The National Magic University was where the Japan Ground Defense Force’s old Nerima Base had once stood. It used the space left vacant after the Asaka Base was expanded and the Nerima Base absorbed into it—but that Nerima-Asaka merge had also been rushed because of the decision to establish a magic university in the first place.

This establishment process made the relationship between the university and the military a tight-knit one. A solid 40 percent of university alumni graduated into the military or related organizations, and though that number might seem rather biased, it wasn’t unnatural considering the societal demand for magicians. Still, if one were to ask if the campus had the orderly—or one could say rigid—atmosphere of a military education facility, the answer would be no. The students could wear whatever clothing they wanted, for example, and even significantly gaudy or overly casual outfits would never be censured as long as they weren’t utterly unsightly. And even if clothing was criticized, in most cases things ended at advice from another student. Several other factors also contributed to the university’s feeling more free than magic high schools did.

Mayumi had taken all this in over the past half a month. Today, her ensemble consisted of a pastel-colored, bare-top A-line dress with a three-quarter-sleeve cardigan over it. It was a knit cardigan, with thick stitches and thin fabric, and while her skirt was long, about six inches was lace fabric through which her legs showed, covered in thin stockings. The outfit was far more revealing than high school uniforms, but nobody, neither students nor faculty, gave her any disapproving stares.

She’d just been headed to the cafeteria after being called there. The call had been from a male student, a freshman at Magic University like her. Nevertheless, she wasn’t nervous or excited. The one who’d summoned her was someone she knew quite well.

When she set foot in the cafeteria, she felt dizzy for a moment. Not because there was anything physically wrong. The extremely heavy percentage of couples inside had mentally damaged her. She knew that the greater part of them weren’t just fooling around but were in serious relationships, but that wasn’t much comfort to the single Mayumi. She had as much desire for love as anyone else. When she saw couples who looked happy and intimate together, two thoughts skimmed across her mind: one that she was envious, and the other that she wanted them to go away. Of course, she was also similar to other people in that she’d never admit she felt like that nor try to come to terms with it.

Maybe the fact that her relationship with the person she was meeting here was about as far from a romance as it could get was amplifying that emotion. It wasn’t actually completely different, but in a way, she and this person were too close, so she’d unconsciously been removing that possibility from her vision.

“Sorry for the wait, Juumonji.”

As soon as Mayumi said something, the eyes in the vicinity moved toward her table. Nobody at the university would fail to know what Juumonji meant. But it seemed quite a few people hadn’t known what he looked like—some of their faces said, Oh, that’s him?

“No, I just got here five minutes ago.”

Not only I just got here, but five minutes ago. Mayumi smiled a little—it was very like Katsuto to speak like that.

“Thanks for coming, Saegusa.”

When Katsuto added that, the number of people glancing over increased. Even the students with the good sense not to look over at the name Juumonji couldn’t resist reacting to the name Saegusa. Almost no students were unaware that Mayumi had enrolled at Magic University this year. Unless you lived under a rock, the news that she’d enrolled was something you couldn’t ignore, regardless of gender—and it went without saying that the male students held a stronger interest.

For her part, Mayumi casually ignored the dozen or so stares on her and sat down across from Katsuto. “Don’t worry about it. It’s probably pretty important if you called me here, right?” She smiled a bit and peered into Katsuto’s eyes. “And to a place with so many people.”

Mayumi knew she was rumored by the public to be a marriage candidate for Katsuto. If you looked at their relationship on a surface level, that certainly wasn’t a far-fetched flight of fancy—in fact, anyone well acquainted with magician matters would definitely believe it. And the idea existed between the Saegusa and Juumonji families, too. Right now, the Itsuwa family was taking a more zealous approach to Mayumi’s marriage than the Juumonji were—the Itsuwa son and heir was currently twenty years old. However, it was for the Juumonji family to make the first move; the Saegusa family had made no concrete moves to try to marry Mayumi to Katsuto, but the rumors of her being a candidate were correct.

Mayumi had mischievously mentioned the crowded place to question whether they should be giving fodder to such societal gossip. She meant it as a joke, of course, but if asked she wouldn’t be able to completely deny having it on her mind. Whatever she liked or disliked about Katsuto aside, if they did become candidates for marriage, even if that came second, it would get more difficult for her to think of him as a friend.

“I thought it would be better than meeting somewhere empty and it seeming suspicious.”

So whenever he replied to her in what was at a glance a gentlemanly way but in actuality an obstinate way, his treatment made it seem like she was the only one worrying about their relationship and left her unsatisfied. Katsuto wore an average, casual suit and tie, looking entirely humorless, and just the fact that she could tell right away he didn’t possess any romantic feelings made it worse. But she was able to think of such peaceful things only until she noticed the contents of the newspapers spread out at Katsuto’s hands.

“…Not very agreeable, is it?” she muttered.

An array of electronic papers were set on the table, bearing titles like The True State of Magicians in the Military, JGDF Drafting Young Men as Weapons, A Defense Force Dominated by Magicians, and Do Magic Officers Receive Favorable Treatment? The tones of the articles were split into two extremes—criticism of Japan’s defense forces for taking advantage of magicians at one end, and criticism for magicians being shown favoritism at the other. But they shared something: They were all critical pieces associating magicians with the military.

“Some of these pretend to speak for the rights of magicians, but what they really want is for society to expel magicians. Hypocritical articles—and I’d say they’re worse than the rest. Don’t you think so?”

Without responding to Mayumi’s complaint, Katsuto took out his portable terminal-shaped CAD from its case on his belt and began to use it, his hand motions practiced.

Magic University didn’t forbid the carrying of CADs indoors like high schools did, and magic usage itself was less restricted than elsewhere as well. Lab rooms and practice rooms only forbade especially dangerous magic, using a blacklist format, and even those unrelated to research or practice used a whitelist format to allow the usage of most spells. The soundproofing field Katsuto had just constructed was the result of one of the spells permitted inside school buildings.

“It’s that important?”

Soundproofing fields were obviously used for secret conversations, but Mayumi and Katsuto didn’t have a private life to not want others to hear about. Judging by the look on his face, it was clear this was not a matter that could be resolved by jokes or small talk.

“Anti-magician reporting has seen a sudden rise in the media since the start of this week,” he said, displaying a filtered list of articles on his e-reader.

“I’ve been feeling it, too,” said Mayumi seriously, gazing into Katsuto’s face. “Umm, what?” His look was so serious you could call it severe, and she wanted to know why.

“Because the reason the media’s tone is split like this is because they each have different sources.”

“You mean there are two different factions backing the media?”

“As you know, the Juumonji don’t make a specialty out of information gathering.” Rather than directly answer her question, Katsuto intimated that what he was about to say was a result of what the Juumonji family had investigated. “I have no proof for what I’m about to say, but it’s not completely without evidence. Will you hear me out without getting mad?”

“Sure. Let me hear it.” Mayumi straightened up unconsciously, understanding that this wouldn’t be a very pleasant conversation for her.

“Of the two writing tones, the ones encouraging the criticisms of the JDF are most likely the Saegusa.”

“What…?!” What he’d just said, though, was over and above what she could tolerate.

“There may be other conspirators. But the Saegusa is, at least, playing a large role in it.”

“There is no way that’s right!” Mayumi pounded the table and stood up.

The people outside the soundproofing field couldn’t hear her voice, but the spell didn’t block light, so the sight of her shooting to her feet drew attention from the cafeteria. She withered in embarrassment at the dubious stares attacking her from all angles, then sat back down. But after she took her seat and looked up, her eyes were locked squarely on Katsuto.

“Our father may be a tactician, and he may take pleasure in shady dealings. Even I, his daughter, don’t completely understand the way he thinks.”

There was a flame in her eyes now, strong enough to repel the pressure of Katsuto’s own expression.

“But no matter what the reason, he would never forget his duty to the Ten Master Clans. He’d never do anything that would bring disadvantage to Japan’s magic world.”

Katsuto caught the heat in her gaze and replied calmly. “Then Mr. Saegusa must have thought this would be a benefit for it.” And with enough weight that his words echoed in the bottom of her stomach.

“Don’t be absurd. All they’re saying is,” she said, pointing at one of the articles displayed on a tablet, “that it would be better if magicians didn’t exist. Even an idiot could see their call for protecting magicians’ human rights is a front. Do you really think it would fool my father? You may be a friend, Juumonji, but that’s insulting, and I can’t ignore it.”

“I never thought to say anything that rude.”

Katsuto’s answer to her flaring up at him had none of the properties of an excuse. His attitude exuded confidence, and it cooled Mayumi’s head a little. “Are you trying to say he’s making them do this for some other goal, even though he knows their intent is to oust magicians?”

“I don’t know what that might be. All I know is that it appears that Mr. Saegusa is manipulating the media in a way that would betray the Ten Master Clans.”

Mayumi turned an even stronger glare on him.

His eyes didn’t even flicker for a moment.

“…Fine. Do you have plans tonight?”

“No.”

“Then would you mind coming to my house? I’ll ask my father directly whether he’s doing what you’re insinuating, and I want you there to witness it.”

“All right. That would be a help to me, too.”

The Ten Master Clans, representative of all Japan’s magicians—but they weren’t exactly a famed lineage going back hundreds of years. Still, normal university students didn’t need to make engagements between their families in order to visit each other’s houses, but the visit today was Katsuto and Mayumi together seeing the Saegusa family head, Kouichi Saegusa. As the proxy head of the Juumonji, Katsuto requested a meeting with Kouichi, and received instructions and permission to come at 8:00 PM.

Seven fifty-nine PM, Wednesday, April 18. A black-painted passenger vehicle stopped in the driveway apron at the Saegusa house’s front door. The back door opened first, and out climbed a giant of a young man in a suit and tie. Objectively, he wasn’t especially big—he only had a normally large physique. What made him seem giant was his overwhelming presence far beyond his youth. Katsuto Juumonji, proxy head of the Juumonji family, was an unmatched figure now that he’d graduated high school and escaped the category of secondary school student.

Welcoming him was Mayumi Saegusa, eldest daughter of the Saegusa family. In a formal dress in subdued colors, the skirt reaching down to her ankles, she bowed to Katsuto and led him inside. The time was eight o’clock on the dot.

Like that, Katsuto set foot on the Saegusa family property.

“Excellent investigative work.”

Kouichi Saegusa, who had taken his meeting with Katsuto in the reception room, easily admitted he was the one instigating one side of the anti-magician media.

“Father, what do you mean?!” cried Mayumi, beside herself at her father for nodding unashamedly.

“Please calm down, Mayumi,” Kouichi calmly admonished her. “What has you so excited?” He was honestly confused at his daughter’s extreme reaction.

“How am I supposed to remain calm?! What you’ve done is a betrayal to the Ten Master Clans—no, to the entire world of magic in Japan!”

As his daughter rose from the sofa and glared at him, Kouichi remained seated to receive the glare. “It’s not a betrayal. Mayumi, you misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand wha—”

“Saegusa.”

Mayumi tried to interrogate her father even more. But when Katsuto, who was sitting next to her, stopped her, she remembered she and her father weren’t the only ones in attendance right now. Reluctantly, she closed her mouth and sat down.

“Mr. Saegusa,” said Katsuto once he sensed that Mayumi had calmed down for now, turning his eyes toward Kouichi. “I do not understand what you have in mind. That’s why I’d like to ask for an explanation.”

Kouichi leaned forward somewhat and returned the gaze. “Is that a demand from the Juumonji family?”

“It is a question from the Juumonji family.”

Kouichi pulled his upper body, which was leaned forward, back into his seat, then breathed a long, quiet sigh. “A question from one of the Clans to another is something I will answer honestly.” Taking his cue from Katsuto, who hadn’t shown even the slightest break in his calm yet, Kouichi straightened himself up. “First, I will say this so there are no misunderstandings. These campaigns you’ve mentioned were ones that foreign anti-magician groups have started. Not only have they simply given information to the media, they’ve been supporting them financially as well.”

“They’re financially backing the media?”

“They can give whatever reason they want—donations, advertisement—but even their own pride is up for grabs.”

Kouichi answered Katsuto quietly, radiating confidence. Backroom dealings such as these were more Kouichi’s field than Katsuto’s. Katsuto understood that, too, which was why he didn’t interject with any pointless questions. “Do you mean that your media interventions have been a measure to oppose that?”

“Katsuto, do you know the most effective way to oppose public opinion?” asked Kouichi, his tone of voice suddenly sounding like a lecturer’s.

Katsuto didn’t bother to respond. He knew Kouichi wasn’t asking for the answer—he wanted to tell him.

“Public opinion is just that—opinions, judgments. Some suggest them, and others bear them. Opinions are the property of those who assert them, and those who assert them shoulder the responsibility for doing so.”

Had Kouichi’s tone changed consciously or unconsciously? The age gap between him and Katsuto—between a leader of one of the Ten Master Clans and a son of another of its leaders—based on the surface-level difference in positions, Kouichi’s choice of words could actually be said to be more natural than a more blaming tone would have been.

“If you understand the person who asserts an opinion, it’s easy to object to them as well. You ask them questions, smoke out the contradictions in their logic, and get them to admit their mistake. It’s also possible for each person to point out the flaws in the other’s opinion and come to a compromise.”

That was why Katsuto didn’t feel any resistance to Kouichi speaking as though he were above him.

“But it’s difficult to object to public opinion. After all, there’s no specific person to object to.”

Even if Kouichi’s conversation happened to be a boring one for Katsuto.

“It may be public, but it is a single opinion, so one person must have suggested it, and it must reflect someone’s interests. But whoever suggested it hides in the shadows of the populace, of society, and doesn’t come to the table to debate it. The media only conveys the voice of the citizens, activists only present the demands of the public, and politicians only follow the opinions of the nation. Even if it was clear who first suggested it and what they stood to gain or lose from their position, that person will act as the speaker of public opinion, and as the master of that opinion, does not shoulder the responsibility of bearing the brunt of the backlash.”

But Katsuto couldn’t help but wonder as to Kouichi’s true motives for being so roundabout with him.

“Public opinion is partly based on whoever gets there first.”

Perhaps the harsh viewpoint toward Kouichi showed on Katsuto’s face—Kouichi exhaled and gave a slight grin, then returned his tone to polite and soft.

“Whatever public opinion gains supporters the fastest becomes justice, right then and there, and it turns into pressure against those who disagree. Even if the dissenters have the truth, even if the public opinion has childish fallacies, you can’t fight it by pointing truth or fallacies out. After all, there is no one person to argue against, as it was never an argument in the first place.”

“Are you trying to say the anti-magic demonstrators were faster, Father?”

Mayumi, who had been listening quietly, though with a dissatisfied look on her face, interrupted, her voice irritated.

“The seeds of anti-magic movements were scattered over a year ago. And they were scattered by those knowing we wouldn’t be able to argue from our position.”

Having deftly handled his daughter’s tantrum before it exploded, Kouichi immediately moved his eyes back to Katsuto.

“It’s not very effective to argue against public opinion. Then do you know what one should do to counter it, Katsuto?”

“You’d divide them.”

Katsuto’s answer came easily, without any thoughtfulness or arrogance. Even if it hadn’t been he, this was one of the answers anyone educated to shoulder one of the Ten Master Clans would figure out naturally. It wasn’t the only one, nor was it absolute. It was an answer that might have been correct.

“That’s right.” With both of them knowing it wasn’t the only right answer, Kouichi resumed his loquaciousness. “If there is something one can agree with approximately in the leading public opinion, it won’t turn into the target for a witch hunt. The differences are in the unimportant details, and those are what easily divide public opinion. Divided public opinions lose steam, and they’re eventually forgotten. As long as someone doesn’t keep offering that opinion.”

“Wouldn’t that controvert your definition of public opinion, Mr. Saegusa?” pointed out Katsuto.

Kouichi nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. “That’s exactly right, Katsuto. As long as the person hides their identity, they cannot maintain a public opinion that has already lost its momentum. If they try and relight the flames of that opinion with their identity still hidden, the people will only see through it and repel it. The public is foolish in that it will fall for it once—but wise in that the same trick can’t fool it again.”

“Which is why you directed an anti-magician campaign with a different focus?”

“Think of it as letting out the steam, Katsuto. The have-nots will feel envy toward the haves—there’s nothing we can do about that. The power called magic is no exception. One cannot suppress envy awakened, either by the whip or by the rose. The only thing to do is let them vent to a certain extent. It’s faster to extinguish a flame by separating its kindling and making small fires before letting them combine into a firestorm.”

Kouichi stopped talking at last. Mayumi was making a face like she wasn’t convinced, but also couldn’t argue.

“Better small flames than a large one. I see—that is one way of looking at it,” muttered Katsuto, his words low and rumbling, before directing a penetrating stare at Kouichi. “But small fires can still take lives. If separating the kindling means the extinguishing can’t keep up, those small fires won’t stop at small fires—they could turn into an incident responsible for human lives.”

“That idea is based on assumption.”

“Respectfully, so is yours.”

His gaze met Kouichi’s, and after predicting that the older man wouldn’t speak any further, Katsuto got up.

“Master Saegusa,” he said, referring to Kouichi respectfully as someone of an equal position in the Clans Conference. “The Juumonji family hereby expresses its regrets regarding the Saegusa family’s media manipulation and requests that it immediately cease its involvement in anti-magician campaigns.”

“The Saegusa family hereby requests an objection in writing from the Juumonji family. I’d like to see the answer on an official objection missive.”

Kouichi stood up as well, looking up casually at Katsuto for his answer.

“Understood. I shall pen one when I return home.”

“I apologize for you having to take the trouble to come here today. Mayumi, Master Juumonji will be leaving now. Please show him to the door.”

Katsuto bowed to Kouichi without a word, and Kouichi returned the bow in similar silence. Mayumi hastily moved in front of Katsuto as he turned on his heel and led him toward the front door.

When Mayumi returned from showing Katsuto out, her father was still in the reception room, lounging on the sofa. She scowled and marched over to him.

“What’s wrong, Mayumi? Have a seat. You can talk to me.”

Kouichi was the picture of luxury, his legs crossed comfortably. Without saying anything, Mayumi sat down across from him with a huff.

“I have an idea of what you’d like to say…but you can say it.”

“I believe your idea is correct, Father, but I think Juumonji’s opinion holds weight.”

Kouichi smiled at his daughter’s self-control—he could see the emotions raging within her powerful gaze, and yet she was moderating herself. He nodded. “I don’t blame you for thinking that way. Both Katsuto and I were only speaking at a surface level earlier.”

It sounded like he was bragging. Mayumi balled her hands into fists. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“You couldn’t tell? It seemed like Katsuto realized it.”

Mayumi shook her head a little, biting down in frustration and hiding her face from his sight.

“Like I thought, Katsuto is of a higher caliber than Hirofumi is.”

Hirofumi was the Itsuwa family’s eldest son. The Itsuwa desired an engagement between him and Mayumi; comparing him and Katsuto meant that her father had intentions along those lines as well, but fortunately, those words didn’t make it to Mayumi’s ears.

“Mayumi, Kudou-sensei is aware of this incident. He didn’t oppose my idea.”

In place of his quiet murmur, he instead dropped a bomb on his daughter’s ears.

“The Old Master…?” As Kouichi wanted, Mayumi stumbled over her words, stricken with confusion, but she wasn’t burying the hatchet just yet. “I don’t understand how the Old Master thinks. What I do know is that it’s wrong to interfere with the lives of magicians like oneself, in one’s own country, for nothing.”

His daughter’s unexpected tenacity surprised Kouichi, but it didn’t give him pause. “At most, it’ll be a month. I don’t plan to let this develop into a crazy situation like that, where it’s interfering with people’s lives.”

“Even if it’s just for a month, or even a week, your thoughtless slander will leave scars that will last a lifetime for some. Using a pen for evil can leave deeper wounds than swinging a sword… I don’t think the phrase the pen is mightier than the sword only applies to forces of good.”

The normal Mayumi would have withdrawn long ago. His daughter’s attitude was uncharacteristically resolute—and suddenly Kouichi had a doubt.

“Mayumi, for whose sake, exactly, are you getting angry?”

“Hm…?”

This question, delivered on a sudden idea, dealt unexpected damage to Mayumi.

“Is it for Katsuto? Or is it for one of your underclassmen from First High?”

“No, that’s not…”

Mayumi, who hadn’t even cowered at the name of Retsu Kudou, cringed, now clearly rattled.