TACO Run

Chapter 18

Cyrus gripped the overhead ring for stability, attempting to settle his racing heart by studying his spellbook. Unfortunately, even that most comforting of diversions did little to calm his nerves.

Trains, he had decided very quickly, are one of the conveniences of this world that I consider rather less than convenient.

He had spent the previous night and the majority of this morning in research, learning what he could about the history of bookbinding in this world—the invention and refinement of paper and ink, including not just the materials, but the methods of production and how they might be adapted to his own world's level of technology. And most important of all, the printing press. Specifically, the movable-type printing press invented by a goldsmith several hundred years ago in a land quite distant from this one. That man, Johannes Gutenberg, joined the ranks of great men in Cyrus' prayers, along with his prentices Johann Fust and Peter Schöffer.

Cyrus had been overjoyed to find a detailed schematic for such a printing press, as well as the instructions for its proper construction, use, and maintenance, and the components of the alloys used. It seemed that all the information he could possibly need to bring such a great invention to his own world was readily available! He had spent a few hours copying the information down, and almost wept when he realized that his artistic hand was not good enough to copy the press' schematics accurately. Worse, he was running out of paper and ink in his writing kit!

Once he had done as much as he could, Cyrus had reluctantly moved on to more immediate concerns, hoping to find a solution to his dilemma later.

Thus, he had begun research on the device Hawks had used for translation, as having access to such a thing would give him more freedom to move about this world without sacrificing his ability to communicate. He learned, through asking the Net Kaffe's attendant via written notes, that such a device was called a 'smartphone'. At which point, he had been able to activate the Google to learn what he could about such devices, their uses, their permutations, and their value.

The sheer amount of information—nay, advertisement—had been almost offensively overwhelming. Even daunting, and to him of all people! Yet Cyrus had persevered, and through meticulous research, had lit upon the best possible solution for his particular situation. To wit, the simplest, most basic smartphone that still possessed access to the Net and a voice-to-text translation function, which could be paid for in advance with coin, rather than through a time-dependent contract.

Oh yes, the smartphone itself had the capability of accessing the Net just as a computer would. Yet to receive permission for such a service required a fee. Cyrus did understand the need to maintain such a complex infrastructure, and its cost, but it seemed odd that such services were maintained by a third party, rather than the government of the nation, as they were ubiquitous to the point of being a seeming necessity, much like roads. Could not such fees be included in the taxes collected each year? Would that not simplify all things greatly for everyone involved? Perhaps there were technological or societal factors that he had yet to comprehend…

Regardless, he had discovered what he needed to, and returned to the shop he had seen the day before in order to make his purchase. Anticipating the problem of the language barrier, he had used the computer's translation function to find the most accurate way of saying what he needed to in the local tongue, and then copied down the characters onto a piece of paper, which he gave to the store's attendant when he arrived.

He'd been delighted to discover that devices such as smartphones came with what was called an 'owner's manual', full of detailed instructions for its use and maintenance. None of it was in Scholar's Tongue, unfortunately, but returning to the Net Kaffe had allowed him to carefully work his way through translating and then deciphering the manual.

Cyrus had been further delighted to find that the smartphone, while it began its function in the local language, could be set to use another language as the default—and utterly, completely relieved to find that Scholar's Tongue, called Latin in this world, was one of the options.

The train lurched, throwing Cyrus' shoulder against that of the person next to him, and he murmured an apology that went ignored. I do believe I detest trains, he mused uncomfortably, burying his nose in his spellbook again. Loud, unpleasantly crowded, unstable beneath one's feet, that smell…

And unfortunately, they were the only practical method of traversing the vast metropolis he currently inhabited.

For it was vast; so expansive that it had to be divided into numerous sub-cities and wards. The one his current temporary residence was situated in was known as 'Akihabara', and for all that it was large enough to be a small town on its own, was not technically even a ward itself, but part of another. To reach anywhere else of significance would require several hours of walking, if not days, and considering that those odd, self-powered vehicles were the norm, rather than horses or even carriages, Cyrus was dependent upon what the Net had called 'the public transportation system'.

Even the train stations themselves were vast, however, and more confusing than Grandport's dock district.

Complicated, Cyrus decided. This world is very complicated. And densely populated even by the standards of an urban individual such as Cyrus. I do love the ease with which information might be obtained, and there are advancements that would do great good in my own world… but I do not believe I would wish to live here.

He ached for the quietude of his study, the peace and comfort of his own residence near the Academy. No wonder so few people seem willing to simply stop and chat with strangers—focusing their attention inward, rather than on the overwhelming crowds and signs and lights around them, might be the only way to preserve their sanity!

And if he felt that way, he could only imagine how terribly the others fared.

I simply must find them, and figure out how to return us home again. Hence why he was on the train in the first place. The Net Kaffe, for all its conveniences, simply didn't have the room he'd need to properly start work on deciphering Viatrix' journal and puzzling out the ritual she had devised. He required a place dedicated to study, with plenty of desk or table space to spread out his work and make sketches and calculations. He also needed access to more ink and paper, and it seemed to him that there was only one logical solution to his problem.

He needed to find an academy.

So, having activated the Google once more, Cyrus had located an independent academy with an open campus not too terribly distant, provided he took the train to get there. After much confusion and the complex process of purchasing a 'train pass'—he had gotten good use out of his smartphone's translation function—Cyrus was now on his way there, and very eager to begin work.

"Naruhata-cho, Naruhata-cho—" The disembodied voice echoed down the train car's length as it began to slow, barely cutting through the murmur of the crowd and the sounds made by that odd moving picture device positioned above the door connecting this car of the train to the next.

Cyrus had memorized the name of his destination, as well as that of the 'station' where he was to exit the train, and the names of those immediately preceding and following it, just in case. He might not speak the local language, but his hearing and memory were both excellent; he should have no difficulty knowing when to get off. The next stop, he told himself, weathering the surge of people flooding out onto the platform, and then the next surge of those getting on. One more station, and I shall be free.

"No problem, boss," Makoto said cheerfully into her phone, adjusting her purse's strap with her other hand as she walked briskly onto the university campus. "I have to drop off a few things with my advisor, but I've got most of the arrangements for your party already set up, so my afternoon's mostly free. I'll be there at the airport around seven to pick you up, okay?"

"I can get from the airport to my apartment on my own, you know," CC sighed over the phone.

"Sure you can, boss," Makoto laughed. "How is your wife?"

"Pamela's doing great!" Chris' voice perked up. "Still tired, of course, since our kid's keeping her up all hours, and as cranky as ever, but there weren't any complications and she's in the pink of health, otherwise." Fondness crept into his voice. "I never said thank you for being our mediator, did I?"

"Don't worry about it, boss," Makoto felt fondness coloring her own words. "You're a good guy; you just make bad choices sometimes."

"Yeah, I guess… but if it weren't for you, and those kids in Naruhata, I'd never have gotten my act back together. So thanks."

"Aw, boss, that's so sweet!" Makoto smiled. "I'll let the Featherhats know you're back in town later tonight."

"Maybe we can meet up for dinner. I don't have any jobs lined up until tomorrow, right?"

"That's right," Makoto agreed, cutting past the student center towards the Sociology building. "You're not at your best when you're jet-lagged, so I didn't book you anything until tomorrow evening."

"Thanks, Makoto." The relief in his voice was palpable. "Seven o'clock, you said?"

"That's right." Makoto blinked, pausing as she rounded the corner. Is that…? "Talk to you later, boss."

"Later."

Hanging up the phone, Makoto moved forward again. "Hello!" she called out, one hand raised in greeting towards what she assumed was an off-set acting student. The arts department had a decent budget and collaborated with the history department sometimes. "Can I help you? Are you lost?"

He turned towards her, and Makoto blinked, but didn't falter. Wow. Pretty guy. And he looked vaguely familiar, too. Maybe a few years older than her, so… possibly a foreign exchange student looking to get his graduate degree? He did have that 'lost but hopeful' look about him, and a few stray hairs he'd missed shaving properly. "Tsukauchi Makoto," she smiled, holding out her hand to shake once she was close enough. "I'm a former student here."

He took her hand, but rather than shaking it, gave a flourishing bow over it, free hand swishing an imaginary cape and everything. He then promptly pulled out a smartphone, poked at it a few times, and said something into it that—

Makoto blinked. I think that was Latin? Or maybe Italian; she'd taken English as her foreign language course, so she wasn't sure.

He held out the smartphone in her direction, to show a talk-to-text translator pulled up.

'Good day to you, miss! I am Professor Cyrus Albright of the Atlasdam Royal Academy. Would you mind repeating what you just said, that I might use this device to translate it?'

"Sure!" Makoto said, surprised but not letting that stop her. A visiting professor? He must be older than he looks, if he's got a Master's degree already. "My name is Tsukauchi Makoto—you can call me Makoto. I'm a recent graduate."

He turned the smartphone back towards himself, eyes flicking over the screen and absorbing the words swiftly. He made a reply of his own, and turned it to face her again.

'Miss Makoto, then. A soon-to-be alumna you say! Marvelous; I was beginning to think this academy had been abandoned for the season.'

Makoto laughed at that. "Not yet! The end of the semester's not for another month or so. I just came back to turn in some paperwork for my continued studies next semester. Can I help you find something?"

'If you would be so kind as to show me where the library is, I would be ever so grateful. I have research to do, and my current residence simply lacks adequate space."

"Sure, no problem. Are you in a hurry? I need to drop my papers off in this building, so if you don't mind waiting, I can do that and be right back."

'Oh, there's no hurry at all, miss. I would never wish to interfere with your own tasks.'

Makoto smiled and nodded, leading him over to the front of the Sociology building. "Makoto's fine, Professor. I'll be just a minute." She ducked inside and jogged over to the elevator, readjusting her purse again while she waited for it to arrive. If he's a visiting professor, maybe I've seen him around the campus before, and that's why he looks familiar? No, she was pretty sure she'd have actually talked to him, if she'd seen him in person before. Especially if he always dressed like that. Wait. His clothes looked familiar too, not just his face. Where have I…? Frowning to herself, she dug her phone back out of her purse, stepping onto the elevator when it dinged and pushing the button for the third floor without looking.

She was scrolling through her social media feeds when the elevator doors opened again, and she stepped out, following the hallway towards her advisor's office from memory, rather than looking up from her phone. Aoko posted a pic a couple of days ago… aha!

Knocking on the office door, Makoto turned off her phone's screen, slipping it back into her purse. She'd ask Professor Albright if she had the right person once she got back to him.

It didn't take long to drop off her paperwork. She was back down the elevator and out the door in another five minutes, to see Professor Albright waiting patiently, leaning with his back against the building and reading a leather-bound book that looked like it belonged in a display case instead of out in the open.

He looked up as soon as the door opened, giving her another one of those dazzling smiles.

A genuinely nice one too, not smarmy like CC's used to be, Makoto decided, smiling back. "All done," she said brightly.

He snapped the book closed, pushing away from the wall with a confident stride and a flourishing gesture that as much as said 'lead the way, dear lady'.

Makoto laughed to herself a little, turning to do just that. Even in her head, Professor Albright sounded like a drama instructor. "So, the school library isn't actually that far away from the student center," she began, watching from the corner of her eye as he pulled his smartphone back out of his pocket and brought up the translator again. "I think you'll like the selection; our library science majors are a little bit obsessive about adding to it."

'I'm certain I will, Makoto,' he said via his smartphone. 'I have been continually impressed by the expanse of information made available to me since my arrival in this land, and by the character of the individuals inhabiting it.'

"Characters like Aoko?"

He seemed briefly puzzled, reading that, and looked up at Makoto with an inquisitive expression. 'Who? I'm afraid the name is unfamiliar to me.'

"Tsunomiya Aoko," Makoto clarified as they stopped walking, pulling her own smartphone back out of her purse and swiping the screen open again. "She's one of my underclassmen, and she works at a maid café on weekends. This is you in the picture, right?" It certainly looked like him, though the man in the picture was wearing some kind of jewel-bedecked cloak over his embroidered vest, and was properly clean-shaven.

'Ah!' Professor Albright's face lit up with recognition. 'Of course, the lovely young lady with the horns! Such a charming countenance she had. Though I must ask, is her hair that color naturally? Such a delicate shade of cerulean would be excessively difficult to achieve via dyes, if one wished to avoid damaging the hair."

Makoto kept the surprise off of her face. Most teachers she knew wouldn't dare admit to visiting a maid café. It wasn't exactly great for their reputation. "Yes, it's natural."

'Fascinating. And you say she is a fellow student of yours? May I ask what course of study the two of you specialize in?'

"Only if I can ask what classes you teach," Makoto countered brightly.

'Oh, certainly!' Professor Albright said eagerly. 'History, first and foremost. Religious studies as well, and ethics. Ancient languages, though I haven't too many students in those classes…"

"Not acting?"

He blinked at her, startled. 'Acting? Me?' A short laugh. 'I'm afraid I've no gift for the thespian arts, though I do love the theater.' A wistful smile, rubbing at stray stubble. 'Singing, dancing, acting… I must admit that I am jealous of those skilled in the performing arts. I've a passing familiarity with the piano, but that is all.'

Makoto put her phone away, thinking. Not a drama teacher, but he's dressed like that? The vest and shirt weren't too weird, though the bloused sleeves were gathered at the wrists with silk ribbons, of all things. It was the gold-embroidered black knee-socks, the knee-length fitted trousers, and most of all, the shoes. Shiny black leather ankle-boots with silver buckles, and heels that had to be at least three or four centimeters high.

Makoto was used to dealing with Heroes and their questionable fashion sense when it came to costumes. She wasn't used to dealing with that from normal people and their everyday wear. Though he somehow manages to pull it off.

"Makoto?"

The sound of her name brought her back to the present, and she gave an apologetic little laugh. "Sorry, Professor! I got lost in thought for a second there." He had a very pleasant voice too; a rich, warm baritone that probably had some of his students forgetting to listen to his actual lectures.

'Ah! I see. No apologies necessary, my dear; I completely understand.' He waved the hand not holding the smartphone dismissively. 'Now, you were going to tell me what course of study you and your friend Aoko have chosen to specialize in.'

"Oh, right!" Makoto shifted her purse to her other shoulder, so it wouldn't be in the way between them. "I was a Hero Sociology major…"

Cyrus listened, fascinated, as Makoto explained the basis of her course of study, and the subject of her recently-published thesis. The history to be gleaned from the information she dropped in even a few short sentences was almost unbelievable, and Cyrus found that he barely noticed when they reached the library, or when they seated themselves at one of several wide tables used for students to spread their work over as they went about their studies.

The existence of 'Quirks' and 'Villains' and 'Heroes', why, it brings to mind the Age of Legends, when gods and men walked side-by-side!

It explained much of what he'd seen in this world. Not simply the odd abilities or appearances of many of this world's individuals, but also the focus of so much of the literature he'd seen, and even the differences in societal infrastructure. The train, for example, had had much higher ceilings than was necessary. He'd been puzzled by that at first, and then distracted from it by the crowds and his discomfort, but if it was made that way to accommodate those whose Quirks gave them larger frames, why, that solved the mystery neatly! And gave him cause to admire the willingness of the local government to make such accommodations.

Makoto herself had focused her thesis on the distinction between Heroes and what were termed 'Vigilantes'—individuals who chose to act out against danger and injustice despite not having legal recourse to do so. Or as he was sure Therion would put it, busybodies. Some acted out of a desire for fame or praise; a need to have their talents acknowledged by society. Others had urges which they could find no better outlet for, such as a need for thrills and danger, the excitement born of battle. Still others wanted nothing more than to help their fellow man, and could not bear to refrain simply because the law said they should.

While the technical distinction was quite clear, Makoto's thesis focused on the social perception of Vigilantes, and how that perception had helped to form the laws which now restricted the actions of such individuals, creating the very divide between Hero and Vigilante that currently existed. She intimated that she had met some of these Vigilantes first-hand, and that she would not reveal their identities to the authorities, because it was in her interest to protect her sources.

Hm… so long as their lawbreaking is in the interest of helping others, not causing harm, I suppose that isn't a breach of ethics…

It was a fascinating line of study, truly, and Cyrus very much looked forward to seeing the results of her work. He lauded Makoto's intelligence, drive, and dedication to her studies. He also lauded the self-confidence and thorough understanding she had of her own material, to explain so concisely exactly what she meant. He knew several brilliant scholars who could not, for the life of them, elucidate their points to those not yet familiar with the minute intricacies of their subject.

When he told her as such, she seemed quite pleased, and apologized for not having a copy of her thesis on her at present. She also said that within a few weeks she would be leaving her homeland, to continue her studies overseas, and that she was using this break from her studies to make the arrangements for that, as well as for her employment in that foreign land. It seemed that she had already made connections with the appropriate individuals, and looked forward to the future despite how far it would take her from home.

'So what research are you working on, Professor?' she asked, propping her chin on one hand and smiling at him curiously. 'If you don't mind my asking?'

"Not at all!" Cyrus assured her. "I have here the journal of Viatrix of the Seventh Hill, a scholar from ancient times who was attempting to create a way to travel vast distances near-instantaneously via magic." He brandished the leather-bound parchment. "It's only the third of her several journals, of course, but I hope to decipher it as quickly as I may." If he could glean enough information from the journal to recreate the ritual necessary to return himself and his companions home, well… that was the only way to make true recompense for the mistake that had brought them here in the first place.

Makoto gave him a smile of puzzled interest, tucking her long dark hair behind one ear. 'I thought you taught history?'

"Indeed I do, among other subjects." Cyrus tapped the journal's cover. "Journals such as this one are in many ways far more valuable than a dedicated treatise would be, for they carry within their pages the minutiae of a life long gone—for example, although Viatrix's ramblings about her daily life are irrelevant to the research I am most directly pursuing, they are also quite revealing about other aspects of the past which scholars have long sought answers for. To wit, from the first of her journals I have read, I learned that there was a flowering plant called gift-of-the-moon which grew in the Riverlands, and which ladies used as a foolproof contraceptive in her time. So much so that Viatrix complained that it was growing more and more scarce due to overuse. As no such plant seems to exist in the modern day, it can be concluded that it was, in fact, gathered to extinction… or at least rendered so rare that it could no longer be found reliably, much like herb-of-grace. Why, even botanists thought it had gone extinct! Yet a few of those rare blooms still thrive deep within the woods near Stillsnow, known only to the lady Susanna…" Cyrus stopped himself, chuckling slightly when he realized he was beginning to ramble. "Ah, but I diverge from the point at hand. Namely, that although my current direction of research is not strictly one of historical import, that does not mean that information of historical import cannot be gleaned from it in the process."

Makoto was still smiling, green eyes bright with casual interest. 'Well, don't let me keep you from your work,' she said, the words appearing on Cyrus' smartphone. 'Is there anything else I can do to help you, before I go?'

"Well, I did have a certain conundrum…"

Cyrus explained about his lack of paper and ink, and was introduced to the concept of 'spiral-bound notebooks', which could be purchased, to his delight, from a small shop within the back area of the academy's library, along with what were termed 'fountain pens'. He could barely contain his glee about either, and resolved to research their history and construction as well, but what truly overjoyed him was the revelation that, given the proper accessory device, one could directly print pages from a computer! This would allow him to make a copy of the printing press' schematics accurate enough for the machine to be recreated in his own world!

Oh Alephan, while I do not yet know the name of the individual or individuals who created such an invention, may you cast your blessings upon their souls regardless!

Makoto seemed quite amused by his excitement, if a bit perplexed as well, but thankfully did not ask him why he had no knowledge of what, to her, was obviously a common appliance.

She was also gracious enough to give him very basic lessons in the local language—key phrases only, such as greetings, partings, confirmations and denials, and inquiries after the privy or food or the local guard.

At last, however, she had to be on her way, and Cyrus thanked her fervently for all of her assistance, rising from his seat when she did and walking her politely to the library's door. "Do take care on your way, Makoto," he said, noting that the sky was beginning to darken despite the early hour, and clouds covered the distant horizon. "Or rather, I believe it should be ki wo tsukete, yes?"

She smiled at him in a way that said his accent was likely rather amusing, but nodded and moved off at a light, easy pace, waving cheerfully to him as she went. "O-genki de!"

Cyrus smiled, glancing down at his smartphone to confirm his understanding. Ah. 'Stay well', indeed. A charming young lady, truly. Turning to go back into the library, he tapped the smartphone against his chin for a moment, before slipping it back into his pocket.

Returning to the table he had appropriated, he looked over his notes and supplies, hands propped on his hips, and nodded in satisfaction. Paper, pen, ink, and a mystery to solve—had I tea, I would have all a scholar could ever need.

Cracking his knuckles, he got down to work.

A/N: It's interesting to note that in Octopath Traveler, Cyrus never calls his female students beautiful. Other women, yes, and with completely guileless honesty. But whenever he speaks to or about his students, he only ever praises their dedication to their studies. And he is utterly flabbergasted when a rumor is spread that he's having an affair with the princess, who is his student at the time. The very idea of a teacher and student having a romantic relationship seems utterly alien to him, even beyond how oblivious he is to women in general finding him attractive. Also, maid cafés are considered mildly scandalous, because they cater to lonely individuals who enjoy seeing pretty girls in frilly aprons.

A/N: 'Natural Philosophy' was another name for magic as a study of natural forces, rather than divine or infernal power. It was also the precursor of the natural sciences such as chemistry, physics, biology, etc.