bookworm

When I saw his face, it brought back so many old memories that I knew I had to be dreaming. He was a boy my age—my age back in Japan, at least—named Yahata. I hadn’t seen him since we’d graduated high school. Even in the dream, I thought it was impressive that I remembered him so well.
It felt like I was watching a boring movie as the dream replayed memories of the distant past.
Yahata was in my year group through elementary, middle, and high school, which made him something of a childhood friend. He lived near my family’s home, and his dad worked for a company managed by my old man.
The run-down workshop next to our house was still in operation when I was a child so, although I didn’t know his dad well, he was a familiar face because he worked next door. Yahata had about the same intelligence as me, and public schools dominated in the area where we lived, so we both entered the same public high school—one with the best test scores in the region, but without any national renown.
Although our homes were close, we weren’t good enough friends to travel to school together. Still, we got along well enough to talk when we saw each other. By the time we were in the last year of high school, he was studying hard in hope of getting into medical school.
One lunch break, Yahata came to me with a pale face. “I think my dad’s gonna be fired...” he said.
The news was a bolt out of the blue.
I’d never been involved in the management of my family’s business during high school, and ever since the run-down workshop had been demolished and the head office relocated to a business district, the whole thing felt like it had nothing to do with me.
I knew Yahata had multiple siblings because I’d visited his home a few times in the past. If he wanted to go to medical school, the fees were going to be high.
“I don’t know the details, but I can ask my dad about it,” I offered, then called my dad right there.
I would’ve preferred to discuss it with him face-to-face, but I didn’t see him often back then. I didn’t really see either of them, actually—my mom had left after their divorce, which left me virtually living alone. Dad would stay with one girlfriend after another and rarely ever came back home. He must have had trust issues, though, because he kept the company seal and all rights-related paperwork at home—never at his lovers’ places. He would show up the next time he needed something from the safe, but I had no idea when that would be.
“Yahata? How’d you know what happened to him?” Dad must have expected me to ask for more money to pay the bills or something, because he sounded surprised when I brought up a completely different subject.
“His oldest son’s in my year. Has been since grade school.”
“Ah, he went crying to his son, did he?” I could sense that my dad was sneering on the other end of the phone.
“No one’s crying. But what happened?”
“He stole from the company, and the police got involved. That’s an open-and-shut punitive dismissal.”
“He stole something?” That was completely unexpected. Larceny and corporate embezzlement were words that came to my mind. “What’d he steal?”
“Nails and fittings,” dad replied, sounding like he was boasting of his wise approach to management.
“Nails and fittings? How many did he steal?”
At this point, dad’s company had grown large enough that cheap things like nails and fittings were plausibly handled in huge quantities. A veteran employee with a thorough knowledge of the company’s operations could have made a fortune just siphoning off those small items.
“Considering he used them to make a doghouse...I’d say ten thousand yen’s worth.”
I later realized that the amount he’d told me was probably an exaggeration—no one needed ten thousand yen’s worth of nails and fittings to make a doghouse. Five hundred yen might’ve been more realistic. At most, it probably would’ve cost two thousand yen.
“He used a few nails and fittings on a personal project, and you accused him of theft? Everyone does things like that.”
It was the equivalent of someone taking a pen from the office. Maybe someone with impeccable morals wouldn’t have done it, but this was no evil deed. A warning should’ve sufficed.
“Theft is theft. The police agreed.”
“You could’ve just cut his pay over a little thing like that. Why fire him?”
“Don’t tell me how to run my company. I’m done paying through the nose for cocky employees who’re stuck in the past.”
With that, he abruptly hung up.
I felt responsible, so I looked into what had happened. Later on, I would learn that my dad had looked for any excuse to rid himself of his long-serving employees. As the company grew, there was no shortage of graduates applying, and dad had come to see the hires he’d made back when he’d run a small downtown workshop as deadweight. It also must’ve coincided with the company’s operations becoming increasingly automated.
Yahata’s dad was one of those who’d been cut loose. After he casually confessed to my dad about the fittings he’d used at home, a recording of the confession was passed on to the police. They, in turn, had made a point of taking him away in front of the other employees. This elaborate approach resulted in a punitive dismissal rather than a voluntary resignation, which made him ineligible for retirement benefits under employment law.
Even in retrospect, I couldn’t see any justice in my dad’s approach to management.
In the end, there was nothing I was able to do to make things right. I heard that Yahata had worked hard to get into medical school on a scholarship, but—since his family was in the process of being torn apart—he’d failed his entrance exam. I don’t know whether he tried again or found a job, but I doubted he ever became a doctor.
✧✧✧
“...”
I woke up drenched in sweat, as if I’d had a nightmare. My throat was awfully dry from the effects of dehydration, and my head hurt like I had a hangover.
The dwindling firewood glowed red in the small hearth of my bedroom.
The room was warm, but I wanted the sensation of cold air to wake me up. A bitter wind blew into the room when I opened the window, and it felt as though my skin tightened in response. It was pitch black outside. After I’d stared out the window for a while, my sweat-drenched nightclothes turned ice cold, so I shut the window again.
I warmed myself a little in front of the hearth before going over to my desk. After my nightmare about things long past, I could clearly recall knowledge from over seven years ago. With the aid of an oil lamp, I carefully wrote down all the scholarly knowledge I could remember. The chill receded as I wrote. After I’d finished, I decided to go back to bed.
That was when I heard a knock at the front door.
Who would visit at this hour?
I left my room and went downstairs. As I approached the door, I heard the unmistakable sound of knocking once more.
“Who’s there?” I asked.
“Shun, a servant of the Ho family,” the person on the other side responded, their voice faint and trembling.
Now I see.
“You must want my father.” If he had business here, it could only be with Rook.
“That’s correct.”
“I’m not allowed to open the front door. I’ll wake him right away.”
“Thank you kindly.”
I entered my parents’ bedroom where Rook and Suzuya lay side by side, sleeping close to one another. I placed a hand on Rook and shook him without hesitating.
“Dad, please wake up.”
“Muh...”
No amount of jostling would wake him.
“Please wake up,” I cried while shaking him more forcefully, but to no avail.
Maybe I’ll have better luck hitting him.
“Mh... Yuri? What’s wrong?”
Suzuya had woken up instead. Thanks to the faint light from the room’s hearth, I could see she was sitting up in bed beside him.
“There’s someone at the door. He says he’s a Ho family servant.”
That made Suzuya bolt up immediately.
“Darling, please wake up.” She didn’t say it loudly—in fact, it was definitely quieter than the voice I’d used.
And yet, Rook opened his eyes and mumbled, “Ngh... Morning already?”
What a pair they are.
“Dad, there’s a servant named Shun from the head household at the door. I couldn’t let him into the house myself, so I had to leave him outside. Please go get him quick.”
The look on Rook’s face changed, and he leaped out of bed.
✧✧✧
When Rook opened the door, there was a small, pale-faced man standing outside.
“What brings you here at this hour?” Rook asked.
“I must immediately inform you of—”
“Get inside.”
There was a fine coating of snow on the ground. Although the region was cold, the snow didn’t pile up as much as you’d expect. However, the dry, freezing air made our winters harsh, and winter had begun.
“Pardon me for intruding...” Shun said.
The living room hearth had gone out. Rook picked up the oil lamp that was illuminating the room and poured its oil onto the smoldering embers. He then used the lamp’s flaming wick to ignite the hearth. The flames grew quickly, and with the addition of a little more firewood, it became a real fire.
Suzuya dug out some embers from the ashes in the kitchen kiln and got another fire started in order to prepare some hot water.
“First, show me your hands and feet,” Rook demanded.
“I’m quite all right.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. You wouldn’t feel the damage.”
“Very well,” Shun conceded. He took off his gloves and then his socks, revealing deathly white fingers and toes.
Rook gripped Shun’s hands and gently massaged them. Then, though they must have smelled somewhat, he held Shun’s feet without a hint of reluctance and massaged his toes too.
“Your toes...should be fine,” Rook said. “I’m worried about your hands, but if you hold a hot cup, it should put them right.”
“I appreciate such kindness.”
When someone traveled by plainrunner, their legs would be half buried in the feathers, keeping them surprisingly warm. Their hands, however, would be chilled as they gripped the reins. In any case, Shun didn’t appear to have reached the point of frostbite. That was cause for relief.
“Now you can tell me what happened,” Rook said while wiping Shun’s hands clean.
“The expedition force has returned.” Shun delivered the news with a somber face, causing Rook’s own expression to stiffen.
“And is my brother well?” Rook’s tone had changed completely, and now sounded like he was interrogating the messenger.
Shun shook his head. “Lord Gok was killed in battle.”
My mind went blank for a moment.
“No...” Rook murmured. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid I’m completely serious. His body hasn’t been recovered, so we only have reports to go by, but there’s no doubt that Lord Gok has passed away.”
No body?
“What...? What do you mean the body wasn’t recovered?” Rook was clearly thinking the same thing as me.
Gok was the commanding officer. Regardless of whether he’d been killed suddenly by a stray arrow on the battlefield, or gradually succumbed to a wound that never fully healed, they would have had his body. If, however, their highest-ranking officer had been captured by the enemy, it suggested a crushing defeat.
“Lord Gok led a kingeagle strike mounted upon the eagle you gave him, and—through his valiant efforts—secured our victory.”
Rook held his breath in stunned silence for a moment. “I see... He was successful?”
“Yes.” Shun looked close to tears.
What’s a kingeagle strike? I could tell from Rook’s reaction that it was an unusual circumstance, but I didn’t know what they were talking about.
“Was the situation really that hopeless?” Rook asked.
“Yes,” Shun answered. “The expedition force lost half of its members in battle and found themselves besieged in the fortress. It was then that Lord Gok and the other sky knights of his expedition force resorted to a kingeagle strike. That drove the enemy away...”
“O-Oh... I see.” The pain Rook felt upon learning of his brother’s death was visible on his face even as he tried to hold it back.
“Lord Rook, I was dispatched here to ask that you attend a family council tomorrow.”
“All right. I’ll be there.”
It was then that Suzuya entered with a basin of hot water. “I’ve heated some water for you,” she said while placing it at Shun’s feet.
“Go on. Bathe your feet,” Rook urged.
“I’m most grateful for— Ugh!” Shun sounded like he was in pain as he plunged his frozen feet in the water.
“This is for you too, if you’d like it.” Suzuya presented him with a large cup filled with tea, along with a plate of hard bread, jam, and butter. She must have toasted the bread over the same flames that heated the water.
“Thank you so much. I haven’t eaten at all today.” His hunger was obvious from the way he dug into the bread immediately.
“The whole day?” Rook asked.
“Yes. Today has been busy.”
Dawn was close to breaking, which would have made it unclear what he meant if not for the fact that mechanical clocks were so rare in this country that few people worried about what time it was once the sun went down. By the same token, when he said that the family council would happen tomorrow, he meant today after sunrise.
“That was reckless,” Rook scolded him. “It’s a miracle you got here alive.”
He was right. Riding a horse or plainrunner all night was nothing like driving a car along a highway in the dark. Obviously, the animals lacked the powerful headlights of cars, which meant that you had to ride across unpaved dirt roads by the faint light of a burning torch.
Shun’s thoughts must have been befuddled by the harsh cold of the winter night. If he’d fallen from his plainrunner, he’d likely have frozen to death where he’d landed. It was a dangerous journey at the best of times, but to attempt it while starving was madness.
“Indeed, you are correct. I had planned to eat before setting out from the manor, but...it slipped my mind.”
“You can use the guest room. Once you’ve eaten, drink some liquor and go to sleep.”
“But I couldn’t—”
“If you won’t sleep, you’ll have to stay here tomorrow. I won’t let you die by falling off a bird.”
“Very well. I’ll accept your kind offer and get some rest.”
Rook brought out one of his favorite pieces of glassware and filled it with alcohol. Once it had been filled to the brim, he presented it to Shun.
“Make sure you drink it all. You won’t sleep while your body’s still chilled to the bone.”
“You’ve shown me such kindness.”
Even if Shun hadn’t been cold, it was hard to sleep under such circumstances. The drink would help him forget.
✧✧✧
When morning came, Rook, Shun, and I set out for the head household together.
Suzuya didn’t need to come because it wasn’t a funeral. As for why I needed to go along, I supposed that as the heir to a branch family, I was there as Rook’s attendant.
We set out in the morning and entered the main household’s estate before noon. In a complete change from the day of the expedition ceremony, the manor was as somber as a wake. Like everyone else, I’d come dressed all in black despite the fact that it wasn’t a funeral. As long as there was still a chance of his remains being recovered, it would be left for another day.
After we arrived, we were led to a grand parlor where we were given a little food.
Shun came to Rook and me while we hungrily ate. “Lord Rook, this is a list of those attending the council.”
“Thanks.” Rook cast his eye over the list of names on the parchment he was given. Something made him frown, and he rechecked the list several times. “I don’t see Sir Rakunu’s name. Why not?”
“Her Ladyship has forbidden Sir Rakunu from attending due to his refusal to assist in the kingeagle strike.”
“What?” Rook furrowed his brow even harder. “He can’t have been stripped of his knighthood for refusing to join a kingeagle strike. If he’s still alive, then...”
“In Her Ladyship’s opinion, a coward who abandons his lord is no knight.”
This ladyship person was probably Gok’s wife—Sham’s mother. She must have had some sort of authority here.
“But if not Sir Rakunu, then who...?”
It sounded like Rook had been expecting this Rakunu person to be the next head of the family. At the very least, he must’ve thought he was a strong contender.
Even I’d heard of a relative named Rakunu. He was the head of a powerful branch family by the name of Ek. If this were Edo-period Japan, the Ek family would’ve been equivalent to a line of chief retainers who served successive daimyo over multiple generations. In other words, Ek was a powerful name listed among the Ho family’s most senior vassals. I’d been taught that they’d adopted a bride from the Ho family during my grandfather’s generation, making them our distant relatives. Even I understood how odd it was for the head of such an important household to be excluded from our family council.
“The situation is what it is. Her Ladyship has said that if there is no one better suited than Sir Rakunu, then she will resort to adopting an heir.”
“She’d do that?” Rook sounded a little shocked. The idea of someone being adopted into the family mustn’t have occurred to him until now.
The suggestion worried me personally because Gok had already asked me to become their adopted son by marrying Sham. But a successor needed to be chosen immediately, and it seemed unlikely that a seven-year-old—one who wasn’t even Gok’s trueborn son, no less—would be abruptly adopted into the household and appointed head of family. The idea was absurd.
But it stood to reason that the household’s little girl might be forced to marry a young man—or perhaps even an old man—who was many times her age. I didn’t like the idea one bit.
“I see how it is,” Rook said. “Thank you.”
“Indeed. Now you must excuse me,” Shun replied before leaving the room.
With Shun gone, Rook remained slumped in his chair.
“Well, I don’t have any say in the matter. I’m just here to listen.” He sounded apprehensive, and it was unclear whether he was talking to me, or to himself.
“Are you sure about that? As Lord Gok’s brother, aren’t you a prime candidate?” I asked.
“No. Every head of the Ho family must hold a knighthood. That’s the rule.”
Oh... That makes a lot of sense.
Rook counted as one of the Ho family’s vassals, but he didn’t have a knighthood.
Knighthood was roughly equivalent to a qualification earned when graduating from a military academy—anyone who hadn’t done so would never be considered fit to command an army. It was possible to earn the qualification by graduating from the Knight Academy in the royal capital, but Rook hadn’t done so because he’d come to hate the idea and dropped out. This meant that Rook wasn’t eligible to be head of family.
But there was something else I was more eager to learn about—something that I hadn’t found a chance to ask until now. “What’s a kingeagle strike?”
“Oh... I didn’t explain it to you, did I?”
“No. Please tell me.”
“Well...I suppose it’s time you knew.”
He’s talking like it’s a heavy topic. What is it?
“A kingeagle strike is an attack made while riding a kingeagle.”
Like a dogfight?
“Do you mean when someone fights an enemy’s kingeagle in midair?”
“No.”
Okay, so not that. I suppose it’s hard to imagine them fighting without guns.
There were some scenes of aerial combat in stories, but anyone trying it in real life would soon learn that it wasn’t so easy to wield a spear effectively on the back of an eagle. If a rider charged someone with a spear, they’d end up slamming into the opponent with the whole eagle.
“Obviously, it’s enemies on the ground that they attack.”
“Enemies on the ground?”
Sky knights weren’t cavalry. Fighting while on the back of an eagle was impossible. Likewise, an eagle couldn’t just lift a person up, like a fish caught from a river, and then drop them from a height. Not that they couldn’t be trained to do it—the problem was that the troops on the ground could easily defend themselves by thrusting upward with a sword or spear, resulting in major injuries to the eagle, or even a crash landing. Such an approach would be far from cost effective.
“Do you mean they throw spears at the ground from above?” I asked.
“No. They charge into the center of the enemy camp and kill their general.”
I was speechless.
They do what? That’s a suicide attack.
“I’ve never mentioned it until now because I hate kingeagle strikes.”
“Does a plan like that ever work?”
No sooner than I’d asked, I remembered that Gok had succeeded. There was no way to know whether Gok had actually killed their general, but Shun had said that the enemy forces had retreated. They wouldn’t just pull back for no reason. Whatever had happened, it had been a success. Unfortunately, he’d died in the process. Now I understood why there was no body.
“It doesn’t have a high rate of success. Most attempts fail.”
“I thought so.”
“They fly out in large numbers at dawn and mount a surprise attack on the leader’s tent. Of course, there’s always a chance the general isn’t there; it’s also not unusual for there to be a body double dressed like a general. That makes things even harder. And then when the eagle aims for the tent, an ordinary landing isn’t possible—it has to crash down with enough force to crush the enemies on the ground. Ideally, it’ll crush the enemy general right there and then, but the sky knights will usually have to dismount and fight their way to him.”
I see. We’re talking about crash-landing into the middle of a camp filled with enemy soldiers in an attempt to wipe out their commanding officers. Pure madness.
“It sounds easy enough, but it’s rare that anyone pulls it off,” Rook continued.
“I can imagine.”
Of course it’s difficult. And it’s a waste of life, at that.
Kingeagles couldn’t be factory farmed like broilers. A long period of careful rearing and training was essential for each and every kingeagle. The same was true of the rider. And it wasn’t like they just needed to ride the birds either—they also needed to fight, which meant that every rider needed both flight training and combat training up to the level of a first-class knight. Throwing kingeagles at the enemy en masse like leftover vegetables could easily result in them all dying before any harm came to the enemy general. In fact, they could even be attacking the wrong place, which would be a pointless waste of human and eagle lives. All in all, it was a nasty business.
On the other hand, it couldn’t be denied that it created a chance to turn the tide of battle. Even if the odds were one in a hundred, it could be worth attempting when the only alternative was being caught between a rock and a hard place that would eventually result in everyone’s death.
“But my brother did it. That’s how incredible he was,” Rook spoke, sadness in his eyes.
“You’re right.”
The achievement made Gok a first-rate warrior.
“Do all sky knights have to join in kingeagle strikes?” I asked.
Sky knights were the knights who rode on kingeagles. Needless to say, merely riding on a kingeagle didn’t make someone like Rook a sky knight.
“No, but...the ones who carry out kingeagle strikes are held in the highest regard.”
“What does that mean for someone like Rakunu?”
“Sky knights attempt kingeagle strikes of their own free will; no leader can force them into it, no matter how high-ranking. So when they attack as a group, it’s up to individuals to decide whether they want to join or not.”
“I see...”
It didn’t sound like a standard military operation. If they had no right to refuse, they’d be forced to go along with whatever orders a stupid commander might give, no matter how ridiculous the timing. If they were going to give up their lives, then it was human nature to demand that their sacrifice be meaningful and carried out under the orders of a competent and respected leader.
But this country was run by an aristocracy, and that wasn’t a good system for ensuring that capable commanders rose to the top. The right to refuse had most likely become ingrained in our culture out of necessity. In Gok’s case, the situation must have been dire enough to call for such drastic measures. When Rakunu had refused, it might have been acceptable in theory, but it wouldn’t be ignored in practice.
Before long we heard a knock at the door, and a female attendant entered. “The council attendees are gathering now. If you’ll allow me, I’ll guide you there.”
“Good luck.” I waved off Rook with a smile... Or at least, I tried to.
“What are you saying? Get up.”
“Huh? I need to attend?”
That can’t be right. What’s the point in a little kid like me attending the council?
“Of course you do. Why do you think I brought you?”
“Um... Because it would look bad if you had no one attending to you?”
“No—because they summoned both of us. Your name’s written right here.”
Rook lifted up the list of names that he’d been given a moment ago and waved it in front of me.
✧✧✧
“I don’t understand why I’m going.”
It was odd. I was just a boy.
“Because Sham was his only direct descendant,” Rook said. “It’s just how it is.”
“Will they call for Sham too?”
“She hasn’t been called for yet, but she will be if she’s needed. In your case... Well, it would be rude if you were summoned here and left outside, wouldn’t it?”
“Okay...”
I wouldn’t think it was rude at all. They should forget about me.
“This is the room. The council will take place here,” the female attendant announced as she opened a pair of double doors made from two huge wooden slabs.
The interior was as elegant and spacious as the doors had suggested. A large table—created by combining three smaller rectangular tables and decorated with an elaborately embroidered cloth—lay in the dead center of the room, but there was still plenty of empty space around it. It was a fine room for holding a council.
Chairs were arranged around the table. Most of them were already occupied by attendees, both young and old. Though when I looked around, I noted that old men made up the majority. Given the longevity of the Shanti, some of them could have been over a hundred years old.
Ho family customs dictated that the head of the family couldn’t retain their role into advanced old age—they would generally relinquish their position to the younger generation as soon as they began to weaken. As the leader of the Ho family, they needed to be ready for war whenever it might occur. And since they needed to maintain command of the family’s forces, train soldiers, and lead them into battle, no one wanted a situation where an elderly figure had to hand over command to their son in the event of war. It was therefore desirable for the head to step down as soon as their age might have made it difficult to head out into battle.
That all seemed reasonable, but it was odd just how many old men were here attending the council. I guessed that some of these elders had previously stepped down from their positions to allow an heir to take their place, but they’d returned to service after the head of the family had died in battle. The fact that so many of them had been made to gather here suggested that the Ho family was short of hands now that the family’s forces had suffered such heavy losses.
We’re in real bad shape.
The attendant showed us into the room and led us toward our seats, taking us deeper and deeper into the room. We were taken to the top of the table beside a sullen, ill-looking woman. On the wall behind her was a great tapestry with the Ho family crest sewn onto it. The attendant gave us a brief bow and then left us there, as if to say this was where we should sit.
Hang on. Isn’t this the head of the table?
There was no mistaking it—this was indeed the top of the table, where the most important figures sat. I’d been expecting us to sit at the very bottom. The whole thing gave me a bad feeling.
Rook took a step forward and greeted the woman in an unusual way. “My apologies for not writing more often, Lady Satsuki. It is a great honor to—”
“Enough of that,” she dismissed Rook with an awkward smile. Her tone was devoid of energy. “You needn’t call me lady.”
I guessed that this was Gok’s wife, Satsuki Ho. It was hard to compare her to others, given that the stress she currently faced had left her face so withered and pale, but she looked close to Suzuya’s age. Actually, I’d say she had to be at least ten years older than Suzuya. The effects of aging set in slowly for the Shanti, making it difficult to discern a difference of ten years sometimes.
Satsuki had the air of a refined lady from a noble family. My mom was a lively and animated person in my mind because I often saw her busy with housework, but my aunt here appeared much more subdued.
“Please don’t make me blush. Call me Satsuki as you did in the past,” she continued.
“Very well, Satsuki.”
“This must be your son.” Satsuki looked at me with kindness in her eyes.
“That’s right. Go on and introduce yourself,” Rook told me.
“Nice to meet you, Aunt Satsuki. I’m Yuri.” I bowed my head to her.
I hope “Aunt Satsuki” is polite enough.
“Hello,” she replied. “My, how you’ve grown. Last time I saw you, you were just a baby.”
Apparently, this wasn’t our first meeting, but we hadn’t seen each other at all since I was a baby. I hadn’t had a chance to meet her during the recent expedition ceremony.
“He’s my amazing son,” Rook added.
Now you’re embarrassing me.
“Isn’t he?” Satsuki replied. “Even Sham is in love with him.”
Her words left Rook looking stunned. He’d probably never spoken to Sham, although I couldn’t imagine what the two of them would even talk about.
“I heard that you and her had a lot in common,” Satsuki continued.
“Yes...but she’s a lot smarter than me,” I replied.
“Oh, you don’t mean that.”
I honestly do.
When I was Sham’s age, my only concern was finding a way to get hold of new batteries for my Game Boy—they’d always run out so fast. And that was despite getting an education at a good elementary school. Meanwhile, Sham had educated herself to the point where she was thinking about prime numbers. The gap between us was immeasurable. It made me want to support her efforts to educate herself.
“You can’t just stand there the whole time. Why not sit? Rook, your place is there,” Satsuki instructed, pointing to a chair near to her.
That must mean I’ll be sandwiched between Satsuki and Rook. Why can’t I just be left alone?
“I was feeling blue. Having a youngster beside me is cheering me up. Thank you for that,” she said.
“We’re honored to be of service,” Rook told her.
Don’t I get a say? I complained internally as I looked at my seat. But what’s with this? Seriously, what’s the deal here?
“What’s wrong, Yuri? Sit down.” Rook had already taken his seat, and he encouraged me to do the same when he saw me simply standing there.
If I could sit on this thing, I would.
“I could attempt to jump up onto it, but I’m worried that might make it topple over and cause a scene.”
An extra thick cushion had been placed on the chair to turn it into a makeshift high chair just for me, but that only made it harder to climb up. If the chair had legs that were joined together by some horizontal support beams, they would’ve made a good ladder, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case.
“Well if you can’t get up, why didn’t you say so?” Rook grabbed me with both hands, lifted me up, and sat me down like a doll.
It was really embarrassing to be treated like that in front of a bunch of strangers.