Log Horizon - Volume 10 - Chapter 2.3

3 
“It’s done!” 
“That’s mewtiful.” 
“It’s amazing. I’ve never done anything like this.” 
The kitchen on the second floor of the Log Horizon guild house was filled with a sweet aroma. In its center were Nyanta, who was in charge of cooking for the guild, and Serara, a girl from the Crescent Moon League who’d taken to visiting the guild house frequently. 
Although no one had asked her to, she’d been helping Nyanta, claiming that she was learning how to cook. Nyanta had grown used to seeing her trot along behind him with her market basket. 
“Snap peas are sweet and delicious this time of year. Since we rinsed them in cold water, they look like emewralds, don’t they?” 
“They’re glistening!” 
“How are the mew potatoes coming along?” 
“I’ve boiled them all and finished the prep work.” 
Due to the transformations that had followed the Catastrophe, even Serara, who didn’t have a Chef subclass, had become able to perform simple prep work without trouble. In combination with the skills provided by her New Wife’s Apron, this meant that the number of recipes she knew was growing by the day. The fact seemed to please Serara enormously, and Nyanta smiled at her. 
“Oh? Mew’ve gotten quite good at this.” 
“That’s because you taught me, Nyanta.” 
At Nyanta’s words, Serara puffed out her chest. 
The two of them were looking at a large quantity of prepared vegetables. For tonight’s dinner, they were planning to make platters of Chinese food. Chinese dishes needed to be cooked quickly, which meant that meticulous advance prep was required. Log Horizon, the guild whose kitchen Nyanta ran, had lots of big eaters. Naotsugu and Touya went without saying, but Rundelhaus and Minori weren’t light eaters, either, and if they got interested, the other guild members ate heartily as well. Cooking was quite a task, but making a lot of something was exhilarating in its own unique way. 
Thinking that it would take the steaming vegetables a little time to cool down, Nyanta removed his apron and took a pot from the shelf. 
“In that case, shall we have tea?” 
“Yes!” 
They didn’t bother going back to the drawing room. 
The big table in the spacious kitchen was meant to be used for peeling vegetables or kneading pasta dough, but of course it was possible to make tea and take a break there. They often rested for a few minutes while cooking or doing chores, and of course they sometimes snacked here on the pretext of “taste-testing.” 
Nyanta took a spoonful of the orange jam he’d bought at Danceteria and dissolved it into the black tea. The fragrance of tea and the refreshing scent of citrus spread through the kitchen. 
“Is it good?” 
“Yes. It’s warm.” 
Serara answered in a voice that sounded as if it were on the verge of melting. Her expression was charming, as defenseless as a cat on a veranda. 
“Today is a quiet day, don’t mew think?” 
“Yes. We finished the advance preparations early, and there’s still time before dinner.” 
“On days like this, naps sound very tempting.” 
“Fu-fu-fu-fu!” 
Serara’s expression was completely at ease, and at the sight of it, something deep in Nyanta’s heart stirred restlessly. The warmer this kitchen was, the more unbearable the pain he felt. 
His feelings weren’t so strong that they made him fall to pieces, but the loneliness came in waves. 
There had been a young man who had screamed that this world hadn’t invited him. He’d just been kidnapped, he’d declared, so he was going to do whatever he wanted here. He’d brushed aside an operation that would take the lives of scores of People of the Earth with a “So what?” In this world, that sort of pain definitely did exist. 
So while Serara smiled and Nyanta poured orange-flavored tea, on the other side of the steam that rose from it, there were still young people suffering, ones who couldn’t accept this world. 
Nyanta hadn’t been able to do a thing. 
He hadn’t been able to reach the youth with anything: not his cooking or his sword skills or his accumulated experience. Nyanta had lived through all sorts of things, and he knew: The difference between him and Rondarg was a small one. 
Rondarg could have been Nyanta, and Nyanta could have been Rondarg. 
There wasn’t much to differentiate between them at all. On the day of the Catastrophe, at that moment, where had they been? Who had they been with? Who had they spent the intervening time with? Had there been important words that had remained with them? The difference had probably been no more than that. 
Differences like those weren’t based in effort or talent. They were fate, encounters. Put bluntly, they were no more than coincidence. Nyanta understood this clearly. 
He and any of the others who’d fallen into this world could become like Rondarg… And there would be no saving them. 
“Mew look like mew’re enjoying yourself, Seraracchi.” 
“Well, I am.” 
Her voice was animated. The reply had seemed to spring back at him, so Nyanta’s response was delayed a moment. 
“Are mew, then.” 
“…Have you been well lately, Nyanta?” 
Serara must have noticed that pause. She looked up at him, wrapping her hands around her cup. Her eyebrows had drawn together very slightly in a worried expression. Nyanta felt contempt for himself; his unfair pain wasn’t something a girl like Serara should know about. 
“Oh, I’m fine.” 
That time, he managed to deliver the reply smoothly. As if it were only natural. As if it were no different from normal. Nyanta’s role-playing was supported by his life, in which he’d accumulated quite a lot of time, and the ups and downs of the many emotions he’d experienced. 
“Is that right…?” 

“……” 
Serara smiled, seeming relieved. Carefree smiles, wavering emotions, blue unease—Nyanta had left all these things in his previous world. They were proof of immaturity, but at the same time, they were also symbols of possibility. 
To Nyanta, Serara’s well-being was so precious it made him feel like praying. 
“Seraracchi, are mew glad mew came to this world?” 
It was a question he hadn’t intended to ask, but it slipped out. 
He’d asked himself that question over and over, and each time, it had lost more of its meaning. He could give his own answer to it, of course, but he’d given up, thinking that that answer wouldn’t reach the world. 
“Huh? Oh. Yes.” 
He’d thought she might give the question a little more thought, but Serara answered immediately. 
“Do mew really?” 
“Yes, I do. I mean, I can’t see my dad or mom, and there were lots of problems and lots of awful things, but there’ve been all sorts of good things, too, like…” 
“?” 
“L-l-l-l-like dreams of what I want to be, and the future, and things.” 
“Do mew have those?” 
In response, Serara gave a small, energetic nod, as if she was trembling. 
Things she wanted to be. Hopes for the future. Guideposts to live by. Serara murmured that she certainly did have those things. 
Nyanta exhaled a deep, tea-warmed breath. 
A soft warmth, a heat that was different from what he’d felt when he’d confronted Rondarg, glowed inside him. Susukino. Choushi. Saphir. This girl had to have seen many cruel sights in this world, too. Even so, she’d told him there was something she wanted to become. 
“If it’s mew, Seraracchi, I’m sure mew’ll be able to make any dream come true.” 
Let it be so. Nyanta murmured, weaving a prayer into the words. 
“Ha, ha-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa…ah…” 
As he watched, Serara’s behavior grew erratic. Her hands wandered meaninglessly through the air, her expression wavered between laughing and crying, and her lips shifted through shapes without forming actual words. 
“What’s the matter?” 
“—But my dream’s still a long ways away, so… Um, I mean, I’m not giving up or anything! That’s not what I meant! It’s only, when I see Isuzu and Minori, I feel like I’m a little lacking, or that I’m just really hopeless, or…” 
“……” 
Nyanta waited for Serara to go on. 
Sometimes it was possible to organize confused thoughts by verbalizing them, by communicating them to someone else. The result was an answer that was all your own, something you couldn’t get through advice from other people. 
She drew a deep breath. Then she drained her tea, ate a spoonful of orange jam, and took another deep breath. 
Then, timidly, Serara looked up at Nyanta again. 
“—I mean, I’m not sure, but…I think I need to become myself, properly, before I can, um, make that dream come true. I need to be a proper, mature version of myself. Besides, I’d like that.” 
Nyanta knew that Serara had been watching her friends in the younger group and that she’d looked as if she felt rushed. Minori, Touya, Isuzu, and Rundelhaus: All the children she spent time with had grown remarkably. 
In chasing after Shiroe, Minori had begun using her tactical and clerical abilities in ways that surpassed adults. 
Touya had kept calling for the Odysseia Knights, who were both older and stronger than he was, to live in this world. 
And on the battlefield, Isuzu had found her own song and played its melody until her voice was hoarse. 
Although he was a Person of the Earth, Rundelhaus had yearned to protect people and had become an Adventurer. 
Serara’s friends were blossoming rapidly, as if they were running up a staircase two steps at a time. Watching them, she might have felt as though she was childish. Nyanta had seen that sort of anxiety and emotional stress in her. He was an adult, and from his perspective, such worries seemed the mark of youth. Her future spread out before her, wide and endless. This was just a little pause, nothing to be concerned about. 
Even so, Serara had said her goal was to become a proper version of herself. Those words had definitely touched Nyanta’s soul. 
Young people were reborn. Small children who’d been brought into this world unfairly, by force, became young people and resolved to be born again voluntarily. It was a contract with the world in which they lived, and a tie that linked the past and the future. 
Once, Nyanta had said as much to Rondarg. He’d said it as a wish, and as a prayer. It was an ideal for living things, and while he’d hoped it would be the case, he’d also thought it would probably be pretty difficult. 
However, without being told by anybody, Serara had started to walk toward the light. Or rather, she was already on her way. Every day, little by little, this kind, sensitive girl was getting closer to her true self. 
Young people were reborn as themselves. 
Let it be so. 
Serara couldn’t possibly understand how deeply impressed and liberated Nyanta was feeling right now. It would probably be another twenty-odd years before she was able to comprehend it. But just now, she had saved Nyanta. He had been rescued by this girl. 
Thoughts he couldn’t put into words lifted the corners of Nyanta’s lips. He hoped the expression came out looking like a smile. He was sure his gratitude wouldn’t get through to Serara, but he didn’t let that bother him. This little lady was worthy of the greatest respect. 
“Miss Serara.” 
“Yesh?!” 
For that very reason, Nyanta chose his words resolutely. 
In order to congratulate her—and all of them—on their second “first cry.” 
“I’m cheering for mew, Miss Serara. I will always cheer for all of mew. I will always, always be on mewr side.”