Eternal Yujin - No Holds Barred (Mushoku Tensei/Celestial Dojo) - Chapter 2

K13 - Boreas Greyrat Manor, The Citadel of Roa

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’ll take waking up to the sound of people fucking over the freezing cold cobblestone every day of the week and twice on Sundays. But do they have to be so loud? I crack my eyes open as something thumps past the ceiling, followed by a muffled moan.

“...Lord above.” Or whatever god they worship here. Millicas or some shit. There’s apparently more than one of the fuckers, so take your pick.

I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. A few weeks ago, doing that would’ve felt like hell. In fact, I’m so used to agony that each morning, I suck in an extra deep breath just to check my ribs aren’t fucked. Turns out having an actual bed, three meals a day and enough time to sit on my ass without fighting off dickheads trying to rob me does wonders for the human body. Who knew?

Another thump comes through the ceiling. I still haven’t found out who’s fucking so much. I don’t really want to either. Following Ghislaine that evening turned out to be a stroke of good fortune. Turns out that’s Cat Lady’s name, which I learned via a scene straight out of Tarzan. She’s employed by the Mayor of Roa, Philip Boreas Greyrat, whose father is apparently in charge of the entire Fittoa Region of the Asura Kingdom that we find ourselves in. Of course, they’re the ones who live on that huge-ass manor overlooking the city.

All the maids—exclusively female—are beastmen for some fucking reason. I asked Ghislaine why once, but either my Human-God wasn’t good enough to understand the answer or she just didn’t understand the question, because all I got was a blank stare. Whatever. These people’s fetishes are none of my business. I throw the covers off once the moans go up a pitch. My room’s pretty small and mostly bare, but it’s luxury compared to the street.

Drawing water from the well did take some getting used to, and it’s a bit of a trek, too. I really took indoor plumbing for granted. Back home, I could wake up, stumble half-dead into the bathroom, turn a fucking knob and have clean water come out. …At least I’ve got my own basin. I splash some water over my face, rub the sleep out of my eyes, then pick up the little wooden stick sitting beside it. One end’s frayed from chewing it every morning.

…I miss my toothbrush. And I miss toothpaste even more. You clean your teeth here by chewing the end till the fibres split, scrub your teeth with it, rinse, and then chew on some mint leaves if you don’t want your breath smelling like ass. There’s some kind of powder I’ve seen the maids use too, but the one time I tried asking what was in it, I understood maybe three words of the answer.

So stick, water, mint is good enough for me. I finish up and run a hand through my bleached-blonde hair, getting a decent look at myself in the little mirror above the basin. The swelling’s gone, and so are most of the cuts. My eyebrow’s probably going to scar, but for the first time in nearly a month, there isn’t a single part of my body that hurts.

Eiji Takase:

Which means I can finally start training properly again! This world is the furthest thing from Earth, and judging by the armed people I’ve seen about, there’s plenty of work for the warrior. I’m too old to put years into school, and even if I wasn’t… fuck that noise!

I glance towards the window and palm a few mint leaves. “...Shit, I’m late!”

Stuffing them into my mouth, I pull my light beige tunic over my head and bolt out the door. The hallway’s empty, thankfully. I take a left, jog down the stairs, take another left, and immediately realise I’ve gone the wrong fucking way. This place is too fucking big! I’ve been here for weeks and still get lost if I stray too far from the handful of rooms I actually use. Bedroom, dining room, baths, study, kitchen, training courtyard… library. 

I turn around and nearly flatten one of the maids coming the other way. She jumps back, catlike… you know, considering she’s a cat-eared beastwoman, and rattles off something too fast for me to catch with a glare.

“Sorry! Outside,” I say, pointing ahead. “Training. Where?”

She points back the way I came, rattling off a sentence. I catch stairs, right and something that might mean door.

“Right. Thanks.”

The maid calls something after me when I jog away, so I turn back with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry! Don’t know that word!”

…Wait. I slow down. I do know that word. It means running. I’m pretty sure she told me not to. Chuckling, I follow her instructions until I round the corner, then start running again. It takes another wrong turn before I finally find the right fucking door. I push through it, morning air hits me in the face.

“...Good morning!” I exhale with a smile at the still-rising sun. The sharp whistle of something cutting through the air catches my attention. Ghislaine’s at the other end of the courtyard going through a series of swings with a wooden sword.

She’s ditched the coat she normally wears, leaving behind those red strips of cloth around her chest to cover her nipples and not a whole lot else above the waist. I’ve seen enough of her over the last few weeks that this isn’t anything new anymore but… well, her chest bounces with every swing and my eyes sure do follow, then drift lower.

I’ve always liked fit women. Not even ridiculously muscular ones or anything, just some definition here and there. Nice legs, a good ass. Of course none of these are hard rules, and in the end personality matters the most, but why should I give a shit about someone’s personality if I can’t give them a second appreciative look. Let’s just say I give Ghislaine appreciative looks every day and leave it there.

Her ears twitch before her head turns towards me.

“Morning.” I lift a hand.

“…Eiji,” she says my name a little weird, but so does everyone else in this world. “Morning. You finally here to train, or are you gonna watch again? I think your injuries are healed by now.”

…I understood all of that! It happens sometimes, if they speak slowly and don’t string too many words together, two things Ghislaine has been known to do. I’m getting there, though. I’ve even got a dedicated teacher in the form of Alfonse, head butler organising the handful of male servants of the Boreas Greyrat household.

Ghislaine turns back to her training.

Aside from learning Human-God and mooching off this family’s generosity, I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to be doing here. I think I’m supposed to be Ghislaine’s errand boy. Nobody’s actually called me that. Sauros—Feudal Lord of Fittoa and the loud old bastard who owns this place—said a whole bunch of shit when Ghislaine first dragged me in, slapped her on the back and gave me a firm nod.

I guess I’m in a grace period while I learn the language, seeing that I’m left to my own devices outside of the three hours a day spent on learning. Which means there’s absolutely nothing stopping me from getting my own training back on track!

Ghislaine finishes another round and lowers the wooden sword. I take that as my chance and walk over.

“Ghislaine.”

“Eiji.”

I grin. “Train?”

She looks around for a spare sword.

“No.” I shake my head, raising my fists. I point between us. “Fight. …Training,” I add.

Her ears twitch as a few seconds pass. Ghislaine sets her sword down against a tree next to her displaced jacket and walks over to the centre of the courtyard. She rolls her shoulders and raises her hands.

Her hands are up, feet apart to keep her weight balanced. It doesn’t resemble any of the stances from back home. I don’t know if she’s as well-trained a martial artist as she is a swordsman, but unarmed combat is one-hundred percent my forté. I bring my fists up.

“Ready?” She nods.

Neither of us moves. I watch her shoulders and hips, mostly, and then steal a glance at her sandalled feet. Ghislaine watches me right back. I don’t think she’ll bite first, so I break our stalemate and step in behind a jab. Her lead hand rises to catch it, only I pull it halfway there and whip my right foot towards the outside of her lead thigh. Ghislaine flinches back in surprise, but I commit to stepping through before she can reset. My shoulders dip like I’m about to shoot for her waist. Her hands drop, anticipating the tackle, but I stamp down and swing upstairs with all I’ve got and then some.

My left hook catches her clean across the jaw. For one beautiful second, I bask in the red-hot sting across my knuckles. She stumbles back a step and turns back towards me, clear evidence on her face that I got her. Something crashes into the side of my head and suddenly the courtyard is gone. My feet come out from under me. The sky rolls into view, followed by the ground punching the air out of my lungs as I land flat on my back.

“...Shit.” I stare at the grey-ish blue sky. The sun’s not all the way up yet. My ears are ringing. I blink a few times and wait for the second blurred Ghislaine floating above the first one to fuck off.

Amidst what I’m pretty certain is a concussion, there’s this sense of… accomplishment. For landing the hit, sure, but it’s just like that feeling I got after beating the fuck out of that scammer and his scamming-ass-employees for that one manual labour job. Right after, I got my hands on The Dragon Advances. Both times for something related to kicking ass. I guess the Celestial Dojo approves of my life choices.

…I mean, it’s in the name.

“Sorry.”

Ghislaine’s faces suddenly block out the sky. She and her concussion-born twin are crouched down on their feet beside me, ears lowered slightly as they look mildly regretful.

“I hit too hard. You okay?”

Her face swims back into one and I grin.

“Pfft. Give me a few minutes and we can go for ten more rounds.”

Ghislaine’s ears twitch.

…I did say ten, right?

【—〄—】

Alfonse taps the back of my hand with his stick. I’ve stopped pretending I’m paying attention. It doesn’t actually hurt. The old man barely puts anything behind it, but I pull my hand back anyway and give him an offended look out of principle. Not like I can hit him back, the guy being old as dust and my teacher to boot. At least, so long as he keeps things reasonable.

Alfonse:

I’m not exactly paying attention right now because after what the Celestial Dojo gave me after my torture—training, I can’t wait to get back out there tomorrow.

Alfonse gives me an offended look right back and says something long enough that I lose him about five words in. I catch Lord Sauros, kindness, street, and something I’m pretty sure means effort. He gestures towards the book open in front of me, then at the rough parchment I’m supposed to be copying sentences onto.

“...Yeah, yeah. I get it.” I mutter, only to get whacked again. “I said I get it!”

His eyebrows rise threateningly.

“...I understand,” I correct, in Human-God this time.

Alfonse smiles. “Then study, Master Eiji.”

I slump back over the desk and stare at the sentence I was halfway through writing before I got the urge to admire my second reward.

Does that mean magic is real here? Why wouldn’t it be if the Dojo gave me this? Unless this shit is random. I haven’t thought to ask, being both unable to and homeless. Ghislaine’s a beastwoman. Why shouldn’t it be real? …Am I in a fantasy world without magic? Because that would suck. …Unfortunately, I’m not gonna risk asking Alfonse that and risking another hit from his well-worn wooden teaching stick. At least I’ve got an icebreaker for Ghislaine tomorrow.

Alfonse gives me another pointed look, which usually happens before he whacks me. I sit up and dismiss the screen.

“...Sorry.” I wince after accidentally aggravating my many, many bruises. “Fucking Ghislaine.”

He recognises the name. “Ghislaine?”

I gesture vaguely down at myself. “She hit here. Here. Everywhere. All night.”

Alfonse pauses.

“...Morning,” I correct. “All morning. I told her ten times.” I hold up both hands to make absolutely sure he understands the number. “Ten. I didn’t mean ten. It was…” I trail off, searching for the word.

Exaggeration? …Fuck. I don’t know the Human-God word for exaggeration. I settle on ‘not true’ instead to get the meaning across.

“I say ten, but not really ten. Ghislaine did ten anyway. Maybe more. My legs…” I grimace and rub my thigh. “She is very hard. She doesn’t stop either. I fall, she waits, then we do again. Very rough.”

His eyebrows climb. …Why’s he looking at me like that?

“Lady Ghislaine is a Sword King,” Alfonse says eventually. “Her stamina is… big.”

I’m pretty sure he was going to use something else, but switched to a simpler word. And this is why he’s my favourite person in this manor! …Haven’t met Philip’s daughter and wife yet, so maybe I’ll hold off on the absolutes. Supposedly they’re on holiday somewhere and are due back any day now.

“You should consider it an honour,” he says warmly.

“An honour?” I stare at him. “She beat the shit out of me!”

Alfonse frowns at the wording, presumably because shit hasn’t made it into our lessons yet. I reckon they never would if he had his way, but I was homeless and on the streets for weeks. Swear words were among the first Human-God words I picked up. He says something, including one word I recognise but haven’t heard outside of this textbook.

Consort.

“...What?”

He repeats it, then explains with simpler words. Ghislaine’s man. Intimate companion. Chosen for life pleasure. Or maybe he said life-long. I don’t know. But I know enough. My mouth slowly falls open.

“There is no reason to be embarrassed. To be the consort of Sword King Ghislaine is—”

I slap both hands on the desk. “We were fighting! Training! Fists! Kicking!” I throw a couple punches in the air between us. “She kicked my legs! That’s why my ass hurts!”

“…I see.” Alfonse clears his throat after a very long pause. “My apologies, Master Eiji.”

We get back to the lesson after that, and after my daily lines, it’s the usual shit. He says something, I repeat it. He points at something, I tell him what it is. Then he points at words on the page and waits while I stare at them like they’ve personally offended me. Speaking Human-God is getting easier. Reading is hellish. I’m still stuck sounding words out one at a time, and whoever came up with the alphabet can suck my dick. At least Japanese had the decency to make it obvious from the start that learning to read would be miserable.

Still, three hours of this every day has to be doing something, right? Regardless, by the time Alfonse finally closes the book, I’m halfway out of my chair and three steps to freedom and a snack.

“One more thing, Master Eiji.” I slump and turn around. “Clothes have been prepared in your room.”

I look down at myself. “...I have clothes. Why do I need clothes? Are we going somewhere?”

“Dinner tonight. Important.” Alfonse gives me a severe look. “Young Mistress Eris returns today. With Lady Hilda.”

“Philip’s wife?”

His lips thin. “Lord Philip’s wife. You will introduce yourself to both.”

…Ah, right. The little girl. Supposedly Ghislaine’s her bodyguard, which is apparently why she lives here in the first place.

“How old?”

Alfonse’s face darkens. “...Bad question to ask a lady.”

That he would assume I’d be stupid enough to do so hurts a bit.

“I meant the little girl.”

“Eight.”

…That’s fine. I mean, how difficult can introducing myself to an eight-year-old be?

【—〄—】

I tug at the collar as I stand off to one side of the dining room. It’s nothing ridiculous, thankfully. They’ve got me in slightly-too-tight dark trousers, a clean white shirt, and a black waistcoat over it. All things considered, I look pretty good. It feels like I’m attending a wedding instead of standing around waiting for rich people to eat. I dunno. Maybe this is what people back in the day wore. Ghislaine stands a little further down from me, thankfully back in her usual coat. Does it make a difference when she refuses to actually close the fucking thing?

No, but aside from the two huge reasons she probably ought to, she looks perfectly fine after this morning. Meanwhile, I feel like I just got out of a car accident. After about fifteen minutes, Philip arrives and takes his seat beside his wife. I shift my weight and my left thigh immediately complains.

Hilda Boreas Greyrat is a beautiful, kind of haughty-looking woman, with long red hair and grey eyes. She’s got expensive-looking jewellery around her neck, some crown-looking thing tucked into her hair and a red dress that shows off enough cleavage to—nope.

The daughter looks a lot like her. Same red hair, and the same red eyes as her father and grandfather. She’s sitting there with her arms crossed, staring at me with a little scowl on her face.

…Cute kid. Angry-looking kid, but cute.

Hilda Boreas Greyrat:

Eris Boreas Greyrat:

Philip catches my eye. I straighten up as he gestures towards the woman beside him. “My wife, Hilda Boreas Greyrat, and my daughter, Eris Boreas Greyrat.”

Philip Boreas Greyrat:

He gives me a tiny nod. I step forward and bow exactly like one of the beastwoman maids spent twenty minutes drilling into me.

“Eiji Takase,” I say carefully. “Servant to Sword King Ghislaine Dedoldia.”

I can feel Ghislaine’s eyes on me. I ignore her. Until somebody actually tells me what the fuck my job is, that’s what I’m going with. I spent half my day with her anyway. She goes out on patrol after the mornings from what I hear. Hilda gives me a brief look before nodding. 

Eris stares longer. “...Are you strong?”

I think about how to answer that question. Based on the standards from my world? I’m pretty fucking strong. Number one fighter in my year every year back at Aobadai High. Hell, there wasn’t anyone in the closest two schools who could put a candle to me. But if I’m being lumped in with Ghislaine… as much as it burns to admit it, I’m weaksauce.

“No, I’m not,” I say despondently. “But that’ll change if I’ve got anything to say about it.”

Sauros’ laugh shakes the chandelier above the table. “Well said! It seems Ghislaine’s ways have been rubbing off on you!”

Sauros Boreas Greyrat:

“GHISLAINE!” Eris perks up, as if only just remembering she’s in the room.

…Fuck me, she’s loud. The little girl immediately starts firing questions across the table despite her mother’s disapproving look. I catch maybe half of the questions, if that. There’s where Ghislaine went, whether she fought anyone, and then one question I miss entirely because she says it too fucking fast. Ghislaine answers each question in three words or less. It’s almost impressive, actually.

Then Eris points at one of the empty chairs.

“Eat with us.”

Sauros laughs and waves towards the chair. I feel my smile fix itself into place. If she’s eating, I need to stay here. She even gives me a glance over her shoulder, too! Not that I expected to eat with them. I’m not family, and judging by where Alfonse and his junior butler, Thomas, are standing, servants don’t exactly pull up a chair and start helping themselves. The smell makes me wish I’d eaten more than some bread beforehand.

With shit else to do, I occupy myself by watching. Eris eats like a teenaged boy shovelling slices of meat into her mouth and chasing it down with what I think is watered-down alcohol? She reaches the vegetables with her fork and pushes them to one side. Thomas notices.

“Lady Eris.” He’s huge, but oddly, his voice is a lot milder than I expected. “Your vegetables.”

“I don’t want them.”

Thomas gives her a patient smile. “You should eat them.”

Eris harrumphs, sneering at him. “You. …Come here.”

He trudges towards her with that smile still on his face. The poor bastard leans down, presumably expecting her to whisper something. Eris punches him flush across the face with a surprising amount of force since she’s sitting down. Thomas stumbles back and returns to his place without another word.

Thomas:

I look at Eris, then at everybody else sat at the table pretending they didn’t see the eight-year-old punch a servant across the face. No, even if he is a servant in this fucked-up medieval world, isn’t she meant to act like a lady or some shit? I glance at Alfonse while Thomas smooths out his uniform beside him while everyone just keeps on eating.

What the fuck?

“ERIS!” Sauros points across the table. “Eat your vegetables!”

Eris scowls. “Grandfather—”

“Vegetables!”

She harrumphs again and spears her broccoli, giving it a scornful look before attempting to grind it to dust between molars. …That’s it? This family is insane. I stare at her in confusion while she chews slowly with obvious pain on her face as she swallows.

“What?” Eris turns her perma-scowl onto me. “Got a problem?”

My body damn near reacts before my brain does. I’ve seen that look on more faces than I can count. Usually on dipshits from other schools trying to act hard in front of their friends, chin up and practically begging you to say the wrong thing so they’ve got an excuse to start swinging. But this isn’t Aobadai High. So, I put my hands behind my back, wrapping my right hand around the back of my left and squeezing the swelling anger out of myself before I do something monumentally fucking stupid.

“That’s what I thought!”

...This little shit!