Chapter 12: So Good It’s Addictive

“Hello there. Would you like a baguette?”

A delicate, amber-colored sky stretched over the horizon. The clouds drifted along steadily, absorbing the warm light occasionally forming spiral patterns. Evening had come upon the Kanezuka residence.

In front of the house, Meisatsu was panting heavily—sweat glistening, highlighting his figure.

He was... pumping iron...

“Huff... Huff... Phew!”

Letting go of two, unusually large dumbbells—which Meisatsu could tell weighed somewhere around a hundred and fifty kilos each just by feel—they dropped to the grassy earth with an audible—

THUD!

—leaving behind two, rather impressive, craters...

Man, Dad really went crazy making these things, huh? My arms kinda sting!

Not too far off from where Meisatsu stood catching his breath, Simuru sat staring blankly in his direction. If he had a face, it would probably be pale with fright...

His arm strength was no joke!!!

A Few Hours Earlier...

Ragan had crafted the dumbbells from the finest quality of steel he could lay his hands on and given them to Meisatsu who had just returned from Guild with Ayame, saying,

“These are for you, son!” Ragan gestured ecstatically at his finished work. “Whaddya think?!”

Aren’t those a little too big?! I did say that I needed something to train with but, isn’t this is a bit much?

“They’re perfect, Dad. Just what I wanted—I’m impressed.” There’s no way he’d kill his father’s enthusiasm.

“I dunno, could be bigger.” Ayame was clearly not satisfied with the—already outrageous—size of the dumbbells. “He’d be able to lift that, easy.”

“I know,” Ragan said, more solemn now.

“I would’ve made them a lot bigger, but...” Ragan clenched his jaw, eyes flaring. “... I ran out of materials...”

Even bigger??? Meisatsu couldn’t stop himself from flinching at the thought.

“I-I think it’s good enough as is, really!” he cried, panic rising.

“No need to be so modest son, I’ll make some new ones as soon as I can. Blacksmith’s Honor!” Ragan declared, striking a clenched fist on his chest.

He’s so dramatic!!! Meisatsu then turned to Ayame, who was still throwing looks of skepticism. Maybe that’s where she gets it from.

Back to the Present...

Between heavy pants, Meisatsu walked to the small terrace that led to the entrance of their family home. Simuru rolled slowly—like a gooey ball—meeting Meisatsu’s foot with a little nudge.

“Hey there bud,” Meisatsu said, letting his exhaustion pull him down as he sat. “What’ve you been up to?”

WOBBLE! WOBBLE!!

With rhythmic shakes, Simuru demonstrated what one would assume to be, a response...

“What’s that?” Meisatsu leaned forward. “You’ve been practicing shapeshifting?!”

WOBBLE!

“You’ve gotten really good at it too?!!”

WOBBLE! WOBBLE!! SHAKE!!!

With his eyes growing wider by the minute, Meisatsu watched as light tremors rocked Simuru’s entire body—

POP!

The figure that formed had a faint resemblance to an object Meisatsu knew all too well—a Glock!

With a quick head shake, he pulled himself out of his disbelief.

“You squishy genius!” he laughed, reaching for the gelatinous mold of a Glock. “So, you’re some sorta artist too, huh?”

Examining Simuru—now in Glock form—he chuckled to himself...

If I didn’t own one, I’d never have known what this was...

To put it simply: only someone obsessed with firearms could possibly, with low odds, recognize what Simuru had morphed into.

Maybe it’s a little too tough for him to turn into. Meisatsu decided to test Simuru’s shapeshifting limits.

“Can you turn into... Let’s see—a cube!”

Reverting to his original, somewhat spherical, blob-like appearance, Simuru bounced off Meisatsu’s hand. Giving a confident nod—

POP!

A perfect cube!

“How about... urm... hmm.” Meisatsu got up, turned his back to Simuru, and muttered to himself...

He spun back with a villainous grin...

“OUR HOUSE!!!” he cackled, raising both hands with grandeur, like an evil mastermind explaining his greatest plan.

Almost instantly, Simuru began oozing and pulsing.

Then tremors, unlike anything before—far more violent wobbles and shakes rocked his reddish surface.

“S-Simuru?” Meisatsu asked, his tone somewhere between terrified and concerned. “You good...?”

POP!!!

A small-scale replica of the house—though red and jelly-like—standing behind them was formed.

“No freaking way!!!”

Rushing to the spot were Simuru had transformed, Meisatsu squatted to get a better view.

The attention to detail was so impeccable; it felt unreal...

Peering through the model’s windows, he saw every piece of furniture, rooms, even the tiny items scattered about—everything was accounted for.

So, he can turn into a house but not a Glock? You picky little...

Unraveling like a taut ball of jelly, Simuru returned to his natural state.

An idea surfaced in Meisatsu’s mind. The thought of wielding two guns led to a—totally not creepy—smile, making him look like a toothy gremlin.

With another gun, I might unlock DUAL GUN WIELDING!!! He laughed giddily, musing over the possibility.

“Oh Satsu! Dinner’s ready!”

With a forced enthusiasm, Meisatsu shouted back, “Coming! Be there in a bit.”

Shoot! It’s Ayame’s turn to cook dinner... Or more like cast dinner? Meisatsu whined to himself.

He wasn’t too fond of her... Cooking Magic.

Cooking Magic

This magic was developed by mages as a brilliant way to cut down the time and effort one would normally put into preparing a meal. Its principle is rather simple: Cook once, record, and loop using magic.

Any dish at all, so long as the spell is cast while it’s being made, can simply be cooked up again with minimal effort. It can be rather unsettling at first seeing wooden spoons stirring pots under their own power, and vegetables being chopped up by knives hovering mid-air.

Meisatsu’s greatest issue with it—the lack of variance...

Being an exact copy of the original, it was devoid of anything new—subtle changes in flavor, maybe a slight tanginess, or an increased sweetness here and there. None of that was possible with this magic.

With his head hung low, dragging his feet, he slowly walked into the house.

After finishing his meal—which surprisingly looked and tasted like Japanese curry—Meisatsu holding his gut, trudged to his room.

Simuru followed, bouncing behind him.

The Kanezuka house felt quaint and roomy, with three bedrooms, a main living area, and a dining room opening off to the kitchen. Getting to the door, he kept moving forward, relying on the weight of his body to push the it open without stressing his sore arms.

He dropped lethargically onto his bed. With a slow head tilt, he looked at the little bedside table in a corner. On top of it was the wine bottle Gaspard had given him earlier.

Ayame must have dropped it there... he thought as he drifted into a dream.

Bright blue skies, tall swaying grasses. Three young boys were huddled together in a field not too far from Meisatsu’s home. A memory from his younger years was replaying in his mind...

“I just wanna go home...” A smallish boy complained, clutching a stick. “We can’t do this.”

“You’ll never get anywhere with that attitude,” declared a slightly older one.

In between them, ten-year-old Meisatsu stood, staring into the distance.

“Hey, so when’re you gonna introduce us to your big sis, huh?” The older one placed both hands on Meisatsu’s shoulder’s, turning him to his face. “She’s way too cute. I’ve gotta ask her out. Try to make me look good, got it?”

The still dazed Meisatsu didn’t catch a single word of that. He’d been fantasizing about the day something gun related would happen. It was all he could ever think about...

“Meisatsu!” exclaimed a young Ayame as she watched her brother being—from her own point of view—hassled.

An act she deemed as an unforgivable sin.

Noticing a new growing feeling of dread and despair behind him, the older boy turned back.

“Ayame!” He started running toward her. His steps whimsical, like he was about to break into a musical...

“My love, how I’ve wait—”

SMACK!

Like a cannon ball, the slap to his face propelled him deep into the fields—out of view.

The smallest of the three cowered, bringing his hands over his face to cover a quickly growing blush as he could only stare at Ayame’s feet as she approached.

“Satsu...” she said, embracing him tightly as she gently patted his back. “Don’t worry, I’ll always protect you...”

A rooster—a small rainbow-colored, peacock-like creature—crowed in the distance, waking Meisatsu from his slumber. It was morning.

What a weird dream...

Later that Morning...

It was a rather slow day at the Guild. Explorers inside engaged in idle chatter. Outside the entrance stood Akito, Meisatsu, Ayame and Umare—his three main comrades behind him.

“So, why’d you wanna see me?” Umare questioned with a grin, arms folded.

“Well, you see, Akito here...” Meisatsu gestured to his left where Akito stood—giving an awkward wave. “...has finally decided to join the Guild.”

“What?! How’d you manage that? You bribed him or something?” Umare asked rhetorically, chuckling. He knew firsthand just how stubborn and hotheaded Akito could be.

Meisatsu’s eyes tilted to Akito, arms crossed, frantically shaking his head—looking like a blur. A desperate attempt to prevent spilling the beans...

With a raised fist, Meisatsu responded, “It just kinda happened. A little viole—I mean reasoning did the trick.” He gave a wink.

“Oh, I see.” Umare winked back. “You want him to join my party, right?”

“Right! Since you guys have a history, it’d be for the best.” Meisatsu crossed his arms in conclusion.

“Nice! We finally got ya!” Umare cheered, clapping a callused palm on Akito’s shoulder causing him to let out a yelp.

“Akito must spar with an Explorer now, right?” Meisatsu scratched his chin.

Umare waved an arm, dismissing the question. “No worries, we’ve brawled before. For someone at his level, he’s pretty good.”

Ayame added, “All that’s left is the pendant, and he’s in...”

Her body language showed she wasn’t really invested in Akito’s joining. “...Wonder how long he’ll last?”

“The heck does that mean?!” he asked in a panic, switching his gaze rapidly between Meisatsu and Umare.

Now at the Guild desk, Akane was seated upright as usual, glaring intently.

“Mr. Umare, do you approve of this boy?” Her voice was cold and stern.

“Totally, Akito’s gonna become a fine Explorer.” He gave a small nod forward. “I can promise that much.”

“Alright Mr. Akito,” Akane said redirecting her gaze. “What’s your given role?”

“R-right. It’s SOLDIER Level 6,” he responded, jittery. He couldn’t fully mask the tension rising in him as he took in Akame’s—in his thoughts—ROCKING HOT BOD!!!

Keep it together man... Sure she’s like the hottest woman you’ve ever seen. He gulped. No biggie...

His internal struggles continued ravaging him until...

“Mr. Akito? Is something the matter?” Akane had been calling out to him for over a minute, her annoyance seeping through.

With eyes darting around like balls in a pachinko, he abruptly responded, “Nope, nothing at all!!!”

“Please hold out your hand then.”

Curious to witness the process from a different perspective, Meisatsu focused solely on Akito’s palm.

Bronze swirling light pulsed followed by a light hum—pendant acquired.

Meisatsu walked over to Akito who was still staring at the object resting in his palm. A quick glance was thrown and—

“No way!” Meisatsu jerked back, like he’d been bitten. “There’s just no way...”

“What’s the matter?” Ayame came over and took a look. “No way!!!”

“The heck’s going on...” Umare said, walking to them, only to see a line of text faintly glowing text...

EXPLORER Level II

“You said you were Level 6, right? RIGHT?!” The cold piercing gaze from Meisatsu made Akito question his personal safety.

Ayame fell completely silent.

“Guess he has a strong Explorer’s Spirit,” Umare said, snapping a finger to bring Meisatsu out of his daze.

“It would seem so. That’s why despite his current level, he was deemed worthy of that rank,” Akane stated objectively.

Noticing Meisatsu's lingering confusion, Akane continued, “An Explorer’s Spirit is a rather ambiguous term. It has to do with the very nature of an individual rather than their Level.”

“It’s like saying: This person has what it takes to perform at this level.” She made a motion with her hand. “These things happen. Don’t give it too much thought.”

Meisatsu felt a drop in Ayame’s usual energy. “Hey, no need too—”

“I just remembered I had some work to do at home,” she interjected as she headed for the door.

That’s what she always says when she’s upset, Meisatsu thought.

Hoisting Akito onto his shoulder’s, Umare declared, “We’ll turn ya into a fine Explorer, won’t we?”

“For sure!” Kurito replied, pumping both fists in the air. “I could teach him some sword skills.”

“And I’ll blast him with magic,” Kiku added with a sinister grin. “He must build resistance after all.”

“Mm...” Shizuka moaned, nearly inaudible. He wasn’t holding a baked good today. But he kept staring at Meisatsu as he walked away with his party.

“Later kid!” Umare kicked open the Guild doors, strutting out with a helpless Akito.

“Now, if you’d excuse me, Meisatsu.” Akane’s gaze was fixed on the glowing desk.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, pulling away from the desk.

I’ll have to check up on Ayame later. Another problem arose. I totally forgot about old guy

Pacing in circles—for about thirty minutes—he thought of ways to contact his, “Client.”

Smoke signal—no. Hand signal—no. He faced the ceiling. This is why we plan things people.

Looking at the table he’d met the old man before... “Guess I’ll just sit here and hope for the best...”

Seated at the table, he returned the numerous stares thrown by passing Explorers. All alone, in solitude at such a place. He’d stare a little too, but not this much—

“Boo!”

“Gwaargh!!!” Meisatsu yelped, almost jumping out of his skin.

Wiping a small tear from laughter, the old man took a seat.

“Been waiting...” Meisatsu grumbled as another Explorer glued his eyes on him “Why do they keep staring dammit!”

“Didn’t you know? This is the table that Heroes sat at in the past, almost like a tradition,” the old man laughed.

And I was messing around on a sacred space... that tracks.

“So, tell me. Find anything suspicious? Incriminating maybe?” the old man asked, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

“Nodda,” Meisatsu responded, smiling innocently.

“Nothern...?!”

“I meant nothing! No dirt, no sus. Heck, you’re way more suspicious.”

“You sure you dug deep enough?” The old man devoid of playfulness asked, “Did he give you anything, unusual?”

With a quick head shake, he responded, “Absolutely nothing.”

“By the way, what’s your nam—”

THUNK!

He slapped a single gold coin on the table and stood. “For your effort.”

“But that wasn’t the deal, not that I mind the kind gesture though—”

In a whisper, the old man was gone...

“Oh, come on!” Meisatsu screamed in frustration...

The walk home seemed to be taking longer than usual—Ayame was missing.

Gotta check up on her...

Once inside the house, he met an excited Simuru—blocking the entrance.

“I need to see Ayame.”

Simuru bopped once.

“You wanna show me something, again?”

Simuru bopped again in response.

A quick compression of his body—

WHOOSH!

Simuru dashed to a wall, then another across the room and then another—moving so fast that he left fiery red streaks in the air.

Meisatsu was effectively trapped in the spot he stood, as if in a cage.

Finally coming to a halt, Simuru dropped forcefully in front of Meisatsu, sizzling a little.

Just as he was about to praise the display, he remembered he still needed to check on Ayame.

“That was cool bud. You’re ready to protect us from any danger.” Meisatsu gave a slight bow in respect.

Simuru bopped.

“Oh? You call that move Malevolent Slime?” Meisatsu asked, stepping over Simuru. “Awesome name bud...”

Now where have I heard that before...? he wondered as he headed for Ayame’s room.

Along the way, he ran into both his parents. They explained that they needed to step out to get a few things before it got too late. It was already evening.

Arriving at Ayame’s door, he knocked twice. “Ayame, you in?”

A muffled groan came from inside.

“Don’t let it get to you. Everyone knows just how strong you are with or without a rank.”

“Yeah...” Ayame sighed, still inside. “I’m just a little sleepy, that’s all...”

“Okay then, goodnight,” he replied, walking up the corridor to where his room was located.

He brought out his Glock holstered in his... right pocket, and placed it next to the wine bottle which he instead picked up.

There was some kind of label attached to it. He read aloud—

“The Vintner, Gaspard Kitsuneda’s Sparkling Grape Wine—non-alcoholic.” He admired the sketched illustration of grapes beside. “Made with love and a dash of magic, for the most phenomenal taste!”

What’s a Vintner? He thought for a moment. Maybe that’s his role or something...

After a brief tug at the cork, it popped open and he caught a whiff of the wine...

“Smells fancy,” he chuckled, about to give it a taste—

CRASH!

The rattle of furniture being knocked over sounded from the living area

He dropped the bottle and sprinted for the living room, where he found a squished, sizzling Simuru.

“What happened?!” he asked distraught, picking Simuru up.

Inflating slowly, Simuru began bopping in a frantic manner.

“Someone broke in?!” he shouted, hand reaching into his pocket—HIS GLOCK!

Dashing to his room he flung the door open, seeing something unfathomable.

His Glock was floating mid-air...

“The hell?!” he yelled, trying to grasp the situation.

Before Meisatsu knew it, the Glock went flying through the wooden shutters.

Jogging to the shutters, he propped his head out.

It landed in the back of a horse-drawn carriage—starting to pull away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, hopping out the window, only to suddenly peer up over it.

“Simuru!!!” he shouted. “Tell Ayame I had to run out. She’ll find me somehow.”

Simuru shook vigorously in response.

“No I don’t have a plan, but I can’t stand here doing nothing!” Meisatsu cried as he gave chase.