Hitsugi no Maou

The young man watched the woman wake up with his hands behind his crossed wooden chair and his chin up.

Long eyelashes tremble with tingling, eyelids slowly, open small and repeat closure.

Seeing lighter colored faces than sunburned wheat knees, arms and throats, the youth wonder what color this is.

Whiter than the sunburn area, but darker in color to say complete white. The young man, who himself was as bright as a candle, had made up his mind whether the woman's skin should be the color of the thin spot of fox fur or the color of ripe wheat ears (cheeks).

The firewood (mackerel) that accidentally crept into the stone kiln (Ishima) makes a sound, puffiness.

The woman's eyelids opened completely and her face turned toward the young man.

Hair color is definitely black. To the young man, who nodded looking at the muscles of his loosely wavy hair, the woman was slightly, her mouth blocked with both hands as she swept her throat.

Understanding that he swallowed in the scream, the young man stood up leaving the woman in a bed of grass.

When I walked over to the stone kiln, I put on the thick-skinned gloves that had fallen by my side and took out the iron pan in the fire.

When she saw the woman in her hand with the boiling water, she got up to jump (ha) and nodded at the wall.

"Stop! Don't do anything terrible!

"If you're going to do something terrible, you're doing it unconscious."

The young man gently flushes and walks to the table with the pan in his hand. Pour the dark green water into the glass of metal you have already served, and with it in your hand, leave the pan on the table to approach the woman.

The woman leans against one of the innumerable cupboards lining the walls, pulling her chin and looking at the youth with her eyes of color.

"... what is it?"

"It's just the upper body. I don't have anything to wear because I'm wet in the rain."

"You were a man."

"I don't know. Maybe a woman with no breasts."

"Which is it?

"If you ask me that, I'll say it's a man.... Go ahead."

When she offers the cup, the woman increasingly pulls her chin and turns away from the hot air (yuzu) that stands up.

You think it's poison. I can't help it. Because it is turbid (garlic) and smells sweet.

The young man put his thin lips on the glass and took a sip to show them.

When her throat starts pounding, the woman begs her attention.

Once she shrugged her shoulder and gave her a cup to push on, the young man threw away his skin gloves and wore a claw on the spot. A woman turns a blind eye to a blade wound running to the back of her white left hand.

In the gaze of a young man who kept staring at herself, the woman eventually slowly put water in her mouth.

The woman's eyes are opened once in a while, and after a moment, she sips down the second or third sip with a sigh of flutter.

The young man said with a slight grin as he gazed up and down his wheat throat.

"It's medicinal water. It would be delicious. It contains plenty of sweet honey from a flower called a coatri. Though it is inherently poisonous, it will do little harm if it is boiled."

The woman made a noise in the back of the glass.

She put the cup on the floor, and the woman who plucked her chin, it was then that she began to realize that she was wearing a bright white cloth cloth that she was not familiar with, and raised her face as she pinched the fabric around her chest.

"This... yours?

"Yeah. I usually only wear a shirt (or so)... I flipped through the house and finally found a change of clothes. Trying to use it for sleeping rolls, the one who wasn't feeling well."

"I don't have anything to wear... I'm sorry"

"Nothing. I'm always this cool when my clothes get wet. It's not like anyone's coming to visit.... You don't have to thank me for taking care of you. That's what I like to do."

"But to a stranger like this..."

"Yes, I enjoyed getting you dressed as a stranger."

To the young man, who turns off his grin and says it with a straight face, the woman eventually turns red from under her cheek, which she tries.

It was fun, I'll tell you, the young man still messes with his hair like it's boring and keeps the word going.

"I let him take off his wet clothes, wiped his body, and handled his butt wound. I put clothes on and put them to bed, waiting to wake up. By the way, there was a hill on his inner crotch. You better defend your skin more when you run in the rainy meadows."

"Ahhh! Hit it! That's it!

"If you stay wet, flatter your wounds, and let them sleep with your hills on, you'll get sick. If the doctrine of not exposing your skin to anything other than your husband, even if you die, then yes you should write it on a bill (fu) and keep it down on your neck. Is there a pavilion owner? What about your lover?"

The woman let the young man say, "I'm not here..." as she said, with a reddish face.

The young man gets up with a smile all over again at how she looks like that.

A young man dragging a wooden chair to the table. The woman's face was still on fire, but she seemed to be getting a lot more nervous and could afford to observe the indoors.

Turn your gaze around and say, "Home...... right?," he snapped, standing up, giving a voice to the young man sitting in his chair.

"Is it here, in some town?

"It's still in the middle of the meadow. Ancient trees...... dwelling among the great trees that fell a long time ago. It was in a windy street-resistant place, so it kept its original shape. It's pretty reinforced though."

"What's that? It's like a window to the ceiling lights. There's a black line running, though."

"It was solidified with clear feathers of insects on the drug solution. It starts raining, but it ages, so we replace it once a year."

"... so... who are you, then?

The young man who opened the book on the edge of the table looked at the woman.

The woman tries to lift her chest puffiness with her left hand and looks like she's covering her heart.

The young man thought a little and said as he dropped his eyes on the page of the book.

"Let's hear your qualities first. We're friends who show each other how it is, and now we can be embarrassed."

"I didn't show you anything else! Quick, forget it!

"Let's start with the name"

The woman answers the young man, who closes one eye with a cheek, with her throat clogged all the time, and then drops her eyes all the way to the floor.

"Ash. Ash Bourne. I came from the east, from the country in Bath."

"It's a country I've never heard of. Is it far?

"Beyond the sea. We arrived on the continent in three months by boat and walked from there for three months… a mountainous land ahead of us, crossing many deep valleys."

"A total of six months' itinerary? Why did you come to this country without a future when some people lost their lives on a few days of sailing?

Woman, Ash nagged as she jerked off the soot in her clothes. When you move your head, your hair muscles shake loosely drawing the shape of a spiral (spiral).

Pompous, my voice fell to the floor.

"Because it was a dream"

"... dreams? You ever come to Coffin?

"Seeing dragons in this country was my dream."

A young man looked up and saw Ash. "Have a seat," he points at the edge of the table, glancing back at her eyebrow root.

Ash shook his head loosely and went to the skylight made of worm feathers.

There is only one chair in a residence that does not assume guests.

"There are a lot of adventurers in this country. Like a threesome after me."

"Oh, he's a snobber colonist. Most people who want to leave their country and move to a country they're invading, even if they're not soldiers, will be adventurers. Those who have no place in their country, those who do not have a quorum, those who prefer violence, plunderers"

"... you hate adventurers"

"Let's consider Coffin human. Enjoy the adventure itself and come everywhere in search of unknown places, unknown countries. Then he fights, hunts down, uncovers secrets and takes away culture and treasures from the beasts of another country to enjoy his adventures. If there are no more beasts and secrets, we will target and plunder humans for whatever reason next. Adventurers are synonymous with our enemies."

"I'm an adventurer too."

To Ash, who turns to the side and says, the young man says without evil, "So?" and Xin (ki) ku.

Ash keeps looking up at the sky as he lets his hands play into the falling light.

"My parents were adventurers, too. But I say swear. The two were neither usurpers nor those who preferred to fight. I just wanted to see the scenery I don't know, the world I don't know, and gather knowledge, the mundane people. When I traveled, I recorded a different world in letters and pictures and sold it as a book. But that's the only people alive."

"… a seeker of knowledge?"

"Those two told me all sorts of things about the trip that they were leaving with my grandmother every time they came home from an adventure. The contents of the book will be read later by people from all over the country. I was most proud to listen to my parents sooner than anyone else."

Listening to the story, the young man slammed the book shut.

Breathe in the light as Ash leaves such a young man unattended.

"The story of a dragon, where the last book such parents put out dances the skies of a continent far west. A dragon flying into a grassland country covered by gray skies rips clouds, calls for wind, brings together lightning and rains. People in that country are giving up dragons and making them objects of faith as gods."

"I see. Sounds like a Coffin story indeed."

"My parents were executed for writing about it"

The young man's eyebrows tickled. Ash lowers his hands and stares into the void.

"My country is just a country that gives up one god. Especially now the government has a strong religious color, and gods of other religions other than the state religion say they are all fake demons. My parents were treated as heretics and killed because they gave out dragon god books. I just wrote the fact that people in this country believe in dragons. They told me it was all a lie, and all the books, they burned me..."

"You're the same in every country. Coffin is also now being invaded by the god of Snobba. In the end, a country that is not recognized for anything other than its own worship wields death to the world"

"But I believe my parents' stories. Because the two of you...... ahhh!!

Ash, who suddenly raised his voice, slapped him in the face and looked back at the youth. Running over to a decent young man, he said, "What's the helmet!?" Ask.

"No! I don't have a helmet! Did you take it out?

"You just noticed...? You drank potion water. Of course I let him take it off when I changed."

"Give it back! It's so important! The shape of my parents letting a blacksmith carve the face of a dragon in the west..."

A young man with a cupboard in his back pressed his helmet against Ash's face. Agu, and Ash, who raised a strange voice, still looks relieved and wears his helmet snuggly.

The young man turns to his brave dragon face.

"To see the throat sunburn, the helmet seems to have to be covered all the time. The only time you take it off is when you eat and sleep?

"Because if someone steals it, I'm in trouble... and when I meet a dragon, something I can answer to right away. The dragon is the one my parents saw."

"I mean, you left the country yourself in the honor of your parents, crossed the ocean, and came to Coffin. And he said he was trying to burn the figure of Sky Dragon Morg in his eyes."

To Ash, who nodded sneakingly, the young man sighed in arms.

Courage and action are a lot, but I can't help but be hungry and pick up a copper coin and chased around by the same adventurer.

The young man says slightly lower his voice to Ash, who says loosely, "Do you mean Morg, the name of the dragon," while loving (and) shivering his helmet.

"The only time Morg shows up is when it rains, and when the thunderbolt hits (almost). Nor can that be seen anywhere. Besides, you know it's a bad time."

"... but"

"This country is under invasion."

We're on the verge of doom.

To the young man who goes on like that, Ash drops his gaze on the wood on the table.

"... Anyway, something I can't go back to the country anymore. Grandma died before she went on her journey, and she doesn't have any relatives waiting. We have snobber soldiers at the border, and we can't go anywhere else. I just want to see the dragon face at least..."

"Death is not the price of dreams involved in the life of another country. Is that what you are looking forward to? [M] If so, it's a funny species."

"No!"

"Man in this country can neither live in his own country"

To the youth's words, Ash loses his words and gets annoyed again.

"Every dignity is at stake. Everyone suffers from the atrocities of the snobber army, the violence of the adventurers, and the food misery they invite.

Giving the merchants of the Snowba capital the wealth that the hungry Coffins can have is badly bought and beaten to nothing. Ten pieces of gold are breaded, and the finest armor and dresses just turn into one potato. There are even those who trade their wives and daughters for dried meat.

As you said, the value of Coffin's currency was dropped to the ground. What the Coffins get when they throw all their wealth to survive tomorrow is as much food as tears and deeper despair. Even planting exotic crops in your hands, Coffin's lean earth just lets it rot. There's nothing I can do. "

……

"At least we should have come a year early. When Coffin was still just for the Coffins."

The young man, with his head on, stands up.

Picking up the jacket you were throwing out in front of the stone kiln, you still put your arms through your raw dry sleeve (so).

"Snoba twitches and destroys this country. They'll find my house someday. There's no safe place... I jumped into hell myself, and one day my destiny suddenly crumbles, but I don't listen to hate."

"... what do you mean?

"I was chased by a snobber adventurer, and it's possible that I've been arranged for you. Don't go back to Wang capital or village. I'll leave you here, so look up at the sky and live every day. With any luck, we might be able to see Morg."

Even over the helmet, I can see Ash is pompous.

She said, "Are you sure?," he asked back after leaving a long time open.

"Yeah, but... you know, I'm so happy..."

"What. Are you dissatisfied too, nagging?"

"Oh, no, I'm sorry! I don't know... I didn't think you were such a good person..."

A young man stares sharply at Ash as he fastens the button on his coat. The young man opened his mouth thinly to her, making her shoulder peel off.

"Don't ever come near that stone altar again. In the corner of the prairie, even off the road that connects the king's capital and the village, there has never been anyone who stumbles upon that place hidden in the grass... let alone those who shed blood in the hole... how did that butt wound come on?

"The knife that was thrown rubbed.... that place... or, you know, don't ask about bone hands..."

Right? and. Ash looked away from the young man's razor-like gaze.

The young man loosens his eyes and closes as he scratches his left hand to kill the three adventurers.

"Those three pointing the murder tool at us and releasing their intent to kill. That's why he died. I have no choice."

"Are you a magician? When I moved that bone hand, I was crushing words like spells. When you cast a spell, flames and lightning pop out of your hands, iron turns into gold, and creates monsters you've never even seen out of the void, right? Mages are such amazing people. It was in a book I used to read."

"... I do hear that distant exotics have legends of magicians who produce flames from the palms of their hands or emit lightning from their bodies. But at least not on this continent.

Only the one who begat from scratch is truly a man. I am only degenerating and moving what already exists in this world with rituals and prayers. "

Apparently Ash couldn't understand the word, so he put his neck around it and said, "Huh? I just said."

The young man shakes his head and faces Ash.

"I'm not who you expect me to be. I may use magic, but I've never been called by magicians and people. I'm just a sinner."

"Sinner"

To Ash crushing back at the parrot, the young man trembles with gray eyes and nods.

"Name, dust"