Sorry for the delay. Reality's a bitch.
IAQ:
Q: sip sip gulp - HOW to do it?
A: please leave me alone i've been dealing with this for 20 years
Q: When will Filo arrive to cockblock Raphtalia?
A: no
Q: This fic is garbage now. How dare Raphtalia question plastic!
A: Sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of all that climate change.
Q: You're not funny.
A: yes
chapter five: wake
Naofumi awoke earlier than usual the next morning, and the reason why became immediately apparent.
"Raphtalia."
Her soft breathing stirred the neckline of his shirt, and when he tried to gently rouse her, she let out a small whimper and clung even harder to his chest. Sighing, Naofumi resigned himself to having a lie-in, shifting his pillow so that he could share it with the sleeping girl before him.
He reached over her to pick up his phone off of his nightstand - 6:02, the screen displayed, and he knew they had a little under an hour before his father would wake up to get ready for work.
Raphtalia took a deep breath through her nose, then let it out slowly, the only sound around for what felt like miles. Even the birds weren't out this morning, and Naofumi had the distinct feeling that the wave had driven them away. It was still storming, but he didn't sense anything beyond electricity in the clouds above; he figured it'd blow over within a few days, washing away the blood that had soaked the city streets and leaving behind the spring scents of soft earth and growing things.
"Nn...Naofumi-sama…?" Raphtalia mumbled, rubbing her cheek against the front of his shirt. "Is it morning already…?"
"Yeah. Six."
Sleepy Raphtalia was, he found, extremely clingy and prone to cuddling whatever part of him she could reach. Whenever he made to move away, she'd move with him, arms around his waist, his shoulders, his neck, his back, his leg, and after a few minutes he gave up entirely, resigning himself to his role as a human body pillow.
Watery grey sunlight filtered into the room, shining through dense cloud cover, and Naofumi stretched, taking care not to jostle Raphtalia. Both her warmth and the rhythmic pitter-patter of raindrops on the windowpane threatened to lull him back to sleep, and within a few minutes, he found his eyelids growing heavy, refusing his will…
Raphtalia's tail draped itself across his waist, and without thinking, he reached back to move it. At his touch, her entire body shuddered, and she drew in a sharp breath, fingers stiffening on his shirt. "Hah...Naofumi-sama…" she breathed, half-lidded eyes trained on his face, and Naofumi swallowed thickly, suddenly wide, wide awake…
"Yeah?" he said, his voice very small.
As a response, Raphtalia shifted to push her hips into the mattress, sliding one bare leg under Naofumi's and covering his other thigh with her own to straddle him. Before he could process just what was happening, she'd pulled herself in close, pausing just before her shorts came into contact with a certain protrusion on the front of Naofumi's that certainly had not been there a few minutes prior - he'd been too fixated on her face, red and rapturous, to pay attention to what was happening in his trousers, and dimly, Naofumi realized just how out of touch his mind and body were when it came to his sexuality -
Crack.
Deafening thunder punctuated a flash of lightning, illuminating the room for a brief moment and startling both of them. When they'd recovered, the lust had left Raphtalia's face; the redness remained, but more out of embarrassment than anything else.
"Ah...hah...I'm sorry, Naofumi-sama," she panted, shivering as she pushed herself off of him a little too roughly. "I…"
"No, I...I get it," he cut in, unsure of what to say. "It's...fine."
Was he disappointed? Relieved? Frustrated? He couldn't tell, and for a few moments, they laid there on their sides, staring at one another.
What do I want…? He couldn't deny that he wanted her, but how? Furthermore, would it even be okay? Would he be okay? Regardless of what she'd said, now that he was fully awake, the fear he felt when she got too close wouldn't simply evaporate.
Then Raphtalia stuck out her arms, reaching for him, and he recoiled on instinct, his brain screaming: don't, don't, you'll get attached, she'll get hurt -
Stop it! he snarled back. Cut it out!
- no matter what she says, it won't be okay, you'll lose her -
Fucking shut up!
- and in the midst of his panic, a pouting Raphtalia made a noise of frustration and lunged for him, pulling him into another hug and breaking his train of thought. "What did I tell you last night?" she mumbled into his hair.
"I know," he whispered, and for a moment, he dropped his guard, letting himself clutch her waist for support; his fingers brushed against the smooth skin of her hip, and he stiffened in shock. "I'm sorry," he blurted out, for more reasons than one, but before he could pull his hand away, she placed her own over it, holding it to her side.
"You can count on me, okay?"
Naofumi shifted so that he could look up at her and found her gazing down at him, eyes brimming with unshed tears and a watery smile on her lips.
A few minutes passed in silence, save for the drumming of the rain on the window and the distant rumble of thunder. Naofumi had almost fallen asleep again when Raphtalia spoke, staring past him at the opposite wall. "I had a nightmare last night, didn't I?"
"Yeah. You don't remember?"
She shook her head, rubbing her cheek against the pillow. "No. I just felt so...empty." Her gaze shifted; following it, Naofumi saw that she'd placed the vassal katana in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall next to his closet. "I wanted to scream, but I couldn't make a sound…"
Grunting, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling both her body and her attention back to him. He badly wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't find the words. "Raphtalia…"
Loose clothes, soft breathing, warm skin, watery morning twilight - when he looked back on this morning later, he would remember all of those things, but none as clearly as the fleeting glimpse he had of Raphtalia's eyes, her expression one of utmost devotion, and the brief brush of her lips - a little dry, but full of a heat he couldn't quite describe - against his own.
A surge of feeling like an electric shock rippled down his spine, and the sensation had him hooked, stunned, breathless; he wanted this, he wanted her, but just as he leaned in, there was a knock at the door forty five minutes too early and the two of them pulled away, staring at the entryway.
Are you serious? Naofumi wanted to groan, exasperated. Is there some kind of rule that Raphtalia and I can never get further than a hug without getting interrupted? "Neh?" he slurred out, glaring at the door.
"Hey, uh, if you guys wanted to like...pretend you didn't sleep together, now's your chance," Jun's voice said, from the other side of it, and Naofumi planted his face in his hands, sighing.
"Goddamnit, Jun." He supposed his brother had a point; bringing a girl home, introducing her as his friend, and then sleeping in the same bed together did not strike him as the type of behaviour their parents would accept. Slowly, his stiff joints and sore muscles screaming in protest (he had a feeling this pain was related to the previous day's events - moving at superhuman speed, losing power, and leaving a human body to deal with the repercussions was bound to leave him aching), Naofumi rose from the bed, followed by Raphtalia, who glanced around the room as if looking for something.
"Um, do you have any clothes I could wear?" he heard her ask. "These ones aren't exactly suitable for wearing out…."
Shit, he cursed, internally. "Jun's closer to your size than I am," he returned. "I'll see if he's got anything."
In actuality, his mother's clothes would be best suited for Raphtalia, but no way in hell was he going to go there. In an instant, he decided that today they'd buy her some new clothes more suited for Japan.
Stretching, he pulled the door open, padding the few feet down the carpeted hall to Jun's room. The door was ajar, and when Naofumi rapped lightly on the painted white wood, he heard his brother shift in his chair. "What's up?"
"I'm in something of a predicament," Naofumi announced gravely, stepping inside; his brother had his notebook open and was scrawling out some equation or other onto a sheet of lined paper. "Have you been slacking on your studies?" he added, quirking an eyebrow, and Jun lightly smacked his forearm.
"Oh, shut up. I forgot, is all. Don't tell kā-san, please," the blonde sighed, meticulously sketching a symbol Naofumi vaguely remembered from his maths courses.
"Is that a Remus sum?" he asked, leaning forward to inspect it, and the floorboards beneath the area rug squeaked in protest.
"Riemann, and yes. You had a predicament?" Jun went on, before Naofumi could comment on the correction, and Naofumi nodded - Raphtalia was still waiting in his room, and as much as he had to admit he enjoyed the sight of her wearing his too-big t-shirt, she needed day clothes.
Briefly, he explained this to Jun, who immediately picked up on what Naofumi was trying to say.
"You want to borrow my clothes because I'm her size, right?" his brother sighed, a long-suffering huff.
"That's our family genius," Naofumi commended him dryly. "The alternative is asking kā-san, and I'd rather avoid that. She's my guest, after all."
"So you ask for my clothes," Jun complained, though he was already rummaging through his dresser. "Bulletproof logic."
"I won't tell ka-san you 'forgot' to do your work."
"I don't like the implication of those air quotes."
Three minutes later, Naofumi was back in his room, staring at the wall as Raphtalia changed. He'd been too slow to turn around before she started pulling her shirt off and seen a sliver of the creamy skin of her midriff and was now trying hard to think about anything else. I'd take the curse back if it meant I could stop being like this, he groused. Waves are coming to Earth, and I'm getting distracted by seeing Raphtalia's stomach for half a second…
"Naofumi-sama?" broke into his thoughts.
"Neh," he shot back automatically.
"I'm dressed now," and there was amusement in her voice as he pivoted on his heel...and immediately spun back around again.
"Put your shirt down!" he seethed at his bookshelf, surprised that he wasn't steaming at the ears. Raphtalia, who'd tied up the button-up Jun had lent her, burst into a fit of giggles, and even Naofumi couldn't resist a rueful smile as she fixed the shirt.
"I'm sorry, Naofumi-sama. I couldn't resist."
"You don't sound sorry at all," he accused, sulking.
He made her step outside as he dressed, and when he'd finished, he got started on breakfast, figuring his father might appreciate having a meal ready instead of having to stop for something on the way to work; really, he reflected, Japanese businessmen work too much.
On his former career path, he'd have ended up in the same position, caught in an endless loop of long days, restless nights, convenience store meals and too much coffee. Naofumi had gotten used to setting his own schedule and working as he saw fit, and returning to Japan had been jarring. The thought of becoming a salaryman was not a pleasant one, even if it was expected of him. Perhaps he was simply lazy?
As naturally as if they'd not missed a single morning together, Raphtalia took her place next to him, chopping vegetables the way he'd shown her so long ago. Within minutes, their cloying aroma filled the air as they sizzled away in a pan, Naofumi expertly sauteing them with one hand as the other measured out a portion of rice.
"Rice for breakfast?" Raphtalia asked, peering curiously at the cup, tail waving.
"It's a staple here," he shrugged. "I did tell you back in Q'Ten Lo that it was a lot like my home."
"I didn't think that extended to the food…"
"I can make you something else, if you don't like rice," Naofumi offered, switching on the rice cooker. In Melromarc, he'd used a substitute method where he'd heated a pot of water and rice (which in Melromarc had been as close to a delicacy as such an abundant grain could get) to a boil, then covered the pot and transferred it to some hot coals instead until most of the water had simmered away. It had cooked just fine, but the grains had gotten slightly soggy and clumped together, and so his first experience with the rice cooker after returning home had been nothing short of a joyous reunion.
"No, it's fine," she mumbled. "Just...memories."
"Hard to believe that was more than two years ago."
"I think it's been three for me."
Rain spattered against the kitchen window, blending with the gentle sizzle of the pans. Through the blinds, a dull blue-grey light - sunbeams through stormclouds - filtered in, and Naofumi drew in a deep breath, taking in the scents of the world around him.
They cooked in comfortable silence for a while, working together without a word as they always had; by the time they'd finished, his parents were up, and they had breakfast together, Raphtalia thanking them profusely for letting her stay while she was stuck in the city. In their typical fashion, the two of them managed to simultaneously assure her that it was "nothing, nothing at all, a friend to our son is a friend to us" and soak up her gratitude. It never ceased to amaze Naofumi how they did this, and he'd never been able to figure it out.
"Are the public transit systems back up and running?" he asked, dipping his chopsticks absentmindedly into his soup and bringing them back up to his lips; he'd seemingly forgotten that chopsticks were ineffectual against liquids.
"They've got the trains going this morning," his father yawned, studying the paper. "The subway wasn't affected yesterday, but the streets were, so buses are out of the equation for now. Says they're still cleaning up in the city, anyway."
Naofumi brought another single drop of soup up to his mouth. Raphtalia watched him curiously. "Will you walk from the subway?" he asked.
"Do I have any other choice?" Katai raised an eyebrow. "The cabs are too expensive to bother with."
"We'll come with you, then," Naofumi declared. "Raphtalia-chan and I have to pick up some clothes for her stay, anyway. She can't keep borrowing Jun's."
"I thought that shirt looked familiar," Kokita observed. "It does make sense, you're close to the same size…"
"Because Jun is a midget," Naofumi snarked, through a mouthful of rice. "When I was his age I was almost this height already."
"Does that make me a midget too, Naofumi-s - kun?" Raphtalia drawled, scowling at him.
"You're a girl. That's different."
Their light banter continued throughout breakfast, and to his surprise, by the time they'd finished their meal and cleared up, Naofumi felt oddly refreshed in a way he hadn't for quite some time. In just a matter of days, it seemed, things had gone from uncomfortably tense to almost normal, and he had a feeling it was related to the girl now coming back downstairs with her boots in hand and an umbrella at her waist.
"What are you smiling at?" his mother asked from the living room.
"Ah, nothing," Naofumi assured her. "Raphtalia-chan, are you ready to go?"
"Yes. But I don't know if your father is. The smell coming out of his room…" she grumbled, looking peeved. "Revolting."
Naofumi blinked. "The smell?" he echoed, looking past her at the empty stairwell and sniffing. The only things he could pick up were the remnants of breakfast and, as Raphtalia stepped closer, a faint whiff of shampoo from the previous night. "Is he sick or something?"
Ears flat against her head, Raphtalia scoffed. "I'm surprised he hasn't made himself sick!"
The mystery of whatever odor had her so offended was solved when Iwatani Katai came downstairs and Naofumi caught the distinctive smell of his cologne; his father had used the same brand, imported from - Cuba? he couldn't remember - for as long as Naofumi could remember. He'd come to associate it with home, but Raphtalia with her keen sense of smell had never experienced anything quite like modern cologne, and she looked as if she'd suffocate then and there.
"Is something wrong, Raphtalia-chan?" his mother prodded, understandably concerned. "Do you need some water?"
Raphtalia waved her off. "No, I'm...I'll be fine," she dismissed, though her subsequent coughing fit didn't help her case. Grudgingly, she accepted the glass of water that Naofumi brought her, gulping it down with a scowl.
While his father put on his shoes, Naofumi made sure to pull his shirt down over the shield, in its Book form and attached at his hip; glancing up at Raphtalia, he noted that the katana was conspicuously absent. He also knew, from both Ren and Raphtalia, that the legendary weapons besides the shield could be put down (of course they could - it would be extremely inconvenient to have to carry them all the time), but that they'd reappear on the wielder's person after moving around fifty meters away. Not wanting to deal with the conventionally inexplicable phenomenon of a teleporting katana, he tried approaching her about it.
"Raphtalia-chan, did you leave the katana upstairs?" he asked, not bothering to keep his voice down. His family had seen her come in with it, after all.
"No, it's right here." She patted the umbrella, and Naofumi instantly understood.
His Book Shield was generally useless in the extreme; the pages changed each time he opened it again, but the contents were typically random, ranging from a completely blank page to a drawing of a horned toad to what looked like part of the manuscript for a play about two cannibals debating whether or not blood oranges actually contained blood (he hadn't been able to locate any other part of it, but he could only assume that they were sorely disappointed at a later point in the story). Its one redeeming quality, aside from the whopping one point it gave to his mana reserves, was that it was inconspicuous. Heroes were typically recognized by the weapons they wielded, and in Melromarc, there was no Book Hero, meaning that Naofumi had been able to conceal his identity quite easily. They'd never found a similar item for Raphtalia's katana, but by the time she obtained it, there really hadn't been a need to conceal their identities any longer.
He was relieved, then, that she'd discovered this form, belated as it may have been. The umbrella at her waist bore a distinctive gemstone at the end of the handle, but aside from that, it was completely indistinguishable from the one leaning against the front door. He supposed it was simply good luck that it had been raining so much, as it would be very odd to carry an umbrella on a sunny day. Perhaps he'd find her a parasol instead.
Now that he thought of it, Naofumi had discovered his own "modern" equipment just a few days prior, when he'd picked up the garbage can lid. He hadn't had a reason to use it yet, but if the shield could copy something like that, he had to wonder: what else can it do with modern resources?
They walked to the station together, Raphtalia insisting that she and Naofumi share the umbrella. On the way, Katai glanced back over his shoulder at his son, and from the look on his face, Naofumi could tell he wanted to talk about something. Excusing himself, he left Raphtalia with the umbrella for a moment, falling into step with the older man instead. "What is it?"
"Well, your mother wasn't going to say anything about them, but they don't call me Katai for nothing," his father rumbled. "So, tell me...what's up with the ears and tail?"
Naofumi blinked, surprised that his father had chosen to bring this up now. "You really wanna know?" he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Well...I did a lot of thinking while you were gone, and I don't want to control the kinds of people you hang around with…" For whatever reason, Katai looked extremely uncomfortable, and he looked away, studying the rain-slicked road.
"Not that you could," Naofumi grunted.
"Yes, you're an adult," Katai agreed. "But family is extremely important, and losing your family's approval - "
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Family is priority number one." Then, struck by a belated pang of guilt at his dismissal, he relented, turning back to the original subject: "Is something wrong with Raphtalia-chan?"
"Well...I heard about this...subculture...where they...wear animal-based accessories. Some of them even wear full suits - "
"To-san, are you calling Raphtalia-chan a furry?" Naofumi sighed; out of the corner of his eye, he could see Raphtalia's tail flicking curiously.
"Bluntly, I am asking if she is a...furry, yes." Satisfied that Naofumi had picked up on things so quickly, his father adjusted his necktie.
The Shield Hero let himself groan into his hands.
"It's not that we'll kick her out or anything - " Katai began, but Naofumi cut him off.
"Would you believe me if I said they were real?"
A pause. Rain pattered against Katai's black canvas umbrella.
"Why would I?" he said, at length. "Humans simply don't have those features."
Naofumi rolled his eyes. "I figured you'd say that." Resigned, he went back to his original explanation: "They're just cosplay. She thinks they're cute. It's kind of like an Akihabara thing, only she goes outside."
His father couldn't suppress a laugh at Naofumi's joke. He was typically conservative, and Naofumi knew he found the culture around Akihabara to be on the repulsive side. As an otaku (or at least former otaku; he was no longer sure what he classified as) himself, Naofumi had been once or twice, and while the shopping district itself was like an electric dream, he could recall with distinction several occasions on which sweaty clusters of quivering, greasy men had catcalled cute girls in cosplay.
Just the thought of their collective grubby visage - a mishmash of blunted noses, acne scars, poorly shaved necks and smudged eyeglasses - made his lip curl, and he vowed then and there never to let Raphtalia anywhere near the place.
The rest of their walk was uneventful, and the atmosphere at the subway station was subdued. Shaking the rain from their umbrella, Naofumi turned to face Raphtalia, who stared wide-eyed at everything she could see, drinking in the artificial world. "Raphtalia."
"Yes?" she returned, studying the rotating gate by the train car.
"Stay close to me, okay? And watch your tail."
"Understood."
Still distracted by the wonders of modern technology, she stuck to his side like glue, eyes shining with fascination as the doors to the train currently on the platform closed and the whole thing went rumbling off into the depths of the dimly-lit tunnel, gliding across the tracks and out of sight.
Raphtalia's excitement vanished very quickly when they got on the train; its jerky motions as it bumped over the tracks replicated those of a Melromarc carriage, and she looked as if she'd be sick at any minute. Naofumi made a mental note to pick up some dramamine while they were out, but for the time being, all he could do was grit his teeth and hope she'd be okay. It never got any easier watching her expression shift between relieved and queasy each time a vehicle slowed or accelerated.
As they disembarked, his phone buzzed, and Naofumi, wedged between an irritated-looking businesswoman with a sharp brow and a wide-eyed, suited man who smelled as if he'd bathed in coffee, managed to fish it out of his pocket to check it - a message from Jun.
when you get back, you're telling me what happened last night
Naofumi snorted and left it on read. He had to admit that he owed it to his brother, who - for all his teasing - had been both willing to listen and willing to believe him, and who'd helped him (aided and abetted by their parents' skepticism) conceal the true nature of both Raphtalia and the weapons they carried. He'd have to explain things eventually - the cosplay explanation wouldn't hold up if they caught sight of the smooth, ear-less sides of her head, or if they suspended their disbelief long enough to register that her ears and tail were always responsive to her mood and surroundings, but for the time being, he knew his mother and father would accept the lie they'd been given.
Raphtalia's fingers clutching at his arm broke into his thoughts, and he glanced over his shoulder (and between two virtually identical salarymen) to see her standing several feet away and looking extremely uncomfortable. With what he hoped was a reassuring smile, Naofumi turned his own hand to take hers, pulling her through the milling, oblivious crowd towards him.
Katai waved them goodbye at a crossroad; the mall Naofumi and Raphtalia were headed to was straight ahead, while the office building where he worked was to their right. Huddled under the katana's canopy, the pair splashed across the street, Raphtalia's tail flying behind her. There were considerably fewer people and even less cars than usual around - it was to be expected after such an event as yesterday, even if there was no further threat. People wanted to stay safe indoors and wait for other, braver souls (or at least those with regular jobs) to test the water before heading out for themselves.
The mall wasn't too far off, and as they joined the other early-morning shoppers in shaking the water from their umbrellas, Naofumi caught a blast of frigid air from the air conditioning unit mounted above the automatic door and shivered. It wasn't exactly freezing, but wet as he was from the rain, it sent a frigid chill down his spine, and he hurried Raphtalia through it.
Inside, they stopped to rest for a couple of minutes. The television mounted on the pole opposite them displayed the news, and Naofumi didn't pay it much mind until he caught the phrase still at large.
"...the suspect was last seen at the intersection of - "
A man's bag split, and a set of stainless-steel cookware crashed to the ground, drowning out the broadcast for a moment.
" - heading north," the anchor went on, as Naofumi and Raphtalia both got up to help the man gather his belongings. "Anyone with information is urged to contact local police immediately and avoid direct confrontation."
What would "indirect" confrontation be, then? Naofumi mused, handing over a skillet.
He put it out of his mind. Someone always came to the police with information, but it was never the viewer - or possibly it was a viewer, but it was never you, it was always someone else.
Naofumi also had more important things to worry about - he'd only just realized, approaching the store, that they'd need to buy Raphtalia underwear, and as a full-time student and otaku, he'd never been in a position to browse for women's clothing before. If Raphtalia had been literally any other woman in Japan - or, indeed, any first world country - it would have been easier, and he could have simply carried her bags and let her pick out what to wear, but of course she wasn't, and of course his first time shopping with a girl would have him be the one to explain how people dressed in his world, because the universe was a swirling miasma of hatred for all life and how am I supposed to explain bras to Raphtalia?
By the time they reached the store where he'd purchased most of his clothes, Naofumi was sweating and his hands had gone clammy.
"Are you feeling ill, Naofumi-sama?" Raphtalia asked, evidently forgetting their appellative agreement in her worry. "Do you want to go back home?"
"No, I'm...I'm fine," he lied. He was feeling ill, but only at the prospect of heading into the women's section.
Inside, he led the way to where he could recall his mother shopping when he was a child, envying six-year-old Naofumi his innocence. People would excuse a young boy accompanying his mother - they wouldn't excuse a grown man rifling through a rack of panties.
Raphtalia, oblivious to his internal struggle, scrutinized a hideously lacey pink bra.
"How is this supposed to work?" she wondered aloud - too loudly, and he blanched.
"Don't ask me!" he hissed back. "I wasn't exactly swimming in girls before we met!"
"I'd rather just stick with my cloth bindings," Raphtalia admitted, pinching the padding between her thumb and forefinger. It crinkled softly, and Naofumi winced. "This feels needlessly complex…"
"Well, let's just look at underwear for now, then," he sighed. "You do need that, and it's probably easier to pick out."
Blushing furiously, he trailed after Raphtalia, who was greatly intrigued by the variety of textiles on display. Back in Melromarc, there really hadn't been many options when it came to undergarments, but it also hadn't mattered much to them - clothing was clothing, and they needed what was practical in battle, so they stuck to simple cotton. Here in Japan, where Melromarc's "luxury" items were considered a part of everyday life, it was a different story - there were more types of panties on display here than he could ever remember seeing in his life (not that he'd ever sought them out; he'd not sunk quite that far), and both he and Raphtalia were at a complete loss as to what to buy.
After much deliberation, they were able to pick out a set of underwear for her that wouldn't break Naofumi's wallet and that Raphtalia found comfortable and to her taste. It was easier than he'd been expecting - actually, it was remarkably like purchasing underwear for himself - but he didn't have the time to sigh in relief. They were going back to look at bras next, and from what little he knew of them, he knew Raphtalia would have to be sized first…
It'll be fine, he told himself. Just find an attendant and ask them to size her...then we'll be able to get this over with…
When they actually got to the dressing rooms, however -
"Would it be okay for Naofumi-s - kun to do the measuring instead?" Raphtalia enquired earnestly of the surprised attendant, a slim brunette a couple of years Naofumi's senior. When she'd gathered her thoughts, the attendant shook her head, torn between amusement and concern.
"I'm sorry, but men and women aren't allowed into the same dressing room at the same time. Your boyfriend can wait here - it'll only take a moment."
"Oh, no, we're not together," Naofumi hastily corrected, out of habit; Raphtalia looked a little hurt, and he bit his lip, immediately regretting it. The attendant's gaze flickered back and forth between the two of them, confusion spreading rapidly across her face.
Evidently deciding not to ask questions, she dipped her head, then beckoned to Raphtalia, who Naofumi heard ask again why exactly it was that he wasn't allowed into the dressing room with her. He let out the quietest groan of embarrassment that he could manage.
When they returned, Raphalia red in the face and the attendant entirely unperturbed, they set about picking out bras; Raphtalia didn't seem to be choosing them with any intent to match the underwear she'd selected, but Naofumi would be damned if he actually pointed that out.
"Hey, make sure to pick ones that match your underwear."
No, he was absolutely not going to do that.
In the end, they had seven of each item, one for each day of the week, and Naofumi took it upon himself to carry the bags while Raphtalia picked out shirts, legwear and a pair of boots (aided by his own limited knowledge of women's fashion). Holding the bags was partially to give his hands something to do other than clutch white-knuckled at his own clothes. With his hands full, he figured he'd check the time of day that the status window displayed instead of bothering to try and take out his phone, but when the overlay showed up, he paused, sweeping his gaze over the crowds sweeping back and forth across the intersection ahead. As expected, the newly restored level display read "Lv1" above every single -
Wait.
Had he just seen…?
(Lv2)
"Raphtalia."
"Yes?" She glanced back at him over her shoulder, eyes round.
"Open your status display. Don't open the menus in public." He'd found out almost immediately in Melromarc that anyone could see the menus, but the heads-up display that overlaid his vision appeared only to him, meaning that he could analyze his surroundings without anyone else noticing.
Nodding curtly, Raphtalia paused. He saw her eyes flicker to her lower-right, hold a moment, then return to the intersection, expression intense. After a moment, she bit her lip, hand drifting to the handle of the umbrella - the handle of the katana. "Everyone in this world should be level one, shouldn't they?"
"Should," he grimaced. "I never got exact numbers, but wasn't the consensus generally that since experience is gained by absorbing something's life energy or whatever...if a monster kills a monster of the same species and they're both at level one, the killer will level up exactly once?"
"We might want to ask next time we're able to get through the Leystone," Raphtalia mused. "But we do have one thing to go off of…"
"Hm?"
She pointed at Naofumi, and it took him a moment to realize she was actually pointing at where the experience indicator would be on his status display.
"That monster you killed yesterday was very small and gave you just one hundredth of an experience point, right, Naofumi-kun?"
"It was a gnat, and yeah. What about it?"
"Would it be possible to kill enough of those to level up in just a day?"
Her question made him think. "Maybe if you're an exterminator," he shrugged. "They uh, go around and kill bugs in people's houses. But considering you'd need a hundred bugs for a single experience point, and the base to level up from one to two is a hundred points, that's ten thousand bugs, and unless they're dragging a flamethrower into a jungle, I don't think that's possible in urban Japan."
"Flamethrower?" Raphtalia echoed. "Is that your world's version of a fire wizard?"
"No, it's a weapon that shoots fire," he sighed. "Let's not get sidetracked."
"Right. I'm sorry." With a shake of the head, Raphtalia scratched her nose, thinking hard. "Naofumi-kun, are you suggesting that this person may have killed someone?"
Best not to beat around the bush. "Yeah," he said bluntly. "And what's more...were you listening to the news when we came in?"
"Who was giving out news?" she asked, entirely misunderstanding.
"Ah - no. News as in news programs on the television. There was one playing when we came in."
"I wasn't listening. I'm already picking up too much noise as it stands - your world is very loud, you know," she scolded, as if it were his fault, and he rolled his eyes.
"I'm well-aware. Come on, I'll explain as we go." Ordinarily, they'd have lost sight of the man long ago, but the status magic was able to highlight whatever target or targets the user specified, and Naofumi had locked his own on the man the moment that swooping feeling of wrong hit his gut.
Trying to both remain inconspicuous and make up for the considerable distance between themselves and the man Naofumi strongly suspected had killed either another human being or several larger animals (and unless he'd been hunting the previous day or worked in a slaughterhouse, the latter was still both illegal and flat-out wrong), they slipped through the crowd, Naofumi resisting the urge to use any abilities to close the gap. Raphtalia's instant blade techniques would have easily gotten them well within range, but there was no way in hell they could just use what looked like an ordinary umbrella to teleport across a shopping mall outside of a dire emergency.
Though, if this guy's a murderer...if he gets stronger with each kill, couldn't this be considered an emergency?
Biting the thought back, he briefly explained to Raphtalia what he'd overheard on the news broadcast. She didn't need to be told the implications - even if this man wasn't the suspect described by the tired-looking anchorwoman with blue half-moons under her eyes, there was still no way he should have been anything other than level one. Even he himself wouldn't know he'd grown until the statistical difference was significant enough from the baseline to catch his attention - how he was now faster, stronger, thought more quickly than his victims…
Naofumi shook the thought. The shield flickered red.
Their quarry was on his way out of the mall, which was a mixed blessing. True, he could go anywhere - he could hop on the subway and simply disappear, moving out of the status magic's tracking range - but the streets were still emptier than usual between the rain and yesterday's wave (Naofumi was honestly surprised the mall had this many people; perhaps they'd simply booked it to ensure they didn't miss their shopping while minimizing the time they spent in the open?), making it easier to catch up. The rain was an added bonus: they could pick up the pace and simply appear as if they were trying to get out of the foul weather as quickly as possible.
He counted down: half a kilometer., two hundred and fifty meters, one hundred meters, fifty meters, twenty-five meters, ten meters. Ten seemed to be a safe distance, far enough to avoid being noticed but close enough to keep an eye on him.
Then, as they hurried down the greenish-gray pavement after a silhouette only they could see, a truck came barreling down the road - Naofumi heard it first and turned to see it hydroplaning down the street on a slick, wet film of rainwater and oily runoff, totally unable to stop - the driver's expression was terrified -
It slammed into him at sixty kilometers per hour.
If he were anyone else, he'd have been killed. If he weren't Iwatani Naofumi, he'd have most likely died instantly and possibly woken up flat on his back and gasping for air in another world. But Iwatani Naofumi was the Shield Hero, and his titular shield retained its innate defensive bonuses, meaning that - as long as he was in this world - he was virtually immune to any and all attacks directed his way.
No, it was the truck that, striking him head-on, was sheared completely in half, the windshield shattering on impact and sending rounded shards of safety glass pelting against the driver's raised arms; metal rent, screaming as it tore, and the odor of gasoline filled the air as the fuel line ruptured on impact with Naofumi's shin and sprayed an unpleasantly glossy miasma of pink-brown across the soaked asphalt. The collision had absorbed most of the truck's momentum - not provided a normal force, but simply absorbed it - and either half skidded about thirty feet further before falling onto opposite sides with a grand crash that shook the street.
Silence, for a moment; the terrified driver remained in his seat, miraculously unharmed and completely in shock. Naofumi, surprised more by the truck's appearance than the fact that he'd just brazenly violated the laws of physics, blinked at the shop across the street.
...Guess you can't get isekai'd twice, huh.
He knew all eyes were on him - of course they were, he'd just broken a fucking truck with his body - but the hero in him couldn't just leave the driver as he was, and it wasn't until after he'd helped the man out of the wreckage, taken Raphtalia's hand and fled the scene that he realized he could no longer see Level Two's outline on his status overlay.
"Why did that metal carriage attack you?" Raphtalia asked him as they pelted down the sidewalk. Naofumi dimly registered that he was headed in the direction of the shrine they'd taken refuge in the previous day.
"It's called a truck, and from what I could tell, the driver just lost control," he called back. "It's not as if that was intentional...but that's just my luck, huh?"
They slowed to a brisk walk as they reached the city outskirts, Naofumi dimly aware that they'd both been running with a speed boosted by their weapons' agility stats.
"If it was an accident, why are we running away?" she prodded, ears twitching. "It's not like it dealt any damage…"
"Because vehicles here generally don't work the same way they do in Faubrey," he sighed. In Faubrey, their equivalents to "modern" technology had been highly dependent on the stats of the user, and he was fairly certain that if an average citizen attempted to run down an adventurer with a vehicle, it wouldn't do a whole lot. "When people get hit by cars, they tend to be hurt pretty bad. If the car's moving fast enough, they're typically killed. Everyone around us was expecting me to die - as far as they know, there's literally no way I could have survived that, much less broken the goddamn thing in half without even being thrown back."
He never thought "people are killed when they are hit by heavy, fast-moving objects" was something he'd have to explain, but here they were. Unless vehicles now function like that here, too…?
Raphtalia was silent a moment. Then: "So you were trying to avoid attention again?"
"Pretty much, but that's two times in two days, and we were recorded yesterday. If this keeps up, I don't know what I'm going to do. What's more, we lost the guy we were after, and I'm just hoping that if he did kill someone, it was a one-time thing and he won't notice any statistical increases."
"It's still possible that he didn't kill anyone at all," Raphtalia suggested hopefully, but Naofumi shook his head.
"We don't have monsters in this world. If he was killing animals, which would be the only other way to get experience, that's still messed up."
Raphtalia bit her lip and didn't respond.
They were walking now, normally; in the quiet following his words, she unfolded the umbrella again and held it between them.
The patter of droplets on canvas and a lingering feeling of dread followed them home.
"Liberation Meteor!"
Shouting. Roaring. The smell of roasting flesh as the conduit monster fell to her magic.
In her head, she played those last few moments of freedom over and over again - the smoky tang of victory, the feeling of being a hero. Then the soldiers had shown up, and who was she to take the lives of the people she'd (at least in part) come here to protect? In perfect, fluent Chinese - though she didn't know it - she'd attempted to tell them the situation, but not a one had listened, and now here she was, locked in a dank cell with her level reduced to one.
The staff hummed faintly against her back. They'd tried to take it from her, because of course they had, but it was anchored firmly to her by some immense, invisible force and had badly burned the hands of anyone touching it. She hadn't willed it to do such a hostile thing; vassal weapons had minds of their own, and even her control over it was only by the weapon's consent.
In the distance, someone screamed in agony. Nearer, there was a strangled yell, and something made an unpleasant, wet crunching sound. Later on, the faint scent of iron would reach her nostrils.
She could break out. Even with her powers drastically weakened, she still had the staff, and she could melt or break the bars before her. But if she did, would these people see her as their enemy? She still knew nothing about their society, about their power, and in her current state, even a mid-level fighter could have overpowered her.
Though, if the strangely placid rift she'd gone through and the magical disconnect she felt meant anything…
The chains around the door rattled. She looked up to see a guard, crisp uniform flecked with a fine spatter of dark liquid, opening the padlock that held the chain in place, pulling the metal links through the bars and casting them carelessly to the floor.
"They're asking for you."
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Even if he'd been inclined to be friendly, this man's rank was clearly too low for him to have any sway. Whoever his superiors were - whoever they were that asked for her - she'd talk to them, instead, and so with all the dignity and grace that her royal upbringing had afforded her, Malty Melromarc, wielder of the vassal staff, straightened her skirt and followed a guard through the bowels of a Chinese prison.
deadass it's been a month and i'm so sick of writing this chapter