Fourteen years, Rui fought for the only home he had. Fourteen years, he endured the whispers, the fear, the pain of a power that lets him read the memories of everything he touches—but never his own past. Then the Vermunt Society came for the ledgers, and the man who raised him sold him out without a second thought. Now Rui lies bleeding on a cold hill, the orphanage burning behind him, and the children he swore to protect scattered to the wind. But a blade doesn't choose where it's picked up—on
The Picked-Up Blade Eventually Finds Its Place - Snow Falls on the City of Ash Blades — The Picked-Up Blade and the Girl Who Reads the Wind
The sea wind rattled the steel frames of the warehouse district.
Morning comes early in the Bay Side harbor area. Even before dawn, gantry cranes were already moving along the container wharf, and heavy trucks tore through the streets kicking up clouds of dust. The air, thick with exhaust and the smell of salt, filled Haiya Rui's lungs.
(One month, huh.)
Rui tugged at the collar of his Gohnt Logistics worker's jacket. The sturdy navy fabric was stiff with starch, and the fit around his neck was oddly tight. Several old scars ran across the wrist that peeked from his sleeve—carved there during the fourteen years he'd spent at the Sunlit House.
"What's with that face?"
He turned to find Aoi standing there. The same unruly hair, sticking up from sleep. The same amber eyes, emptied of emotion. A tablet in his right hand, a paper cup of coffee in his left. He looked utterly out of place in the early morning of the harbor district.
"Nothing."
"You've got a look like you hate that work uniform."
"...You're the last person I need to hear that from."
Before Rui had even finished answering, Aoi had already lost interest, dropping his gaze to the tablet.
"Today we're escorting a shipment under the Gohnt Logistics name to the Second Warehouse Complex in the Bay Side harbor district. The contents—well, you can guess."
*You can guess.* Rui said nothing.
Payment for an inter-organization deal. Cash, in other words. The flow of money in the underworld was always like this. A legitimate-looking shipping company moves unremarkable cardboard boxes. Inside are stacks of bills. And there are always people who want to intercept them.
"Am I doing this alone?"
"No. One more is coming."
Just then, the office's steel door rattled open.
"Good morning."
A light voice.
Hayase Nagi walked in through the morning light. Her shoulder-length black hair streamed in the wind, a red ribbon fluttering. Her large dark eyes still held traces of sleep, yet they fixed squarely on Rui. She stood about five feet even—a full head shorter than him. But her spine was straight, and she carried the core of someone who had been a combat operative of the organization for years.
"So you're the stray they picked up?"
A blunt question.
Rui stared at her.
(So this kid is the wind-reader.)
She could read the flow of air and predict trajectories and movements several dozen seconds ahead. Low direct combat power, but excellent at evasion and support. Exactly as Aoi had described—a small-statured girl. A small old scar on her left knee. The red ribbon she tied her hair with during combat was her trademark.
"None of your business."
Rui's reply was curt.
Nagi's eyebrow twitched.
"...Huh. Fine, whatever. I'm on today's escort team. Nice to meet you."
"Yeah."
"...Just 'yeah'?"
"You got a problem with that?"
"No. Just thought you've got a lousy attitude."
Nagi turned away with a huff.
A tense air settled between them.
Aoi glanced at the exchange once, and said nothing.
"We're moving out. Cargo's in the truck bed. Two escorts, one on each side. I'll follow from behind in a separate vehicle."
"Understood."
"...Understood."
Rui nodded, reluctantly.
The truck headed west along the wide road through the harbor district.
The driver was an ordinary Gohnt Logistics employee. Not an ability user. He glanced at the two escorts but asked nothing. He had the look of a man who understood that in the organization's line of work, not asking was the right answer.
Ten wooden crates sat in the truck bed. Each bore a label printed with "Precision Machine Parts." The contents, of course, were something else entirely.
Rui watched the scenery flow past the passenger-side window.
The giant gantry cranes of the container wharf. Iron boxes stacked like mountains. Welding sparks. The shouts of steelworkers. The harbor morning was always loud.
"Are you nervous?"
Nagi leaned forward from the back seat.
"No."
"Liar. You've been moving your fingers this whole time."
Rui looked at his left hand. Unconsciously, he'd been tracing his thumb along the knuckle of his index finger. A habit from his orphanage days.
"...None of your business."
"Maybe not. But it's normal to be nervous on your first mission. I was too, at first."
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
"Don't act like a senpai, kid."
"I've been in the organization longer than you. And if you don't like being bossed around by someone younger, then at least do your job properly."
"I will. Of course I will."
His voice dropped, just slightly.
Nagi seemed to notice the shift—she tilted her head a little.
"...You know, you seem clumsy in everyday things, but the moment it's about combat, you suddenly get serious."
"Shut up. Be quiet."
"Okay, okay."
She settled back into the rear seat.
The truck was approaching the Second Warehouse Complex at the eastern edge of the harbor district.
That was when it happened.
Nagi's movement stopped.
"...Stop the truck."
The quality of her voice had changed.
"What is it?"
"The wind flow is disturbed. Multiple ability-user signatures from the direction of the Third Warehouse Complex. Five... no, six. They're heading this way."
Nagi's eyes locked onto a single point outside the window. Wind-reading. She could read the flow of air and predict movement dozens of seconds ahead. Her precision was guaranteed, even within the organization.
"Driver, speed up. How far to the Second Warehouse Complex?"
"Y-yes sir! About five more minutes!"
"Can we make it?"
"...It's close. They're in vehicles. At this rate, they'll cut us off before the intersection."
Rui closed his eyes for a single moment.
(If they're coming, let them come.)
"Nagi. You protect the driver and the cargo. I'm going out."
"What? Are you insane? There are six of them!"
"It's not about numbers. All that matters is killing them before they kill us."
His voice was ice-cold.
In combat, Rui became a different person. The rough, foul-mouthed boy was honed into something like a blade. Emotion vanished. Movement changed. Words grew short.
"...Fine. But don't die. If you die, my mission evaluation drops."
"Like I give a damn about your evaluation."
Rui opened the truck window.
Wind rushed into the cabin.
"Stop."
The driver hit the brakes.
Rui jumped from the moving truck.
The instant his feet hit the asphalt, a knife was in his right hand.
"Mumei." A combat knife bequeathed to him by Kamiya Gen. It held no special power. But to Rui, it was his master's keepsake.
Two black wagons came barreling toward him at full speed.
Tires screaming. Dust flying.
The wagons screeched to a halt, sliding doors flying open.
"Gohnt escorts! Take them out!"
Men in black suits poured out. All of them armed with blades or batons. Operatives of the Vermund Society—a secret society that preached the management and isolation of ability users. They targeted "uncontrolled ability-user groups" like Gohnt Nest for elimination.
Rui charged without a word.
The lead man swung his baton down.
Rui evaded with a half-turn of his body.
—*Shhk.*
The knife sliced through the man's thigh. Deep, precise. Severing muscle and tendon. The man crumpled without even a scream.
The second man slashed from behind.
Rui didn't turn around.
He drove his left elbow backward, shattering the man's face. The crunch of a broken nasal bone. Blood sprayed into the morning light.
"Hi—!"
The third man faltered.
Rui didn't miss the opening.
One step in, he grabbed the man's wrist. Twisted it into a reverse grip, dislocated the joint. The knife fell from the man's hand. Rui kicked it up, caught it reverse-grip, and drove it deep into the man's flank.
"Gah—!"
The man collapsed, coughing blood.
Three left.
"This guy's a monster...!"
"Don't falter! Surround him!"
The three spread out, forming an encirclement.
Rui kept his knife raised and quietly steadied his breathing.
(Three. No coordination. Individual skill is low. But numbers are numbers.)
(Then I exploit the gaps in their movement. Two at once.)
Rui kicked off the ground.
Staying low, he closed in on the man on the left. The man swung his knife down. Rui dodged the blade with a twist of his neck and kicked the man's knee apart from the inside.
"Gyaaah!"
The man collapsed from the knee.
Rui grabbed the back of his head and hurled him at the other man.
"Whoa—!"
The two tangled and went down.
Rui ran at the remaining man.
The man, face pale, was trying to pull something from inside his jacket. A handgun.
Rui accelerated.
"Not happening."
He struck the man's wrist with the butt of his knife. The sound of bone breaking. The handgun clattered to the asphalt. Rui grabbed the man by the collar and drove his knee into his face.
The man went down, eyes rolled back.
"...!"
That was when the first man—the one he'd already downed—grabbed Rui's ankle with a blood-soaked hand.
Rui froze for an instant.
(Damn.)
In that gap, one of the survivors lunged at Rui from behind.
—*Thud!*
Someone shoved Rui hard in the back.
His body lurched sideways.
The blade that came down from behind carved through empty air where Rui had been.
"What are you doing?! Spacing out?!"
It was Nagi.
Using her wind-reading to predict the trajectory and movement dozens of seconds ahead, she'd pushed Rui's back to make him dodge the blade.
Rui rolled along the ground and, without turning, threw his knife.
—*Thunk.*
The knife buried itself deep in the throat of the man who'd tried to attack from behind.
The man coughed up blood and fell flat on his back.
Rui rose slowly to his feet.
"...Don't do unnecessary things."
"It wasn't unnecessary. If you'd died, the mission would've failed."
Nagi spoke as if she were angry.
"I told you to protect the driver and the cargo."
"The driver's fine. The cargo's fine. That's why I came over here. Got a problem with that?"
"...No."
Rui pulled the knife from the fallen man's throat.
Blood scattered into the morning air.
"Is it over?"
"...Yeah. All the signatures are gone."
Nagi read the wind.
"...You know, back there, you froze for a second. Why?"
"Nothing."
"Not 'nothing.' If you freeze in a situation like that, you normally die. What were you thinking about?"
Rui didn't answer.
(I'm specialized in eliminating, not protecting.)
(That's how I fight.)
(At the orphanage, I couldn't protect the children. Even then, all I could do was take down enemies.)
The image of the Sunlit House flickered through Rui's mind.
The wooden corridor. The children's laughter. The promise of the first snow.
And the face of Sakakibara, who had betrayed them.
"...Hey."
Nagi's voice snapped him back.
"What."
"...Never mind. It's just—I told you not to die, didn't I? Were you even listening?"
"I was listening."
"Then stay alive properly. For my mission evaluation, at least."
"You really don't think about anything but your evaluation, do you."
"Of course. That's what it means to survive in this organization."
Nagi said it and retied her red ribbon.
The mission was completed without further incident.
The cargo was delivered to the designated location in the Second Warehouse Complex and handed over to the partner organization. Rui and Nagi were on their way back to headquarters.
Evening in the Bay Side harbor district.
The sea wind swept through the warehouse streets. Orange light reflected off the iron walls of the containers, casting a dull glow over everything.
"You're absurdly good at fighting, but hopeless at everything else."
Nagi said it out of nowhere.
"Hah?"
"You handle tools carelessly, and you're terrible at keeping distance with people. Just now, you jumped off the truck without saying a word to the driver. Normally, you'd at least say something."
"Shut up. Leave me alone."
Rui turned his face away.
But Nagi's observation had struck precisely at something inside him.
(Terrible at keeping distance with people.)
(She's right.
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