A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Heart Kingdom]

[Pulchritudo]

After robbing a Duke and fighting a Royal Guard of the Heart Kingdom, one would ordinarily think the best course of action would be to disappear for a while and keep one’s head down. It would have been the logical choice. The wise choice, certainly. After all, there was every chance that the whole of Pulchritudo was already on high alert. A noble had been robbed, a Royal Guard had been drawn into a battle, and enough destructive magic had been unleashed to make the aftermath impossible to overlook. It would have been entirely reasonable for Mikoto to assume that guards were already searching for whoever had caused it, questioning witnesses, checking roads, and watching the entrances and exits of places like this very inn.

But Mikoto could not be bothered.

Rather than hiding somewhere inconvenient or making a serious effort to avoid attention, he had simply returned to the luxury inn as though nothing particularly important had happened.

Now, without his armor and merely in his casual clothes, he sat alone at a corner table. His loose white button shirt was comfortable enough, its sleeves rolled up around his forearms, while his black pants and boots were far less conspicuous than the heavy armor he normally wore. His elbow rested against the table, and he leaned the side of his head into his delicate hand, his fingers supporting his cheek as his red eyes wandered idly around the room.

He looked out of place among the older, richly dressed patrons. And of course it was not because he was dressed poorly.

Mikoto didn’t seem concerned with the tedious attention.

He idly watched the other patrons.

"I say that tremor earlier was quite intense," a man murmured from a nearby table, lowering his voice as though the volume might make the subject less unsettling.

"Intense?" The woman across from him gave an incredulous laugh. "That hardly does it justice. I thought the entire building was going to come down around us. What on earth could have caused something like that?"

Both were dressed in expensive clothing despite the lateness of the hour, their conversation subdued but anxious.

Mikoto’s eyes shifted toward them for only a second, then back to his table.

Other conversations drifted through the room.

The tremors, the strange flashes of light, and the distant destruction. The question of what could possibly have caused something so violent.

Some patrons speculated about an earthquake. Others wondered whether a powerful mage had lost control of a spell. A few spoke more quietly, clearly unwilling to speculate too loudly about something that might have involved the nobility.

Mikoto listened without appearing to listen; he had not bothered returning to the estate.

He would have liked to think that the reason was that he simply couldn’t stand the sight of the destruction he might have brought upon the place. Perhaps he could have told himself that seeing the consequences directly would make him uncomfortable or that he was avoiding the possibility of finding people injured because of his actions.

But Mikoto knew that wasn’t the reason.

He simply couldn’t be bothered.

There was no grand justification behind it; he had simply decided that going back sounded like a pain.

Of course, there was Gretel to consider.

He knew she had been there, but he knew she was capable of taking care of herself, and if anyone could crawl out of a situation like that while complaining about it afterward, it was probably her.

Still, that didn’t completely eliminate the concern.

("Still leaves me with some issues.")

Mikoto released a huff.

Perhaps he would have spent another few minutes turning that thought over in his mind, allowing himself to become irritated with the situation all over again.

But before he could, a familiar hand entered his field of vision.

A sleek black mug was placed gently onto the table before him.

Mikoto’s eyes lowered to it, then slowly lifted.

The familiar oni stood on the other side of the table.

Shuten-dōji was easy to recognize as ever.

She seemed almost cheerful as she regarded him; it was odd, particularly considering the circumstances. She was excited simply to see him again, as though finding him sitting quietly in the corner of the inn was considerably more pleasant than whatever else she could have been doing.

Mikoto stared at her.

Shuten-dōji smiled.

"You look much cuter in simpler clothes," the oni stated, taking the seat across from him.

She settled herself comfortably, propping one elbow against the table and resting her head against her elegant hand. Her attention remained fixed on Mikoto with almost shameless admiration.

"In that armor, you always look as though you’re preparing to kill somebody. Like you’re always carrying the entire weight of a battle around with you even when nobody is fighting you. But like this..." Her smile softened. "You’re much easier to look at. You actually look your age, and it makes it rather difficult not to admire you."

Mikoto’s expression remained flat.

"Stop, I’ll blush."

The dryness in his voice made it obvious that he had no intention of actually doing so; his red eyes dropped toward the mug.

His nose twitched once; he could smell something sweet.

His expression changed by the smallest amount.

"Chocolate?"

Shuten-dōji noticed immediately.

"Robert said you seemed to enjoy sweets," she explained, her smile becoming a little more pleased with itself. "He mentioned that chocolate in particular seemed to be something you enjoyed, so I remembered it. I couldn’t find it prepared exactly the way you might normally eat it, but I did find this."

She lightly gestured toward the mug.

"It is simply the chocolate melted and served as a drink. I wasn’t certain whether you’d like it that way, but I thought it was worth trying. And judging from the way your face changed the instant you realized what it was..." Her eyes narrowed with amusement. "I suspect I made the correct choice."

Mikoto’s pretty features had indeed brightened, only slightly.

But Shuten-dōji had seen it.

Mikoto reached for the mug.

"You’re not half bad, oni. "His fingers curled around the warmth as he lifted it toward himself and inspected the steaming liquid for a moment. "Though don’t start thinking one cup of chocolate means you’re getting in my pants."

He took a small sip; the warmth reached him first and then the sweetness. Mikoto’s eyes closed for perhaps half a second, his entire expression relaxed. He took another drink; it was almost comically sincere about how much he enjoyed it.

"Hm," he murmured quietly, lowering the mug only slightly. "That’s pretty good."

Shuten-dōji’s smile widened.

Mikoto looked at her over the rim.

"Don’t look so pleased with yourself."

She merely continued smiling as Mikoto took another sip.

For a brief moment, the destruction outside, the estate, the Royal Guard, the Angel slowly overwriting him, and every other problem waiting for him beyond the inn seemed considerably farther away.

Chocolate was apparently enough to accomplish that.

He looked down into the mug.

Heaven came to him in the form of chocolate.

His mouth twitched faintly.

("I could kiss Shuten-dōji.") The thought was fleeting and immediately buried beneath another sip.

Shuten-dōji, meanwhile, watched him with the satisfaction of someone who had succeeded at something considerably more important than she had expected.

"I do not view you that way yet," the oni said thoughtfully.

Mikoto paused as she continued, her expression calm.

"You’re more like the greatest of art pieces that must be admired rather than handled carelessly. Something beautiful enough that one ought to appreciate it without ruining what makes it beautiful in the first place."

Her gaze moved over his face for a moment, studying his expression with open fascination.

"Perhaps when you’re older, I’ll be able to regard you differently. For now, however, admiration is more than sufficient."

Mikoto stared at her.

The silence that followed was brief.

He looked back down at his chocolate.

Shuten-dōji’s expression remained content, but the curve of her lips suggested she knew exactly how strange her choice of words had sounded.

Mikoto decided, for the sake of the chocolate, that he would let it go.

Instead, Mikoto focused on something else.

His attention shifted away from the conversations drifting around the inn and settled on the oni sitting across from him. He took another small drink from the mug before lowering it toward the table.

"Why were you and the overgrown snake fighting earlier?" he questioned, without any real curiosity behind the words.

He set the mug down carefully, his fingers lingering against its side for another second.

"The two of you were making enough of a commotion that it was hard not to notice. So what was that about? Did you two actually have some reason to fight, or were you just being yourselves?"

"She was merely feeling a bit frustrated," Shuten-dōji replied almost innocently, her tone so composed that it made the answer sound considerably more harmless than it probably was. "And I simply took it upon myself to help her relieve some of that frustration. There wasn’t anything particularly complicated behind it."

Mikoto stared at her for a moment.

"Well, aren’t you a saint?" he said, his tone unconvinced. "Really, how generous of you. Most people would probably have the good sense to leave an irritated person alone, but apparently you saw someone angry and decided that what she really needed was an opportunity to hit you until she felt better."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"That’s an interesting interpretation of helping."

Shuten-dōji’s expression remained almost innocent.

Mikoto looked at her for another moment, clearly unconvinced, but he did not press the matter any further. He had no particular interest in hearing the details of their argument, and whatever had happened between the oni and Mother of Monsters was ultimately none of his business.

He simply picked up his mug again.

"But I am more interested in your own," Shuten-dōji said idly. "Who did you battle?"

Mikoto took another drink before answering.

"One of the Royal Guards of this kingdom," he said casually.

Shuten-dōji’s eyes immediately sharpened.

"Oh?" The single word carried considerably more interest than anything she had said before. "Then it must have been a worthwhile battle."

She leaned slightly forward, her elbow still resting against the table.

"A Royal Guard isn’t an opponent one simply happens to encounter and walk away from without consequence. So I’m assuming they were not some insignificant swordsman or mage who happened to carry the title. Were they actually strong? Strong enough that you had to take them seriously?"

Her curiosity was obvious now.

"And is that the reason for the tremors earlier? I heard them from a considerable distance. The entire area seemed to shake, and from what people were saying, there was enough destruction involved that half the city has been speculating about what could possibly have caused it."

Mikoto’s fingers tightened around the mug.

"That’s right," he murmured.

His red eyes dropped to the cup.

"He was tedious to fight." The answer was dismissive.

Mikoto rotated the mug slightly between his hands.

"He wasn’t weak. That’s not what I mean. He had enough ability to make the fight last, and he had more tricks than I expected. But the whole thing became tedious. He gave too much resistance, and there was too much destruction and too much time spent dealing with something that should have been simpler."

His gaze remained lowered.

"And in the end, I used more force than I needed to."

Shuten-dōji didn’t immediately respond; she stared at Mikoto’s face. Not merely with admiration. She had already been fascinated by his appearance. Even sitting in ordinary clothes, with his delicate features and small frame making him look almost harmless, he was difficult not to watch. But now her attention was no longer focused on how pretty he was.

She was watching what his face wasn’t saying, the way his eyes remained lowered with the slight downturn of his rosy lips. There was a small tension that returned whenever the battle was mentioned. And the careless way he described the destruction, as though he were trying to convince himself that it wasn’t worth thinking about.

Shuten-dōji’s gaze lingered.

"You seem saddened."

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