Chapter Eleven: I’m Heading Out

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The Fortress Guerrillas’ dormitory was somewhat better than Aolang had imagined. He had originally expected the sort of place with nothing but communal sleeping platforms.

Hearing his assessment, Resha laughed. “You were actually pretty close. According to the veterans, it really was one big sleeping area in the past. Later, the guild master expanded the Fortress Guerrillas and allocated them land and funding, which is how these rooms came to be. Since people come and go fairly often in the guerrillas, the quilts and pillows may not be particularly new, so try not to mind.”

“It’s fine. I’m already more than satisfied.”

“I can’t stay long in the men’s dormitory, so I’ll be off. If you have any questions, ask Sea Buckthorn—he lives here too. Get an early night, little brother Aolang. Things will start getting busy tomorrow. Oh, right, as for your assignment, Boss Jorda should have someone come notify you. If he forgets, you can patrol with me tomorrow.”

“All right. Thank you, Senior Resha.”

“I like being called ‘Senior.’ Hee-hee. Keep calling me that from now on. See you, little brother Aolang.”

With a wave, Resha left.

Aolang immediately felt as though his ears, which had been bombarded with noise all day, had finally fallen silent.

Sea Buckthorn scratched at his ear. “The other fellows sharing this room haven’t come back yet, meow. I’ll introduce you when they do, meow. Want me to show you around the neighborhood, meow?”

“No need to trouble yourself.” Aolang gave Sea Buckthorn another curious look. “You don’t stay with Senior Resha? I thought you two were partners.”

The distinction between men and women did not apply to Felynes, after all. It was not as though Sea Buckthorn had been assigned to the men’s dormitory simply because he was male.

“Meow.” Sea Buckthorn shook his head. “I’m not Resha’s partner, meow. The Fortress Guerrillas took me in, and I stayed here to work, meow.”

“Took you in?”

“I used to be a stray Felyne out in the wild.” Sea Buckthorn seemed unwilling to elaborate.

But even without an explanation, Aolang could make a rough guess.

A wild Felyne wandering alone, not yet fully grown—apart from a tribe being destroyed in a monster attack, he could think of no other possibility.

Much like himself, perhaps...

Aolang was about to ask something else when a knock sounded against the half-closed door.

The boy and the cat turned toward it and saw Jorda standing in the doorway.

“Sea Buckthorn, go boil some water.”

“All right, meow.”

Sea Buckthorn scampered away.

Anyone could see that Jorda had merely found an excuse to send him away.

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“Mr. Jorda?” Aolang looked at the man in confusion.

Jorda rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, your teacher asked me to pass along a few words.”

Aolang’s first thought was, She found out I ran away from home!

But after hearing Jorda’s explanation, he fell silent.

“Here’s the key to your house. That’s what she said, anyway.”

Jorda placed the key in Aolang’s hand.

Aolang remained silent for several seconds. “Mr. Jorda, may I go home for a while first?”

“Of course.”

Jorda stepped aside, clearing the doorway.

Aolang removed his conical hat and placed it on the bed, then hurried out. As he went, his pace grew faster and faster until, in the end, he was running at full speed.

The people in the streets noticed the guerrilla uniform he wore and assumed that some emergency had arisen. One after another, they moved aside to let him pass.

He ran all the way to his own front door.

It was a small, single-story house built of earth and stone, with a flat roof, one door, and two windows. It was no different from the houses around it, and its modest interior could be taken in at a glance.

Standing outside, he somewhat dazedly recalled ten years earlier.

His teacher had still been very young then. She had taken him by the hand and brought him to this little house.

“This is where we’ll live from now on,” she had said. “If you’d like, you can call it home.”

Her tone had been calm, yet somehow there had been a hint of joy in it.

Aolang placed his hand on the doorknob and tried to turn it. As expected, the door was locked.

He did not use the key. Instead, he turned around and started running again, this time toward Teacher Haifa’s home.

The two houses were not very far apart. Before long, he arrived at Haifa’s door and raised his hand, pounding against it several times in succession until the impacts left his palm numb.

“Who is it?”

The person inside sounded irritated by the rough knocking. The moment the door was yanked open, the hinges fastened to the frame gave a strained, protesting creak.

It was not Teacher Haifa who opened the door, but an elderly woman with graying hair who stood like an iron tower.

“Senior Maridan.” Aolang bowed uneasily. He knew that the old woman was Teacher Haifa’s mother, and that she had once been a powerful hunter.

The sort who could twist a Velocidrome King’s neck off with her bare hands.

“Oh, it’s you, little rascal.” Maridan’s expression softened somewhat. “You came to see Haifa? That girl went traveling with Huali. They told me what happened and asked me to look after you. I may be retired, but my name should still carry some weight in Loc Lac. Come to me anytime you have trouble.

“Or you could move in with us, if you wanted. My old man likes you quite a bit too.”

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Aolang forced out a polite smile, but before he could speak, Maridan interrupted him.

“All right, all right. What an ugly smile. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” She glanced at the armor Aolang was wearing. “Well, look at that! A Fortress Guerrilla uniform? You joined the guerrillas?

“That’s a place suited to you, at least for the time being. Seems I won’t have to worry about you too much after all. Who’s running the guerrillas now? Omar? Hassan? No, those were years ago... So who is it now? Come on, tell me.”

Pressed by the irritable old woman, Aolang had no choice but to answer. “It’s Mr. Jorda.”

“Jorda? Who’s Jorda...? Wait, that name sounds vaguely familiar. Wasn’t he some skinny little sprout of a boy?”

Aolang had no idea what expression he was supposed to make.

“Never mind. If he bullies you, come to me. I’ll beat him up for you.”

Maridan gave Aolang a hearty slap on the shoulder.

For one brief moment, Aolang felt as though his shoulder no longer belonged to him.

After saying goodbye to the irritable old woman, Aolang’s heavy mood seemed to ease a little.

He slowly walked back home, took out the key, and opened the door. Everything inside had been tidied up impeccably, though the house was always kept clean.

He stood motionless for a while, then went to the dining table.

Whenever his teacher had to leave the house, she would always leave a note on the table. This time was no exception.

The note was unexpectedly brief.

“I haven’t decided where I’m going or when I’ll return. If you leave town, you can leave a message in the mailbox by the door or at the Gathering Hall. I’ll see it when I come back.

“I left some money in the bedside drawer. Don’t be too frugal.

—Huali”

Aolang silently folded the note away and began packing. There was not much to take: a few changes of clothes, the pocket money he had saved over the years, and the like. Everything fit into a single backpack.

At last, he went to the cabinet beside his bed and pulled open the drawer.

Inside lay a thick stack of money, amounting to roughly one hundred thousand zenny. After hesitating for a moment, he gathered it up and took it with him.

He looked around the house one final time, shouldered his backpack, and stepped outside. Then he carefully locked the door.

“I’m heading out.”