After the brat approached me so boldly to ask how I knew his name, I just told him, 'I already know it, so what?'
Whether he was sulking or not, the kid didn't say anything for a while, just blankly staring at the chair and desk I‘d made.
What's with him? Is he supposed to be some kind of future genius inventor?
Is he shocked because I already built something that only exists in his head?
Hmm... I suppose for a kid, that could be quite a blow.
A brat's world is small, after all.
'Yeah. It happens a lot.'
Stay strong, boy. The world is vast; you're going to experience things much worse than this.
Anyway, I swear I‘ve seen this kid somewhere before...
"Soul King. Who is this kid?"
I asked, but as usual, the Soul King gave no response.
Ignored again.
Maybe he‘ll listen if I give him a good thumping.
I‘ve been training my ass off, and I feel like I might actually have a shot at this point.
I slowly reached for the wooden club leaning against the tree and lightly loosened my wrist.
...No, beating a guy with a club is a bit much, even for me.
Let's just go with a punch.
If we're friends, I can at least do that much.
It‘s funny to call him a friend after only seeing him twice, but showing up unannounced like this is basically an invitation to be buddies.
You know, like how kids just barge in and yell, "Hey, come out and play!" It's the same thing. Technically, that's visiting without an appointment too.
'Is hitting him still a bit much? I‘ll just give his shoulder a light tap.'
I approached the Soul King, who was preoccupied with the trees I'd carved tally marks into, and gave his shoulder a light tap.
Or rather, I *tried* to give him a light tap.
**BOOM!!**
Or at least, that would have been the sound if a hexagonal, translucent barrier hadn't manifested on the Soul King's shoulder to stop my hand.
I blinked, startled by a sound far louder than I‘d anticipated.
Only then did I realize: my strength was far greater than I thought.
I mean, if I could swing a ten-kilogram club ten thousand times in just four hours, obviously I‘d be that strong.
'I had no one to compare myself to, so I forgot.'
I scratched my eyebrow and turned around at the sound of a crash.
"!?"
The kid, who had been spacing out behind me, had fallen backward, his already large eyes wide with shock from the noise.
The Soul King turned his head toward me slowly, like a mannequin. It wasn‘t that he was surprised; that‘s just how slow his movements were.
"Why did you attempt to strike me?"
"I wasn't attacking. If I really intended to attack, I would've used that wooden club over there."
"You speak truth. Then for what purpose did you swing your hand?"
"You were so fixated on the trees that I was just going to give you a light tap."
"That is not what one calls 'light.'"
He was right, so I had nothing to say and just scratched my head.
I really did fail to control my power pretty spectacularly.
I should start practicing power regulation from now on.
All the trees around here are so damn hard that I thought I could just hit things, but I guess not.
"Sorry. My power control is still unrefined."
"Then it is no matter."
The Soul King said that and returned his gaze to the trees.
No, he wasn't just looking; he was examining them.
I honestly don‘t know what's so fascinating that he‘s staring so hard. I stood beside him, crossing my arms, and joined him in staring at the wood.
"What is the significance of these carvings?"
"It's the date."
"If it is the date, what is the standard for a day?"
"A day is twenty-four hours."
"And the standard for those twenty-four hours?"
"Twenty-four units of one hour. One hour is sixty minutes. One minute is sixty seconds."
I figured he'd keep asking if I stayed quiet, so I just laid it all out at once.
Only then did the Soul King shut his mouth and turn from me back to the trees.
"If one accumulates so many days—"
"A group of seven is one set, a week. Four weeks is twenty-eight days, a month. Twelve of those months make a year. Ah, wait, no. Just think of roughly three hundred and sixty-five days as a year."
Knowing he'd keep digging, I cut him off and explained everything in advance.
The Soul King, who had fallen silent again while looking at the trees, turned back to me.
"You said a year is twelve months. If a month is twenty-eight days, then twelve of them do not equal three hundred and sixty-five."
"You just distribute the leftover days wherever. October has twenty-eight, November has thirty, December has thirty-one... heck, some months might even have thirty-two. Like that."
"It is a mess."
"That's just how it is. What do you want from me?"
I know what I know. If you don't like it, go draft a new solar calendar yourself.
I swallowed the words that almost slipped out and shrugged.
"Are you saying the logic of the world is a mess?"
I turned at the sound of a voice behind me and met the eyes of the kid. He had that same look as when he'd asked how I knew his name.
However, unlike before, the brat wasn't looking at me with irritation, but with eyes full of pure curiosity.
I watched him, wondering what he was going to spout next, when a sudden realization hit me and I let out a groan.
"Ah."
Come to think of it, if the Soul King won't answer, I can just ask the kid himself.
Sigh. I guess training against a wall every day has turned my brain to stone. To think it took me this long to realize something so simple.
"By the way, what‘s your name?"
"Ah. My name uses the characters for 'True' (眞), 'Name' (名), and 'Call' (呼). Manako. I am called Ichibe Hyosube."
"Manako..."
The 'True Name'... those wide, bulging eyes. An obsession with names.
The Soul King‘s lackey in the world of *Bleach*...
"Ah, I remember now."
I snapped my fingers and looked down at the brat.
"The Monk Who Calls the True Name. Ichibe Hyosube."
I remembered him looking like a cross between Bodhidharma and Chang Koehan.
Come to think of it, why are the appearances of the guys I remember so damn weird?
Ah, I got the order wrong.
It‘s not that their looks are weird; it‘s that I remember them *because* they look weird.
Ichibe blinked, staying silent as if deep in thought, then nodded before speaking again.
"Regarding my question from earlier... if the laws of the world were as messy as you say, it would already be filled with chaos, a land where life cannot thrive. However, the world you speak of is—"
The brat was chattering away about something, but honestly, none of it entered my ears.
I don‘t remember my past perfectly, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't a philosophy student.
"Don't ask me. It is what it is. If you ask me 'why,' I can't give you an answer."
"But..."
"No 'buts.' If you want to know how the world works, don't ask me. Go study philosophy, kid."
Hmm... is telling a kid with a bright future to enter the Philosophy Department actually a curse...?
Nah. In this era, there'd probably be jobs for philosophers. Like being a tutor or something.
Aristotle and Pythagoras... wait, those guys were philosophers *and* mathematicians.
Then, maybe the Math Department...
'Tsk, that feels wrong too.'
While I was thinking that, the brat, who had been brooding in silence, suddenly nodded.
Why is he nodding?
"...I shall do so."
Whoa, why are you leaning toward philosophy?
...To hell with it, I don't care. Let him do what he wants.
I shook my head and scratched my hair.
It's his life; he'll handle it himself.