A Guide to Raising Snake Spirits - Chapter 26

Shiraishi Haru spent a blissful week of vacation at the Guide apartments, but returning meant facing a mountain of overdue assignments and missed lecture notes.

Fortunately, he hadn’t just been idling at Mizuki Nozomi’s place. He had asked the class monitor for the lecture notes and assignment requirements, burying himself in his studies.

Usually, a Sentry and Guide’s susceptibility period should involve a cozy double bed and shared activities that Sentries and Guides enjoy. But for Shiraishi Haru and Mizuki Nozomi, it consisted of Mizuki sleeping for seven straight days with a rhythmic snore, while Shiraishi stayed in the guest room, diligently teaching himself by the light of a lamp, surrounded by the scent of lemon-flavored pheromones.

[Class Monitor: Here are today’s lecture notes and the group project details.]

[Class Monitor: The group project requires four people. I figured since you weren’t here, you probably didn’t have a team yet, so I added you, Honeysuckle, and Ye Ran to my group. I’ve already submitted our names.]

[Shiraishi Haru: Thanks. I’m heading back to the Tower tomorrow.]

[Class Monitor: No big deal. We’ll talk about the division of labor tomorrow.]

Even the deepest friendships and classmate bonds can crumble under the weight of a group project. When faced with the metalworking and engineering training, everyone had their own ideas.

The good-natured class monitor said, “I don’t think that approach will work.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try it first,” Honeysuckle, a stubborn Sentry with a curly afro, insisted.

Ye Ran stood nearby with arms crossed. “The monitor is being too nice to you. I think it’s a total non-starter. If the final product is useless, we’ll have wasted time and won’t be able to turn in the assignment. What then?”

Honeysuckle was indignant. “Do you have a problem with me? What do you mean ‘total non-starter’? How do you know if you haven’t tried?”

Ye Ran glanced at him. “Our skill levels are what they are. The teacher didn’t ask for anything overly complex. Your idea is basically a pipe dream. If you really want to do it, do it on your own.”

“We have two weeks in total. There’ll be time to change it later. What’s the harm in trying?”

The conflict escalated. These hot-blooded young Sentries looked like they were about to come to blows. The class monitor clenched his fists and took a deep breath. “Stop arguing.”

Ye Ran stopped the childish bickering and looked at the monitor. “Fine, you tell us. What should we do?”

The monitor hesitated. “Um… let me think.”

The scene fell into a temporary silence.

Shiraishi Haru, who had been quietly listening to them go back and forth for three rounds, suggested, “I have an idea. See what you guys think.”

“Let’s hear it,” the monitor said.

It needed to be clever, but not too difficult.

Shiraishi explained the general concept, and the three of them exchanged looks.

“I think it works,” the monitor said. “What about you two?”

Honeysuckle had to admit Shiraishi’s proposal was more practical than his own. “I think it works too.”

When Ye Ran agreed, he didn’t miss the chance to jab at his partner. “It works. It’s much more achievable than what some people suggested.”

Honeysuckle waved a fist, looking ready to charge in for a fight to the death.

The monitor, having reached his limit, pulled the two of them apart.

Once the plan was set and they found references to draw up the design, they began the process: marking the raw materials, sawing, grinding them smooth, drilling holes, and threading screws.

For young Sentries, filing and sawing were as easy as cutting tofu. The hardest part was not sawing too fast and going crooked, or filing off too much by being heavy-handed.

Wearing thick white gloves, Shiraishi Haru stood by the workbench, meticulously filing the surface with a file.

In the end, the four of them each made a small component. Each piece represented a specific function, and when combined, they formed a single, small metal cube.

During assembly, Ye Ran and Honeysuckle almost fought again. There was a slight discrepancy where their pieces connected, and they wouldn’t fit.

The monitor scolded both of them equally and ordered a rework. Finally, everything fit together.

Their group project earned a high score. Since the objects were made in modules, they were allowed to keep them. Honeysuckle talked excitedly about how he planned to give his to a new Guide he had recently met.

Ye Ran nudged the monitor’s shoulder playfully. “What about you, Monitor? Keeping it for your collection, or giving it to… you know who?”

“Mm,” the monitor replied, stowing it away solemnly.

Honeysuckle suddenly shouted, slapping his thigh. “Ah! I saw the monitor making a little wooden box. You’re planning to put it in there, aren’t you?”

The monitor smiled but said nothing.

Shiraishi Haru spoke up. “Monitor, could I take a look at that box you made?”

The monitor looked up. “You want to make a similar one to give away?”

“Yeah,” Shiraishi replied. “Would you mind teaching me?”

The monitor laughed and patted his shoulder. “That’s easy enough. It’s simple.”

Professor Mizuki returned to work as usual, preparing lessons, teaching, and grading assignments.

Hearing a knock at the door, Mizuki Nozomi turned his head. “Come in.”

The grey-haired Sentry entered holding something, closed the door behind him, and walked to the desk.

The Guide looked up at him.

Shiraishi’s eyelashes fluttered as he looked down, handing over a small, square wooden box.

“This is for you.”

“Oh? Thank you.” Mizuki Nozomi took it, sounding quite surprised.

It was a walnut-colored wooden box with rounded corners, slightly larger than a palm.

Inside, it was lined with dark velvet, where a silver metal component lay quietly.

The Sentry stared intently at the Guide’s hands as he opened the box. He held his breath as Mizuki took out the small part he had polished by hand.

Whether during the making of it or when it was being graded by the teacher, Shiraishi had been confident in his craftsmanship. But now that it was actually in the Guide’s hands, he felt uncertain.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he had polished every detail smooth, if the right angles were standard enough, or if the Guide would find it too simple a trinket.

“Metalworking practice?” Mizuki Nozomi laughed when he saw the item. “I took that as an elective once, but I quit because my hands hurt.”

The black-haired Guide held it up to examine it closely.

The part Shiraishi had made functioned like a screwdriver. The edges were polished very smooth, and the bevels meant to connect with other modules were perfectly angled.

Mizuki touched the edges curiously and gave a sincere compliment. “You did a great job. You’re very skilled with your hands, not like a beginner at all. Is this a tool?”

“Four parts can be combined into one whole,” Shiraishi said, showing him a photo he took before turning it in. “This is the part I made.”

“Creative and practical,” Mizuki Nozomi nodded. He put the part back, picked up the box again, and commented, “The box is very nice too.”

“I learned how to make it from the class monitor.”

Seeing that the black-haired Guide seemed interested and was putting it in his drawer, Shiraishi felt a wave of relief.

He had given the gift abruptly, hiding his secret feelings within that small component.

In the tradition of metalworking, it is common to give a handmade part to someone you care for. It is a simple, sincere gesture that fuses various crafts. No two parts in the world are exactly the same, and this simple gift contained the Sentry’s singular affection.

**

In the middle of the month, after Mizuki Nozomi had messaged to check on his progress several times, his father finally returned on schedule via starship.

[Father: Xiao Xi, if you want to know the truth, come home this weekend.]

[Mizuki Nozomi: Okay.]

Mizuki decided not to invite Shiraishi. He wasn’t sure what his father was going to say, and it might not even involve Shiraishi.

When Mizuki arrived at the gate of the small courtyard, his father was carrying a fishing rod bucket and waved him over.

“Your mother is still touring with the group. Only I came back today.”

Mizuki asked, “How did you explain this to Mom?”

“I didn’t say much. Just said it was some father-son business, then booked her a tour she’s always wanted to go on. She went off happily.”

Mizuki was skeptical. No matter how easygoing his mother was, would she really just listen to his father’s talk and let him come back alone?

“Let’s go. We’ll chat by the river while fishing. A little breeze makes for a better mood.” Mizuki’s father pointed to the gear at his feet.

Mizuki picked up another fishing rod and a small stool, following closely behind his father.

The path to the fishing spot was actually quite beautiful. It was a gravel path with overgrown grass, offering a rustic, rural vibe rarely seen in the Star Center. No matter how realistic an electronic holographic simulation was, it could never 100% replicate nature.

Mizuki hadn’t been here in a long time, so his memories were a bit blurred, making the return feel fresh.

The father and son both set up their folding stools, baited their hooks, and cast their lines.

Psychological warfare is all about whoever cracks first, so even though Mizuki was dying of curiosity, he didn’t speak first.

“That Sentry of yours…” Mizuki’s father sighed, opening with his first move. “His memory isn’t quite complete?”

Mizuki had never mentioned Shiraishi’s amnesia. How did his father know?

Mizuki didn’t let it show on his face. He gripped his fishing rod and said nonchalantly, “Not really, he’s just a quiet person.”

“Tell me the truth.” His father wasn’t fooled. “Is it?”

His father had spent years pitting his wits against his son. Ever since Mizuki was a child who didn’t want to go to school, skipped classes, or missed homework, he had been an expert at lying with a straight face.

Seeing he couldn’t hide it, Mizuki set his rod down. “Then you tell me first. How did you know? Did you just figure it out?”

His father said, “I know him.”

Mizuki: “???”

Mizuki was stunned by the bombshell his father had just dropped. No redirection, no stalling, he just said it.

He couldn’t even hold his rod steady. He turned his head sharply to look at his father. “Since when?”

His father was still holding his rod, looking calm and composed. “Don’t worry about that for now. I have something else to tell you.”

“How can I not worry about that?”

“Some things aren’t suitable for you to know…”

Mizuki reached out to interrupt him, sounding annoyed. “Stop. Don’t go into the usual routine of saying it’s all for my own good. Solving riddles is fine for games, but is my own father really going to give me puzzles?”

“Either keep it completely hidden from me, or just tell me straight.”

His father looked disappointed, like his “spell” had been interrupted. “Fine.”

“You might not know exactly what my work involves,” his father said. “For a long time, until I retired, I worked in the pharmaceutical industry.”

Mizuki acknowledged this. “I have a vague impression. You and Mom weren’t home much.”

The calm surface of the lake was stirred by the wind into ripples. The float on the water trembled; a fish was biting.

Mizuki’s father lifted the rod, pulling the line. A small fish at the end of the line struggled vigorously as it was caught, unhooked, and tossed into the bucket, creating a splash.

“The content of my work was confidential, so I still cannot tell you about it.”

“Is your compatibility with Shiraishi Haru very high?” His father suddenly changed the subject.

Mizuki noticed his father was no longer using a familiar term for the Sentry.

“Very high,” Mizuki answered bluntly. “There likely won’t be anyone higher.”

“But I remember you didn’t plan on bonding with a Sentry.”

Mizuki picked up his rod again, staring straight at the lake. “Whether I bond or not isn’t the point here.”

His father asked, “But bonded Sentries and Guides live and die together, right?”

Mizuki keenly caught the disapproval in his father’s tone. “The way you say that… sounds like you don’t want me to bond with Shiraishi?”

His father remained silent for a moment.

“You could say that,” his father admitted.

Mizuki remembered the core of today’s topic. “But right now, I’m asking you about that photograph.”

His father said, “That photo is related to that Sentry of yours.”

Mizuki: “?”

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