looked around vigilantly and kept a careful distance told him these weren’t just bandits. 

So there must have been a reason they decided to approach him like this. They likely wanted to gauge how skilled Koichiro really was. And that was certainly something the Organization would do. They were, after all, a secret society. By their nature, they rejected the idea of being known by others. 

This was why their operatives worked in inconspicuous professions, and why they didn’t know the names and faces of other operatives. So Koichiro knew that if someone from the Organization saw him make that cypher, they’d deploy someone to go after him. 

But to what end? That was the question here. 

Are they here to kill me, or to interrogate me...? 

Assuming the cypher he used at the Echo Hall was in use, they would suspect Koichiro was one of their own. The Organization was a large secret society, whose influence extended all throughout the continent. Knowing the names and faces of every single operative was impossible for them. In which case, knowing the cypher was what allowed them to recognize an operative. 

But if the cypher Koichiro knew was still in use, they likely would have approached him in the Echo Hall already. There’d be no need for these theatrics. 

So the cypher’s been changed... I suppose there isn’t much I could have done differently. But still... 

The trick behind the cypher was that allocating the plates wrong or pouring the wrong amount of water into the cup would make it clear that one was faking it. So how would the organization treat a man who left a fake cypher? 

Ordinarily, Koichiro believed they would do nothing. It was hard to believe a fake cypher could be the product of a coincidence, but there was still the chance an ignorant civilian might have accidentally piled plates together in a way that might resemble a Chawanjin cypher. 

And since there was the slightest possibility of that happening, the Organization couldn’t risk sticking its neck out. They were a secret society, one that strove to keep its existence hidden from the general public; they weren’t just another crime organization like the mafia. 

But this time, the situation was different. The Chawanjin cypher probably wasn’t in use anymore, but an operative saw Koichiro correctly perform an outdated cypher and assumed he was a spy from some other, rival group. The question was, would the Organization decide to kill him on the spot or capture him to get information out of him? This situation would unfold very differently depending on which choice was made. 

“What’re you so quiet for, eh?” one of the men asked him provocatively. “What, did yer jaw lock up outta fear or somethin’?” 

With that said, the men took elongated leather bags, which had a thick edge to them, out of their pockets. These were a type of bludgeon called a blackjack, a weapon that would normally be deemed useless in this world. Upon seeing it, Koichiro realized why they were here. 

So they’re here to interrogate me... 

A blackjack offered several advantages. It was usually made from leather or fabric, and so by loading it with something heavy, like rocks, sand or even coins, it could be made into a fairly lethal weapon. 

It was much like how even a plastic bag from a supermarket could serve as a weapon if filled up and swung around, assuming one didn’t place any importance on its durability. A blow or two could tear it apart, of course, but its convenience as an impromptu weapon was not to be trifled with. 

And the fact that it was heavy but soft meant any blows delivered by it would hit hard, but wouldn’t leave marks. One could sneak a weapon like this into a courtroom. It was, in a way, not a weapon for killing, but a weapon designed to inflict pain. Small wonder American police officers used to carry these weapons instead of batons in the past. 

But these advantages only meant anything in countries that adhered to human rights and sought to preserve the law. This world didn’t forbid the carrying of weapons, so carrying something as esoteric as the blackjack was meaningless. If they sought to kill, a sword or a metallic bludgeon would be much more effective. 

And that made their intentions clear. If they wanted to kill him, they’d be free to carry and wield swords or spears. 

“Why aren’t ya saying anything? What, are you that scared? Huh?” They repeated the same taunt like some kind of caricature of a thug. 

Koichiro simply regarded them with a sardonic smirk. He felt like he was being shown some kind of magic trick he already knew the secret behind. Still, he was interested in observing their methods for a little longer. 

Guess I should try to shake them up a little and see what they do... 

A subordinate’s skills mirrored their superior’s abilities, after all. Pretending to think things over for a second, Koichiro reached into his pocket and took out a gold coin. He seemed far too calm to make it seem like he was threatened into handing over his money, though. The men exchanged gazes, as if wondering how to react. 

“I see, I see... Well, not having enough to eat would make for a hard life. And I can definitely empathize with the pain of not being able to drink your favorite booze...” With that said, Koichiro used his thumb to flick away the gold coin. “Fine. Take it.” 

The gold coin rolled over the ground, eventually stopping as it hit the Arabian man who’d smugly picked a fight with him. 

“Aren’t you going to pick it up?” Koichiro asked, his deep voice echoing through the alleyway. 

Apparently these men didn’t expect him to meet their blatant provocation with a taunt of his own, and the confusion was clear on their faces. 

Now, how will they respond...? 

A gold coin was a small fortune, but none of them seemed to really react in particular to the fact that one had just literally landed at their feet. What Koichiro did struck them as so unexpected, their minds ground to a momentary halt. 

The reaction one might expect was for them to drop their act, lose their composure and attack Koichiro. That meant a fight without any coordination or planning to it. A flurry of blind violence. But still, these men were both powerful and held the stronger position in this situation. They knew better than to fall for such a transparent taunt. 

The two men standing at the vanguard of the group exchanged gazes and nodded. They then charged forward, swinging their blackjacks through the air. These were practiced movements that made good use of the muscles in their waists, shoulders and arms. They perfectly moved their bodies, which were reinforced by martial thaumaturgy. 

It was proof that their hearts, technique and physique — the three qualities that made up a warrior — were in perfect harmony. By Koichiro’s estimate, their strength was around level four, but their organized movements and coordination put them on par with a level five warrior. 

I see... Attacking from two sides, while the others serve as backup. 

Had they fallen for Koichiro’s taunt, all five of them would have jumped him at once, perhaps cursing him out pointlessly as they did. But instead, they decided to drop the act and begin their attack. They took the confined space of the alley into account, leaving three behind to cover for the vanguards. 

The blackjacks whistled as they whipped through the air. Dodging them narrowly, Koichiro analyzed the situation calmly. The man on the left swung his blackjack horizontally, trying to land a blow on the back of Koichiro’s head; a heavy blow, reinforced by a great deal of centrifugal force. A direct hit would definitely render Koichiro motionless. Depending on how the hit landed, it could even crush his skull. 

Good coordination. Very nice. 

Crouching down, Koichiro avoided the swing and then took a quick step back to create distance between him and his attackers. 

“H-Hey!” 

The first one to attack him, a southeast Asian man, suddenly crumbled to his knees and crashed face first into the ground. 

“The hell? What did you do?!” One of the men hanging back as a backup raised his voice in surprise, stepping up to take his fallen comrade’s place. 

It was clear that each of them was individually well-trained, but their coordination as a team was considerable as well. 

“Oh, nothing much,” Koichiro said composedly. “Just landed a blow on his jaw when we crossed paths.” 

Even with his opponents glaring at him with clear enmity and bloodlust, Koichiro didn’t let his collected smile fade. He tapped a finger against his own jaw twice, as if to illustrate. It was enough to make it clear what he’d done, though. The men’s bloodlust grew more palpable. 

Koichiro didn’t deliver that blow with a fist, but with the heel of his palm. Thanks to that, the man’s jaw wasn’t broken by the blow, but its impact on his brain was severe. The concussion would keep that man unconscious for at least ten to twenty minutes. 

I might have underestimated them, though... I knew they’d be tough, but it looks like they’ve seen their share of battles. 

Koichiro wasn’t injured by the exchange, but in all honesty, he couldn’t say he’d handled it perfectly. He’d mostly dodged the second blow to the back of his head out of sheer luck. Individually, these people were all quite proficient, but their skill at fighting as a group was what made them truly formidable. 

Of course, things would be different if he was allowed to kill them. Shattering a neckbone or destroying a heart with his bare hands was well within Koichiro’s abilities. Throwing them to the ground and locking their joints was child’s play as well. And if things truly turned bad for him, he could draw the sword sheathed at his waist. 

Still, killing the Organization’s operatives wouldn’t be wise... And injuring them in a way they could never recover from is a bad idea too. 

Currently, there were no relations between Koichiro and the Organization. Koichiro was a former member, but that was a thing of the past by now. 

If I were just able to meet them... 

There were a few dozen people Koichiro knew in the Organization. Of course, given the cutthroat nature of this world, there was a chance some of them were no longer alive. But at the same time, he knew there could be no chance that all of them were dead. 

All of his old friends were unrivaled warriors, each of them a one man army. And even during Koichiro’s time in the Organization, they were already very high ranking members. So long as the Organization retained at least some semblance of what it was before, Koichiro was confident that if only he were to meet one of his old comrades, they would gladly lend him their aid. 

Even if one had climbed to a high standing in society, they were unlikely to refuse an old friend’s request for help. Assuming, of course, both were indeed friends. Naturally, it didn’t mean the aforesaid friend could ask for anything. There was a limit to common sense, and compensation would of course be in order. 

But all of that hinged on Koichiro not killing any of the Organization’s people. 

Even if they were his old friends, Koichiro slaying their subordinates would eliminate any chance of negotiations. Old friends or not, they couldn’t overlook the death of their subordinates. 

Maybe I ought to change things up... Though I wish I didn’t have to. 

Honestly, what Koichiro was about to do was a dangerous gamble. But at this rate, he would be forced to kill his attackers. 

Koichiro silently broke his posture. The fighting aura that emanated from every inch of his body until just a moment ago suddenly dissipated. 

“What the hell are you doing?” the Arabian man hissed at him. 

Landing a blow on someone’s jaw while crossing paths with them was easier said than done, and the man he’d knocked out equaled Koichiro in size. In the Arabian assailant’s eyes, the fact that he could so easily dodge an attack and land such a crippling blow made it clear how skilled the hooded man before him was. But that just made the way he broke his stance seem all the more incomprehensible. It could be a trick to catch them off guard, but someone as strong as him wouldn’t need to stoop to that kind of trickery to break through them and escape. 

“Enough,” Koichiro said. 

The words that left his lips left the attackers surprised. 

What... is he doing? 

They eyed him carefully, so as to be cautious of a potential surprise attack, but Koichiro did nothing of the sort. 

“I said enough. We can stop testing each other,” Koichiro elaborated, pulling his hood back. 

His eyes glinted red like a demon. Faced with his intense, blade-like force of will, the men had to nervously hold back a cry of surprise. 

“My name is Koichiro Mikoshiba. What’s yours?” 

His tone made it clear that he wasn’t going to allow them to argue back against him. There wasn’t a trace of the flippant attitude he displayed while living in Japan. There was an overbearing pressure to his attitude; the kind unique to those who not only commanded people, but saw it as their natural lot in life. 

“Kalim...” The man replied, still anxious. 

The fact his opponent had overwhelmed him enough to divulge his name was a source of great shame for Kalim. But he also realized that launching another attack on this man wasn’t an option right now. 

“Hmm... Well then. I need you to do me a favor, Kalim.” Koichiro said, handing his still-sheathed sword over to Kalim. 

Hm. This flavor is about as close as you could get to what I know from home... 

Sitting in Liu’s hands was a small porcelain tea bowl, containing a small amount of tea just enough for a sip. A sweet aroma rose from the tea, reminiscent of fragrant olives. This was a type of tea made to resemble the Huangjin Gui, a premium variety native to China. 

Of course, for all its resemblance, it was different in many ways. It was still an imitation of Huangjin Gui. During his youth, Liu Daijin lived in the Fujian province of China, at Anxi County in Quanzhou. Compared to the tea he had with his father at the time, this was a night-and-day difference. 

That said, such imitations are still necessary for us. 

This tea didn’t exist just to satisfy Liu’s own tastes. There were many different types of tea; depending on the area the leaves were procured in and how they were refined, the same types of leaves could result in different aromas and flavors. 

Black tea and green tea were two different types of tea altogether, made with different methods. Chinese tea was divided into six different general types of tea, allowing for a wide range of flavors and scents. Those were sold so as to fit different needs and occasions. 

At first, these tea substitutes were made simply to compensate for a sense of nostalgia. But as the Organization grew in size and began seeping into both the western continent’s underworld and its society as a whole, things like this tea took on a more important role. 

Normally, the cultures of this world and Rearth were fundamentally different. The advance of culture and society had a way of affecting people in a similar way to narcotics. At first, the Organization only sold items like tea to the nobility, but as time went on, they found their way into the common household. By now, recreations of products they knew from Rearth had become one of the Organization’s largest sources of income. 

Liu Daijin was in charge of the production of tea leaves, but there were others in the Organization who had successfully reproduced cuisine and handicrafts. Still, none of them were the real thing. Quite simply, they were forgeries. And from the perspective of someone living in modern-day Rearth, their quality wasn’t particularly high. 

Then again, it is said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery... 

In Chinese martial arts, the first thing one learns is forms; that is, to mechanically imitate the movements of the art, as they were passed down by one’s predecessors. In a manner of speaking, one might say one was simply imitating or perhaps even ripping off one’s own teachers. Apprentice chefs also try to mimic the flavors of their teachers. And as they do, they master the basics and eventually create their own original dishes. 

To that end, imitation could not be called an evil deed in and of itself. It could only be called as such when one completely ignored the existence of the original. 

Not that this is something we need to worry about in this world, is it...? 

The concepts of copyright and intellectual property certainly didn’t extend across parallel worlds; Liu noted as much to himself with a sort of sardonic amusement. But just as that thought crossed his mind, a knock came on the door to his room. 

“Pardon the interruption, I have an urgent report to make...” 

It was his trusted aide and butler, Zheng. The right-hand man of one of the Organization’s elders, Liu Zhong Jian, or Liu Daijin, as the Japanese speakers would call him. 

“Come in. I’m listening,” Liu said, briefly parting his lips from the bowl to permit the man’s entrance. 

“Excuse me, sir.” 

Zheng opened the door and regarded Liu with a respectful bow. Normally, Zheng was one to simply enter the room and be done with the report as quickly as possible, but for whatever reason, he now stood at the entrance with his head hanging low. And furthermore, he gripped a katana in his right hand. 

“Hm? What’s the matter?” Liu cocked his head at Zheng’s uncharacteristic demeanor. 

His hands, clad in white gloves, were visibly trembling. The first thing that came to Liu’s mind at the sight of this was the possibility that Zheng and his men had failed. 

No. Zheng? He couldn’t have... 

He had ten operatives acting under him during this assault. Liu had been briefed on Zheng’s plan for the operation; their force would be split up into vanguards and backups, and they would corner their target in an alley. Using ten people and the alley’s confined space seemed like a sound plan; perhaps even overly cautious. 

But the result, contrary to Liu’s expectations, was seemingly unfavorable. Of course, this was all as far as Liu could see at the moment. 

“Zheng,” Liu regarded him with his usual, soft smile. “I can’t hear you from over there. Come closer.” 

Liu poured Zheng a fresh cup of tea. Regardless of whether Zheng had failed or succeeded at his task, he would need to know what happened if they were to come up with a countermeasure. And so, he tried to avoid putting any pressure on Zheng, so that he wouldn’t distort the contents of the report in his stress. 

“Go on. Drink.” 

He treated him the same way he regarded Ruqaiya Redouane, the operative in charge of running Lentencia. It was a simple yet effective way of calming the nerves. 

“Thank you kindly, sir...” 

But it seemed Liu’s consideration only made him all the more uncomfortable. The more considerate Liu was, the more it seemed to dig into Zheng’s heart. 

“Well? What happened?” Liu asked gently, sympathizing with Zheng’s feelings. 

But it seemed answering that question was too hard for Zheng, as he struggled to part his lips. 

“Well, I...” 

Truth be told, if all he had to do was report their attack failed, things would be that much more simple. As far as this world’s established logic was concerned, it should have been impossible for Zheng to have to make this report. 

Still, he knew keeping quiet would get them nowhere, and so Zheng took a deep breath. Steeling himself, he placed the katana on the table. 

“Oh... Given the craftsmanship, this would be a Japanese katana, yes?” Liu said, narrowing his eyes as he gazed down at the weapon. 

It had a black lacquer scabbard, and the grip was adorned with silk threads. The blade had all the traits Liu knew were associated with a Japanese katana. 

Hmm... Was this brought in from the eastern continent? I’ll admit it’s unusual, but is it really that surprising? 

Blades similar to shamshirs were in use in the central continent, while weapons close in shape to the Ethiopian shotel were popular in the southern continent. The eastern continent, by comparison, produced swords similar to the liuyedao and katana. 

Still, seeing this kind of sword in the western continent was rare. The swords in use on this continent were maintained and tempered in completely different manners compared to a katana. Katanas required different whetstones to maintain their razor-like sharpness, and there were hardly any craftsmen capable of tempering these blades on this continent. 

The same could be said for the scabbard and grip. Anecdotes spoke of how katanas could never bend or break, but these swords required appropriate maintenance to exhibit their true prowess. In that regard, katanas were rarely seen on the western continent. Their practicality was limited, since there was no one to keep them whetted after use. 

But as impractical as they were, it didn’t mean there was absolutely no chance they would be found on this continent. There were still port towns, and while many only traded between different countries within the continent, some of them had merchants that sailed out to lands across the sea. 

These merchants would return with their ships full of exotic items which were then sold at high prices to curious nobles. Items such as vases, jewelry and portraits accounted for some of their merchandise, but some merchants brought in weapons as well. 

And so, believing this katana arrived on the continent in such a way, Liu drew the blade from its scabbard. The white blade glimmered, its sharpness so visibly keen that Liu felt as if his line of sight might be cut just by gazing at it. 

The quality of this sword was without question. And not just that, it was a thaumaturgical sword that clearly had a powerful enchantment applied to it. But the moment he saw the crest etched onto the blade, Liu felt a jolt run through him. 

Am I reading this wrong? No... The crest and sharpness are unmistakable. This sword belongs to him... 

Liu was by no means an expert when it came to katana; he could barely tell general types of weapons apart. But the katana he was looking at now was a different story altogether. He was confident that even if this singular blade were mingled in with a thousand other katana, he would be able to recognize it and tell it apart from the rest. 

And it was only natural that he would. After all, this sword, Kikka, and its sister, Touka... Those twin blades had saved his life many times in the past. He would never fail to recognize the swords wielded by his once-sworn friend, Koichiro Mikoshiba. 

But this shouldn’t have been possible. 

Hurriedly removing the sword hilt’s rivet, he examined the inscription etched upon the sword’s tang. 

But this can’t be... Back then, he had Kikka with him... 

It was a grand project, one the Organization devoted a great deal of funds and effort to completing, but despite all their efforts, it ended in the worst possible way. Fifty years ago, people from Rearth tried to execute a counter-summoning ritual, meant to return people to their original world, only for the process to go awry. And it was then that Koichiro Mikoshiba disappeared, with both his swords in hand. 

“Zheng... How did you acquire Kikka... this sword?” Liu asked with a severe expression he wouldn’t normally show. “Did you apprehend the man from earlier?” 

“Yes... The man called this sword Kikka, too.” 

“He did? In that case...” 

As Liu spoke, Kikka trembled slightly in his hands. As if to answer Liu’s question. And then, Zheng said the decisive words that locked everything in place. 

“Yes, the mystery man we attacked identified himself as Koichiro Mikoshiba, the Organization leader who disappeared several decades ago...” 

“You don’t mean to say... He’s still alive?” 

At that unexpected answer, Liu’s expression contorted. 

Small wonder why his right-hand man, normally so aloof, calm, and collected, had hesitated to give this report. 

Within a brothel in one corner of Lentencia’s commercial district, Koichiro Mikoshiba reclined on a sofa in one of the guest rooms, seemingly quite calm. 

“Liu Daijin should arrive soon,” Zheng said, pouring fresh tea into Koichiro’s tea bowl. 

“Hm,” Koichiro replied in a composed fashion. 

There wasn’t so much as a hint of the dangerous atmosphere that had emanated from his body earlier that night. 

But we engaged him earlier, so this place should be enemy territory for all he is concerned. And still, the way he remains calm... It’s like the legends say... 

This was the first time Zheng met Koichiro face to face. It had been a few decades since Zheng was brought to this world, and by then, Koichiro had already disappeared. Zheng had been told he’d apparently died. 

So it really is him... 

Zheng had heard countless legends of Koichiro Mikoshiba. All the stories drew an image of a raging demon, a warrior god of sorts. During the Organization’s early years, Koichiro Mikoshiba was praised as the Organization’s greatest warrior. 

His earliest achievements included the Battle of Castle Dergstein in the Kingdom of Helnesgoula, and the Siege of Truesta, a town in Myest’s southern regions. Not to mention countless skirmishes against the Church of Meneos, of which few records remained. 

He’d fought in at least ten major wars. If one were to count the minor skirmishes and clashes, he’d blazed through hundreds of battlefields. There could be no counting the amount of merits this man had earned. It was firmly believed that had it not been for this man, the Organization would not have expanded as far as it did. 

And this was why the Organization still sang his praises decades later. True, some stories sounded like exaggerations; for example, how he single-handedly slew an entire knight order. But when Liu told him that story was true, Zheng’s heart danced in excitement, as though he were a young boy again. 

And when faced with such a hero, Zheng couldn’t help but let his mask slip ever so slightly. He was a warrior too, after all. 

“Do try it, and give me your opinion,” Zheng said, encouraging Koichiro to taste the tea. 

Of course, it wasn’t poisoned. But given the tense situation they were in a short while ago, Koichiro still considered this place enemy territory. A peaceful fool who knew nothing of battle might have been gullible enough to take him up on that offer. But a skilled warrior would think twice, and thrice, before consuming food or drink offered to them by the enemy. 

Zheng expected him to politely refuse, or at least wait until Liu was present first. 

“Yes, of course,” Koichiro said, much to Zheng’s surprise. 

Nodding, he picked up the bowl and sipped the tea quietly. Its unique taste spread refreshingly across his tongue. The flavor felt a bit thin and diluted, but it contained a peculiar, noble quality to it that made Koichiro’s lips part into a smile. 

“Hm, a fine flavor. There must have been time spent on brewing it. The water you used is of fine quality.” 

At those words, Zheng’s rigid expression crumbled. 

“You can tell? I made it using real Junshan Yinzhen leaves I was lucky enough to acquire. I rarely get a chance to brew it.” 

It might have come off as impudent, but even Liu Daijin would be hard-pressed to acquire tea on the level of what Koichiro had just drank. Depending on the situation, it could be seen as so valuable no one would be able to attach a price tag to it. 

After all, this yellow tea was native to Junshan Island in China’s Hunan province. Only a thousand kilograms of tea leaves were produced yearly, the majority of which would be bought by the more affluent people of China or major tea makers. The common people were unlikely to acquire these tea leaves. 

Just a hundred grams of tea leaves cost several thousands of yen; that made it clear just how precious of a commodity these tea leaves were. By comparison, five hundred gram packs of moderately good tea would sell for the same price. The emperors of China favored this tea since the days of antiquity, and it truly could be called a tea worthy of an imperial household. 

The question of what tea as rare as this was doing in this world had a ridiculously simple answer. When items from Rearth were found in this world, there would be one of two reasons behind it. They were either brought in by someone summoned to this world, or someone was drawn to this world by a supernatural disappearance. In either case, they were carried in by, or happened to be in the vicinity of, whoever was brought into this world. 

Incidentally, this tea was obtained by a young Chinese man who was unfortunate enough to be summoned to this world. He had worked in tea production. Like most young people of the present day, he would never put down his smartphone, but he also had a lot of passion for his craft. He was a bit of an eccentric man who would go around the fields producing tea leaves for research. 

The Junshan Yinzhen leaves he had on him when he was summoned were the result of him begging a master craftsman for a sample of the leaves for research. They were the genuine article. And when he was brought into this world, the country that called him to this world happened to find the bag with the leaves next to him. Evidently, he had grabbed onto whatever he had nearby when he was summoned. 

Following that, he went through many ups and downs before he found employment in one of the Organization’s tea production factories. When he joined the Organization, Liu learned of the Junshan Yinzhen tea leaves, and bought them off the man for a large sum of money. 

One could very well say that this tea had only reached Koichiro through a series of coincidences piled upon coincidences; a true alignment of the planets. Still, a few hundred people were summoned every year, so as long as one wasn’t picky about the brand, it was possible for tea from Rearth to find its way into this world. But it was mostly black or red tea, or even just tea in plastic bottles. 

As such, this tea certainly wasn’t something one would serve to a person who had no taste for high-class tea. In fact, had Liu not ordered him to use these leaves, Zheng would not have thought to serve it to him. The fact that he did, however, made him all the more pleased to hear Koichiro’s honest, positive impression. 

“Excuse me,” a muffled voice came from behind the door, accompanied by a gentle knock. 

With that signal, Zheng swiftly moved to the door and ushered the owner inside. But when the door opened, Liu didn’t enter the room. He stood, rooted in place, and gazed into the room with shocked amazement. His eyes were fixed on the man who rose from the sofa to greet him. The two stood for a long moment, their gazes locked on each other. 

“Is it really you, Koichiro...?” Liu managed to eventually spit out the words. 

This wasn’t so much a question as it was Liu putting his own belief into words. After all, the old man facing him still had some semblance of the young man he once knew in his hardened facial features. 

“Aye. It’s been... a long time. Liu Zhong Jian. No...” Koichiro’s lips curled in a profound smile. “I hear they call you Liu Daijin now.” 

Aah, he hasn’t changed... He always was like this. 

It was half a century ago that Liu Zhong Jian and Koichiro Mikoshiba had raced across the battlefield as comrades, fighting to uphold the Organization’s values. Liu’s hands trembled as his field of vision clouded over with emotion. 

“My friend, call me as you will. I will call you as I like, too.” 

“I see. Then I will call you Zhong Jian, as I once did.” 

With that said, the two smiled at one another. 

After basking in the joy of their reunion for a while, the two sat down in chairs prepared in the guest room ahead of time. There was so much they needed to ask one another. 

“You may stay and listen, Zheng,” Liu told his assistant. “But you must not speak.” 

“Understood,” Zheng bowed silently and moved back to one of the corners. 

Regarding him with a sidelong glance, Liu started the conversation. From his perspective, a friend thought to be long dead had suddenly turned up alive. He naturally wanted to hear what Koichiro had gone through. Especially if it ended up being related to the Organization’s most treasured wish. 

“I’ll admit I never thought we’d meet again like this, Koichiro. When the ritual went awry and you were caught up in it, we all assumed you had died...” 

Trailing off, Liu directed a sharp gaze at Koichiro. His eyes were full of an iron will that would allow no falsehoods or lying. 

It only made sense he would turn so serious; returning to Rearth was what they had all sought for many years, and one of the reasons for the Organization’s existence in the first place. 

“So... Did you make it back to Rearth? To... our Earth?” Liu Daijin put the question which burned in his heart like a howl into words. 

Koichiro nodded slowly. 

“Yes... I made it back. I’d lived my life on that side up until a few months ago.” 

Upon hearing those words, a sob escaped Liu Daijin’s lips. He leaned forward, pressing Koichiro for more answers. 

“And what else? Did the others make it back, too?!” 

During their attempt to conduct the counter-summon ritual, they tried to send a few people considered to be traitors to the Organization as an experiment. When the ritual went wrong, twenty-nine Organization members were sucked into the dimensional interstice. The Organization’s top brass had no choice but to declare all of them dead. 

But since Koichiro survived, there was the possibility the others were still alive. Given the tragic results of the counter-summoning ritual, the Organization had sealed away all information on it, and all further research into the matter was strictly forbidden. But depending on Koichiro’s answers, they could very well resume this research. And in the best possible scenario, they’d be able to send their fellow otherworlders back to Rearth at any time. 

But while realizing the fleeting hope Liu was overcome with, Koichiro had to relay the harsh truth. 

“No, I haven’t seen the others since then... They are most likely... I’m sorry,” Koichiro shook his head silently. 

Seeing the fleeting hope in Liu’s eyes shatter, Koichiro could only apologize. But he couldn’t lie about this. People’s lives were on the line. 

“Isn’t there a chance they simply landed somewhere else and you haven’t met them?” Liu looked at Koichiro with a clinging gaze, as if refusing to give up hope. 

That was indeed a possibility, but it had naturally occurred to Koichiro as well. 

“No. It pains me to say it, but I believe the chances of that are quite slim. When I was caught up in the ritual, I found myself in the state of Indiana in the United States. I had been transported to a room in a dilapidated house.” 

At those words, Liu’s expression turned bitter. 

“So Adelina Berezhnaya’stheory that anyone sent back would turn up in a spot where a person was summoned from was true...” 

“Yes. It would seem so.” 

Upon hearing the name of one of his comrades, who had been caught up in the dimensional interstice alongside him, Koichiro’s eyes filled with tears. The counter-summoning ritual was put together using a theory created by that Organization member; a genius Russian woman. 

The idea behind it was simple. When someone is summoned to this world, it means both worlds’ barriers are lifted. One can liken it to a hotel where the rooms are all guarded by an auto-lock system. Rearth is room A, while this world is room B, and the corridor is the dimensional interstice. The doors are each world’s barrier. 

By this example, the summoning ritual means someone in room B calls someone from room A to their room. The chant used for the ritual is like an internal phone line between the rooms. The person beckoned from room A opens the door from the inside and easily goes outside, and the door to room B is likewise opened from the inside. 

The problem begins when one realizes that Person A doesn’t have the key to his room, and finds themselves locked outside; a common occurrence, which in most cases would be resolved by asking the front desk to unlock the room’s door. 

But there is another method — summoning someone else from Room A (Rearth) to Room B (this world). In the moment that happens, both doors will open, but the problem is getting the timing right. Still, if it does go right, one would be able to infiltrate the locked door by following someone else in. 

While that simplified explanation might make the feat seem relatively trivial, there are several problems. They can be summed up as two major obstacles. 

The first is the aforementioned timing. This ritual involved moving between dimensions, and it was still unknown how long the barriers remain lifted. It could be days, months, or mere seconds; perhaps even a split second. And unlike a hotel door, which produces noise when it closes, the barriers make no indication of being lifted or reapplied. 

No research was done into the matter, so it would be impossible to confidently say this was the case, but given what few examples existed, it’s highly likely people cannot survive in the dimensional interstice. 

As such, the act of trying to cross between dimensions is like trying to wade through outer space in an attempt to cross between two spaceships. Even if one has no choice, it’s not just a risky gamble; it’s borderline suicidal. 

Even if one were to successfully clear the obstacle of timing, another problem remains; one would need to summon someone else to take their place in this hellish world. In order to go back home, they would need to condemn someone else into taking their place; not unlike a game of Old Maid. 

The latter problem was the greatest subject of debate within the Organization at the time. They were a group of people who were forcibly called into this world to act as expendable pawns, and they had all suffered great hardships since their summoning. 

Some were forced to slavery and had their dignity and freedom stripped away from them. Some had their loved ones raped before their eyes. And they would have to leave someone behind in this world to take their place. They all wanted to go home, of course, but they didn’t want to do it on account of someone else. They wanted to go home in a way they could all be satisfied with. 

That was what Koichiro Mikoshiba, Liu Zhong Jian and the other leading members of the Organization believed. But those who had been jaded by the nature of this world saw this as nothing but idealism. There were many people in the Organization that would not hesitate to take any means possible, no matter how ghastly, to go back home. 

And this created a schism within the Organization. It became divided between the Homecoming faction, who insisted on returning home no matter what, and the Opposition faction, who refused to stoop that low no matter how bad things got. 

If only we could have talked it out more at the time... 

Those regrets had haunted Liu ever since, not to mention many of the Organization’s members who knew what happened at the time. But when all was said and done, no amount of talking could change the result. It wasn’t that they didn’t discuss the matter at all at the time; after all, both the Homecoming and the Opposition factions were adamant about their ideals. This insistence and resolve was something both factions had in common. 

They came to their conclusion after laying out everything on the table — their future, their philosophies, their very humanity. And so, no matter what anyone might say, they could not overturn the conclusion they’d come to. 

As a result, the Homecoming faction attacked Adelina Berezhnaya, who was researching the counter-summon ritual at the Organization’s orders. They forced her to perform the ritual, while Koichiro and Liu led a strike force on the estate where the ritual was being done. 

What followed was a battle between comrades who had once shared joys and sorrows. But who was in the wrong here? It was hard to pinpoint any one person who had caused this. Perhaps the Homecoming Faction was right in its backlash against the Opposition Faction, who continued their research into the counter-summoning ritual despite having no intention of using it. 

“Do you regret it, Koichiro...?” Liu asked. 

“Yes. I’m still not content with all this,” Koichiro nodded. 

At the time, the two of them decided to stop the ritual no matter what. The result, however, did not go as planned. The attempt to forcibly stop the counter-summoning ritual made the spell go haywire, sucking Koichiro and his twenty-nine subordinates into the dimensional interstice. And, by coincidence or perhaps fate’s whimsy, Koichiro was brought back to his world. 

The moment he’d realized he’d returned home, Koichiro’s heart became heavy with regret and guilt. And even now, half a century later, those feelings hadn’t faded. True, he never intended to do it, but Koichiro still found his way back home, albeit at the cost of the lives of many. There could be no denying that. 

“I see... I feel the same way,” Liu said, heaving a deep sigh. 

Following that incident, the Organization lost many of its operatives, and eight of its leaders, including Koichiro. It was a painful blow. It took more than a decade for the Organization to truly recover from the repercussions of that event. 

And in that time, the ones who were able to desperately prevent the Organization from falling apart under its own weight were the twelve commanders led by Liu; those who would go on to be known as the Elders. 

Similar to how Koichiro found his way back by way of coincidences and miracles, those left behind in this world also had to make many sacrifices. 

“We’ve both been through a lot, haven’t we... Koichiro?” 

“So it seems, Zhong Jian.” 

And so, the two gazed upon each other for one long moment. As if each of them was reflecting on what the other had experienced over the years.