A Specialized Weapon

After returning to their room, one of the twins climbed into bed while the other began browsing the bookshelves.

“You’re kind of like an owl.”

Considering what they had told him about sharing consciousness, along with their current behavior, Tōru thought it was an apt comparison. The twin holding several books gave a small laugh.

“Unihemispheric sleep, you mean? There are certainly some similarities, but we each have our own sense of self. Even an owl doesn’t have separate consciousnesses in the left and right hemispheres of its brain.”

“Your own sense of self, huh? By the way, which one are you?”

“I’m Mary. I’m the younger sister, in terms of birth order.”

Even if they lied to me, I’d have no way of knowing, Tōru thought as he looked between Mary and Euphie.

Mary sat down in a chair, opened a book, and began reading. Thanks to the light from the magical lighting device, she appeared to have no trouble making out the words.

“Please, take a seat too, Tōru-san.”

“Thanks.”

Tōru sat in the offered chair and looked out the window.

Streetlamps fitted with magical lighting devices illuminated the streets outside. Since this district was lined with merchant companies, considerable attention was probably paid to security.

There were no suspicious figures in sight, but he noticed scuff marks along the window frame. Someone had probably propped a ladder against it while checking whether the twins were in their room.

“If you share consciousness, does that mean you share dreams too?”

“Yes, we do. We’re used to it, though, so it doesn’t interfere with our thoughts.”

“What’s it actually like?”

“We’ve shared our thoughts since birth, so this is perfectly normal for us. When you ask what it feels like, well…”

Mary smiled gently as she looked toward her older sister, Euphie, seemingly at a loss for words. Tōru had already realized during his day of guarding them that the sisters were exceptionally close. Because they shared their thoughts, he hadn’t seen them exchange words with each other, but they were probably communicating mentally.

“So it’s like a real-life ‘Famichiki, please,’ huh?”

“What’s that?”

“Internet slang.”

Being around these twins, who understood Japanese and possessed knowledge of Earth, kept reminding Tōru of all sorts of things.

He didn’t feel particularly homesick, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“A daydream.”

“What is?”

“You were the one who asked, Tōru-san. You wanted to know what sharing thoughts feels like.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. So it’s like a daydream, huh?”

“Another comparison would be the sensation of hearing words spoken inside your head when you’re reading a book. When visual information becomes incorporated into your thoughts, it’s rather like a daydream… It’s difficult to explain.”

It must have been an extremely intuitive experience, as Mary struggled to find the right words to describe it.

Tōru understood it as something like watching television inside his head.

They must be pretty good at multitasking, he thought.

“Oh, and we also have a wider field of stereoscopic vision than ordinary people.”

“Because you’ve effectively got two viewpoints? I bet your spatial awareness is excellent.”

“Yes. When we learned self-defense, we were told that the two of us together were equivalent to a Rank C adventurer.”

“By the Darandy guild branch manager?”

“Yes.”

Mary smiled and nodded, apparently taking a little pride in that achievement.

Rank C adventurers were considered fully fledged professionals. Reaching that rank required a proven record of defeating Magical Mechanical Beasts, which were generally more dangerous than ordinary Monsters, and adventurers of that level possessed the ability to undertake nearly any kind of request.

For an ordinary person learning self-defense, skills equivalent to a Rank D adventurer would have been more than sufficient. Someone with Rank C abilities could easily turn the tables on common thugs.

However, the opponents Mary and her sister were preparing to face were professional combatants: adventurers, specifically a clan led by a Rank B adventurer. Rank C skills wouldn’t be nearly enough to stand against them.

“What weapons do you use?”

“Spears and magic, primarily. We can use bows too, if necessary. Speaking of which, Tōru-san, don’t you use any weapons?”

Mary asked the question while looking at the chainmail gloves Tōru wore on his hands.

Tōru reached into the large leather pouch hanging from his waist and pulled out a weapon.

“This is my trusty partner.”

“…What exactly is that?”

Tōru’s weapon was so unusual that even the knowledgeable Mary couldn’t help giving it a puzzled look.

It consisted of ten iron chakrams, each slightly larger than his palm, with blades along their outer edges. Every ring was attached to a chain roughly the length of an arm.

“I call them Chained Chakrams. They’re custom-made.”

“That’s a remarkably strange weapon you’ve chosen.”

“Well, I generally work alone. I kept experimenting with ways to handle being surrounded by groups of enemies, and eventually ended up with these.”

It was an unusual weapon that earned him ridicule whenever he showed it to someone and made people think he was a weirdo whenever he used it. Nevertheless, it also represented the culmination of the nine years he had spent working as an adventurer since arriving in this other world.

“Still, I’d rather not have to use them.”

“You should probably maintain them while you have the chance.”

“Could you not pretend to bring the conversation back around while actually steering it off in some bizarre spiral?”

Tōru couldn’t help protesting when Mary indirectly told him to use the weapon, as though there were only two possibilities: using it or not using it.

Mary giggled happily.

“I’m simply elevating the conversation properly.”

As she spoke, Mary traced an upward spiral toward the ceiling with her fingertip.

“Except you’re constantly veering off in some weird direction.”

“You mustn’t focus on the process. It’s the result that matters, isn’t it?”

“Both are important, actually.”

“But you’re satisfied with that weapon of yours, aren’t you, Tōru-san? Judging by the result, I imagine your thought process must have taken some rather unconventional turns.”

Mary pointed at Tōru’s Chained Chakrams with a slender finger as she made her observation.

Having been caught out, Tōru grimaced and stuffed the Chained Chakrams back into his pouch.

“Fine. The result is what matters. I’ll admit that.”

“This is purely out of curiosity, but is that weapon common on Earth?”

“No. I’ve never seen anything like it, either in real life or in fiction. The closest thing would probably be a segmented whip sword.”

“A segmented whip sword?”

Apparently, she wasn’t familiar with the concept.

“It’s a weapon made by dividing a longsword into several sections across its length and connecting those sections with steel wires. Supposedly, you can retract the wires to use it as a normal longsword or extend them to turn it into a whip. It’s something from fiction, though.”

After Tōru gave her a rough explanation of the weapon, Mary quickly sketched it on a sheet of paper.

Although the finished drawing captured its basic features, something about it felt off. Compared to the intricately detailed drawing of a bird beside it, the amount of effort put into the two pictures seemed completely different.

“Was Euphie the one who drew this bird?”

“That’s right. Euphie can draw things even if she hasn’t seen them before. If I receive her thoughts while drawing, I can manage to some extent myself, but I don’t have any artistic talent of my own.”

“It’s not as though you’re bad at drawing, though.”

The problem was probably not her technical ability but her lack of artistic expression.

Mary looked at her completed drawing of the segmented whip sword and tilted her head.

“Do your Chained Chakrams have a retraction mechanism, Tōru-san?”

“Nope.”

“Then how do you fight at close range?”

“Whips are weapons for close- to medium-range combat. I don’t particularly want to discuss it, so no more questions.”

Tōru cut off her inquiries before Mary, who still looked unconvinced, could ask anything else.

“Very well, then.”

Mary began turning the pages of her book.

“Let’s put the small talk aside and discuss something serious. Specifically, the method being used for smuggling.”