Mushoku Tensei (LN) - Volume 19 - Chapter 12.1

Chapter 12:

Zanoba’s Chosen Path

Zanoba

THERE WAS A TIME when I couldn’t discern the difference between humans and dolls. The only difference was that one spoke while the other didn’t. When I grew a little older, I was able to distinguish between them a little more, but they still felt the same to me. If you grabbed a human and swung them around a bit, their arm or their head would pop off, just like a wooden puppet.

I loved dolls. All dolls. Yes, there were some that were better made than others, but I adored even the inferior ones. In fact, the only type of doll I didn’t like were humans. Despite being exactly like dolls, all they did was complain and try to rob me of my freedoms. I hated them.

It wasn’t until I met my master that my view of them began to change. Even then, the shift was gradual. After he left, I headed for the Magic City of Sharia where the two of us reunited. At some point in the years after that, I stopped hating every single human.

I suspect Julie was the catalyst for that. She was a slave we—Master, Lady Sylphie, and I, that is—picked out together, one whom we intended to teach to craft figurines. At first, she could neither speak nor take care of herself at all, making her a burden. 

But Master entrusted me with the task of looking after her. Though it was troublesome, it was no different from crafting a figurine; to craft one, you had to first whittle down a regular piece of wood until it took shape. Naturally, I resolved myself to be diligent with Julie’s care and taught her everything one step at a time.

At some point during that process, Julie stopped being a burden. It made sense: she listened obediently and absorbed the skills that Master taught her quickly. I watched as she gradually transformed into exactly the kind of human that I do like, so of course, I couldn’t hate her. 

I didn’t realize that until Ginger came into the picture, though. From my perspective, Ginger was someone who always found fault in everything, and never stayed quiet about it. She’d call the most banal and irrelevant things “important.” For example, if we were talking about a tree, she would keep fussing about the state of its leaves or branches, and even though I’d argue with her that solid roots—or a solid foundation—was what made a healthy tree, she would never get the point I was trying to make. Honestly, she was a pain in the neck.

It wasn’t until we met again in Sharia that I stopped seeing her that way. She still complained incessantly, but somehow it didn’t get under my skin. Why? Why had my feelings changed so much?

I knew it had to be my master’s influence. He would never have abandoned me for any reason. It didn’t matter that I was clumsy, that all I had going for me was my physical strength, or that I would destroy a figurine as soon as I created it. It didn’t matter to him that I lacked mana and that I couldn’t live up to his expectations. Nor did he seem to resent me for all the desperate, wasted effort he’d poured into trying to teach me his secret figurine-crafting techniques.

I had nearly given up on my dream. I was convinced I could never make figurines myself, that it was a skill reserved for gods alone. Master didn’t throw in the towel. He tried all kinds of methods to teach me. He tried to find some way to include me in the process. I was grateful. Up to that point, not a single person in my life had ever truly looked at me as a person. 

Had it not been for Master, I probably never would have realized that Ginger also looked at me for me.

Foolish as I was, it was only then that I finally understood the difference between humans and dolls. I knew it was important to make that distinction, but once again, being a fool, I didn’t understand why. I only knew that it was. Master didn’t spell it out for me. Instead, he led by example and helped me realize it myself.

I owed Master for guiding me, and I respected him for it too. In fact, I was even proud of myself for having the foresight to recognize him as my master.

Ever the buffoon, I unfortunately didn’t understand some of my master’s actions. Lady Nanahoshi—the girl known as Silent Sevenstar, Shizuka Nanahoshi—was one such example. She appeared to be studying summoning magic as a method of returning to her home. No one had ever elaborated on where exactly that home was, but I had no interest in knowing. Personally, I only had bad memories of my own home. I couldn’t empathize at all with her intense desire to return to where she came from. From what I’d heard, Master’s own memories of his home in Asura Kingdom were largely bitter. In spite of that, he devoted himself to helping Lady Nanahoshi. When she broke down, he dragged her to his own home and looked after her. When she was deathly sick, he traveled all the way to the Demon Continent to search for a way to heal her.

I helped too, but only because it didn’t bother me to do so. If Master was doing something and it meant helping him, I didn’t have to think twice. But that didn’t change the fact that I didn’t understand why he was helping her.

It was in the midst of all of this that something within me changed. At some point, I began developing some attachment to my own birthplace. There were some days when I’d find myself intensely nostalgic for Shirone’s palace, in spite of how awful it had been. Nanahoshi was always talking about her home, so I could only assume that had rubbed off on me. That was likely why I immediately felt compelled to answer Pax’s summons when I received the letter from him requesting aid. I did genuinely love my country and wanted to protect it if the need ever arose, so when it did, I felt like I had to go.

I was wrong.

When Master tried to persuade me to return home with him at Fort Karon, my heart wavered. I considered it. My days were so fulfilling and enjoyable back in Sharia, making figurines with Master, enough that I honestly considered abandoning my homeland for it. But I couldn’t do it. It was like a wall went up, saying I couldn’t go back.

“Pax is my brother, so I want to save him.”

That was nothing more than an excuse I blurted out in the moment. It was a calculated move, since I knew it was the one thing that would surely convince him. Yet somehow, that answer also resonated with me. I didn’t know why. I’d heard before that if you speak a lie, sometimes you end up believing it yourself. I thought at first maybe that was it, but no, it wasn’t.

It wasn’t until after Pax jumped from the balcony and I saw his remains that I realized the truth. It brought a memory from the distant past back to the forefront of my mind.

My elder brother, the second prince, had been hosting a party, and I was invited. I don’t remember now what the party was for, but it was the type where attendance was mandatory. But I didn’t remember if I had actually even attended or not. 

The one thing I did remember was that, by pure coincidence, the young Pax had been seated right beside me. This was before Lady Roxy began serving at the palace. Pax could not have been older than ten at the time.

We didn’t talk. We only sat beside each other. I sensed that he wanted to speak with me, but I couldn’t be bothered to engage in small talk. I didn’t even glance his way. And he never worked up the courage to speak to me. Even though he’d never said anything to me, in a way, I had ignored him.

As I cradled his dead body in my arms, I couldn’t help but think, Why didn’t I say anything to him back then? Even a word or two.

That dispelled any doubt I had. I finally understood. My own puzzling actions mirrored that of my master’s. It made sense to me why he helped Lady Nanahoshi now—he’d likely seen her as a little sister.

Why hadn’t I realized it sooner? Master had two biological sisters, and the way he interacted with Lady Nanahoshi was nearly identical to how he treated the older of his two siblings. He kept a watchful eye on her, and if there was any trouble, he jumped in to help. He took care of her as tenderly as he did his real sisters.

I had been asking so many questions of myself. Why did I help Master in the Demon Continent? Why did I find myself recalling my homeland afterward? Why, when Pax’s letter arrived, did I shake off the opposition of all those around me and resolve myself to return home? In the wake of the battle at Fort Karon, why did I feel compelled to rescue Pax? Why did I blurt out that lie about wanting to save him because we were family? And finally, why did that lie resonate so much?

I finally understood the answers. It all made sense to me. The puzzle pieces fell into place.

But it was too late. That was my folly—realizing it all too late. Pax was dead. We weren’t able to save him like we did Nanahoshi.

Even so, there was still something left that I could do.