This year’s Nine School Competition was scheduled to have its opening banquet on August 3, begin competition on the fifth, and hold closing ceremonies on the tenth. The events schedule alone spanned eleven days, one more than last year.

While much had changed, the event location was the same. First High’s competitors, as they did every year, would assemble at school at eight thirty AM on the same day as the party on the eve of the competition, split up into a large bus and a work vehicle for the engineers, then head for the hotel adjacent to the venue.

Their full group numbered twelve boys and girls each for the main competition, nine boys and girls each for the rookie competition, eight technical staff members, and four strategy staff members, for a total of fifty-four people.

There were two more than last year because of the changes to the event rules. But despite the extra people, the large bus still had seats left over. Until last year, the entire technical staff had traveled in the work vehicle, but this year they would have one person per vehicle for a total of four, with the other four riding the bus. Among the bus’s passengers were Tatsuya and Isori. They were in essence, part of the strategy staff as well, so with the logic that they should ride the same bus as the other strategy staff members, someone had strongly insisted they be together—and it went without saying who that was.

This year, two freshmen were on the technical staff, one male and one female. Tatsuya was currently giving Kento Sumisu, the boy, a few tips before they got moving. Meanwhile, a female student was directing a cold stare at him.

“Why is that man bringing a maid robot to the Nine School Competition?” muttered Kasumi bitterly while watching Pixie climb through the back door of the work vehicle assigned to Kento.

“Kasumi, calling him that man is rude. And it isn’t a maid robot. It’s a Humanoid Home Helper,” corrected Izumi, her voice flustered.

For a time, Kasumi’s feelings toward Tatsuya had taken a turn for the better, but ever since the incident right before regular exams, her loathing of him had intensified.

As for the reason she hated him, Izumi kind of understood it herself. More than half of what had happened before exams had been Kasumi self-destructing. Still, Izumi too felt like Tatsuya’s counterattack had been a little more caustic than necessary, and people not seeing eye to eye or having poor affinity with one another didn’t obey logical rules. Therefore, Izumi had no intention of criticizing Kasumi for the act of speaking poorly of Tatsuya in and of itself.

But she didn’t want Miyuki to hear her elder twin saying those things. Miyuki revering Tatsuya was an understatement, and she probably wouldn’t brush off any vilification toward her brother as a joke. Basically, Izumi warned Kasumi because of the egotistic motive of not wanting her to do anything that would give the upperclassman she so adored a bad impression of them.

“Maid robot, 3H, same thing. They work the same way.”

Fortunately, Kasumi hadn’t caught on to her sister’s maliciousness. Not because she was dull or pure and naive but because her mind was focused on disparaging Tatsuya.

“It’s an interface for a HAR, right? They didn’t need to design them as cute girls, did they?”

“A 3H’s basic appearance is of a twenty-five-year-old woman. I don’t know if you can call that a girl…”

“Th-that’s not the problem! I’m saying they didn’t need to make them pretty! HARs mainly get used by women, so they should have made them average-looking older ladies. Would have been perfect.”

Izumi didn’t necessarily agree with all of her sister’s opinions, but she had a point, so she didn’t say anything this time… Besides, if she did, it wouldn’t get through the heat haze in her head anyway.

“When you think about it, they probably made 3Hs pretty women and girls because men are perverts and wanted to have pretty girls take care of all their needs! I can’t believe he’d bring something like that to the Nines…”

“Kasumi?”

Kasumi, who’d been beside herself with her impassioned speech, didn’t notice that an upperclassman had approached her from behind until she said something to her. Her spine straightened up, and she turned around slowly.

“What are you so surprised about?”

Shizuku was standing there with a mystified look. “N-nothing.”

“Oh? Well, we’re leaving soon.”

Kasumi was relieved—she didn’t seem to have heard their conversation. But that only lasted a moment, too. When she looked left and right, her classmates and upperclassmen were already on the bus.

“I’m sorry, Kitayama!”

“…We’re sorry for the trouble.”

Shizuku seemed to have come to collect Kasumi, a friend from the disciplinary committee, and Izumi while she was at it.

With apologetic expressions, the twins followed Shizuku and quietly boarded the bus.

This year, without any accidents on the way and without any disturbances sweeping through the bus, First High’s competitors arrived safely at the hotel. Everything went just as planned, without even minor trouble occurring, and now the evening party was about to get underway.

Tatsuya had already entered the venue as well—in his own school uniform, no less. Seeing the eight-toothed gear emblem embroidered on his shoulder, Miyuki, who waited next to him, smiled happily.

“Miyuki, what are you smiling about?”

Tatsuya could tell the difference between insincere smiles and sincere ones, though only when it came to Miyuki. Casually curious as to why she suddenly had such a happy-looking grin, Tatsuya asked her directly.

“I was simply overcome with happiness that your magic engineering uniform looks so right on you.”

“What’s going on? You’ve been seeing it for four months now.”

Tatsuya looked slightly taken aback. Minami, waiting behind Miyuki, watched with cold eyes as though she wanted to say What’s going on with you? But in this situation, she was in the minority—or rather, completely isolated.

“I think so, too, Tatsuya!”

“Me too.”

Enthusiastically (or in competition with?) Honoka agreed with what Miyuki had said, and Shizuku also chimed in.

“Yeah. Maybe because it was borrowed before,” Subaru remarked. “Last year, it felt like it didn’t quite fit.”

“Yeah!” agreed Eimi, nodding several times. The competitors chosen from the junior girls seemed like they all stood with Miyuki.

Entrants in the main competition were chosen not only from the juniors but from among the seniors as well. Despite the now-juniors who had delivered incredible results in last year’s rookie competition, only five of those twelve reps had been chosen this time.

For Pillar Break, Miyuki would be the solo entrant, while Shizuku and Kanon would enter the pair event. Honoka and Subaru would appear in Mirage Bat, while Amy would be in the Rower and Gunner pair. Five of these people, plus the freshman Minami, were flocking around Tatsuya. Seen from the outside, though Tatsuya would have resented it being described that way, it looked like a harem situation. In addition, Tomitsuka and Morisaki, also juniors, and Mikihiko, chosen as a Monolith Code entrant, had been caught by Sawaki, their senior in both club and disciplinary committee, and were now buried behind the other seniors.

It wasn’t that Tatsuya was particularly bad with women. In fact, he didn’t have any problems with them. But in a situation with one man and six women, and all the women being cute girls, even he couldn’t quite stay calm. During last year’s eve party, Subaru and Amy had given him a wide berth. Things had changed this year. Of course, considering Subaru’s previous remark, they seemed to have checked up on him back then, too.

Not in a position to stare at the girls too much, Tatsuya took in the venue. Then he spotted an acquaintance, surrounded by girls like he was.

He seemed to have noticed Tatsuya, too. Maybe he’d sensed the foreign gaze. Bringing along a throng of female students, also in Third High uniforms, Masaki Ichijou walked over to Tatsuya.

Tatsuya, too, began to walk toward him. Honoka and Amy naturally parted to let him through, allowing Tatsuya and Masaki to face each other, female students waiting at their backs. Masaki, though, wasn’t the only boy. Next to him was Shinkurou Kichijouji.

“…It’s been a while, Shiba.”

But the first words out of Masaki’s mouth were for Miyuki.

“Yes, it certainly has been, Ichijou.”

Excluding Masaki, with his tense, drawn-back smile, and Miyuki, responding in contrast with a wonderfully insincere one, the entire party looked on as though someone had thrown a wet blanket over them. Kichijouji was the one to play support, wanting to stop the awkwardness from settling in before it happened.

“We haven’t seen you since Yokohama. I’m happy to see you’re the same as always, Tatsuya Shiba.”

“Glad to see you’re in good health as well, Kichijouji.”

His wording was rather gruff, but Tatsuya responded with what was a friendly expression in its own right, then looked to the side.

“And you too, Ichijou. You played a big part in Yokohama. The Crimson Prince lived up to his name.”

“…Could you give it a rest, please?”

When Tatsuya mentioned his alias in a serious voice, Masaki frowned slightly.

“You don’t like it? I wasn’t trying to make fun of you, honest.”

“It just sounds pompous, and I don’t like it. Can’t you just call me Ichijou?”

“Sure.”

Tatsuya nodded without argument—or perhaps, without interest. Masaki responded with a look of light surprise. But he didn’t mention what exactly he found surprising about it.

“By the way, Shiba—er, is it okay to call you that?”

“Of course.”

The First High girls and the Third High girls had begun talking among themselves, leaving them on the sidelines. The Third High girls seemed somewhat reserved (the reason they felt that way was obvious), but they were still having good, lively conversations. With the female students’ voices ringing out in the background, Masaki lowered his tone and spoke to Tatsuya.

“Something’s going on with this year’s competition, isn’t there?”

It was a very abrupt topic change, but Masaki’s face was all too serious. Kichijouji, too, wore a similar expression.

“Is it that strange? I only know about last year’s competition, so I don’t really get what you mean.”

What Tatsuya replied with was half to conceal his own position. In reality, he had a guess as to what Masaki was worried about. But there was no guarantee it was correct. Tatsuya wanted to hear it come more clearly from Masaki’s mouth.

“A change in events? Sure, that I can accept.”

“After all, the way the competition is managed assumes that there could be event changes,” added Kichijouji, not satisfied with just a greeting.

“It does seem a little biased toward combat, but considering current events, I think it’s actually quite appropriate,” Masaki added.

“But the last event, Cross-Country Steeplechase, is the exception.”

“That’s right. They’re going too far with that—it’s in a completely different league.”

“It’s originally a type of training the army undergoes for forest warfare. It’s a mystery why they’re even calling it an event in the first place. They’ve barely given any official information about it, so we only have rough information, but… Even units in active service barely ever do similar exercises for four kilometers. It’s like the training regimen for a large-scale military exercise.”

“This may be a competition for magicians, but we’re high school students. And they’re holding it on the last day, once everyone is tired, too. The risks are too high.”

“Plus, any junior or senior can participate. It’s not mandatory, but if everyone can get points for running the whole thing in under an hour, I doubt anyone will stay out of it.”

“Other things about it are weird, too. I could put it more nicely, but the Nine School Competition is basically a show. You can’t deny that part of this is magicians appealing to general society.”

“And yet, we have no idea what the Steeplechase will be like. Even Monolith Code’s forest stage lets you see the battles in front of the monoliths, at least. This Cross-Country Steeplechase event won’t even offer that much.”

“The only thing I can think of is that they have another reason besides showing off to spectators and cable news.”

“The Nines is for high school students to compete in magical ability. The fact that an event like that was permitted and put into practice makes me feel like someone has other ideas, and they’re eroding the very competition itself.”

As he listened to Masaki and Kichijouji’s conversation, Tatsuya was honestly quite impressed. He’d only begun looking into what was going on behind the scenes of the competition after receiving that anonymous message. But these two were probably on the trail of those intervening intentions backstage having used only their own powers of insight.

“Is that a result of something the Ichijou family investigated?”

“Hmm? No, we didn’t go that far… Do you think we should?”

“It’s better to investigate things you’re worried about if you have the means. Though if you don’t have the resources to devote to this, that would be a different story.”

That was how Tatsuya answered Masaki’s question. He didn’t mean to provoke him, but with the way he said it, Masaki couldn’t help interpreting it that way.

“We always have that much power in reserve! What I was trying to ask was whether the situation warrants going that far.”

“Some say ignorance is bliss, but that’s a lie. Sometimes you get into trouble because you don’t know enough, but I’ve never encountered a case where more knowledge was a burden. Do you have experience like that, Ichijou?”

“I don’t, but that’s not the issue—”

“The Steeplechase is on the last day of the competition, in twelve days. It’s hardly enough time, but it’s not so short you’d have to give up, thinking you can’t do anything.”

“Masaki, I think maybe Shiba’s right.”

As Masaki’s mouth bent into a frown, Kichijouji spoke up from beside him, trying to soothe him.

“It’s too much for us, but maybe Mr. Gouki can figure something out.”

Mr. Gouki referred to the head of the Ichijou family, in other words Masaki’s father. Kichijouji’s words were ones that supported Tatsuya’s opinion.

“…All right. I’ll ask the folks back home to look into it.”

Masaki said that not to Kichijouji but to Tatsuya.

Guessing that Tatsuya, Masaki, and Kichijouji were speaking of serious matters unbecoming of the party venue, both the First High and Third High girls continued enjoying their own conversations among themselves, without trying to talk to them. That was when a Fourth High male student’s voice came up.

“Shizuku.”

“Harumi?”

After this exchange, Honoka, who was nearby, seemed to know the boy as well, and they also exchanged greetings.

When she heard Shizuku call out to him, Miyuki recalled that Shizuku’s older cousin was enrolled at Fourth High. By remembering that, she succeeded in averting her attention from the Fourth High freshman behind him, pretending she didn’t know who he was.

Shizuku, leaving the group and exchanging words with her cousin, nodded several times before returning to Miyuki’s side.

“Miyuki, can I ask you something?”

Her face as she said that contained a trace amount of apology.

“What is it?”

“My cousin says he wants to introduce Tatsuya to his underclassmen.”

“Really?”

Looking dubious, Miyuki thought, Here we go.

“Yep. He goes to Fourth High, but the freshmen heard rumors about Tatsuya and wanted to meet him.”

Each of the magic high schools had its own coloration. First and Second High conducted education in accordance with national evaluation standards. Third High held up martial spirit as school tradition, emphasizing magic as a means of fighting. In contrast, Fourth High leaned toward magical techniques that might be used in laboratories and magic engineering. For a Fourth High freshman to look up to Tatsuya, who had displayed such advanced skill as a CAD technician at last year’s competition, wasn’t strange at all.

“I’ll ask him, but I doubt he’ll say no.”

After answering, Miyuki trotted over to her brother. It was good timing, as he’d gotten to a pausing point in his conversation with Masaki and Kichijouji.

“Brother, might you have a moment? A freshman from Fourth High wishes to say hello.”

“To me? Yeah, sure.”

The reason Tatsuya was comfortable with this and why Masaki and Kichijouji looked convinced were different. That was how well the phrases Fourth High and Tatsuya’s accomplishments worked together.

“Ichijou, Kichijouji, might I borrow my brother for a moment?”

“Y-yes. That’s fine with me. We were actually just finished talking.”

Giving a cool smile and a bow to Masaki, who had tensed up again when she’d spoken to him, Miyuki led Tatsuya to where Shizuku was waiting.

“See you, Ichijou.”

No response came to Tatsuya’s voice. Masaki’s mind was glued to Miyuki’s smile.

“My name is Fumiya Kuroba. Pleased to meet you, Shiba.”

“And I’m Ayako Kuroba. I’m Fumiya’s older twin sister. It’s a pleasure to make the acquaintance of an upperclassman.”

Introduced by Shizuku’s cousin, Fumiya and Ayako gave first-time greetings to Tatsuya. Their greetings didn’t feel unnatural at all.

“I’m Tatsuya Shiba—it’s nice to meet you.”

That applied to Tatsuya’s words, too.

“I’m from First High, though, so I’m not your upperclassman…”

“We go to different schools, but you’re still our senior as a magician.”

“We may attend Fourth High, but technical fields aren’t quite our specialty. Still, if at all possible, would you be willing to give us a little coaching? Both my little brother and I were moved by your capabilities.”

This, of course, was simply an act to make it easier for Fumiya and Ayako to interact with Tatsuya in the future. Therefore, Miyuki didn’t mention anything that would waste their efforts, either, and since she wasn’t confident enough to treat them like total strangers, she didn’t speak up.

“It may be difficult during the competition, but if we have another opportunity, I’d be glad to.”

“Really?!”

“Thank you very much. We greatly look forward to it.”

It was unnatural that the two of them, especially Fumiya, who was a boy, didn’t want to talk to a beautiful girl like Miyuki, but it wasn’t strange enough to give away that this wasn’t their first time meeting. Successfully leaving an impression of being strangers to Tatsuya, Fumiya and Ayako returned to the group of Fourth High students.

The eve party was a buffet-style one without assigned tables, but the same as every year, each school generally had its own spot. When Masaki returned to Third High’s table, the female students from his school followed him.

It was also almost time for the guest speech. Tatsuya, too, returned to First High’s table, with a female classmate who hadn’t had anyone to talk to.

“Tatsuya, those Fourth High students before…”

No sooner had he gotten back than someone had sidled up to him and spoke—it was Mikihiko.

“You mean those two freshmen?”

Though he may have intended to be sneaky, Tatsuya had of course noticed him. Therefore, he didn’t do anything like panic at being suddenly addressed and, naturally, didn’t blow his cover.

“Yeah… I think they said their last name was Kuroba.”

“Wait, were you reading their lips?”

Disapproval was thick in Tatsuya’s voice. He’d done it on purpose, of course.

“Sorry. I know it seems like I was eavesdropping.”

On the other hand, Mikihiko’s guilt-ridden voice was unaffected. For someone with such a serious personality, he probably couldn’t avoid feeling guilty whether he’d actually done it or not.

“It’s fine. We weren’t talking about anything private anyway.”

After being absolved by Tatsuya, Mikihiko looked a little relieved.

But a moment later, he gave a darker expression.

“Did you find something wrong with them?”

Now that the ball was in his court, Mikihiko hesitantly opened his mouth.

“It’s just a rumor that started this spring… If it’s right, there’s a branch family called the Kuroba under one of the Ten Master Clans, the Yotsuba. Apparently, they’re a very powerful one among the Yotsuba families, too.”

“This spring? That wasn’t long ago… Do you think they could be related to the Yotsuba?”

“Well, I don’t have any proof.”

“Kuroba is definitely an uncommon last name, but it’s not like it’s one of a kind, you know.”

“True, but Yotsuba isn’t all that unique, either.”

Tatsuya’s makeshift, leading response met with Mikihiko using the same logic for his argument, which ruined it.

It would be counterproductive if Mikihiko thought he was getting irritated about it, Tatsuya thought, changing course.

“I see. Then did you want to warn me not to go near the siblings?”

“Not exactly… Well, maybe. At least, maybe you shouldn’t be the one to approach them.”

“Then it’s okay if they come to me?”

“Trouble does always seem to find its way to you.”

That’s an awful way of putting it, thought Tatsuya. He considered giving a sarcastic quip in response, but unfortunately, he ran out of time. The illumination in the floor-sized room switched, and the guest speech began.

The event began first with short greetings from the commander of the base providing the Nine School Competition venue—which almost felt like a briefing—then the director of the Magic Association, then the acting president of the National Magic University, each taking turns stepping onto the stage. On a regular year, after the prominent faces, whom these high school students probably would never have had a chance to see otherwise, the schedule had Retsu Kudou wrapping things up with a final guest address.

This year, however, the guest addresses ended without any words from the Old Master.

A murmur rippled through the room at this unexpected development. Not only through the students but among the other guests as well.

First High’s students were no exception. But one among them was aware of the exceptional, shall we say, circumstances.

“I heard the Old Master has fallen ill.”

As a visibly confused Honoka was repeating the process of look right, look left, Shizuku, who had disappeared without them knowing, spoke up from behind her.

“Really, Shizuku?” asked back Honoka, turning around with a surprised look.

Shizuku nodded. “I heard it from over there.”

She looked toward the Magic Association’s head of office staff, who was conversing with a guest Diet member. Miyuki, listening from the side, wondered which one exactly she’d heard that from…though it could have probably been from either.

Of the First High female competitors, the juniors numbered five and the seniors seven. Their hotel rooms were twin bedrooms, so one junior and one senior would inevitably be paired up. (Speaking of which, there were an odd number of same-sex freshmen, nine, which left one out, but this year, for learning purposes, they’d chosen one boy and one girl for the freshman technical staff, so with ten freshmen of each gender, they fortunately avoided having to share a room with an upperclassman.)

The junior girls’ rooming assignments saw Honoka and Shizuku in one room and Amy and Subaru in the other. Miyuki, left over, would be sharing a room with the extra senior, Kanon, on paper.

Incidentally, the engineering staff had three senior boys and one senior girl, one junior boy and one junior girl, and one freshman boy and one freshman girl. Each of the gendered pairs had a senior and a junior together. As a result, Tatsuya would be sharing a room with Isori, on paper.

What sort of thing might happen as a result?

There would be no night roll calls or anything of the sort during their stay at the Nines. As a military facility, the night duty soldiers would be patrolling, but they wouldn’t enter any of the rooms. Miyuki and Kanon were in a room together. Tatsuya and Isori were likewise.

In the end, it was not a very difficult question. At least, most of the First High reps save for the freshmen had accurately guessed what would happen. In front of Tatsuya, who had left the party, was not Isori but Miyuki.

“His Excellency Kudou was absent, wasn’t he?”

Miyuki sat politely on the edge of a bed and spoke to her brother, who was currently changing. At her feet lay her own suitcase. If she’d just come to talk or hang out, she wouldn’t have needed that.

“From what Shizuku heard, he’s apparently fallen ill…”

“It’s a lie. Well, maybe something has befallen him physically or mentally, but he wasn’t at the party for a different reason.”

A liberal translation of what he meant might be that Retsu Kudou had gone mad. Miyuki had to sigh at Tatsuya for being so certain. The siblings were the only two in the room at the moment, but the remark was a bit candid considering he was talking about the revered elder of Japan’s magic world.

Speaking of having to sigh, however, Tatsuya felt the urge far more strongly and fiercely when it came to Miyuki. He wondered what this whole thing was about—maybe Kanon had asked her to and maybe Kanon and Isori were engaged, but why had she actively helped a young not-yet-wed couple spend the night together?

He felt no reluctance at sleeping in the same room as his sister. There wasn’t even any resistance. If he was worried about anything, it was only how her reputation might be harmed if word of this got out. On the other hand, he knew it would be more convenient for what would happen in the future if he was rooming with Miyuki instead of Isori. That was the reason he hadn’t chased her out.

“…Still, if sickness was his chosen reason, he would be cooped up at home. He wouldn’t come here, at least. I don’t know what he’s plotting, but him not being nearby is good for us.”

Retsu Kudou was of very advanced age, close to ninety. Neither his magic output or stamina would be what it was in the past, but the magical abilities of someone once called the world’s greatest trickster were still a threat. They’d caught a glimpse of his skills a year ago—his vision, which allowed him to immediately discern the mental interference spell applied to the entire eve party venue or the Electron Goldworm lurking within a competition CAD, informed Tatsuya that the nickname of the world’s greatest trickster was not yet a thing of the past. Should he have come face-to-face with him as an enemy, what he’d need to be particularly cautious of was not an open and direct clash but a more roundabout battle. No—even if he was being perfectly cautious, the man was skilled enough that Tatsuya might have found himself on the back foot regardless. Not to make light of Kudou family magicians, but it was more comfortable for Tatsuya that Retsu wasn’t there.

“Miyuki, I’m going out.”

Having changed into an entirely black outfit, Tatsuya spoke. He’d really wanted a stealth suit or a modified MOVAL suit with better stealth capabilities, but he knew that was asking for too much.

“Please be careful, Brother,” Miyuki replied, standing up from the bed.

She didn’t offer to come with him because she knew her aptitude and was being patient. Her eyes spoke the fact that she wanted to, but Tatsuya pretended not to notice it.

“You be careful nobody finds out you’re in this room, too. If that happens, be honest and say Chiyoda forced you to, and how you couldn’t go against her.”

Tatsuya’s comment was neither a lie nor a shirking of responsibility—it was the truth. But he was essentially telling her to lay the blame entirely at an upperclassman’s feet, and she giggled, finding herself belatedly amused at Tatsuya’s lack of reservation.

Tatsuya’s target of investigation was the cross-country course. He didn’t think the P-Weapons, the Parasidolls, had been placed there yet. Still, if he could learn the lay of the land, he figured, he could predict where they’d lay traps and have troops waiting in ambush.

But Tatsuya couldn’t get into the course.

If their security is this tight, how did they let No-Head Dragon invade last year?

He tsked, looking around at the security systems laid out so densely not even an ant could crawl through them. And immediately he realized his misunderstanding.

Actually, I guess it’s because of last year…

In olden times, a regular military base allowing a mere criminal organization to get inside would have been grounds for seppuku. The base’s officers had probably burned with enough humiliation to possibly die from it. This strict, even paranoid security layout was doubtlessly grounded in last year’s incident.

He carefully broadened his field of vision so as not to allow the JDF magicians to detect him. His visual power wasn’t the sort of thing a psionic radar would pick up, but they might have someone with ESP on watch—one who would detect his abnormal ability. Stealthily, so he’d be able to cut off access at any moment, he began letting his mind permeate the world.

In his wider field of vision, he struck on a presence he was familiar with. What he was seeing wasn’t an image but information. In his unconscious region, information regarding physical structure was converted into signals easier for his mind to understand. Its coordinates in the physical dimension were not that far off. The fact that the physical distance was small and yet the information distance was large spoke volumes of her abilities to conceal herself. Praising her in his mind, without speaking it, he headed for where the two people were. After walking about five minutes, he spoke at the shadows hidden in darkness.

“Ayako, Fumiya.”

There was a sense of surprise at suddenly being spoken to. A moment later, the shadows solidified, taking shape. Tatsuya, adept at seeing in the dark, recognized them as Ayako with her eyes wide and Fumiya seeming happy.

“Tatsuya… Please do not scare us like that.”

“I didn’t intend to.”

“Then I would object to how you said our names in a scary voice.”

A fair amount of Ayako’s objection was serious. Her short exhalation of breath seemed like a sigh of relief, and the corners of her eyes had teared up slightly, probably out of reflex.

Tatsuya didn’t argue with Ayako’s critical words. They weren’t quite in the middle of combat, but right now his mind was in a similar state. He realized his own words were not coming through as gentle.

“Did you two come to check the course, too?”

Even so, he didn’t bother apologizing.

“…Yes. Security is tight, though, and…”

“We couldn’t get inside.”

Fumiya answered for the part Ayako stumbled over.

“Even your magic couldn’t get inside, Ayako?” Tatsuya asked, taken by surprise. “Ah, I mean, sorry. I wasn’t trying to criticize you.”

And seeing Ayako’s eyes turn downward, he apologized right away this time. He understood without having to think about it that she was more frustrated than he was surprised.

The singular magic Ayako specialized in was called Supreme Diffusion. The spell equalized the distribution of any gaseous, liquid, or physical energy within a specified area and made it impossible to identify.

Supreme Diffusion was classified as a convergence-type spell. One could also program it into an activation sequence, and in that sense, it was a normal spell. Mastering it to a point where it had actual, practical meaning, however, could be said to be nearly impossible. Normal magicians could, at most, use a lesser version of Supreme Diffusion called Diffuse. The only Supreme Diffusion user Tatsuya knew of was her.

If one equalized sound, for example, voices and music alike would all become flat noise, its contained meanings impossible to pick out. But one couldn’t hide the fact that there was noise, that sound itself had occurred. This was still on Diffuse’s level.

To expand the equalized zone until the sound’s strength went below audible range: only in doing so did the Diffuse spell become Supreme. Ayako’s magic activation speed and event influence were both weaker than Miyuki’s, but she surpassed her in the breadth of an area she could alter events in, boasting the greatest of that talent in the Yotsuba.

Outdoors at night, where light was scarce, was Ayako’s territory, where she could best bring out her abilities. She could blend into the darkness by instantly and selectively equalizing the diffusion of electromagnetic waves either she or her team reflected or produced. She evaded auditory and olfactory detection by equalizing the distribution of sound waves and shifts in air currents. In doing so, she became one with the night air. Her code name, Yoru, used one of the characters in her first name, but at the same time, it represented the traits of her Supreme Diffusion spell.

And even she couldn’t break into a man-made forest under cover of night. Tatsuya’s surprise was inevitable, and Ayako biting her lip in frustration was natural as well.

“Did you come to investigate, too, Tatsuya?”

Fumiya didn’t ask Tatsuya that to steer the conversation away from Ayako. He earnestly thought that maybe Tatsuya could do what they couldn’t.

Tatsuya’s Dismantle and Ayako’s Supreme Diffusion were similar in their event alteration direction. Dismantling matter into its component parts was, from a different angle, breaking down the matter’s structure and scattering the distribution of its component parts into an unstructured state. You could also look at dismantling magic as being Supreme Diffusion with added depth and reduced scope.

And in fact, the reason Ayako could use Supreme Diffusion was because she’d received training from Tatsuya at the Yotsuba main house. He’d still been in elementary school at the time, but he’d already mastered the use of dismantling magic and self-regeneration magic and was accustomed to combat training with adults. It wasn’t unusual for Kuroba magicians to be chosen for that, either. And though he was worrying about not understanding his own special qualities, he had shown Dismantle to Ayako, who had been practicing magic with one of her father’s subordinates, in an easy-to-understand way.

Tatsuya understood from Elemental Sight that she had the same magical qualities as him. When he was still young, meaning to make comrades for himself, he’d shown Ayako how to use Supreme Diffusion with Dismantle as a base.

Ayako’s Supreme Diffusion was essentially taught to her by Tatsuya. It wouldn’t be an overstatement to say that because of him, she had established her own identity as Ayako Kuroba, a magician of the Yotsuba.

Therefore, Ayako never looked down on him as a mere Guardian. This was one of the reasons Fumiya looked up to Tatsuya so much, too. At the same time, though, it was one of the reasons the Kuroba siblings overestimated him.

“Yeah. But I was just wondering what to do myself. I can’t get in.”

Tatsuya’s fields of specialty were combat and assassination. His skills at sneaking into enemy territory were close to first-rate, too, but that was because of Yakumo’s teachings. In terms of natural aptitude, Ayako was far and away his better. Tatsuya would have no way of remaining undetected if even Ayako couldn’t get inside.

“I see…” murmured Fumiya, not hiding his disappointment. “Should we try again? If we all put our strength together, maybe…”

But he immediately put forth a constructive plan—though it wasn’t very specific.

“No, pushing it and making noise would be the worst thing we could do. We should probably leave quietly for tonight.”

“I agree.”

The one who responded to Tatsuya’s remark was neither Fumiya nor Ayako.

“Who’s there?!”

At Ayako’s sharp demand for an identity, a slender figure appeared from the trees.

“Master, could you please make your entrances more normal?”

His identity was, as Tatsuya mentioned with a sigh, Yakumo.

“Tatsuya is right. We should pull out for tonight.”

Without responding to his pupil’s grievance, Yakumo continued what he’d been saying.

“…Tatsuya, is this person…?” Yakumo’s identity perhaps coming to mind, Ayako loosened her guard.

“I think whatever you have in mind is right, Ayako.”

“Then he is the Yakumo Kokonoe?”

This time, Fumiya nodded, deeply moved. As the two entrusted with the next generation of the Kuroba, the Yotsuba’s intelligence division, the name Yakumo appeared to hold great meaning.

“Anyway, Master, did you learn anything?” asked Tatsuya.

Yakumo shook his head. “Nope. They hadn’t put anything in the course yet.”

“You got into the course?!”

Ayako unintentionally raised her voice, then quickly covered her mouth with a hand. Warmed by the slip, Tatsuya gave a slight smile. But he immediately erased it and turned back to Yakumo.

“We’d already given up on the security system. You are really something else,” he said, glancing at Ayako. She still had on a frustrated look, but he didn’t get the impression that she was blaming herself.

“No, no. Not at all.”

Yakumo, on the other hand, appeared triumphant, without a shred of circumspection.

Act your age, thought Tatsuya. But he changed his mind—maybe he’d done it to purposely get Ayako’s mind off herself and on something else, on him.

“What was it like on the inside? You said there was nothing?”

Ayako’s magic could disable any kind of passive sensor, so it was active sensors that were at issue. How had Yakumo gotten past them? Tatsuya would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. But he clearly wouldn’t tell him if he asked. Yakumo didn’t have a reason to reveal his tricks so easily. More importantly, thought Tatsuya, they needed to prioritize their original goal.

“I meant what I said. Right now, it’s just an artificial training forest, with only the planned normal obstacles set up.”

“Can you predict where the Parasidolls will be?”

“Nope. It wouldn’t make much of a difference no matter where they put them. That’s how they made this place.”

“Would that mean the Parasidolls can at least operate regardless of the terrain?”

“If they were, then that would make them built for combat.”

In the end, sneaking out of the hotel tonight had been a waste of effort. Tatsuya thanked Yakumo, said farewell to Fumiya and Ayako, and they all returned to the hotel separately.

It had been a pointless visit for Tatsuya and the others, but the situation was proceeding without stopping. Maybe incidents always happened at the scene. But at the same time, by default, incidents were always planned away from the scene.

For Major General Saeki, leader of the JGDF’s 101^st Brigade, mornings started early and nights ended late. She laughed about it, saying her superior officers pushed all the unreasonable work on her because she’d lived as part of the staff for so long, but for her subordinates, it was no laughing matter. The brigade’s staff officer reported almost habitually that part of a commander’s job in an uneventful time was to go home early, but Saeki showed no signs of cooperating, saying that the current situation was in fact an emergency for a general. She was up late again tonight, looking over the organization reports for the team she’d be sending to the Nine School Competition.

Her preference for paper documents was a result of her attaching great importance to secrecy, and she read low-confidentiality reports on screens as most did these days. Seeing the incoming call sign light up on the videophone in the corner of the display, she frowned.

The 101^st Brigade wasn’t assigned to a particular area. A call coming in from General HQ on the brigade commander’s direct line was unthinkable unless there was a real emergency, like coming under surprise attack or something. All the more if it was a business call from the Ministry of Defense. Wondering who on earth was contacting her, she accepted the call.

“General Saeki, I apologize for contacting you so late at night.”

A senior gentleman, older than her, appeared on the screen. Saeki knew the man’s name.

“Mr. Hayama of the Yotsuba, was it? It has been a long time.”

“Oh! I am honored the one renowned as the most resourceful general in the JGDF would remember the name of someone rank-and-file like myself.”

Without changing her expression, Saeki thought, What about you is “rank-and-file”? She knew who Hayama was, obviously through the Independent Magic Battalion having taken Tatsuya in. When they’d pulled Tatsuya out of there, she had gone to negotiate directly as the highest responsible party, attended by Kazama. At the time, the opposite negotiating party had, in essence, been Hayama. Saeki had met Maya in person, but other than introductions, they hadn’t ever exchanged words. It was this old man, however, who had taken charge of the Yotsuba’s end of the negotiations with the 101^st Brigade.

“The reason for my rude call at this hour is because I wished to speak of something I am rather hesitant to let others hear. Should this time be inconvenient for you, however, I will call another day.”

While Saeki’s attention was on her memories, Hayama once again referred to her conveniences. She was about to turn him down without thinking much about it, but then frantically hit the brakes on her tongue.

“…I’ll hear it.”

“I very much appreciate it. In that case, I will hand you over to the mistress.”

Saeki sucked in her breath before she understood what those words meant.

With a respectful bow, Hayama’s visage disappeared from the screen.

“We haven’t talked in a long time, General Saeki.”

The one who appeared on the switched-over camera was a beautiful woman wearing a dress of deep, almost black crimson. Her gorgeous features hadn’t faded at all compared to three years and ten months ago.

“Yes, it has been a while, hasn’t it, Ms. Yotsuba?”

An unintentional nervousness ran through her spine. The current head of the Yotsuba family—Maya Yotsuba. Saeki knew of the woman’s own strength, of course, but also the Yotsuba’s strength, from her long career as an intelligence officer.

“I know you’re quite busy, General, so allow me to keep the matter short.”

Maya’s tone was more than polite—it was friendly. She didn’t give off any dire impression from her gentle smile, either, which made her look far younger than her age.

Saeki, however, wrestled down the information coming in through her eyes and ears with the data in her memories. No direct correlation existed between a spell’s range and physical distance. A spell reaching someone or not wasn’t determined by physical distance but by informational distance. In fact, she’d been told the head of the Yotsuba two generations prior, Genzou Yotsuba, Maya’s father, had once placed an opponent under a spell by showing himself through a TV screen. Maya Yotsuba might be able to kill her just by connecting to her through a video line like this. Saeki had come this far without knowing flattery or reverence, even with her superiors or other high-ranking officers. But when it came to someone who might quite literally be holding her death in her hand, she couldn’t afford not to be prudent.

“What would you like to talk about?”

“It’s regarding a plot to ensnare your brigade, General.”

The only reason Saeki got away with keeping a straight face was her steely grit. However, if she hadn’t braced herself beforehand, she might not have been able to conceal her confusion.

“A terrorist attack, written and performed by one and the same, is planned to take place during the National Magic High School Goodwill Magic Competition Tournament, specifically staged in the Cross-Country Steeplechase.”

“…Would you happen to know who’s behind it?”

The question Is that certain? didn’t come out of Saeki’s mouth. It didn’t have to be Maya—nobody would have said something like this as a joke.

“A group centered around Colonel Sakai from JGDF General HQ, in other words the faction of anti-GAA hard-liners, are being treated as the masterminds.”

Saying that, Maya let out a quiet laugh. It was nothing else but an implication that the true mastermind was someone else, but Saeki didn’t ask after that. It was clear she wouldn’t get an answer if she did.

“And the role assigned to your brigade, General, is to be the unit that carries it out.”

“I’ve no plans to take part in such a farce.”

It would be a lie to say Saeki hadn’t prickled at that. She was sure she wasn’t foolish enough to fall into such a blatant trap, and she knew her subordinates weren’t that idiotic, either.

“I believe you. That was why I asked for some of your time like this.”

Maya, for now, seemed to be complimenting her. But Saeki didn’t feel like being happy over it. Maya may have been one of the world’s strongest magicians, but she was still over ten years Saeki’s junior. In fact, conspiracies of this sort were Saeki’s expertise, not hers. She was grateful for Maya providing the information, but she’d grown tired of her condescension.

Of course, she didn’t let out a peep of any of that. She wasn’t that green.

“Then what did you want to tell me?”

“They plan to involve my relatives in this.”

“…Are you referring to Specialist Ooguro?”

“A clear insight—I’m impressed. Though with his traits, it’s really unavoidable.”

The sigh she gave on the screen seemed real to Saeki, not an act. Saeki had a very similar opinion as her, too.

“Still, I have no intention of acting out a role assigned to me.”

“Should I stop him?”

“No. They’ve so politely set the table for us—I thought we could make the hard-liners the real masterminds.”

Saeki stared hard at Maya’s face through the screen. However, even her insight couldn’t see through to Maya’s true intent.

Still, it wasn’t as though she understood nothing. Clearly, Maya wanted to destroy Colonel Sakai’s group for some reason.

Saeki, too, had found the hard-liners shameful for some time now. True, if they opened hostilities now, the GAA would win. But the world wasn’t made up of just Japan and the GAA. It was the same reason she’d given her support to Kazama back then. The anti-GAA opportunists during the Dai Viet conflict and the current anti-GAA hard-liners being two sides of the same coin would be far too simple. Any military action required thought from the perspective of a single factor in a multinational diplomatic situation.

Saeki didn’t believe the idea that soldiers shouldn’t give input on internal affairs or diplomacy. They had to follow orders, of course, but she didn’t think they had to be so prudent in things they hadn’t been ordered to do. But even still, Colonel Sakai’s faction seemed to her to be deviating from their restraint as soldiers.

That, however, only applied to within the JDF. The Yotsuba shouldn’t get any merit from purging Sakai’s group—Saeki knew well that they didn’t have a desire for more authority. She was one of the few high-ranking officers with a direct line to the Yotsuba; they wielded their might based on their own interests for the sake of self-defense and retaliation. Still, Saeki wasn’t confident enough about this situation to say that for sure.

Was a faction desiring elimination of the hard-liners lurking behind the Yotsuba?

Unfortunately, that question was not one she could ask right now. Because before she could, Maya came forth with her request:

“In that regard, I’d like to know if you could provide support, General.”

“You want me…to use my troops?”

“No, I’d like you to deal with the aftermath. I cannot appear in public, after all.”

That was a shameless remark to say the least. She wanted to mess up the JDF and have a JDF major general wipe her ass.

But Saeki didn’t get emotional. She inquired as toward her own material gain. “What sort of benefit would this bring me?”

Maya gave a bewitching smile. “I can weaken the Ten Master Clans’ interference with the JDF.”

She understood without explanation that when Maya said the Ten Master Clans, she didn’t mean all of them together but specifically Retsu Kudou.

She closed her eyes to escape Maya’s smile, then thought for a while before nodding.

“Was that wise, madam?”

Once Maya had finished her negotiations with Saeki, Hayama came forward with a question.

“Was what wise?”

Maya’s response was a return question, even though she knew why he had asked it.

Anyone but Hayama would have held his tongue then. Such makeshift lip sealings, however, didn’t work on this old butler.

“Lord Kudou’s involvement is still in the realm of speculation.”

“That was why I didn’t say his name. And…”

After giving a bald-faced explanation, Maya floated a mean smile.

“In that case, we don’t have any proof of the hard-liners’ self-written terrorist attempt, do we?”

Without batting an eyelid, Hayama simply nodded. “It would in fact be a false accusation. But I believe perhaps saying so doesn’t matter. It was their wish that we purge the hard-liners, after all.”

Maya nodded back, the same smile on as before. “Indeed. We cannot go against the wishes of our sponsors. If not for this incident, we may have had to choose more violent methods ourselves.”

An air drifted between them: not a master-servant one but a more conspiratorial one.

“In that sense, this Gongjin Zhou’s secret maneuvers were convenient for us as well. Considering Mr. Tatsuya’s support, however, is enough to make one’s head hurt.”

“We can’t have any gaudy displays like last year… I’d prefer it if he kept to himself, at least for another half a year, until New Year’s next year.” After speaking, Maya heaved a dramatic sigh. “Still, if the embers leap to Miyuki, I can’t tell him not to do anything.”

“Madam, do you believe General Saeki will give her support to Mr. Tatsuya?”

“Oh, she will. She can’t stop us, so ultimately, she’ll have to help us. Would the JDF have the nerve to neglect the most brutal magical weapon there is?”

Hayama felt like he heard a silent remark: Even I don’t have that.

It was past noon the day after the banquet. Tatsuya had been invited by Honoka and Shizuku to have lunch in the hotel room—not in his but in theirs. After returning to the hotel in a group of four, including Miyuki, he spotted a student in the lobby who had come to cheer them on and would be staying over to do so. It was a friend of his, and she was looking confused.

“Heya!”

The situation was worthy of déjà vu, but she was wearing something quite a bit more docile compared to last year. A sleeveless overshirt and three-quarter-length pants, specifically, were what Erika was wearing as she waved to them.

“Did you come to root for us?”

“Of course. Oh, and the other two are here, too,” Erika said, and just as she did, Leo walked up from behind her.

“You know, you should really be carrying your own luggage… Oh. Hey, Tatsuya.” Two bags hung from his hands; the one with the bright coloring must have been Erika’s.

“Erika, your key— Oh, hello, everyone.” Then, from behind Leo, Mizuki appeared, drawing along a wheeled travel bag.

“Have you had lunch?” Tatsuya asked.

“Nope,” Erika answered simply.

“Guess I’ll call Mikihiko, too.”

A twin bedroom would be cramped with this many people. The group headed for a café permitted for use by Nine School Competition entrants.

Peak hours were already over, so the eight secured seats without a wait. Just as they were sitting down, Mikihiko came out with a sudden question.

“You guys were later than planned. Did something happen?”

The one Mikihiko was asking was Mizuki. But the one who responded to his words first was Erika.

“Hmm…”

“Wh-what?”

As Erika gave him a smile—one with a bit of sadistic nature coming through—Mikihiko withdrew.

But his reaction was a mistake and also too late.

“You were asking Mizuki about our plans.”

“I got an e-mail from her, that’s all,” retorted Mikihiko with a slightly frantic look. It had the opposite effect, though, since the franticness had made it into his expression.

“Really? Miki, you traded e-mail addresses with Mizuki?”

“Yeah, well, friends usually do that, you know.”

After Mikihiko gruffly brushed it off, Erika’s gaze shifted from him to Leo, who was sitting next to him.

“Do you have Mizuki’s e-mail address?”

“Nope. Don’t really need it.”

With group chats via videophone being widespread these days, if someone wanted to communicate in text format, most would use a message board that only a group member could access. Electronic mail was superior when it came to sending summarized information and how people often conducted secret communications with narrowly defined recipients. In passing, Tatsuya knew both Erika’s and Mizuki’s e-mail addresses, but he didn’t share that with Mikihiko. Feeling guilty, or having been convinced he should feel guilty for the fact that he knew a girl’s e-mail address, Mikihiko’s face had gone completely red.

And Erika was already grinning from ear to ear. Next to Mikihiko, Mizuki was looking away, her face as red as his. (Notably, to prevent misunderstandings, the group had pulled two round tables together and were sitting around them, with the order being Erika, Mizuki, Mikihiko, Leo, Shizuku, Honoka, Tatsuya, then Miyuki.)

Unable to endure the situation anymore, Mikihiko finally blew.

“Look, you’ve got it all wrong! I’m not the only one who got Shibata’s e-mail. Miyuki and Mitsui and Kitayama all have it, too!”

But getting angry about it only pulled him deeper into the swamp.

“What about you, Tatsuya?”

“Nope.”

Mikihiko looked at Tatsuya as though he were a traitor, but Tatsuya wasn’t one to be ruffled by false charges.

“By the way, Erika…” But then, seeing that not Mikihiko but Mizuki was about to hit her own limit, Tatsuya decided to change the topic. “Were you really late?”

Erika frowned. “Yeah, kinda.”

With modern ground transit systems having eliminated traffic by way of structure, if their arrival was late in such a way that it went beyond the acceptable range, it meant they’d hit trouble on the road. The trouble had probably been unpleasant enough that they couldn’t ignore it. Erika’s attention veered away from Mikihiko.

“The bus with all the people who came to cheer ran into demonstrators at the base entrance,” put in Mizuki immediately, perhaps seeing this as a chance to wrest herself free.

“Demonstrators?” asked Honoka. This hotel and the base entrance were pretty far away, so they wouldn’t have known what had happened even if there had been major noise.

“Yes, well… The humanists.”

Everyone present—not only Tatsuya and those who hadn’t been there but Erika and Leo, too, who had been at the scene—all responded with tired looks.

“It was the same stuff as always.” The distaste was plain in Erika’s voice. “It’s wrong for the majority of magic high school students to go into the army—wake up—the military is only using you. That stuff. Who asked them anyway?”

Perhaps getting riled up again while she was speaking, Erika was growing more and more excited. In contrast, Leo said nothing, as though he didn’t even want to think about it.

“What do they mean, majority? What’s the point of adding post–high school advancement rates to post-university employment rates? They’re different populations. I wish they could figure out that you can’t add those or subtract them or multiply them or divide them.”

Erika must have been pretty upset, because she was acting more rational than usual. For all the emotions she kept out of this, she’d probably keep on going. Without a choice, Tatsuya set about putting out the fire.

“Demonstrations and propaganda speeches don’t need to be accurate, they need to be impactful. They know it’s sophistry at best. And it is true that 45 percent of Magic University graduates are employed in the JDF or somewhere related to them, which is a pretty high number by itself. I don’t think arguing over the math is going to help.”

“Come on. Are you taking their side, Tatsuya?”

“Me? Really?”

The bitter smile Tatsuya gave meant You mean the one already in the army?

“Right. Sorry…”

Erika understood that, of course. Vaguely, she’d also guessed that he didn’t have a choice not to do that.

“Anyway, Miki—”

“My name is Mikihiko.”

Mikihiko purposely revived his usual retort because he realized Erika was trying to shift the mood.

“You’re still calling her Shibata? You call Miyuki by her first name, so you should just call Mizuki by hers, too.”

“That’s not what we’re talking about!”

But the consideration he showed was repaid with the opposite.