There was only one month remaining in AD 2095.

Looking back on the year, Tatsuya keenly felt that it had been a dizzying one. He’d fought terrorists in April, an international crime syndicate in August, and foreign invaders in October. Turbulent didn’t begin to describe it.

But he still didn’t have the luxury of leisurely thinking back on his year. Not because of the guiding motto of “There’s still a month left, you never know what will happen until it’s over,” but because of a more pressing, realistic reason:

“…Guh! I just don’t get it!”

“Be quiet! Stop shouting! You’re so annoying!”

“L-Leo, Erika, calm down…”

It was that detestable natural enemy of almost all calling themselves students, whether in middle school, high school, or university. An unavoidable roadblock. A wall they had to overcome—exams were upon them.

The usual suspects had gathered at Shizuku’s house—or mansion, rather.

Tatsuya, Miyuki, Erika, Leo, Mizuki, Mikihiko, Honoka, and Shizuku were all there, without a single person missing, for a group study session in advance of their midterms.

Most of those in the group were high achievers, at least on written tests. The only possible exception, Leo, was still average; he didn’t need to worry about failing. The practical portion was the part to really worry about, but that was outside the scope of this study session.

Despite the occasional strange cries, the room in general had the air of a peaceful teatime—that is, until the bomb Shizuku dropped.

“Huh? Shizuku, could you say that again?” asked Honoka, flustered.

“I’m actually going to be studying abroad in America,” repeated Shizuku, the same exact words in the same exact tone.

“You didn’t tell me!”

“Sorry. I wasn’t allowed to say until yesterday.”

As Honoka paled at the news and pressed her friend, Shizuku’s head dipped apologetically, conveying the only emotion everyone could read on her. Now that Honoka understood that Shizuku had wanted to reveal it earlier but couldn’t, she couldn’t say anything more.

“You managed to get approved?” remarked Erika, but not because she doubted Shizuku’s academic (or linguistic) prowess. In this age, governments restricted overseas voyages unofficially but substantially to avoid the leakage of genes—and thus of military resources—of high-level magicians.

The USNA was ostensibly an ally nation, but it was also a latent rival country in the Pacific region. Under normal conditions, studying abroad there would never be approved.

“Mm. For some reason I got permission. Dad says it’s because it’s an exchange program.”

“Why would they be okay with it just because it’s an exchange program?” wondered Mizuki.

“I dunno.”

Mizuki’s question was a reasonable one; the logic evaded even Tatsuya. He could try to force it into his brain regardless, but he didn’t have nearly enough information to make it click. So he decided to abandon his jog in the mental hamster wheel and think about the matter at hand instead: “How long? When do you leave?”

“Right after the new year. It’ll be three months.”

“Only three months… Don’t scare me like that!” Honoka put a hand to her chest in relief.

By Tatsuya’s logic, even three months was too long (as in, he was surprised the government had approved it).

But that, too, didn’t matter.

“Then we’ll have to have a going-away party,” he proposed to his friends.

Because that was the true matter at hand.

The midterms ended safely, bringing the date to December 24, a Saturday. It was both the last day of the second school term and Christmas Eve.

Even after weathering a third world war, the Japanese were as indifferent as ever when it came to religion. This wasn’t necessarily because they lacked religious belief, but more because, in the backs of their minds, they considered even the absolute gods of the monotheistic religions single entities among many. For that reason, they celebrated the New Year and Christmas in the same general manner as before.

And that day, the streets were decorated for Christmas.

Perhaps it would be more accurate to say they were decorated for the commercialization of Christmas, but that would be pedantically cynical. It would be one thing if a person didn’t have anyone to talk to while espousing that, but to assume such a perverse attitude while surrounded by cute (!) girls, to the point that it poisoned the group waters, would be ridiculously ill-advised. (Of course, in a girl’s case, the phrase “surrounded by cute guys” might be more apt.)

Yes… Even if one was presented with a going-away party, its date brought purposely to December 24, and therein given a small, fresh cream cake with the words “MERRY XMAS” written in white chocolate atop it—even then, one mustn’t call it mismatched. In the first place, going by this shop’s style, it read “WEIHNACHTEN” rather than “XMAS,” but that too was perhaps, well, in good sport for the cultural exchange–oriented occasion.

“Brother, does something concern you?”

He shook his head at his sister, her flowering beauty making it seem like she was dressed up despite wearing her school uniform, and muttered, “It’s nothing.”

Yes. It was nothing—it had to be nothing. He mustn’t do anything that would cause their guest of honor displeasure. He was the one entertaining her today, after all.

“Does everyone have drinks? This may not quite fit the bill for a going-away party, but the owner gave us this cake, so for our toast, let’s go with…merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!”

In response to Tatsuya calmly leading the toast, his friends responded with cheery voices, and they thrust their glasses high.

On the entrance to the café, Einebrise, was a sign saying RESERVED FOR THE DAY.

Across the Pacific Ocean on the North American continent, it was still the night before Christmas Eve. The date was just about to shift to the twenty-fourth.

Compared to Japan, where the majority treated Christmas as just another event, even after weathering a war that spanned twenty long years—or perhaps because they had weathered it—the Americans, including those people who newly became American after the war, treated Christmas far more sincerely, piously, and fervently. In preparation for the morrow’s Christmas Eve, they’d gone to sleep earlier than usual—or, at least, they should have.

Unfortunately, late on the night before Christmas Eve, there were shadowy dealings taking place on a street in Dallas, Texas, a prominent city in the central south of the USNA.

A figure, leaping from rooftop to rooftop.

Several others, encircling the suspicious person from the air. Given their usage of specialized CADs for flight magic, which had only just begun to spread, they must have been police or military magicians.

“Stop at once, Lieutenant Alfred Fomalhaut! You should realize you can’t get away now!”

Directly in front of the fugitive stood a small figure wearing a mask covering her eyes.

Her high-pitched voice called for his surrender. Perhaps seeing something in her short frame, Alfred Fomalhaut stopped dead.

“…What on earth is wrong, Freddy?” she asked in a slightly immature voice with unease and distress mixed in, a definite softening of her previous overbearing tone—a shift one could call subtle. “Why would someone given a first-magnitude code name flee his unit?”

“…”

But she didn’t receive an answer, only silence.

“Some are saying the serial murders happening in the city were done with your pyrokinesis. You’re not doing anything like that, are you?”

“…”

“Please, answer me, Freddy!”

The answer came, but not in the form of words.

The girl leaped back instantly—leaving the stole around her shoulders behind.

The fabric spread out, hiding her behind it, and without any spark, it lit and burned up.

Pyrokinesis—the power to generate fire.

She’d been wearing the stole over her dark-mauve uniform, and all those encircling the man were wearing capes and mantles as well, all cold-weather gear that was easy to remove. However, they wore it not for its original purpose, but to protect themselves from this man’s ability, which he could activate using his sight as the trigger.

As the stole’s flame disappeared, the light went out all around the suspect.

It was an area-of-effect spell that reversed the direction of light within a fixed distance when centered upon a target. A spell whereby light from the outside could be shut away, trapping those within the radius in complete darkness: Mirror Cage.

The defensive spell, which was used for sealing away supernatural powers that used sight as their trigger, had been activated by a single person in the circle.

“Lieutenant Fomalhaut, with the authority of the Stars commander described in the USNA Army Criminal Law Special Provision, I sentence you to death!”

A pronouncement of death, almost a wail.

As First Lieutenant Fomalhaut waited unmoving, bound inside the dark coffin by a second spell, the masked girl—Major Angie Sirius, commander of the Stars—leveled her suppressor-equipped automatic pistol at him.

A single bullet, equipped with a strong Information Boost to disable all magical interference, shot into that bounded field of illusion and ignorance trapping Lieutenant Fomalhaut and pierced him through the heart.

Though they called it a going-away party, they knew they’d be able to see her again in the spring. And when it came to studying abroad overseas, which would never normally be approved for them, maybe it was natural their curiosity would triumph over their sadness.

“So, where are you studying in America?”

“Berkeley.”

Shizuku’s answer to Erika’s question was a single, curt location name, but that wasn’t because she was unhappy—it was just her personality.

“Not Boston?”

A sense that America’s modern magic research centered around Boston was deep-rooted among Japanese magicians. Miyuki’s remark arose from that assumption.

“The East Coast apparently isn’t a great place to be right now.”

Shizuku’s answer to Miyuki’s question was an unsettling one.

“Oh, yeah. The humanists, right? I see them a lot on the news lately.”

Mikihiko kept in step with Shizuku’s answer.

“First witch hunts, now magician hunts? They say history repeats itself, but this is ridiculous,” Leo growled, his voice cold.

“It’s not a perfect repeat, is it? I’m not sure what was behind the witch hunts in the seventeenth century, but the recent ‘magician hunts’ seem like they’re rooted in neo–white supremacy.” Tatsuya smoothed it over with a mollifying tone. “…But, still, maybe you’re right to avoid the area.”

After all, smoothing it over didn’t mean Tatsuya’s words were defending the practice.

“I wasn’t aware of that,” Miyuki interjected after her brother spoke, her gaze seeking an explanation.

Tatsuya immediately answered her: “You can spot a pretty high percentage of the same names in their active group member list. Said list isn’t exactly circulating publicly, so you can’t be blamed for not knowing.”

“That sounds a lot more criminal to me, Tatsuya… Anyway, let’s stop the depressing talk.”

As Erika purposely made a joke and shook her head, Tatsuya and Miyuki gave pained grins and nodded. They were aware the topic was a bit on the shady side for the situation.

“Do you know who’s coming in exchange?”

Perhaps feeling a responsibility to shift the mood, Miyuki’s change of subject was a slightly abrupt one.

“In exchange?”

“It’s an exchange program, right?”

Evidently, Shizuku didn’t seem to grasp the question at first, but after Miyuki prodded her a second time, a look of understanding crossed Shizuku’s face—albeit a hard-to-read one, as usual.

“A girl our age, apparently.”

Amid a line of disappointed faces, Tatsuya smiled and asked, “Do you know anything else?”

“Nope.” Shizuku nodded perfunctorily.

“…Isn’t that just the way it is? You can be curious about this girl all you want, but in the end, we just don’t have a man on the inside to tell us,” Mizuki sighed, putting the conversation to an end.

As one would understand already from the fact that they’d had the going-away party on this day, all eight of the people gathered here had no other plans for Christmas Eve. It surprised Tatsuya that Shizuku, Erika, and Mikihiko didn’t have plans at home, but the Kitayama, Chiba, and Yoshida families had thrown adult-oriented parties, leaving no room for freshmen in high school—thoughts and expectations of their parents aside.

It wasn’t to say they felt none of the youthful temptation of partying all night long and deepening friendships, but unfortunately, they couldn’t be out until midnight in their school uniforms.

“We can’t stick around forever, or we’ll cause trouble for the proprietor.”

After causing the proprietor to flounder at this suspiciously sinister turn of phrase (the speaker’s name omitted for privacy’s sake), the eight set out for home.

Honoka boarded the same self-driving car as Shizuku, likely because she’d be staying over. Honoka didn’t seem very close to her parents—though this was the usual story for magic high school students.

Erika, Leo, Mizuki, and Mikihiko each got in their own vehicle. They couldn’t help but feel at least a little hope for the possibility of unexpected happenings, but it looked like none of them were at that stage yet.

Tatsuya and Miyuki, for whom no unexpected incidents could occur anyway, boarded a two-seater ride and sat together until they returned home. On the surface, the cabinet interiors were called private spaces, but Tatsuya would never forget the old adage: The walls had ears. Whenever they spoke of entangled topics, they always obscured proper nouns. Miyuki knew to do that as well, and though she gave the impression of having something to say, it wasn’t until they passed through the front door of their house and calmed down in the living room that she actually broached the subject.

“I cannot shake the feeling that Shizuku’s study-abroad program is curious.”

After they’d changed in their rooms and sat down next to each other on the sofa to enjoy coffee for two, Miyuki began to speak.

“Curious… I agree.”

Tatsuya took the cup from his lips and wordlessly prompted her to continue. Miyuki hesitantly offered her doubts.

“First, someone with as much magical talent as Shizuku being permitted to study abroad is unnatural. Until a short while ago, I would have been convinced had she said she was studying abroad as the daughter of a wealthy businessman and not as a student of magic, but if that was the case, it’s strange that we don’t know anything about the one coming here to study in exchange. Come to think of it, this study-abroad talk coming up so suddenly—I cannot help but feel something else is going on. It’s almost like…”

“Almost like a backroom deal made to investigate us? According to our aunt, we seem to be under suspicion, after all.” Tatsuya gave a subtle smile and spoke with a tone implying it wasn’t their problem. “Material Burst. I figured they wouldn’t be able to leave that alone.”

Hearing the answer come from her brother’s mouth exactly as she had hesitated to suggest it, Miyuki’s eyes widened, but a moment later she smiled, as though relieved.

“I see… You thought as much as well, Brother?”

“A student coming abroad to study here would be one thing, but considering it alongside our aunt’s warning, it would probably be too naive to chalk it up to coincidence.”

Tatsuya had told Miyuki of his one-on-one conversation with Maya the same day—both about what they were being suspected of, as well as who exactly was under suspicion.

“The Stars, then…?”

“Her forbidding me from contacting the major and the others is starting to hurt.”

As punishment for using a strategic spell without prior permission, Maya had prohibited him from contacting the Independent Magic Battalion for a time. He had very little intention of meekly doing as he was told, but as long as the risk far outweighed the return, he wouldn’t act against her directive of his own accord.

“I suppose even if we ask Aunt Maya…she wouldn’t tell us.”

“The study-abroad program is about to start, too. Clearly, she’s given her tacit approval on this.”

The Yotsuba family was currently in a position rivaling the Saegusa for leadership in the current Ten Master Clans. There was no way they’d be unaware of any irregular situations like a talented magic student studying abroad.

“On the flip side, though, I think it means this won’t be all bad for us. Our aunt wouldn’t let someone of the caliber to investigate us slip past unnoticed. There’s probably some sort of trouble in America now as well. Maybe she wants us to catch them out on it.”

Tatsuya’s expression was closer to a resigned smile than a pained one.

“We don’t know for sure yet… Perhaps it wouldn’t be right to get too far ahead of ourselves.”

“Yeah, you’re absolutely right, Miyuki.”

His lips said that, but both the praiser and the praised were sure that viewpoint suggested no more than a temporary ease of mind.

After returning to base in the Stars’ fan-cluster VTOL aircraft and making her report over an encrypted channel to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Angie Sirius, aka Major Angelina Sirius, still in uniform, flopped down onto the bed in her room.

She turned over, facedown, and buried her face in the pillow.

She couldn’t get used to execution missions, no matter how many times she experienced them. She could resist the urge to vomit now, unlike after those missions early on, but that was only because her body had gotten used to her mental anguish.

And the mental anguish had only gotten worse.

He was an American, a magician, and a member of the Stars, the USNA Army magician unit directly under the Joint Chiefs of Staff—a comrade in three different ways, and she had executed him personally.

When they told her it was a mission granted to the unit’s commander, the one with the code name Sirius, it hadn’t felt real.

She’d been too excited by the fame and honor to understand what it truly meant to kill a countryman.

Angie tossed again, blocking the light with an arm. She hadn’t even turned out the lights in the room yet.

Suddenly, the doorbell chimed.

A pained smile came to Major Sirius’s lips. It would seem her meddlesome subordinate had come to check on her again tonight.

The Stars consisted of twelve smaller units, with the commander unifying the other unit leaders, in form at least. Her subordinates were all leaders who had to see to the needs of their own units. She didn’t have any time for someone to be poking his nose into her business—

“Come in,” she said curtly into the door microphone, getting out of bed and opening the door with a remote control.

“Please excuse the intrusion, Commander.”

In came the person she’d expected. He was the Stars’ number two, leader of the first unit and commander in the case of her absence, Benjamin Canopus.

Position within the Stars was not tied directly to military rank, making it an irregularity as a military organization. Still, they had yet to run into the theoretically possible situation where a squad leader outranked the commander. That being said, it wasn’t unusual at all for them both to have the same rank.

Indeed, of the twelve unit leaders, six of them were captains and six were majors, the latter holding the same military rank as their commanders.

Even though Major Sirius was far from unhappy with this arrangement, it still made her anxious to hold the same rank as Canopus, who was far older than she.

“Refreshments, ma’am.”

Benjamin Canopus, a man of about forty, had the typical appearance of a high-ranking officer, with a strong build but a slick air about him, unlike soldiers who had worked their way up through the ranks or civilian businessmen.

“Thank you, Ben.”

He placed a cup of steaming honey milk on the side table. Major Sirius decided to be honestly grateful for the paternal consideration her subordinate offered. The hot milk with honey wasn’t in the kind of army tumbler used during missions, but instead had been poured from a thermos into a stylish commercial mug.

She gently put it to her lips. The warmth and sweet flavors seemed to soothe her anguish.

“You’re very welcome. Have you finished your preparations already, Commander?” asked Major Canopus, seeing the personal shipping containers stacked in a corner of the room.

“Yes, for the most part.”

“Skillful and efficient, as always.”

“I am still a girl, after all.”

Major Canopus shrugged at the girl young enough to be his daughter. In fact, he did have a daughter—two years younger than she. “I would think being a girl doesn’t have much to do with it… Perhaps it’s your Japanese blood.”

“And I would think calling all Japanese people meticulous is a thing of the past.”

With her quarter-Japanese blood pointed out, this time it was Major Sirius’s turn to shrug.

She wasn’t especially unhappy with the comment. People who cared about race wouldn’t go far—in the Stars, at least.

“Well, in any case… You’ll have time to forget your mission of retribution and spread your wings for a while.”

“It’s a special mission, not a vacation…”

The easygoing Major Canopus’s instigation met with Major Sirius’s lips turning down into a pout. The expression was exactly suitable for a girl her age.

“In fact, it’s miserable,” she continued with a sigh. “‘Dig up whether the suspects are strategic magicians,’ they tell me. Maybe one of them is—but then, isn’t it also likely neither of them is? Why would they assign me an undercover investigation when I’ve never done one before? I know there’s an age requirement, but there must be plenty of others who have the specific training for this.”

Major Sirius’s mission was to determine the identity of the one who executed—who cast—the Great Bomb, observed in the Far East in October and believed to be a strategic-class spell. Out of the fifty-one suspects the information department had narrowed the field to, two of them were attending a school in Tokyo. So they’d assigned the undercover investigation to Major Sirius, who was in the same age range (coincidentally, the exact same age).

“There, there,” said Major Canopus, putting both hands up in a pacifying gesture. “It must mean the general staff office considers them a very hard-to-manage problem. If the targets are what we predicted, they’ll be magic users with the danger level of strategic nuclear weapons. Their particular magical identities were also beyond our investigation. It isn’t inexplicable that HQ is prioritizing candidates on combat power rather than intelligence training.”

“I understand that, but…”

“While I do feel this plan of making contact with high school suspects using another high school student is somewhat simplistic, you won’t be the only one on this investigation, Commander.”

Naturally, behind the scenes of Major Sirius contacting the suspects would be a large group of experts investigating from different angles. One planet-class magician from the Stars would also be with the major as her direct aide. There wasn’t any way she wouldn’t have known.

“I know that, too, but…”

Therefore, that answer could be called natural as well.

“Why not think of it this way? Your role as commander is to shake them up after making contact.”

“Well… Maybe that’s more realistic. I’m essentially an amateur when it comes to espionage, after all.”

“Which is why I believe you should take this chance to enjoy yourself and have a good time. I think the suspects may open up to you more if you do.”

Major Sirius heaved a sigh. “Yes, maybe you’re right, Ben.” She returned her mug to the side table, then stood up in front of Major Canopus. “Ben, I leave things in your care while I’m gone. It pains me to burden you with what should be my duty, since we haven’t yet finished mopping up the rest of the fugitives…but you’re the only one I can ask to stand in for me.”

“Please, leave it to me, Commander. And, though it may be somewhat early—safe travels.”

Major Canopus saluted with a fond smile, and Major Sirius returned the gesture with a grateful one.