CHAPTER 7

UNYIELDING DETERMINATION

“Congratulations, Your Highness!”

When Ayato and Julis returned to the prep room, Flora met them with an enthusiastic greeting. Nearly collapsing under the girl’s tackle hug, Julis smiled indulgently. “Thanks, Flora.”

“You were really, really amazing! I was so excited!” The younger girl waved her arms wildly, her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

Unable to escape the winners’ interview this time, Ayato and Julis had stymied the press corps with vague answers. They had finally been released just moments ago, and a fair amount of time had passed since the end of their match. Flora must have truly been impressed to maintain this level of excitement.

“You were really awesome, too, Master Amagiri! How did you become so strong? Can I be that strong someday?”

“Um… Well, maybe if you train every day.”

“I see! Then, then—can you help me train sometime?!”

“Uh, sure…”

“Yay! Thank you, Master Amagiri! I’ll work hard!” Flora threw her arms around Ayato.

Like Kirin, she reminded him of a small animal, but in a different way—maybe a lively little puppy. He wanted to gently pet Kirin’s head, but Flora was a bouncy kind of cute that made him want to ruffle her hair.

“You’re always so full of energy, Flora. It’s good to see.” In the back corner of the room, Claudia had been happily observing the scene.

“Oh, you’re here, too?” Julis said. “Well, I suppose Flora couldn’t get in by herself.”

“Yes—although I was a little surprised to see her here.” Claudia laughed softly.

“So you and Flora know each other, Claudia?” Ayato asked.

“Yes, I’ve seen her attending Julis several times.”

“Miss Enfield is always so nice! She gave me yummy sweets today, too!”

“Sweets?”

Now that Flora mentioned it, Ayato noticed something like chocolate on her mouth, as well as an assortment of pastries and other confections spread across the table.

“Oh, those are a little something from me,” Claudia said. “I finished up a few tasks and I had some time.”

“So you made these?”

“Well, I hadn’t been in the kitchen in a while, so I can’t make any guarantees about the quality.”

Despite Claudia’s disclaimer, the pastries looked good enough to give a bakery’s wares a run for their money—better, in fact.

“Thanks, I think I’ll have some,” Ayato said. “I am a little hungry.”

“Please.”

He selected a chocolate-covered cookie. “Mm, that is good!”

Ayato had little to compare it to, since he didn’t often go for desserts. The elegantly bittersweet chocolate was aromatic, not too sweet—exactly the sort of treat he liked.

“Hee-hee. I’m glad you like it.” Claudia smiled happily, her cheeks tinged ever-so-slightly pink.

“So you can cook on top of everything else, Claudia? That’s amazing.”

He’d figured she, a well-heeled young lady, would have little reason to learn culinary skills, but she really could do anything.

“You’re so perfect that it makes the rest of us feel bad,” Julis complained. “Everything comes naturally to you. Isn’t there anything you don’t do well?”

Still, with a look of resignation, she reached for a sweet herself.

“Oh, there are plenty of things I’m bad at. I just thought I should score some points for myself, that’s all.”

“Points…?” Julis repeated suspiciously.

“The rest of you were all making hand-cooked meals for Ayato to attract him,” Claudia replied. “I can’t sit idly by, can I?”

“P-pfft! I—” Julis sputtered. “No one’s trying to attract anyone! How did you know about that, anyway?!”

“Hee-hee. How, indeed? Well, leaving that aside…” Carelessly dodging the question, Claudia looked seriously at Ayato and Julis. “Congratulations, both of you, for advancing to the semifinals. On behalf of Seidoukan Academy, I express our joy and gratitude.”

She bowed to them deeply.

“Um, you don’t need to thank us…,” Ayato said.

“That’s right,” Julis agreed. “I’m only fighting to make my wish come true, after all.”

“I understand, of course,” Claudia said. “But in terms of the projected results for this season, Seidoukan has scored more points than we could have hoped for. Your teams are the first in several years to reach the final four. It really means a lot to our school.”

“Well, I admit, I don’t mind hearing genuine words of praise from you,” Julis said. “But you’ve already congratulated the other team, then?”

“Yes. They did finish first, after all. I paid my respects to them before coming here.”

The “other team,” of course, referred to Saya and Kirin.

“I invited them to come here with me,” Claudia said, “but they wanted to prepare for tomorrow.”

“Oh? They must be very invested in winning,” Julis remarked.

“Well, they’re going to face Saya’s rivals,” Ayato said.

The next opponents for Saya and Kirin were the autonomous Puppets from Allekant. For Saya, they were the reason for entering the Phoenix. And in each match, those automatons had completely trashed the competition.

Even Ayato was interested to see how they would fare against the Puppets.

“You’ve made it this far,” Claudia said. “I’m rooting for an all-Seidoukan championship match.”

Julis nodded firmly. “We’re aiming for nothing less. And I’m sure they are, too.”

“So the final four teams are finally decided.”

Sinking into a chair in his executive office, the chairman of the Festa Executive Committee, Madiath Mesa, let out a long sigh.

“Yes, sir. There might not have been as much hype leading up to this season’s Phoenix compared to past events, but it proved to be splendidly exciting once it began. Your decision to allow Allekant’s Puppets to fight as proxies was met with great success. It’s all due to your acumen, chairman.”

“I’d say it’s a little early to call it a great success. People might still change their minds with the semifinals and the final.”

“Well, we’ve already exceeded the revenue and attendance of the last Phoenix. I don’t think public opinion will take a dive at this point…”

“But you never know. That’s what makes things interesting.”

As Madiath answered the fawning older subordinate, he placed his hand on the console at the end of his desk to open eight air-windows containing data on the semifinalists.

They comprised one team from Allekant Académie, one from St. Gallardworth Academy, and two from Seidoukan Academy.

“So, which team do you think will win?” Madiath asked.

“What—? Sir, I’m a member of the Executive Committee. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to voice my personal opinion on—”

“Ha-ha. No need to be so uptight,” Madiath said with a laugh. “It’s fine. You have my permission. Consider it a part of your duties.”

“I see…” Pressed by Madiath but still looking uncertain, the other man scrutinized the rows of faces on the screens. “Well… To be frank, I didn’t expect two teams from Seidoukan. Traditionally, they’ve fared well in the Phoenix, but their dismal showings in recent years have been hard to watch.”

“Yes,” Madiath agreed. “But they seem to have even more drive now because of it. Do you think one of those teams will win, then?”

“No, sir. It’s true that both teams are excellent, but the fighters are too volatile. I don’t see either team winning the championship,” the man declared bluntly.

In Madiath’s opinion, this man was fairly competent. Of course, there would hardly be anyone incompetent at the upper levels of an integrated enterprise foundation, but even with that in mind, Madiath considered him quite capable.

He trusted his subordinate’s judgement, derived from watching countless fighters over many years of Festa administration.

“I see,” Madiath said. “Then what about the two from Gallardworth?”

“Hmm. That young man in the eleventh rank is a decent Dante, but I don’t think it’s a favorable matchup for him. How a Dante’s strengths compare to his opponent’s is very significant. Barring something unforeseen, I think they will lose in the next round.”

“So, in your opinion, Allekant’s Puppets will be the champions?”

The subordinate nodded politely. “Yes. Their abilities are marvelous. They’ve taken all their matches effortlessly. I think it’s reasonable to say that they’re the unquestionable favorites. However…”

“However?”

For a moment, the man seemed unsure. “Well—it’s just that…considering the kind of effects their victory might have on future Festas, it may not be the most desirable outcome…”

“You think so?”

“Oh, er—I’ve overstepped. My apologies, sir.” The subordinate quickly bowed his head.

“Not at all. I value your opinions. It’s true some fans will be disappointed to see mechs win the tournament when they only entered on a special ruling. And even the fans who are cheering for them now might find that it’s just…a little much to see non-humans take the championship.”

Allekant had brought the question of the special ruling for automatons directly to Madiath—which meant the consequences for any errors in judgment would fall squarely on his shoulders.

“But, well, if that happens, it happens,” he mused. “All we’ve done is give them a fair chance.”

“Very true, sir.” The subordinate spoke respectfully. His expression changed, as if it suddenly occurred to him to ask: “How about you, chairman? Who do you think will win?”

“Me? Hmm, well…” Madiath scanned the eight air-windows, just as the other man had done moments ago. “I’d have to say Allekant.”

“Oh, you think so, too, sir?”

“If we simply compare each team’s abilities in combat, there’s not much of a debate. The odds of them winning this Phoenix are eight in ten. —Oh, is it almost time?” Madiath checked the clock.

“Ah, yes. It’s time for your meeting with Frauenlob,” the subordinate said. “I’m sorry to have taken up your time like this.”

“No, don’t worry about that. I’m the one who asked, after all.” Madiath motioned with his hand. His subordinate bowed and left the office.

Once he was alone, Madiath exhaled and closed the air-windows one at a time. The pair from Gallardworth disappeared, then Saya and Kirin, then the mechs from Allekant, and finally, Julis.

Only the window displaying Ayato Amagiri remained open. Madiath’s hand paused.

“Haruka’s little brother,” he said aloud, a playful smile coming to his face. “It’s true… You never know what might happen. That’s what makes things interesting.”

On the fourteenth day of the Phoenix, in a prep room at the Sirius Dome…

“Well, should we get going now?” Kirin prompted.

Saya looked up from her hands and nodded with her usual stoic expression.

“Hmm? What is that?” Kirin asked.

Saya had been fixated on an old scrap of paper. “…My lucky charm.”

She held out a voucher, an obviously homemade one. In the adorable, oversize handwriting of a child, it read Wish Coupon.

“It’s a magic coupon to make any wish come true.”

“Wow—that sounds wonderful.” Kirin guessed it was an important memento to Saya from the way she handled the piece of paper. “Oh, were you wishing to win today’s match?”

“No.” Saya emphatically shook her head. “This is just for good luck. We’ll win today with our own strength.”

“You’re right. Sorry.”

Saya could not be more correct. They would never advance if they placed their faith in anything other than themselves, Kirin told herself, summoning all her resolve.

Saya placed the paper in her shirt and turned to her. “Kirin…”

“Oh—yes? What is it?”

Saya suddenly bowed her head. “Thank you.”

“Wha—?! For what?!”

“I’ve made it this far thanks to your help. I really appreciate it.”

“P-please. There’s no need to thank me.” Flustered, Kirin waved her hands.

“I wanted to make it this far, no matter what,” Saya said as she clenched her fists.

“To defeat the Puppets from Allekant, right?”

Kirin had heard about the events leading Saya to enter the Phoenix—one of the Allekant students had insulted a gun made by her father, and she was fighting to demand a retraction.

Still, Kirin couldn’t help but wonder. She could understand that the issue was important to Saya, but it seemed excessive to enter the Phoenix for that alone.

As if she had read Kirin’s mind, Saya smiled awkwardly. “…You deserve to know. My dad lost most of his body in an accident at the research facility where he worked.”

Saya spoke so nonchalantly that for a few moments, Kirin couldn’t take in the meaning of her words. “Huh…?”

“His brain was unharmed, fortunately, so he used his workers’ comp to build a workshop at home and linked himself to its core. Now that he’s used to it, he’s been happy enough—he can do more intricate work than he ever could have with a human body.”

“…” Uncertain what to say, Kirin helplessly lowered her eyes.

“You don’t need to feel bad for us. Dad says he’s glad to have the freedom to research what he wants, and I’ve come to terms with it.”

“Research what he wants…?”

“Making guns for me.” Saya patted the Lux activator sheathed at her waist.

“For you?”

“Right. So in a way, what Camilla Pareto said is right. This power wasn’t intended for the people, but for just one person—me.” Saya exhaled and closed her eyes—then slowly opened them again. “But even so—no, that’s why I can’t allow her to disrespect it.”

Saya’s gaze shone with fierce determination.

It was an unshakeable conviction.

“Oh, one more thing. Don’t tell Ayato about my dad.”

“Why?”

“He’s a nice person, so he’ll only worry. I’ll tell him after this tournament.”

“I understand.”

If this is what Saya decided, it’s not my place to intervene, Kirin thought. But in her heart, she smiled. It’s just like Saya to look out for Ayato.

“All this talking is wearing me out… Let’s go.” Saya sighed and walked out of the prep room.

“O-okay!” Kirin strapped the Senbakiri to her waist and rushed after her.

The passageway to the stage was long and dimly lit.

This was their first time fighting in the Sirius Dome. It was essentially no different from other large-scale arenas, but there was something special about fighting on Asterisk’s main stage.

Kirin noticed two figures up ahead, near the entrance gate.

Saya saw them, too, and her steps slowed a bit.

As they approached, Kirin saw that they were female.

Allekant uniforms…? Then are they—?

“Hey there, little lady. Been a while, huh!” A woman with a ponytail called out in a strangely cheerful tone.

It was Ernesta Kühne.

“…What do you want?” Saya said.

“Aw, gee, that’s cold! We might be about to fight, but we can get to know each other, can’t we? It’s not like we’re trying to rig the match or anything.”

“You’re not fighting us. Those Puppets are.”

“Mm, technically, that’s true…”

Saya seemed uninterested in continuing the conversation. Not sure what to do, Kirin looked on awkwardly.

“Anyway, so, Camilla here had something she really wanted to tell you!” Ernesta said.

The bronze-skinned woman behind her stepped forward. “Hello, Saya Sasamiya. It seems I was wrong about you, so I wanted to say something before we settle the score.”

“Wrong how?”

“I see it now that I’ve watched your matches. In and of themselves, all your Luxes are flawed. But when you wield them—that is, when one considers you and the Lux as a single weapon—they are extremely powerful.”

Saya reacted with surprise. “Then—”

“I still won’t retract what I said,” Camilla declared before Saya could suggest it. “If you are part of the weapon, the organic components introduce additional unreliability. That is impractical. What’s more, my beliefs—the beliefs of Ferrovius—and my professional pride do not allow me to accept such a perverse gift of power to a single individual.”

“Then I’ll make you accept it by beating your toys.”

“Impossible. Even if you could—as unimaginable as that is, even if Ardy and Rimcy were to lose to the two of you—I will never accept it.”

Saya’s glare burned with rage at Camilla.

“But if they should lose, I will take back some of what I said to you. I have poured every ounce of skill and technology that Ferrovius and I have amassed throughout the years into Ardy and Rimcy. If you defeat them, I will have to recognize that your weapons are practical.”

With that, Camilla abruptly turned her back to Saya and walked away.

“Wha—? C’mon, you’re just gonna flounce off once you’re finished talking? I’ve got all sorts of questions about her guns! Aw, wait for me! Hey, Camilla!” Ernesta skipped after her but suddenly stopped and turned around to shout in farewell. “Have fun, okay? Take care of our babies!”

She waved her arms like a child, then disappeared into the passageway at a trot.

“…” Saya stared after them for a while, then turned to the gate. “Let’s go, Kirin.”

“Right.”

They headed toward the brightly lit stage and the storm of cheers around it.

“We have to win.”

“Right!”

“Hello, everyone! Are you as excited as we are?! It’s your favorite announcer, Mico Yanase, live from Sirius Dome, and with me is Ms. Tram on commentary!”

“Hey, folks.”

“So we’re finally in the semifinals of the Phoenix! The first match is between Saya Sasamiya and Kirin Toudou of Seidoukan Academy, and—fighting as proxies—Ardy and Rimcy of Allekant Académie! This one’s gonna be good!”

“Some people are saying this one will decide the championship.”

“Is that right?”

“Well, both teams in the other semifinal have made it through some hard knocks. Those fighters have some serious fatigue and injuries to cope with. Both teams in this match have made it here with hardly a scratch, so.”

“I see, I see! These two teams won most of their battles before you could blink. Now, Team Sasamiya-Toudou did have a tight contest in the quarterfinal, but Team Ardy-Rimcy took only about a minute to win every time!”

“And that’s after telling their opponents they wouldn’t attack for that full minute, so. I’m thinking one of the keys to today’s match will be whether Team Sasamiya-Toudou can break through Ardy’s Absolute Shield.”

Absolute Shield—this was what they called Ardy’s wall of light. The phrase had popped up on the net, and by now it had become the accepted term. Saya suspected it was a small-scale version of the defensive barriers used for the Festa stages. So far, no one had succeeded in breaking through to land an attack on Ardy.

As usual, Ardy’s declaration boomed through the arena. “Hear me! Once again, we will grant our opponents one minute. During this time, we will not attack you. Do as you wish!”

“…Hmph.”

His condescending challenge sounded almost more human than an actual human.

Saya gave him a contemptuous glance and turned to her partner. “Kirin, he’s all yours.”

“All right.”

“Show him what’s what.”

Kirin nodded and drew her katana an inch from its scabbard. She focused her mind to prepare for combat.

“Phoenix, Semifinal Round One—Begin!”

Even when the match began, Ardy and Rimcy showed no intention of moving.

Ardy, standing firm and imposing with his arms crossed, hardly looked ready to fight. He was the very picture of arrogance.

“I, Kirin Toudou, will face you in battle.” Holding the Senbakiri in front of her, Kirin confronted Ardy’s enormous frame directly.

“Hmm, so you are my challenger, Kirin Toudou. I was not expecting this,” Ardy said incredulously.

“…Is there a problem?”

“I had thought Saya Sasamiya would face me—that is all. I am somewhat surprised.”

“Do you mean to say that I’m not a worthy opponent for you?”

“If you mean to break through my defensive barrier, the logical choice is Saya Sasamiya and her high-powered Luxes.”

“…”

“It is true that you possess perhaps the most athleticism and skill among all the contestants of this Phoenix. The data does not lie. But your weapon is not even a Lux—it is an ordinary katana. If you had an Orga Lux, it would be one thing, but you cannot hope to break through my barrier with that.” Peering down at Kirin from far above, Ardy slumped in dismay. “My advice would be to switch with Saya Sasamiya, or to jointly—”

“Would you like to try me, then?” Kirin interrupted Ardy quietly.

“Hrm?”

“Please see for yourself whether the Senbakiri and I will indeed be no match for you.”

“Very well. If you insist, give it a go. I’m interested to see what you will try in the next minute.”

As soon as Ardy nodded, Kirin’s katana whipped through the air like a flash of light.

The diagonal strike came with superhuman speed. But just before the tip of the blade reached Ardy’s body, the wall suddenly appeared to deflect it.

Undaunted, Kirin attacked a second, and then a third time.

“Ah—your speed is phenomenal. I am impressed that you have reached this level with a body of flesh.” Ardy still stood unflinching, his arms still crossed.

The barrier repelled every single one of Kirin’s attacks.

“But it is of no avail,” Ardy said bluntly. “No matter how fast you might be, it is impossible for a human to surpass me in reflex. Which is to say, your attacks will never reach me.”

Kirin paused her blade to slow her breathing. “I see. Now I know what I need to know.”

Repositioning her katana by her shoulder, she went for Ardy again.

“I just told you, it’s of no avail…”

But Kirin’s katana slid around the wall of light and, with a hard clang, left a clean, straight scratch on Ardy’s arm.

“Hrm…?”

“W-wow, this is incredible! Finally, for the first time all tournament, an attack has landed on Ardy! Did Toudou just achieve the impossible? Did she get through the invincible Absolute Shield with just an ordinary katana?!” The announcer’s excited voice rang through the arena over the wildly cheering crowd.

Ardy, meanwhile, stared at his arm in quiet shock.

“How—this is not possible. How did you—”

“Our minute isn’t up yet,” Kirin said. “Please withdraw your declaration. And let us confront each another on equal terms.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“I mean, don’t take us lightly, please.”

Chagrinned, Ardy fell silent. Kirin wasted no time in attacking again.

The wall of light materialized to block it, but once more Kirin’s blade zipped around it to carve into Ardy’s side. He grunted in frustration.

“The first time was not a fluke. If you insist on continuing this, the next attack will be the last.” Kirin pointed the Senbakiri at Ardy.

“…” He remained silent.

Kirin let out a short breath, and the Senbakiri gleamed.

But before she could strike, Ardy activated a hammer-shaped Lux to go on the offensive.

“—!”

Kirin withdrew her blade and dodged the attack, then sprang backward to distance herself.

“And—and now! Ardy attacked his opponent! It’s been fifty-six seconds since his challenge! It hasn’t been a minute yet!”

Spinning the hammer around him, Ardy slammed its end into the ground.

“Most impressive! In this, you have bested me. I withdraw my declaration!” Ardy retracted his statement boldly, and more easily than Kirin might have expected. “It appears that I have presumed too much. I know now that I have much to learn. Now, I would humbly ask, what technique was it that you used?”

Ardy’s demeanor remained haughty despite his verbal show of humility, but he did seem to be speaking honestly.

As she readied her blade, Kirin replied deliberately. “It worked because you’re a machine.”

“What do you mean by that?” Ardy tilted his head, unable to process her answer.

“You analyze my data and actions to predict my incoming attack and activate the barrier. Isn’t that right?”

“Indeed, that is correct.” And what’s wrong with that? Ardy left unsaid.

“The Toudou style has techniques to manipulate the opponent using my breathing, my gaze, changes in range and distance, movements of my muscles—everything. I am constantly planning and adapting. But you—because you’re such a well-made machine, you observe all of that and arrive at a conclusion that is beyond perfect. So all I have to do is make my attack slightly off.”

“Then—you were baiting me?” Ardy blurted in disbelief.

“If this was a fight between two experienced swordsmen, we would be reading each other in every possible manner, every single instant. Neither of my earlier attacks would have reached Ayato, for example. I did bait your movements in an obvious way. But because you’re a machine, you respond simplistically.” Kirin paused, then delivered her verdict in no uncertain terms: “Essentially, your flaw is lack of experience as a fighter.”

Saya watched the exchange between Kirin and Ardy.

“…That’s my Kirin.” She nodded in satisfaction.

“I don’t understand,” Rimcy said, scowling suspiciously. She had been facing down Saya.

“Hmm? Don’t understand what?”

“Why didn’t you try to attack me in that one minute?”

Just as Rimcy said, Saya had simply watched her partner without doing so much as activate her Lux.

“If that good-for-nothing oaf gets his butt soundly kicked, that’s his own fault. But you refused to take an advantage that was offered to you. You’re the one underestimating us. This is most displeasing.” Rimcy activated an enormous gun-shaped Lux in each hand and aimed them at Saya.

“Displeasing? I just wanted you to fight us without holding back.” Calmly, Saya finally took out her own Lux activator. “There’s no point otherwise.”

Then, bullets of light rained down on her like a storm. Saya twisted to dodge the volley and activated her Lux in midair.

“Type 41 Lux twin blaster, Waldenholt,” she murmured for no one else to hear.

Naming aloud the weapons her father had made for her—that was one of Saya’s self-imposed rules.

A large-scale Lux with a massive backpack unit materialized, and a targeting HUD projected from her hair ornament. An enormous gun wrapped around each of her arms.

As she landed, she poured prana into the manadites. Dodging the next salvo, she squeezed the trigger.

“Burst.”

Bright bluish light amassed at the muzzles of the guns.

The next moment, with a high-pitched shriek, two giant projectiles pierced through the air.

“—!”

Rimcy barely managed to evade the first shot, but not the second.

As the thunderous explosion threatened to bring the whole arena down, Rimcy slammed into the opposite wall. Saya’s firepower was so devastating that if not for the protective barrier, the Puppet might have exited the arena itself.

“Well, I’m good to go, too,” Saya said to the cloud of debris. “Bring it on.”

In reply, a pair of red eyes glowed through the dust.