Chapter 19: The Story of a Past Life — A Reason to Fight

"So, are there a lot of people with past lives?"

"That’s what you ask first? Well, I guess that’s normal. ‘A lot’ is putting it lightly—pretty much everyone has a past life. Though cases like yours, where a soul from another world gets mixed with one from this world… I’ve hardly ever seen that."

Apparently, even in those cases, it’s rare for past-life memories to resurface. Which makes sense—if lots of people remembered, they’d probably use that knowledge to gain all kinds of unfair advantages.

I don’t have that kind of knowledge anyway. And thanks to magical tools, daily life has never really been inconvenient, so I’ve never had the drive—or even the desire—to try.

The only thing I ever had was the resolve to witness the greatest pairing in this world with my own eyes.

Even that depends on whether these faint, barely clinging memories are real—and not just something my brain made up.

"People who regain memories of their past lives usually go through something—an accident, a blow to the head, or maybe they’ve always had them. There are all sorts of theories, but no one really knows the cause. The only thing that seems certain is that there’s some kind of lingering attachment."

"Well, to be honest, I barely remember anything anyway."

I don’t even remember my name from that life, and most of the fragments that remain are words I can’t even understand. There were plenty of times I thought it was all just my imagination.

Back then—before I went through dying over and over—I wouldn’t have been able to accept that. The fact that I kept desperately looking away from it proves as much.

Even so, I think it’s fine. I’m Toma, and nothing else. If anything, those memories just get in the way of me living as myself.

I hated the feeling of thinking, “This is inconvenient,” about things everyone else takes for granted. Being out of sync with others was unbearable. Not being able to see and feel the same things as the people I care about made my chest tighten with a quiet, grinding anxiety.

"If someone told me they could erase all of this, I’d probably take that offer. That’s how much I hate these lingering memories. Memories of someone who isn’t me just get in the way of living in this world."

"Yeah, I get that. Being different from everyone else is bound to make you uneasy. Even I’ve had a complicated, troublesome life because of these magic eyes of mine."

As people who had both seen things others couldn’t, maybe that’s why we’d felt an unspoken connection from the moment we met. Maybe, on some instinctive level, I’d realized she was the first person who could share this feeling with me.

"People with past lives tend to get twisted up by those memories or dragged around by them. It makes them unstable. In that sense, you’re actually pretty normal."

"If that’s true, then it’s definitely thanks to Hikari."

Right now, we’re in a dream world. The real her isn’t here. Even so, remembering the childhood friend who was always by my side brings a smile to my face before I even notice it.

"She scolds me when I do something stupid. She laughs with me. I don’t think she even realizes how much that’s saved me."

"That’s just how it is. The impact you have on others—and the impact others have on you—most people never fully realize it."

She might be right. A casual action of yours might end up saving someone—or hurting them.

The answers exist only in people’s hearts, which is exactly why you can never truly know them from the outside. And maybe that’s why relationships that are genuinely connected feel so beautiful.

"Well, if I had to thank my past life for one thing, it’d be turning me into a ‘shipper.’"

"A… shipper?"

The sight of a cute girl repeating a word she didn’t understand—"shipper"—hit me far harder than expected. It caught me completely off guard. I’m basically on the brink of death here. Even if I’d been prepared, the result probably wouldn’t have changed.

"In short, it means a weirdo who grins to themselves while watching relationships between people and getting way too into it. Usually it’s about fictional characters… but I do it in real life too."

"I shouldn’t be the one saying this, but your hobbies are pretty messed up."

Yeah, I’ve known that for a long time. How many times do you think Hikari has drilled that into me?

Even so, this is something I won’t give up—and don’t intend to—so I’d really like her to just accept it already.

"What I’m saying is, I really, really love seeing people become happy through the relationships they build. I mean, I’ve been saved by those connections myself."

My mom and Hikari—without those two, I wouldn’t be who I am now. I wouldn’t have had any reason to push myself this far. I wouldn’t have had even the slightest motivation to become the Sword King.

Just like Carol said, I probably would’ve ended up twisted and done something stupid.

"I like seeing people walk beside the person they love, looking happy. I like scenes where friends hang out and say ‘see you tomorrow.’ I like people who are close enough to interact like family—like siblings. I like people who find happiness through the relationships they worked hard to build. I love seeing that happiness. That’s why, in the end, I fight for my own reasons."

I’m not cut out to be a king, nor do I have the capacity for it. But if I’m the only one with that qualification—and if accepting it is the only way I can see the world I want—then that’s reason enough to fight.

I fight for my own desires. And if that ends up saving someone, then that’s fine too.

"Haaah… I figured I’d ask about your motivations and all, since you pulled out the holy sword—but I didn’t expect something this heavy. You should be telling that to someone you’re closer to."

"No thanks. If I told Hikari about my past life, she’d definitely go on a rampage and try to make me quit being king. She’d say it’s all because of stress or something."

"You don’t seem like the type to break under stress, but whatever."

She slowly rises from where she’d been sitting, pulling a scythe out of thin air.

Not wanting to see that weapon—the one that’s cut me down countless times—ever again, I draw the holy sword and ready myself. I’m certain that the moment I look away—even for an instant—I’ll be killed.

"You said you like seeing people become happy through relationships. I don’t feel that way at all. I hardly interact with people in the first place."

There’s no way a petite girl should be able to wield a scythe that heavy with one hand, yet Carol swings it as if it were nothing more than a stick.

Taking her combat ability into account, I step into the dangerously close range of that scythe. Even so, I don’t move yet. I wait for her to finish. My instincts—sharpened by the holy sword—are screaming that this is a crucial moment that will define our relationship.

"So come at me with everything you’ve got and try to kill me. I’m exactly the kind of person you hate."

"No, I think you’re pretty much my type. The way you act prickly but are oddly kind, the way you try to act bad but can’t fully pull it off, the way you seem a little… useless in a charming way."

She’s not like anyone I’ve been around before, but somehow, she feels like the type who’d be loud and fun to be with. Not like Hikari, whose presence is naturally comforting. Not like Alicia, whom I’d want to cherish.

More like… the kind of person you’d have a blast raising hell with.

"N-no, I mean—I find relationships annoying, and if I had the time, I’d rather be messing with magical tools! See?! I’m exactly the kind of person you hate!"

"It’s not that I hate people like that. Getting absorbed in what you love and neglecting everything else happens all the time. You’re not as weird as you think, Carol."

Well… she’d probably start rubbing her cheek against the holy sword if I handed it to her right now, which is a bit strange—but it’s still something I can accept.

Compared to me obsessively watching pairings because I was starved for ships, hers might actually be more understandable. Thinking about it… maybe I’m the weirder one?

"Are they really okay having me as a childhood friend and companion…? Maybe I should tell them to reevaluate their relationships…?"

"If you say that, the silver-haired one will definitely snap. She’ll probably pin you down and start punching you while yelling."

I can picture it perfectly. Yeah… she’d definitely do that. Screaming "Don’t screw with me, idiot!!!" while crying and hitting me.

I don’t want to make her cry, and I definitely don’t want to get punched, so I’ll keep that thought to myself.

"Alright, I’ve heard your reason to fight. Let’s get started. Think you’ll manage with only fifty deaths this time?"

"Unfortunately for you, my will to survive is stronger than you think. I’ll be turning the tables on you, so don’t get your spirit broken, okay?"

Alright then—time to begin this training where death is always just around the corner.

Those two girls are working hard. I don’t want to be the only one not improving.