Chapter 9
The Beginning
(9) The Recital, Suddenly
We walked around from the guild to the front of the church.
Actually… looking at it from here, this seems more like the front side.
From the church entrance, a wide road stretched far into the distance. Beyond the fields and forests, I could see scattered villages or towns—and even farther, way beyond the horizon, the faint shimmer of the sea. It must be tens of kilometers away.
Even though they called it a church, to me it looked more like a temple. I thought so earlier too, when I came here with Alisa. The whole thing was pure white—smooth stone like marble, with a broad staircase of about twenty steps leading up to it. Rows of columns with that “entasis” shape supported the structure, and behind them was a large, curved wall.
That wall was also white, though it didn’t look like plain stone. The front doors were huge and beautifully carved. The building itself looked single-storied, but its roof stood as high as the four-story guild building nearby.
It kind of reminded me of the Greek ruins I’d seen in my world history textbook.
At the edge of one of the columns stood an old man in long white robes.
“Sele, is that the child?” he asked.
Sele replied as we reached the top of the stairs.
“Yes, good morning, Father.”
“G–good morning,” I added after her, nearly tripping over my own words. Nerves.
This old man radiated a presence—something told me he wasn’t just any priest. The guild master had authority too, but this was different. I got the feeling that I shouldn’t casually approach this person. Just intuition, but…
Was I getting intimidated because I was in a child’s body now? No, couldn’t be. Anyway, self-introduction time.
Bowing a full ninety degrees, I said,
“Nice to meet you. My name is Shunsuke. Thank you for taking care of me.”
The priest chuckled, “Ho ho ho. A well-mannered child, I see. Let me look at you… you’ve come from quite a far place, haven’t you?”
Wait—just from my greeting, how much did he figure out?
“I am Jilatte, the priest of this church,” he said. “Well then, leave the rest to me. Sele, you’re busy, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Please take care of him.”
Sele bowed politely and ran back toward the guild.
“Well then, shall we go?” the priest said, walking ahead. I followed behind.
Finally walking without holding anyone’s hand again—it felt nice.
The massive double doors of the white building were bright blue. Though they opened outward like folding temple doors, opening just one side created enough space for two people to walk through easily. That’s how large they were—and the carvings were incredibly detailed. There were letters too, but I couldn’t read them without deliberately activating my “Appraisal.”
“This church is dedicated to one of the many gods—the Sea God, Warden,” Jilatte explained.
“There are several churches along the coast of this continent that worship Warden. This is one of them.”
I see. So there are multiple gods in this world.
Walking straight from the entrance, there was an altar at the far end. Upon it stood a statue of a burly male god sitting in a semi-lotus pose, about two meters tall including the pedestal. He reminded me a bit of the Peace Statue in Nagasaki, though his features were more sharply chiseled.
Beside him were several other square pedestals, each engraved with drawings and text. Probably I could read them with Appraisal—but writing them myself would take study. Better hold back my curiosity for now.
The pedestal for the Sea God also had writing—so that must spell “Warden.”
In front of each pedestal was a small table with offerings, and before that, worn-out cushions for kneeling.
At one pedestal, someone knelt earnestly in prayer.
“You can pray to gods other than Warden as well,” Jilatte said.
“Who’s that one for?” I asked.
“That’s Undina, the goddess of water.”
So the god of the sea and the goddess of water are separate beings. Interesting—it really feels like I’ve stepped into a story.
Oh wait, I am in another world.
“Now then, let’s go to the orphanage side,” Jilatte said.
We passed through a side door, and soon lively voices echoed ahead—children’s laughter, like at the kindergarten I once visited for work experience.
“This is the nursery area,” he explained. “Children from the orphanage up to age seven spend their days here, and we also take care of children whose parents are working.”
Sunlight streamed through windows where about ten baby cribs were lined up, with two women tending to the infants.
The rest of the space was open, with toddlers playing on the floor with simple toys, and kids around my apparent age wrestling—not fighting, just roughhousing like friendly wrestling.
I’d done a bit of judo back home, so yeah, I’d be fine even if they tried something.
There were probably over fifty children here—like two full school classes. That’s a lot to manage at once.
“Lots of boys, huh,” I noted.
“We let them choose their own paths,” the priest said. “But the girls tend to be more responsible. They help with chores, sometimes even assist at the Adventurer’s Guild to save up pocket money.
The boys, on the other hand, usually wait until adulthood to realize they need to study, and then grudgingly learn reading and writing at the guild.”
So the orphanage was more about caretaking than education.
“Is there anything I can help with?” I asked. “I’m small, so I don’t know what I can do yet.”
“Well,” Jilatte mused, “since the adult study sessions are at night, there’s nothing for you then. But during the day, we do cleaning, laundry, food prep—things like that.”
Perfect. I’d done part-time work before, and being from a single-parent home, I could handle house chores just fine.
“Next, over here,” he said, leading me out of the big room.
The next room looked like a dining hall—low tables and chairs lined up neatly. Even at my reduced height, I could sit here comfortably.
In the back, I could see a kitchen and other utility areas.
We went upstairs to the second floor. I heard music—repeating phrases, like someone practicing. Peeking through a crack, I saw an adult playing an instrument.
“This is the music room,” said Jilatte. “You may have seen the same instrument beside the altar.”
Ah, I hadn’t even noticed that earlier.
“Music is required for some church ceremonies. People can practice here, and when staff aren’t using it, children may play under supervision.”
My curiosity spiked.
“Would you like to try it?” he asked, reading my thoughts.
“Yes, please,” I said eagerly.
He knocked and opened the door.
“Sorry to interrupt your practice,” he said.
“Oh, Father Jilatte—it’s fine,” said a man wearing the same long white robes.
“Let the boy try for a bit,” Jilatte said.
“Of course. And this child is…?”
“He’s Shunsuke, newly arrived. Shunsuke, this is Deacon Rai. Call him Rai-sensei.”
“Yes. Nice to meet you, Rai-sensei. I’m Shunsuke.”
“Nice to meet you,” Rai smiled. “Want to try? Just press the keys—they make sound easily.”
The instrument resembled an organ. Standing on tiptoe, I could see the keyboards—two tiers of keys, narrower than a piano’s but similar layout. The white and black colors were reversed, though.
“Rai, I’ll leave him to you,” Jilatte said.
“Understood.”
The priest exited, and Rai guided me to the seat.
The chair had a foot bar to climb up, and Rai placed a small platform for my feet—plus, pedals! Nice.
“May I touch it?”
He nodded.
I pressed the leftmost C key on the upper keyboard.
“Oh! Sounds like C!”
Then I pressed a lower C on the bottom tier—same note.
One by one, I pressed the keys to the right, then the sharps and flats.
The sound was familiar in pitch, but the tone was different—less like a piano or organ, more like an unamplified electric guitar.
Wait… maybe a harpsichord?
I even noticed a pedal that sustained the sound. Yeah, similar to piano mechanics—but probably a different instrument entirely. Still, in another world, coincidence happens.
Mom’s old electric piano back home had a “harpsichord” sound mode—it reminded me of that.
“Shunsuke, have you played a harpsichord before?” Rai asked.
Ah, so it is a harpsichord here too.
“No, this is my first time seeing one,” I said, peering into its inner workings—strings stretched in complex patterns.
Then my eyes fell on the sheet music.
“Whoa,” I muttered. Staff notation! Something I could actually read!
The text here was unreadable, but this—I understood!
I’d gone to piano lessons as a kid, because Mom once said, “Playing instruments makes you smarter at math.” I didn’t know if that was true, but I kept at it for a while, and even after quitting, I’d still play sometimes—especially since Mom had kept the piano at home.
Looking at the sheet before me, I thought I might manage to sight-read it, though these small hands might be an issue.
“Rai-sensei, is this note here the same as this one?” I asked, pointing from note to key.
“Yes.”
“And this one?”
“Yes, that too.”
Nice! The middle range overlapped between the two keyboards. I started playing slowly through the piece.
Couldn’t reach the octaves, and the keys needed more pressure than my electric piano, but the sustain pedal worked the same way.
The melody was solemn yet simple—music for a god. I lost myself in it, finishing the page-spread piece before I realized.
“Phew,” I sighed. That was fun—hadn’t played in ages.
“Wow!” “That was amazing!” voices cried.
The door had opened—three girls were watching and clapping enthusiastically. Rai joined in too.
“That was wonderful,” he said. “Better than me—I’ve practiced that piece so many times.”
Ah, so that’s why he was repeating earlier.
“I just played slowly since it was my first time seeing this sheet,” I said.
“That’s actually the right tempo for that song,” he smiled. “Was that truly your first time?”
“I’ve played something similar before.”
“I see.”
“Hey, hey, can you play another one?” one of the girls asked.
I looked at my small hands. What could I manage? Oh—maybe something from Beyer’s piano book…
“All right, just one more.”
I started playing No. 80 from memory—but instantly regretted it.
The crossed-hand parts! The two-tier keyboard made it awkward. I had to tuck my left hand under awkwardly.
Yeah, I’d once tried this at a music shop—playing piano songs on a dual keyboard doesn’t work well. Totally forgot that.
When I hit the last note, I hopped down from the bench and bowed.
Yep—felt just like a recital. The girls applauded cheerfully.
“So your name’s Shunsuke? Nice to meet you! I’m Yone,” said the fair-skinned girl with yellow-blond hair and blue eyes.
“I’m Chiyo,” said another, with darker hair and eyes—more Asian-looking.
They were about my age.
“And I’m Machu!”
“Matsu,” Yone corrected.
Matsu looked about three—adorably babyish voice, with cat ears and a striped tail to match. Super cute!
Despite their variety of looks, their names sounded old-fashioned—like something from a great-grandmother’s generation back home. Easier to remember, though.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“We’ll show you around from here!”
“Then let’s go together,” Yone said. “Next room’s over here!”
The girls followed along, clearly enjoying themselves.
“This is the book room,” said Chiyo.
Books lay scattered everywhere—but they were mostly picture books without words. In another corner, girls were playing with dolls. Boys were here too, but the room was overwhelmingly filled with girls compared to the first floor.
“You came straight here from the music room, didn’t you?” Rai scolded gently. “Clean up first.”
“Sorry! The music was so pretty we forgot,” one said.
“Understandable,” Rai laughed. “Shunsuke played better than me.”
I felt a little guilty—got too excited at seeing a keyboard.
I helped them tidy up the books.
“Where does this one go?”
“Over here.”
The books were displayed facing outward like in a rack, not a shelf. There weren’t many, and all were quite worn.
On one wall hung a chart of characters, with several stone tablets beneath it.
“Is this an alphabet chart?” I asked.
“Yes,” Rai said. “It shows the basic set of letters used most often.”
Something about the layout felt familiar—horizontal rows, a certain number of symbols…
“This row is vowels,” said Yone proudly, pointing. “This one’s ‘a.’”
“And this is ‘i,’” Chiyo added.
“Oh! And then ‘u,’ ‘e,’ ‘o’—”
Wait… that’s A I U E O!
“Then what’s under this one?” I asked.
“That’s ‘ka,’” Yone said.
I kept asking, and then—realization hit me.
Fifty sounds. It was basically a Japanese syllabary!
So the spoken language here matched Japanese, only the script was different. Lucky me—if the words were understandable, I could manage fine.
“Then my name is written like this—‘Shunsuke,’ right?” I said, writing it on a tablet.
“Wow, you wrote that beautifully for your first try!” Chiyo said.
Yeah, this script was easy—like hiragana-level simple, with just a few strokes per letter.
“Indeed,” Rai added. “Normally, one must practice drawing lines and curves before learning to write characters.”
“I can write letters from another country,” I said.
“Ah, so you’re from abroad, Shunsuke?”
“Yes, from very far away.”
“That must be lonely,” Rai said softly, patting my head.
Adults in this world really liked patting kids’ heads, huh.
“Shunsuke, you came from far away too?” Yone asked. “Me too!”
“Machu too! Machu too!”
“Matsu, you just came from the next village,” Yone corrected.
“But that’s far,” Matsu pouted.
I couldn’t resist—her cat ears were too fluffy. I gently ruffled her head.
“Heh, with legs as short as Matsu’s, even the next village is far,” I chuckled.
“Ehehe.”
“Oh my, Shunsuke, you’re such a kind boy,” Yone said. “That’s rare.”
“Is it? The men at the guild were kind,” I replied.
“I don’t like the boys here besides you,” Chiyo said.
“They’re rough! Always hitting!” added Yone.
Girls really are chatty no matter the world.
“Boys shouldn’t hit girls,” I said.
“Yeah!”
“Let’s be friends, Shunsuke!”
“Of course. Nice to meet you all properly.”
We exchanged handshakes one by one.
“Nice to meet you!” Yone said.
“Nice to meet you!” said Chiyo.
“Me too!”
“Let’s be friends,” added Matsu—cute as ever. I decided to nickname her Macchan.
After our little handshake party ended, I turned back to Rai.
“Sorry, Rai-sensei. Could you continue the tour?”
He chuckled softly. “Of course. Let’s go.”
And so, we walked on again.
