Chapter 300: Mom, will disappear. (Patreon)

Geno finished speaking and walked toward the rack where Tailless rested.

The blade's sharp edge glinted in the sunlight, and the faintly eerie, dangerous aura it had carried seemed to ease considerably.

Misako watched in silence as Geno drew closer to Tailless step by step, her arms tightening around the little Hoshimi Miyabi in her embrace, as if to hide what she was feeling.

But just as Geno's hand was about to touch the hilt, he suddenly stopped.

Then, as confusion spread across Misako's face, Geno turned around to look at her.

"It just occurred to me — I still have another question."

The turn was so abrupt that Misako needed a moment to catch up, but seeing the seriousness in Geno's eyes, she forced herself to steady her nerves and reply.

"What question?"

Misako assumed Geno still had something to ask about Tailless, entirely missing the complicated look in his eyes.

"I'd like to know — if every past head of the family fed the blade with their own body, why did all the others appear before me as mere shadows, while you alone appeared in the form you had while living?"

The moment Geno finished, Misako's fox ears twitched visibly, and her body began to stiffen.

"Uh, maybe they just didn't want the trouble of showing up."

"Is that so? But that doesn't seem quite right. Then please take me to pay my respects to the past sword masters — I've been here quite a while now, and it wouldn't do not to greet these seniors."

As he spoke, Geno turned from Tailless and walked slowly toward the door he'd come in through, looking every bit as if he truly meant to go visit the other sword masters, gesturing for Misako to lead the way and make the introductions. Her expression grew worse by the second.

"That — that is, the family heads are all resting now. Maybe... maybe some other time."

Misako's excuse was so clumsy that Geno saw through it instantly. After all, back when he'd been tormented by the frost and flame ordeal, he'd clearly heard the voices of those crusty old men — there was no way they'd already be asleep after so little time had passed.

Especially not in a place like this, where time itself seemed impossible to track.

"Lady Misako, just what are you hiding?"

By this point, Geno was certain — Misako was hiding something from him.

Geno's eyes stayed fixed on her. His instincts had always served him well, and just now, as his hand had been about to close on Tailless, a voice inside him had kept warning that if he pulled it out so carelessly, he'd regret it for the rest of his life.

He chose to trust that instinct, so he'd turned back to press her about whatever she was concealing.

This time Misako had lost her earlier composure. She'd been able to recount her painful past so calmly before, yet now she stumbled over her words — which only convinced Geno further that she was hiding something important.

"Aunt Misako, I believe what you've told me, and I believe in who you are. A mother great enough to sacrifice herself to protect her child in such a hopeless situation would never harbor the intent to harm anyone."

Geno pressed a hand to his chest, looking at Misako with an air of solemn sincerity. Just as he'd said, he didn't believe she meant him harm.

But if she was keeping something from him, it was very likely that pulling Tailless out would bring some danger upon herself.

"Mommy... will disappear."

"What?"

"Little Miyabi?!"

Just as Misako struggled to find words in the face of Geno's questioning, the little Hoshimi Miyabi in her arms suddenly spoke up, revealing the very thing Misako had been hiding.

"If you pull out that sword, Mommy will disappear."

"Is that true, Lady Misako?!"

The moment he heard the little girl's words, Geno turned to Misako for confirmation. When he saw the look of disbelief on her face, he was fully convinced that what the child had said was true.

"Little Miyabi, how could you..."

Misako stared blankly at the little girl in her arms. This child was nothing more than a stand-in she'd fashioned from memory, a substitute created to comfort herself for never being able to see her real daughter.

That was how it was supposed to be. So why had the child just acted entirely outside of her own will?

"Little Miyabi doesn't want Mommy to disappear."

Hearing this, Misako realized the child might have developed a will entirely her own. She was no longer a simple creation, but a living being who, like an intelligent construct, had awakened a mind of her own.

"Little Miyabi... hic — hic, hic..."

The tension at the corners of Misako's eyes finally broke, and her tears burst forth like a dam giving way.

She held her "daughter" tight in her arms, letting all her longing and emotion pour out freely.

"I'm sorry, Little Miyabi, I'm sorry. Mommy didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry."

Her voice trembled. What she expressed wasn't only an apology to the real Hoshimi Miyabi out in the world, but also guilt toward this "daughter" in her arms.

Geno simply waited quietly, letting the mother finish pouring out her grief.

Reading the room to that extent, at least, he could manage.

After a while, Misako's sobbing finally subsided. She wiped the tears from her eyes and stepped back in front of Geno.

"Sorry you had to see such an embarrassing scene."

"It's all right, Aunt Misako. People need to cry when they're sad and laugh when they're happy. Bottling it all up isn't good for you."

As the saying goes, it's only human nature — who could avoid it?

"So, Aunt Misako, now that you've had your cry, would you care to explain what you meant by 'you'll disappear'?"

"...?"

"What... exactly... do you mean... you'll... disappear? Hm?"

Hearing Geno's flat, emotionless, almost mechanical tone, Misako's heart lurched with panic.

Misako, who hadn't quite recovered her composure, lost every trace of sorrow the instant she heard him — replaced entirely by the panicked sense of having been sold out by her own daughter.

"Um, well, I can actually explain."

"Mm-hm, I'm listening, Aunt Misako."

Without quite realizing it, Geno had shifted from calling her "Lady" to "Aunt." Though Misako looked young, by generation she truly was someone of an aunt's standing to him.

And partly because of how she'd been hiding things from him, he was, admittedly, a little annoyed by now.

"I'm sorry."

Decisive — as a mature adult, Misako was every bit as decisive in owning up to what she'd done.

And then she began to explain the truth of the matter.