So That’s Why You’re Called Kikori, Huh

Inside the Adventurers’ Guild, the place was chaotic. Countless papers were posted on the walls, and a long row of counters lined the back.

In the wide space stood all sorts of people—men and women, young and old.

There were humans, elves, dwarves, and even beastfolk among them.

One of them noticed Gantz and Kikori, who was being held by him, and let out a snort of laughter.

“Hahaha, look at that! Gantz caught another kid!”

“You’re way too good at looking after people, hey!”

“As expected of Gantz the babysitter!”

Those voices of laughter were… unexpectedly silenced when others jabbed and kicked them, telling them to “Shut it, idiots,” but Kikori could not help looking up at Gantz.

“So… you take care of other people like me too?”

“Yeah. There was a time when all I ever saw were dead kids. Made alcohol taste awful. So I figured I’d do something about it.”

Even so, there was no doubt that Gantz was a good person. He did not look away—he actually acted.

Roughly ruffling Kikori’s hair and forcing him to look down, Gantz said, “Let’s go,” and led him to the counter.

Then a staff member who appeared to be a receptionist greeted them with a smile.

“Good morning. Gantz-san, is today about this child?”

“Ah—nah, not the usual thing. This one wants to be an adventurer.”

Gantz said so with a bitter expression, and the receptionist compared the faces of Gantz and Kikori before staring intently at Kikori again.

“If you wish to become an adventurer and submit your wooden tag, I am obligated to accept it and register you.”

“Yes.”

“Gantz-san may look like that, but he is one of the trustworthy, exemplary adventurers recognized by the guild. If Gantz-san were to ask us to introduce you to some kind of work, we would be prepared to fit you into an available job. All of them are far cleaner and safer than adventuring, and the income is stable as well. Even so, do you still wish to become an adventurer?”

“Yes.”

Kikori answered immediately. He had no confidence in being able to do any job other than adventuring.

He could clearly imagine a future where he would once again be called demon-possessed.

It was close to a trauma-induced assumption, but that expectation prevented Kikori from choosing any other kind of work.

“Well, you see how it is. He’s the type carrying something heavy inside. Not exactly rare.”

“…Indeed. Then, your name. Your weapon is the axe on your back, correct? Please let me see it.”

“Yes. My name is Kikori.”

Removing the axe along with its case from his back and placing it on the counter, Kikori watched as the receptionist let out a low hum.

“It’s a well-used axe, but there are no traces of blood. Were you chopping firewood with it, perhaps… I see. So that’s why you’re called Kikori, huh.”