Chapter 5
At Genbu headquarters, in the large conference room on the top floor, the monthly executive meeting had run twenty minutes over schedule and reached its final agenda item.
The agenda item was printed in small type at the end of the briefing materials: —'Regarding the personal stream "Shin-san's Beginner Dungeon Course."'
"Following this investigation, the research team has determined that the streamer 'Shin' is none other than Hiiragi Shinichi, formerly our clan's exclusive training coach. The voiceprint match rate is 99.7 percent. There is no room for error."
When the head of the research team finished his report, an indescribable silence fell among the dozen or so executives seated around the long table.
It was the same man who had been in this building just ten days earlier. The unremarkable middle-aged man who returned a bow when greeted and had been seen buying canned coffee for new recruits at the vending machine in the hallway. And now, outside the industry, he was rewriting twenty years of accepted wisdom on the dungeon-clearing wiki.
The first to speak was Nagumo of the Strategic Planning Department. He was a young man in his thirties, known for his sharp grasp of numbers.
"Chairman. I recommend a partnership."
Togakushi Gen sat in the seat of honor, motionless with his eyes closed. Nagumo continued without hesitation.
"The course's channel reached twenty thousand subscribers at noon today. Its growth rate is the highest ever recorded for an industry-related stream. With the wiki revision, support among mid-level and lower-ranked explorers has essentially solidified. Fortunately, the public still doesn't know who 'Shin' really is. If we announce that he's a former Genbu coach and bring him back under our umbrella, now is the only time. Before another clan approaches him—"
"Nagumo-kun."
The chairman did not open his eyes.
"What do you think Genbu's name stands for?"
His voice was low.
"That man was a parasite living off Kenjo and the others' talent. Five S-rankers have left him, and now he's lecturing amateurs because he has nowhere else to go. ...You want me to place a washed-up B-ranker's hobby beside the name we've spent twenty years polishing? Even mentioning his name would lower Genbu's standing."
"But Chairman, the numbers—"
"If we're talking numbers," Togakushi said, opening his eyes for the first time, "ninety percent of our revenue comes from supplying equipment to high-rankers and from deep-dungeon concessions. No matter how many tens of thousands of beginners gather, they won't bring us a single yen. Don't waste meeting time on an amateur's festival. —Next."
That was the end of the agenda.
Just before the meeting adjourned, the head of Public Relations timidly raised his hand. Inquiries from the media and business partners about the course's relationship with Genbu were increasing. A few people had also begun pointing out that the voice sounded like their former exclusive coach.
Togakushi put on his jacket and said,
"Just put out a statement saying 'unrelated.' The amateur festival will be over in a month."
◇
That evening, Clan Genbu issued a statement on its official website.
'Recently, we have received multiple inquiries regarding the personal stream "Shin-san's Beginner Dungeon Course," which has been attracting attention on social media. This stream has absolutely no connection to our clan's training methods. Our clan operates a scientific, systematic training program in cooperation with specialized institutions, and does not recommend putting into practice theories based on an individual's unverified personal experience. We ask all explorers to pay careful attention to the sources of their information.'
It had been written by a PR staffer with no particular ill intent. They had simply expanded the chairman's "Just put out a statement saying 'unrelated'" into enough words to preserve the organization's public image.
The public, however, did not read it that way.
【Nobody even asked whether it had anything to do with Genbu】
【My grandma always said that denying something nobody asked about is basically admitting it】
【"The unverified personal experience of an individual"—the Association's accident database just verified it, and the wiki was rewritten】
【That hit a nerve, LOL】
【Didn't Genbu's new-recruit training have a three-million-yen admission fee? Shin's course is free. Which source are we supposed to pay attention to?】
That night, a roundup thread appeared on the anonymous bulletin board's verification thread, titled '【Bad News】The Industry's Biggest Clan Just Issued an Official Statement About an Unknown Old Man's Stream.' Its users picked apart the statement line by line. A major clan had singled out an individual stream—more precisely, it had mentioned it only to call it 'unrelated'—and the personal stream's renown entered an entirely different stage overnight.
The course's subscriber count rose from twenty thousand to thirty-eight thousand within twenty-four hours of the statement.
The PR staffer watched the ever-growing flood of quote notifications with a pale face, Nagumo gazed up at the ceiling from his desk, muttering, "I told them so," and Togakushi Gen let every report from that day pass in one ear and out the other.
The amateur festival would be over in a month. —That was how it was supposed to be.
◇
As for me, my day was peaceful as ever.
I cooked rice, leafed through my notebooks, and prepared for the night's stream. It was the tenth day of my wholesome unemployed life.
The only thing that wasn't peaceful, as usual, was the numbers. The subscriber growth had taken another bizarre leap since yesterday, and when I looked into it, I found a news story with a name I knew all too well.
'Clan Genbu Declares It Has No Connection to the Trending "Shin Course"'
"...Unrelated."
I took a sip of tea and nodded.
"Yeah, unrelated."
It was true. Everything I discussed in the course came from my notebooks. That included material I'd written while at Genbu. The notebooks were my personal property, the product of my twenty years, not equipment belonging to anyone else. If they wanted to call us unrelated, I had no complaint.
"The big clans have it rough."
I closed the news after offering that detached observation. It really was someone else's problem. Preparing for tonight's stream was far more important.
On my desk lay the "Task Report" Hina-chan had sent that morning.
For the past few days, I'd been assigning her homework: record a run through the second layer and post the link in the archive's comment section. She was to verify the basics from the course one by one in actual combat. Her reports arrived every day as meticulously organized bullet points.
I'd watched her latest recording three times since morning.
"Yeah."
Her toes moved instinctively now. She no longer hesitated over how to retreat. Her potion was on the side of her waist opposite her dominant hand, toward the front. Her eyes never once dropped to the ground. She handled two Gray Hounds leaping at her simultaneously with nothing but half a step and the angle of her sword, then disengaged without overextending.
There was nothing flashy about it. Her Skills and magic remained perfectly ordinary. But the girl on-screen had become someone who would not fall no matter what happened.
This was no E-ranker's movement. It wasn't even a D-ranker's anymore.
The eye that had watched people's movements for twenty years was telling me that, in terms of rank, this was—
◇
That night, the tenth stream began with a viewer count of 【4,000】.
"Good evening, I'm Shin. There seem to be a lot of first-time viewers, so let me say the usual thing. This is a course for beginners. I won't be covering flashy techniques or talking about the strongest gear. It's dull. Probably shockingly dull."
【I knew that】
【I came from Genbu's statement】
【I came because the official statement said they were unrelated. If they're unrelated, I had to come】
【The logic is weird】
"I've changed the plan for today. First, I'll look at a student's task report. I have her permission. —Hina-chan, are you there?"
【Y-yes! I'm here!】
I put her exploration recording on the screen and spent about ten minutes giving my usual explanation: what had improved, and which fundamentals had saved her life in which situations. Partway through, the comment section started acting strangely.
【Wait, wait, wait. How can this girl walk through the second floor like she's taking a "stroll"?】
【This is the girl who got knocked flat in forty seconds during the exam a month ago, right?】
【Her movements haven't become flashier. There isn't a single dangerous moment anymore. What is this?】
【That's not E-rank stability...】
Exactly. That was the point. Everyone was seeing it clearly. What a good comment section.
"—So, Hina-chan, I wanted to ask you something."
I stopped the recording and said, in my usual tone,
"How about trying the C-rank promotion exam next week? By skipping a rank."
The comment section stopped for one second, then exploded.
【!?】
【C!? Not D!?】
【Is there even a system for skipping ranks?】
【Wait, going from E-rank to C-rank means skipping one whole rank, doesn't it!?】
【B-but, Teacher, I've failed the D-rank exam four times...!】
"Yeah, I know. I've watched all four recordings. —The reason Hina-chan failed was the same thing every time, and it's no longer part of you. In my estimation, the stability of your fundamentals now exceeds the passing standard for C-rank. There isn't anything left for the D-rank exam to measure."
【Didn't he just casually say something outrageous?】
【His "estimation" did rewrite the wiki, after all...】
"The Association's regulations allow someone to take a promotion exam by skipping ranks if they have a certified coach's recommendation. My coaching certification is still valid. My contract with the clan ended, but the certification belongs to me personally. ...There is one catch. Unlike a regular exam, a rank-skipping exam is held publicly. Everyone will be watching. If that scares you, you can decline."
Amid the torrent of comments, Hina's reply arrived a little later.
【I'll do it.】
【The place where Teacher is watching me is much less frightening than the place where I failed four times】
"I see. Then it's settled."
I wrote her name and the date of the exam on a fresh page in my notebook. A student's exam was always a little nerve-racking, no matter how many times I'd seen one. Apparently, that wouldn't change even with a sixth student.
—At the time, there was one thing that neither Hina-chan nor I—or any of the excited viewers—had checked.
According to official Association records, only one person had ever passed directly from E-rank to C-rank by skipping a rank since the system began.
Eight years earlier, at age seventeen, the only one was Kenjo Rei, the swordsman who would later be called Humanity's Strongest. The recommender field at the time contained just one entry: "Recommendation by an individual certified coach."
The world would learn what that record meant a little later.