I Finished Saving the World, But Then I Picked Up a Girl With Amnesia - Chapter 21

“Master, don’t fall asleep while training.”

“Haha! My apologies! I must’ve been tired!”

“At least wipe your body. You smell.”

“What!? I smell, you say!?”

“Yeah.”

“Ugh…!”

Master was, in every sense, a foolish martial artist.

He would wake up and train, eat and train, sleep, wake up, and train again.

“You’re really small, Mumu! Eat more food!”

“I’ve always eaten since I was a kid.”

“You’re not eating enough!”

“But… no matter how much I eat… I never grow bigger.”

She didn’t age.

After living together for about five years, Master finally noticed the abnormalities in Mumu’s body—her “magic.” It felt like it had taken him far too long to notice, but perhaps he had deliberately pretended not to all this time.

“Hmph! Then I’ll cure you myself!”

“Huh?”

He must have assumed it was some sort of illness. This man, who had been so obsessed with becoming stronger, abandoned his training and started visiting doctors. He entered martial arts tournaments to win prize money and served as a soldier in wars, seeking only payment without caring for rank or recognition. Every penny he earned, he spent on Mumu’s treatment.

The doctors gave up.

The mages shook their heads.

A shady curse practitioner claimed the treatment was guaranteed to work but demanded an exorbitant fee, so Master punched him across the room.

Another ten years passed. The once-vibrant and youthful man’s hair became streaked with white.

“I’m sorry, Mumu… I’ve failed you.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. It’s my body. I know it best.”

“Even so… Even so, I was looking forward to seeing you as a bride!”

“…What?”

Master truly was a fool.

“I wanted to see you marry a good man, find happiness, raise children… and if the stars aligned, have a cute grandchild who could inherit my martial arts style! That’s what I’ve been looking forward to most of all!”

“Master, you actually thought about stuff like that?”

“What do you mean ‘stuff like that’!? You’re already so beautiful, but with that stunted little body of yours, no one’s going to want to marry you!”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t kick my shins!”

After mercilessly kicking the fool with the martial arts techniques he had taught her, Mumu spoke.

“It’s fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

“What?”

“As long as Master is here, that’s enough for me.”

“Mumu…!”

And so, they spent another twenty years together, just the two of them.

Then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, Master’s life came to an end.

Mumu sat by his bedside, holding his rough, calloused hand tightly. She held it for days, never letting go.

“I’m sorry, Mumu. I’m going ahead.”

“It’s nothing to apologize for. Master, you lived a very long life. I’m the weird one.”

Yes. This is what’s normal, Mumu thought.

People are born, they live, they age, and they die.

I’m the one who’s strange.

“Weird, huh. Don’t belittle yourself. You stayed by my side and worked hard in the way of martial arts. That makes me prouder than anything.”

“But… I’m still weaker than Master.”

Hearing that, the man on his deathbed somehow smiled with joy.

“Heheh… Haha! That’s true, you’re still weaker than me!”

“Yeah.”

“But only for now.”

“Yeah.”

“Therefore… Mumu, keep honing your fists.”

“Even after Master is gone?”

“Yes. Even after I’m gone.”

His smile was so warm, so radiant, it was hard to believe it belonged to a man on death’s doorstep.

“Your body is small, and your body is weak. But that’s exactly why… you have an unlimited amount of time.”

He explained that this was the ultimate wish of any martial artist—a gift that could never be attained, no matter how much one desired it.

“But if Master dies, I won’t know if I’ve become stronger than you.”

“…”

“If Master dies, I’ll be lonely.”

The dying man used the last of his strength to sit up. His left hand remained clasped with Mumu’s. With his right hand, he reached out from his futon, raising it.

“I’m sorry.”

She looked at his arm.

Her own body hadn’t changed at all. Compared to before, his frame had withered, losing much of its former strength.

She looked at his hand.

Once clenched tightly in pursuit of martial mastery, his fist now gently opened like a blooming flower.

For the first time in their 72 years together, he patted her head.

“Mumu.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

Master’s final words were not those of a martial artist.

Mumu let go of Master’s hand. Master let go of Mumu’s hand.

And so, the man who had loved Mumu passed away.

She was alone again.

She wished she had understood the meaning of the words “I love you” while he was still alive.

Her magic couldn’t stop the tears.

She cried and cried and cried.

But the hand that had patted her head—the hand of a man who had given her so much—she decided she would carry on his legacy.

Mumu’s next hundred years began.

She threw her fists.

She trained.

She threw her fists.

She trained.

She threw her fists.

She trained.

Another hundred years. And another. She kept going, training continuously.

Her body remained unchanged. She didn’t age, didn’t grow. All she could do was continue honing her technique. No—Master had entrusted her to continue honing her technique.

To catch up to his fists, she kept throwing hers.

Refining, refining, endlessly refining.

But with every bit of refinement, Mumu Rusetta’s heart began to wear thin.

Improving her technique was good. There was no doubt her martial arts were progressing. She had no doubts about that.

But there was a pure, unshakable fear.

If she kept clenching her fists, kept growing stronger, and finally reached the martial peak he had aimed for—

What would be waiting for her at the end of it?

Who would acknowledge her?

She began participating in illegal martial arts tournaments. It didn’t matter. She just wanted proof of her strength.

Every opponent she knocked down gave her a small sense of fulfillment. Every foe she defeated lightened her heart just a little.

And so, she fought and fought and fought.

“You’re incredible. Your fists.”

One day.

“Could you teach me?”

Mumu Rusetta met the boy who would one day be called the Hero.

—

I exhaled deeply.

“Of course… There they are. And a whole swarm of them, too.”

I suppose I should have expected this. Honestly, I was hoping my prediction would be wrong, but… on my way back, I ran into exactly this situation.

Golems. By a rough count, there were 10 of them. They were clearly searching for us, moving in a group. They were smaller than the one Master had defeated, about the size of a large human, and they looked weaker. However, the magic energy within each of them was far greater than that of the stupidly huge one.

“Whoever’s controlling them must’ve analyzed Master’s magic and switched to smaller golems… and then sent them after us.”

Earlier, I’d completely let my guard down.

If Master hadn’t stepped in, Red Hair-chan would’ve been in real danger. That was my mistake. My foolish, careless mistake. Master’s going to scold me for it.

After all, what kind of Hero saves the world but can’t protect a single girl?

“Alright, let’s do this.”

I brushed back my sweat-drenched hair from running all the way here. A few strands wound around my fingers. Come to think of it, I hadn’t cut my hair lately. Once this mess was dealt with, I’d definitely go get a haircut. Long hair on a guy just ends up looking gross, even if it’s beautiful on a girl.

“Now that I think about it, Sage-chan did say neglecting your hair leads to baldness…”

I absolutely refuse to go bald.

I tossed the dull red strands tangled around my fingers to the ground. They looked nothing like Red Hair-chan’s vibrant scarlet.

Clenching my fists tightly.

These opponents were perfect for getting back into form. It had been a while since I’d gone all out. Let’s fight seriously this time.