Atop a Tree That Reaches the Clouds (7)

The island nation of Fusang, far to the east.

There was much to see in its capital, Outo, even setting aside the cooperation among its three races.

Its architecture resembled that of the Huanggu Empire, yet differed in subtle ways, and the same was true of its weapons.

Outo also had many dojos teaching martial arts, and... they reminded me of Yosogi Style in all sorts of ways, which made me feel nostalgic.

But what they wielded were not the swords hanging at my waist, but katana.

Apparently, even katana came in many varieties, such as uchigatana and tachi.

...Come to think of it, a question had just occurred to me. My smithing master, Azvardo, had at least taught me how to forge something resembling a katana.

It wasn't as though he'd spent much time teaching me with great enthusiasm, since it was a weapon from a distant country, but how had he known how to make one?

For all that he'd taught me how to make a weapon used in this island nation at the far eastern edge of the world, he'd never touched on the weapons used in the somewhat closer Huanggu Empire.

It had been bothering me a little.

Could the fact that Yosogi Style had settled in the Kingdom of Rudoria have something to do with the dwarves?

I thought I'd ask him when I returned to the central region, since I would be seeing him anyway.

Besides katana, there were dojos teaching the use of spears, bows, and other polearms, and all of them were lively.

It was standard for dojos of this sort to assume that anyone who watched too closely had come to steal their techniques, leading to trouble, but perhaps because Outo was so close to the battlefield, its dojos did not turn away spectators.

Their message was: If you intend to go to the battlefield, learn here, survive, and make a name for yourself.

Simply making the rounds of them made the time fly, and a week had already passed since I began staying in Outo.

Unfortunately, though, I hadn't found any common ground with Yosogi Style in the techniques of the schools I'd visited.

"Hey, pointy-eared young man, you're here again today."

At dinnertime, a voice called out to me as I passed through the noren at a restaurant.

At one of the tables, Gon-jii, a resident of the town whom I'd met three days earlier, was beckoning to me.

Three days ago, I'd treated him to drinks and asked him to tell me about this country's history. ...Regardless of the content, his grand manner of speaking had been impressive, so I'd been listening to him every day since.

He was human, but despite being over seventy and well into old age, he was still hale and hearty. It was a pleasure just to watch the way he ate and drank.

I ordered enough sake and pickles for two from the server, then headed for the table where Gon-jii was sitting.

"Hello, Gon-jii. I've come to hear more of your stories today. Over dinner, that is."

After saying that, I sat down, and he laughed as he smoothly rubbed his bald head.

Apparently, he'd already had a few drinks and was in extremely high spirits.

Then again, in the mere three days I'd known him, I'd never seen Gon-jii in a bad mood.

The server quickly brought over the sake and pickles so as not to keep me waiting, so I ordered grilled fish as well.

Since merfolk came here through the waterways, fish were surprisingly cheap and delicious in Outo.

Grilled fish called for a bowl of rice, but... since there was sake, I supposed I could skip it today.

I popped a piece of pickle into my mouth, enjoyed its satisfying crunch, then took a hearty gulp of sake.

Gon-jii held out his guinomi, so I poured sake from the large tokkuri.

For a while, we both enjoyed the pickles and sake without saying a word.

The crunching of the pickles meant it wasn't exactly silent, though.

Drinking while talking was nice, but first we simply enjoyed the sake and soothed our throats.

For now, that was what we were doing, and Gon-jii was happy to go along.

While we were enjoying the pickles and sake, the grilled fish arrived, so I went ahead and removed its head and bones first.

"Come to think of it, I noticed this the day before yesterday too, but you're awfully good at eating fish with chopsticks, brother."

He suddenly said that as I separated the flesh from the bones.

Ah, right. Come to think of it, it was only natural that he'd find it strange for someone from elsewhere to eat fish so deftly with chopsticks.

"...Hmm, I used chopsticks when eating at the dojo where I learned swordsmanship, and I spent several years in the Huanggu Empire, too."

The truth was that it was probably because I had memories of my previous life, but for now, I used that as a cover.

I didn't think he'd believe me if I told him, and even if he did, it wouldn't mean anything.

When I answered that way, Gon-jii nodded with an ambiguous expression, as though he was neither convinced nor unconvinced.

"Well, all right. Swordsmanship, eh? You certainly look like a pretty skilled fellow, brother."

As he raised his drink to his lips, I smiled and picked at my fish.

He said I was skilled, but from my perspective, the same was true of Gon-jii.

He probably couldn't match the immortal Wang Gui Xuannu of the Huanggu Empire, but each and every one of Gon-jii's casual movements was astonishingly free of openings.

When he drank, Gon-jii would grandly tell me in a ringing voice how he'd once been a warrior who distinguished himself on the battlefield, and it was surely the unvarnished truth.

Well, it was a drunkard's story, so there was probably some exaggeration mixed in.

Still, his manner didn't suggest a swordsman or archer... he was probably a spearman.

He had already surpassed the average human lifespan in this world, so I did wonder whether he could still grip and wield a spear.

Though Gon-jii seemed like the sort who might surprise me by swinging one around with ease. Ah, if he just picked up a lightweight staff, he should still be more than strong enough.

"Come to think of it, brother, you wanted to learn about this country's history, didn't you?"

I'd eaten about half the fish, and perhaps he thought the time was right, because Gon-jii asked as if confirming it.

I nodded at that, and when I poured sake into his cup, Gon-jii drained it, smiled contentedly, and...

"All right, then. I'll introduce you to a clever fellow I know. He's been staying at my place since yesterday. He's long-lived, just like you, brother, so he knows a lot about old stories, too."

That was what he said.

In this country of Fusang, if oni were excluded from the category of humans, only one race had a long lifespan.

Humans lived only ordinary human lifespans, of course, while winged folk actually matured faster than humans and had a short lifespan of around forty years.

That left only one race.

Yes, the merfolk.

Merfolk lived so long that some people even believed the superstition that they were ageless and immortal.

According to the immortal Wang Gui Xuannu of the Huanggu Empire, merfolk lived for four or five hundred years.

...For a moment, I found myself thinking that wasn't all that long, but that was only in comparison to elves and high elves; five hundred years was quite a long time even compared to other long-lived races.

Certainly, if Gon-jii's acquaintance was a merfolk scholar, there was a good chance they knew the history I wanted to learn about in detail.

No, even if they weren't well versed in history, simply being able to learn all sorts of things from merfolk would be more than enough.

There were plenty of things I wanted to know, such as Shin, the merfolk city beneath the sea, and their eating habits.

I finished the remaining fish, and Gon-jii drained the rest of his sake before settling the bill and rising from his seat.

I wasn't even comfortably full yet, but something I was more interested in than food was waiting for me, so there was no helping it.