Ninefold Temple, where Yakumo Kokonoe served as head priest, stood atop a small hill in Fuchu, a part of old Tokyo city. The temple was devoted to volunteer activities involving manual labor—which those from the temple would describe as “part of their training”—and was such a common sight in the neighborhood by now that at some point it had merged with local society and become an indispensable part of the town’s scenery.

Which was why, if a person from this town had the chance to examine an older map, even one from just a century ago, they would have stumbled upon a significant surprise:

They’d learn there had been no temple here originally.

They’d learn there had been no hill here at all.

In the latter part of the Twenty Years’ Global War Outbreak, a metropolitan area defense force had been stationed in Chofu, Fuchu, and Mitaka’s Musashino area, using the Chofu Airfield as their base of operations. This meant that the residents of those areas had been evacuated for about ten years, in accordance with the principle of separation of military and civilians. The hill on which the Ninefold Temple stood had been made from earth excavated from the construction site for a large-scale underground defense facility located here.

Unfortunately, the wider metropolitan area didn’t make it through the war without its own damages. Thanks to this Musashino Antiair Fortress, however, they were able to keep damage to these old city areas to zero. The defensive position itself, on the other hand, had come under attack by several forces; but in that sense as well, one could say the residents’ evacuation hadn’t been in vain.

All this resulted in an inevitably blank slate in the relationship between the town and its residents. The people only returned to their “homes” after the war ended and the town had been rebuilt at the government’s expense. However, it was far from a perfect replica of how it had been before.

When time came to shut down the underground defense facility, the authorities didn’t dismantle it—they’d only sealed its entrance. That, plus the rezoning, meant a not insignificant number of families were unable to return to their former dwellings. A promptly introduced advanced public transportation system had given a somewhat futuristic flair to the new town’s scenery, too.

The elevated tracks to run cabinets—a high-density form of public transportation for carrying small groups—weren’t the only new additions. New things, traditional things, facilities big and small, were added onto the townscape. The expansive temple built on the small hill, the Ninefold Temple, was established around this time.

It would be slightly—no, very—difficult to call this temple’s origins normal. As a reward for his cooperation with Magician Development Institute Nine, the previous head priest, Yakumo’s master, had been given this facility-slash-residence as a base to train disciples—the implication being that he would have shinobi disciples rather than regular monks-in-training.

For that reason, the Ninefold Temple’s outer appearance was designed to look especially old-fashioned as a means of camouflage. The aboveground area inside its walls had also been done in a style cognizant of the twentieth century.

In contrast, the basement housing the training facility was very, very deep underground and boasted an area vaster than the temple’s surface plot of land, was decked out with cutting-edge technology—and not only for ancient magic training. It was currently one of the highest-level modern magic training facilities out there.

When Kazama had introduced Tatsuya to Yakumo, he’d done so with this underground facility in mind. Yakumo’s skills as a martial arts teacher made him one of the best in the field. That said, Kazama’s intentions didn’t stop at improving Tatsuya’s fighting abilities. He hadn’t roped Tatsuya into the army so he could be a regular close-combat soldier. He wanted to develop the abilities of an extremely powerful magician who could fight on the front lines no matter what the conditions.

Instruction in martial arts and a facility where magical training was possible: When Kazama learned that Tatsuya’s home was so close to the Ninefold Temple that they might as well have been next-door neighbors, he had no choice but to take advantage of it.

At the moment, Tatsuya was in the lowest level of the Ninefold Temple’s underground training facility. The walls, floor, and ceiling had been built in three layers; starting from the inside, there was a layer of concrete ten centimeters thick, then a layer of lead thirty centimeters thick, and finally a layer of neutron-insulating concrete sixty centimeters thick.

It wasn’t a nuclear shelter. This was a room for magical training, from top to bottom. Why, then, was such strict insulation necessary? The reason had to do with how magic had advanced in the twenty-first century.

Modern magic research and development could trace its origins to a 1999 incident when a single American police officer stopped a nuclear terrorist attack using a strange ability, something people still called psychic powers at the time. Accordingly, modern magic R & D’s primary objective in its early days was to pursue methods to combat nuclear threats—specifically stopping and controlling nuclear fission as well as blocking and neutralizing radiation.

The focused research efforts had borne fruit. They had made so much progress that it was possible to claim that neutron barriers and gamma-ray filters were as good as completed. Nevertheless, the development and improvement of techniques to combat nuclear concepts continued to be frequently cited as a crucial facet of magic skill development.

What Tatsuya was trying to do in this room, though, was neither practicing magic to block radiation nor improving magic techniques to better control nuclear fission. In a certain sense, it was just the opposite.

The underground training room was currently serving as a pool. They hadn’t poured in the water so Tatsuya could swim, though. With the water up to his shoulders, Tatsuya wore short-sleeved training gear and held a handgun-shaped CAD. It wasn’t exactly a swimming outfit, but his face and hair were still both soaking wet.

Gripped in his right hand was something other than his favored custom Silver Horn. Anyone could tell from a glance at its unadorned surface that he was currently using a prototype. The greatest difference of all was a bayonet-like object fixed to the underside of its barrel. Bayonet-like, because the attachment was nothing but a thick metal sheet without any blade or edge, fastened in the style of a bayonet.

With his right hand below the water’s surface, Tatsuya pulled the trigger. Two activation sequences expanded underwater before being absorbed into his right arm. One of them was the output from the handgun CAD. The other was from the bayonet-like attachment.

The magic programs acted on the attachment. Water bubbled at the CAD’s tip. Tatsuya let out a groan through clenched teeth, then fell to his knees, dropping the CAD. His right hand had suffered a serious burn and was badly inflamed.

He sank into the water, up to the crown of his head. A moment later, he pulled himself together and stood up. His hair must have been soaking wet because he had been repeating this process over and over again. After taking many sharp breaths, Tatsuya lifted his right hand in front of his face, repeatedly closing and opening it. The lack of any burns was because he’d used Regenerate, but examining his hand was a partly unconscious act—the damage he suffered had run so deep that he couldn’t immediately shake off the sensation of it.

Once he finally got the feeling back in his right hand, he reached into the water. His fingers grasped the CAD, which had floated up to the surface. It had lost its bayonet-like attachment before the CAD had even sunk to the floor, but that, too, had been Regenerated back to normal.

Tatsuya readied the CAD in the water again. But then a voice rang low near his ears from out of nowhere to stop him.

“Tatsuya, it’s just about midnight.”

It was an air vibration technique, its methodology the same as the one used by Silvia Mercury First, planet-class magician in the Stars, the USNA’s magician force; only the activation process differed. Yakumo had used it to whisper to Tatsuya from outside the room.

“…Yes, sir.”

Tatsuya answered normally, but he knew Yakumo would pick up his voice with the technique.

Sure enough, immediately after Tatsuya agreed to end the training, the water filling the room began to drain away. After waiting for it to completely recede, he used a dispersion-type spell to pull the moisture from his skin, hair, and clothes.

Given his level of magic power, he couldn’t hope to get himself perfectly dry. Still, he could get out enough water to the point where it wouldn’t cause much issue. After finishing up, he operated the door switch on the other side of the wall using a weighting-type spell. Electronic devices couldn’t be built into the wall partitions because of the room’s properties.

This would be a locked room if you couldn’t use magic…

Tatsuya belatedly had that thought as he put a hand on the ladder leading back to the surface. After all, Yakumo had cut the power to the elevator.

Sunday, September 23, 2096. Despite having gotten back home right before the date changed last night, Tatsuya had gone out for early-morning training again today. Once she learned that from the message he’d left on their home server, Miyuki started to get a little worried about him not long after waking up.

Her older brother wasn’t one to stop even if she told him not to push himself too hard. Well, he might listen to what she said a little if she used tears to get her way, but that, too, would only be temporary at best. She’d just used that feminine attack last month. With some resignation, she decided that she should save the tears for a moment slightly more important than this.

In the kitchen, Minami had already started getting breakfast ready. Recently, Miyuki and Minami had been getting on quite well, and they’d started taking turns when it came to meal prep. With how far home automation had come, nobody had to devote too much time to cooking, barring special occasions, and the two had realized—albeit belatedly—that the sight of them fighting over the kitchen would have looked rather ridiculous from an outsider’s perspective.

Because of all that, Miyuki left the kitchen to Minami and headed to the bathroom.

In the changing room, she used the HAR, their Home Automation Robot, to take out a change of clothes for Tatsuya. His underwear was included in the bundle, too, but that was hardly enough to embarrass her.

Actually, when they’d been in their third year of middle school, she’d once wondered whether it would be better for her to feel a more maidenly sense of embarrassment when presented with male underwear, even if they did belong to her beloved brother. But when she’d privately imagined her cheeks reddening at the sight of his underwear, she changed her mind—such behavior would only make her a deviant, not a maiden. Though, if an outsider had seen her jubilant smile and attention to detail while preparing a shower for her elder brother, they’d maybe think it was too late to save her in more ways than one. (Of course, they’d never, ever say that to her face.)

She’d finished briskly preparing for her brother’s return home and was just about to set down a towel as the finishing touch when she suddenly hurried toward the front door, still holding the towel. She didn’t run in the house; that would be unladylike. (She made it a personal rule to never behave in a way that would bring shame on her brother, even if he wasn’t watching.)

The sound of the gate’s biometric authentication unlocking the door rang out through the living room and the kitchen. By the time Minami looked away from the cooking and left the kitchen, Miyuki was already waiting at the front door.

“Welcome home, Brother.”

“Thanks, I’m back.”

“…Welcome home, Big Brother Tatsuya.”

The slight pause between greetings was the time Minami had needed to reach the front door. She’d started moving right as the unlocking chime had sounded, but once again, Miyuki was way ahead of her. Back when Minami had first started living with them, she’d been unable to fully hide her frustration when things like this happened. Lately, though, she’d entirely given up on it.

And that was the right attitude to have. Miyuki had precisely identified Tatsuya’s presence when he was still over five meters away, and it wasn’t as though they were in combat. Frankly, Miyuki was the stranger one. If anything, Minami’s restraint in not making a face was enough to warrant praise.

“I’ve prepared your shower, Brother.”

“Thanks.”

As Tatsuya accepted the offered towel and headed for the bathroom, Miyuki followed after him, wearing a blissful smile.

Minami sighed to herself at the sight—even a live-in maid was permitted to vent sometimes.

It was Sunday, but because of previously mentioned circumstances, morning at the Shiba residence was progressing on its regular timetable—which meant that after breakfast came a leisurely teatime. Miyuki may have reached a compromise with Minami over breakfast prep, but she had yet to yield when it came to her brother’s tea and coffee. Minami had learned to allot this time for cleaning and laundry instead, lest the saccharine mood cause her pain.

Once Tatsuya had paid some compliments to her coffee, Miyuki finally settled into her own seat, deciding to bring up something that’d been on her mind for a while. “Brother, there’s something I’d like to ask you, if you don’t mind.”

“What is it?”

His wording was simple, but as usual, the tone he took toward his younger sister was gentle.

Emboldened, Miyuki cast off the remaining vestiges of her reservations. “Why are you not entered into this year’s Thesis Competition? I understand that the stellar reactor experiment you conducted on campus in April exempted you from the responsibility of submitting a thesis of your choice like the other magic engineering students, but that doesn’t mean you were forbidden from entering, does it?”

“Yeah, they didn’t tell me I couldn’t come or anything like that,” he replied, giving a smile while shaking his head, perhaps finding the idea that he’d be barred entry amusing.

“Then why…?”

“Because I don’t have time.”

Tatsuya’s answer was just as short as the question Miyuki had asked, but it was more concise than hers.

“Does this…have anything to do with the magic you’ve been practicing until late every night?” pressed Miyuki somewhat hesitantly, unsure and scared of whether she should pry any further.

But Tatsuya left her no reason to worry. “It does. I’m surprised you figured it out.” He reached a hand out to his sister’s head and softly stroked her hair in praise.

The hesitation remaining in Miyuki’s mind melted away at the gentle touch. “Could it be that you’re struggling with the development of a new spell rather than magic practice?”

“I should have known—you have me all figured out, Miyuki.”

Those words tickled Miyuki more than the hand caressing her hair, but she realized it was mostly flattery—or rather, a joke.

If he was simply trying to learn a preexisting spell, Tatsuya would never struggle that much. While his implanted virtual magic-calculation region had low magical output, one of its properties was that it could perfectly copy magic programs for use. As long as he could fully grasp a magic program’s structure, Tatsuya could acquire the spell just prior to its activation, no matter what it was. From that point on, everything came down to his processing ability. If it was possible for him to cast the spell, he’d be able to use it immediately without practice; if he couldn’t, then he’d never be able to use it, no matter how much he practiced. And given Tatsuya’s vision combined with his analytical prowess, there was no magic program he couldn’t analyze.

All this meant that his late-night struggles couldn’t have been due to an existing spell.

“I started developing this spell in March. It actually took a while to nail down the theory at first. I only managed to get to the magic program design phase in June,” he stated. “It definitely wouldn’t be ready in time for the Thesis Competition,” he added with a smirk.

After hearing that, though, Miyuki couldn’t share his smile. First was because her older brother—the true identity of the mysterious magic engineering genius named Taurus Silver—had taken three whole months to understand the underlying theory of a spell. And second, the fact that he’d started development specifically in March…

“This new spell you’re wrestling with… Was your confrontation with Lina the reason you decided to pursue it?”

“I’m surprised you figured it out.”

Tatsuya’s answer was worded the same way as before, but the nuance was quite different. This time, surprise and praise were obvious. She’d arrived at a mostly correct answer with only a hint or two. He was genuinely impressed with her.

“The spell I’m developing right now is a close-combat direct-attack spell based on FAE theory.”

“FAE theory…? If I recall correctly, that was the theory Lina’s weapon used, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. The magic theory that is the foundation of the strategic portable magic weapon Lina used, the Brionac… FAE: Free After Execution.”

Tatsuya’s voice was brimming with emotion. Was it reverence toward the scientist who had created this nearly divine weapon, or had his spirit of competition been roused? To Miyuki, it felt like neither and yet also both.

“Events produced as a result of magical alteration shouldn’t occur in the world at all, and so right after the alteration takes place, the restrictions of the laws of physics loosen for a brief moment. The hypothesis states that under normal conditions, it becomes possible to execute a second spell using only a fraction of the power usually required as long as it’s cast during the short time lag before the laws of physics come into effect again.”

There, Tatsuya realized his own mistake, then shook his head, giving a pained grin. “No, not hypothesis. The Brionac has already proven that FAE theory is correct.”

“Brother, I apologize, but there is one part of what you’ve just said that I’ve been having difficulty understanding. Would you be able to explain?”

Miyuki wasn’t asking the question just to humor him; it grew out of academic curiosity, of wanting to seize this chance to resolve a question she had. If this had simply been some arcane theory, maybe she would’ve avoided troubling her brother. FAE theory, though, was related to the magic Lina had used. Miyuki couldn’t bear remaining ignorant.

“It’s okay—ask away.”

“Except for single-process ones, spells are constructed from several successive processes. With most of them, a second process will take effect by continuing the event alteration after inheriting it from the first process. But even with that sort of spell, it doesn’t feel as though activating the second or any subsequent process becomes any easier. Would that not run contrary to FAE theory?”

“I see…” Tatsuya nodded at the question, his face implying she’d struck him in a blind spot. “That may be the most common misunderstanding magicians have.”

But he wasn’t taken aback because her indication had been correct—no, he was very surprised that even a magician as excellent as Miyuki had a misconception of this magnitude.

“Misunderstanding, Brother?”

“The idea that a spell’s processes are in and of themselves independent spells.”

Miyuki frowned, confused. Tatsuya, however, had planned on this. “Take this spell, for example,” he said, opening the sugar pot’s lid before lifting a sugar cube out of it up to eye level, holding it there for one second, and then returning it to the pot once again, all without ever touching it.

“Brother… It may only be a seasoning, but I don’t believe playing with food is appropriate.”

“Uh, right. Sorry.” When Miyuki immediately chided him, Tatsuya had no room to think of an excuse. Watching him apologize so sincerely brought an approving smile to Miyuki’s face.

“Anyway.” Feeling uncomfortable, as though their age dynamic had flipped, Tatsuya used a bit of force to get back on track. “I probably don’t need to tell you this, but the spell I used just now was Float. It’s a popular beginner-level spell and good for practice purposes. It has four processes in total: a weighting-type antigravity magic process to make the sugar cube float into the air; a movement-type magic process for suspending it in midair; a weighting-type gravity-control magic process to slowly lower it toward the sugar pot; and a movement-type suspension magic process to bring it to rest inside the pot without delivering an impact. But now that you mention it, explaining the steps like that makes it easy to misunderstand.”

“What part is incorrect?”

“Nothing’s incorrect. It’s just that this four-process spell creates the illusion that each of the processes can be considered its own independent spell.”

“That’s…an illusion?” said Miyuki, her confusion clearly persisting.

Tatsuya nodded deeply. “Float is a four-process spell, but those four processes comprise a single spell. Once the spell is cast, it constructs the magic program all the way up to that final suspension process, defines the variables, and then it’s done. If you don’t have enough magic power to cover all four of these processes…” He paused there, peering into Miyuki’s eyes to gauge her understanding. “The spell won’t break off midway through—it won’t work at all, starting from the initial antigravity process.”

Miyuki blinked in surprise. “You’re right… If each process really was an isolated spell, the whole spell would stop when your magic power ran out… It wouldn’t simply fail to activate from the outset.” As she murmured, she ruminated on what Tatsuya had just said. “Magic processes themselves aren’t independent spells. They’re nothing more than part of a single spell. That’s what you mean, isn’t it, Brother?”

“That’s right. You pick things up quickly, as always.”

Miyuki averted her eyes from his smile, blushing. Partly because she was simply embarrassed, but this time, it was more that she was ashamed of her failure to understand something this fundamental.

Tatsuya, for his part, hadn’t been sarcastic at all; his praise had been sincere. Miyuki understood this, but that only made her feel more pathetic for not grasping the concept sooner, despite being this man’s sister.

But she couldn’t look away from him forever. She forced herself to smile at him.

“Well, it’s tough to avoid misunderstanding stuff like this in an intuitive way, even if you theoretically understand the underlying logic really well, unless you actually experience it. Magic isn’t an academic subject, after all—it’s a skill. If you’ve never experienced a spell failing to cast, it’s only natural that you’d never wonder about the why.”

Tatsuya wasn’t usually very sharp when it came to human emotions, but things were different when it came to Miyuki. As soon as he saw his sister feeling down, he immediately offered her words of encouragement.

“Anyway, the important part isn’t why magic fails, but how magic processes are really just conveniences. When people in the past conceptualized the modern magic scheme of building magic programs out of activation sequences, it was just more convenient to break the magic program up into modules called processes in order to more efficiently describe the activation sequence.”

And again, Miyuki wasn’t dull enough to misunderstand that her brother was trying to cheer her up. Tatsuya had been considerate of her—her. That made her happy, and a little of the stiffness faded from her smile.

“Yes, Brother. Even I at last understand what you mean.”

Miyuki playfully conked herself on the head, flashing a silly smile that seemed to say Sorry your little sister is so slow. The expression was such a huge departure from her normal demeanor—characterized by her too-beautiful features that could sometimes seem extremely cold—that one look was all it took to almost boot Tatsuya’s mind into escapist mode.

“Magic processes are only parts of a spell. That’s why magic-induced event alterations are also singular entities even if they’re brought about by more than one process. When a process ends, if the event alteration is still ongoing as a whole, then the spell hasn’t taken place yet. That’s why the end of a process doesn’t provide the benefit of easier casting like FAE theory posits.”

“…That’s right. Full marks for that one, Miyuki.”

Seeing his younger sister adorably tilting her head to the side threatened to almost knock Tatsuya out again. He’d tried to camouflage the unnatural silence by pretending to mull over her answer, but he didn’t have any confidence that he’d managed to fool her.

And Miyuki’s smile, opening up like a glorious blooming flower, refused all of Tatsuya’s attempts at scrutiny.

How exactly are those two spending their days off?

Any student who knew enough about the Shiba siblings—meaning the majority of the First High student body—would run into this question at least once…

I bet they’re spending the whole day like passionate lovers, using every passing moment to flirt with each other.

No way. I don’t think even those two would go that far… At most, they’re probably just going on dates all the time, right?

So naive. Those two? They’re definitely going all the way…

…and it meant the spread of all sorts of rumors.

Their collective fantasies were partially accurate; it was true that the Shiba siblings spent their days off quite intimately, and they did go on dates.

This didn’t happen all the time, though. In reality, Sundays often saw Tatsuya out of the house. Usually, he’d either be at the FLT labs or responding to a summons from the Independent Magic Battalion. The frequency of his outings had increased, perhaps due to not worrying as much about leaving Miyuki at home ever since Minami had joined the household.

However, unlike recently, Tatsuya had no plans for the day. And Miyuki hadn’t said that she wanted to go out, either. The reason for that wasn’t the student council elections awaiting them at the end of the week but consideration for her brother’s physical condition: His training had been leaving him exhausted lately.

If she could freely speak her mind about how she truly felt, Miyuki would’ve said that she didn’t feel like having guests today, no matter who they were. And hosting their two current guests was something she especially wanted to refuse. Tatsuya and Miyuki couldn’t let their guards down around this pair despite their familial bond; they couldn’t show any vulnerability despite how they were supposed to be allies.

Those were no more than Miyuki’s personal feelings, though her reasoning was based on the well-being of her older brother. If Tatsuya wouldn’t send them away, then she had no choice (on the surface) but to welcome them as well.

After Minami showed them in, Tatsuya and Miyuki gestured toward the sofa. Once everyone settled into their seats, they addressed their guests amicably:

“Fumiya, Ayako, thanks for coming.”

“Yes, welcome, both of you. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Miyuki’s attitude was very much an empty diplomatic one, and Tatsuya would never drop his mental guard around anyone other than his sister. Their public demeanor, though, was thoroughly friendly and affectionate.

“Thank you, Tatsuya. And you, too, Miyuki.”

“It has been quite some time, hasn’t it?”

In response, the Kuroba siblings’ greetings were stiff and formal. There shouldn’t have been this striking of an experience gap between them and Tatsuya and Miyuki; in terms of age, the twins, born in June, were sixteen, just like the March-born Miyuki. Setting aside for the moment whether a sixteen-year-old was an adult or a child, the two would have long since mastered the ability to conceal any nervousness, assuming nothing truly dire had happened.

In other words, the business they’d brought with them had to be gravely serious; Tatsuya and Miyuki both gleaned that from their attitude.

“Come to think of it, Fumiya—thanks for taking care of Minami last month.”

Fumiya looked flustered by Tatsuya’s sudden show of thanks. Minami, standing next to the sofa, gave a short bow.

“And you saved me time, too, by taking out the security detail.”

“O-oh… Right, that incident.”

With the words taking out the security detail, Fumiya finally realized Tatsuya was referring to the incident that took place on the last day of the Nines, in which he’d knocked out the security guards surrounding the van Minami was being held in.

“No, that was nothing, really, so…” muttered Fumiya, about to continue with please don’t worry about it.

But Tatsuya’s interruption was faster: “It’s not exactly to pay you back, but,” he said, “is there anything I can help with?”

Fumiya didn’t know how to respond. Beside him, Ayako heaved a sigh.

“…I swear,” she said. “We really don’t hold a candle to you, Tatsuya. The way you launch surprise attacks with that cool face of near-complete disregard for the feelings of others…” She shook her head, her expression seeming to say What a bother, then directed her gaze to her twin brother, who stiffened. “Fumiya, why don’t we take him up on his offer? We were simple messengers to begin with. It isn’t as though we have much of a choice.”

“R-right. Okay…”

Fumiya nodded, looking resigned, then he took out a normal-sized envelope from the inside pocket of his uniform jacket, which he was properly wearing despite it being Sunday.

The front was blank. Tatsuya accepted the offered envelope and turned it over. His brow furrowed slightly. Miyuki, who had peered toward her brother’s hands from the side, didn’t say a word—she only gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

The name of their aunt, Maya Yotsuba, was written on the back.

“By request of the family head, we’ve come to deliver this to you personally,” said Fumiya.

Miyuki looked over at Tatsuya’s profile. He met her gaze with a nod, then took the letter opener offered by Minami and broke the seal.

The envelope’s contents were simple: a single sheet of letter paper. Tatsuya scanned it carefully until the end, then he handed it to his sister, who had been politely waiting for him to finish reading.

“Fumiya, do you know anything about what this says?”

Fumiya hesitated for a moment. “I do,” he said, answering without seeking help from his older sister.

“I see.” This time, Tatsuya directed his gaze to Miyuki. She’d just finished reading the letter herself. She shook her head a little, implying that she would leave this up to him. “It says here that she requests our cooperation in the capture of Gongjin Zhou…?”

“That’s what I’ve heard as well.”

This time, Tatsuya openly frowned. “I see. So it is a request, in the literal sense of the word, rather than a figure of speech.”

Fumiya and Ayako nodded in unison.

Miyuki picked herself up and faced Tatsuya. “Brother… Why would Aunt Maya request something of us?”

Her question in full was why hadn’t the head of the family simply ordered them to do something and instead requested it. Tatsuya felt exactly the same.

“On that point, she has a message for you.”

“A message? One she couldn’t even write down?”

In general, paper documents were more confidential than electronic data. If she hadn’t even written it on paper, then what on earth could the message have been?

Ayako didn’t directly answer that question, though. “Apparently, she would not mind were you to refuse this particular job.”

“She said what?!”

After unintentionally raising her voice, Miyuki turned to Tatsuya and murmured, “I apologize,” embarrassed.

Tatsuya understood his sister’s astonishment. That said, he wasn’t that surprised. Maya was the head of the Yotsuba family, but because of Tatsuya’s position as a Guardian, orders from Miyuki took precedence. In addition, thanks to the secret accord between the Yotsuba family and the JGDF’s 101^st Brigade, the latter had priority in commanding Tatsuya, excluding any missions relating to Miyuki’s well-being.

Miyuki viewed the Yotsuba family’s power as absolute—or rather, she tended to convince herself that no one could go against Maya’s orders because she didn’t understand the true power of other magician groups or military factions very well. Still, in reality, Maya couldn’t ignore the agreement between the Yotsuba family system and the military, either. And if she was to abide by those rules, there was almost nothing she could force Tatsuya to do.

Tatsuya was only obeying her because he was of the mind that it wasn’t yet time to oppose her. And that judgment wouldn’t change simply because she’d approached him with a humble attitude.

“Fumiya, tell Aunt Maya that I understand and accept.”

Miyuki and Ayako turned stares on Tatsuya that didn’t fully hide their surprise. Fumiya, however, bowed deeply to him. “Yes, I will,” he noted. “I’m sorry, Tatsuya.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“The mission to capture Gongjin Zhou was originally assigned to the Kuroba. We’ve produced nothing but disappointment, and now we have to burden you with our duty…”

The disappointment Fumiya spoke about referred to last month when they’d mobilized to capture Gongjin Zhou in Yokohama Chinatown at Maya’s orders. Not only had the current head, Mitsugu, suffered a grievous wound—his hand getting bitten off—but the Kuroba force’s encirclement had been broken, allowing Zhou to escape.

The shame was written all over Fumiya’s face as he explained.

“Fumiya, asking other people to help you isn’t a bad thing.”

Seeing that, Tatsuya uncharacteristically began playing the part of older brother.

“Especially if this was a Kuroba job. You shouldn’t hesitate to rely on me for anything, even if you have to swallow your pride to do it.”

“Tatsuya…?”

“I get the feeling that you want to do the tasks you were entrusted all by yourself. But it’s more important that the mission succeeds.”

Completing your own work with your strength alone was a manifestation of boyish perfectionism, which was but one aspect of the dangerous fastidiousness that children possessed.

“In some of our work, Fumiya, failure cannot be permitted.”

Tatsuya’s voice was harsh. But hidden within it was enough gentleness to make Miyuki envious.

“…You’re right. I misspoke.” And Fumiya didn’t need anyone to tell him that Tatsuya was worried about him. “I’m sorry—or rather, thank you, Tatsuya.”

As Fumiya lowered his head once again, Tatsuya returned an approving smile. “In any case, please tell me what you know so far,” he said, moving on to practical matters.

“Right. After escaping Yokohama, Zhou headed west by sea to flee into the Pacific, but we managed to stop him. After he landed in Ise, he traveled north, and we traced him to the Lake Biwa bridge, but then he evaded capture again. We believe he kept going that way and sneaked into the Kyoto region. Currently, we’re having our subordinates search the Oohara area.”

“Any information about possible supporters?”

“As far as we can tell, the Traditionalists are involved. They’re an organization of ancient magicians who are at odds with the families of the number Nine.”

“The Traditionalists, eh…”

“You know of them, Tatsuya?”

“I’ve heard a little from Master Yakumo. Not only have they gathered stray ancient magicians from throughout the country—they also seem to be plotting to bolster their organization by taking in immortalists, ancient magicians who have defected from the mainland. Come to think of it, some defected immortalists were apparently taking up with the Kudou family, too. Is there a possibility the Kudou are helping Zhou?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. Right after Zhou fled Yokohama, the immortalists who were with the Kudou family escaped old Lab Nine and joined the Traditionalists. And we didn’t only hear about this from the Kudou—we obtained direct confirmation of it as well.”

“The Traditionalists and the families of Nine joining forces behind the scenes is impossible… Which means we won’t have to worry about the Kudou turning on us.”

“Tatsuya?”

As Tatsuya stared into space, deep in thought, Ayako, who had left the explanation to her younger brother until now, hesitantly spoke his name.

“Nothing, sorry. Hearing that info is a big help.”

Catching the implication inside his gratitude that Tatsuya was done asking questions, Ayako rose from her seat alongside her brother.

While Tatsuya and Miyuki saw Fumiya and Ayako to the front door, Minami quickly tidied the table and prepared another serving of black tea. She no longer felt guilty about snatching opportunities like this from her master, Miyuki. Minami did properly respect Miyuki as her master while also revering her as a skilled magician and admiring her as a girl. But at the same time, she felt as though Miyuki was a slightly troubling master, one who detracted from Minami’s job as a maid. And her severe brother complex was a nuisance to everyone around them.

When she returned to the living room with the teacups, Tatsuya ordered her to sit down on the sofa where Fumiya had been sitting moments ago. Without a choice, she placed the cups in front of Tatsuya and Miyuki, then took her seat before noticing Tatsuya’s slight frown.

“Lord Tatsuya…?”

In Minami’s mind, Tatsuya was a much more sensible person than Miyuki—meaning he was much more fitting to be a master. The unease that washed over her that maybe she’d messed up somehow was no overreaction.

“Minami, could you get one more cup of tea?”

“Sir…?”

She realized she must have been making an awfully dumb expression in front of them, but she couldn’t keep the confusion from coming out on her face. Is another guest coming? she thought. At this hour?

“No, it’s not that.”

She hadn’t noticed it herself, but the question on her mind had been as plain on her face as her confusion had been. Tatsuya naturally picked up on it and flashed a slightly pained grin as he corrected her.

“What I meant was, this conversation might take a while. Get some for yourself, too.”

His explanation dispelled her doubts, but at the same time, it made her confused again.

He saw through that as well, though: “It wouldn’t be comfortable if Miyuki and I both had drinks but you didn’t.”

“…In that case, I will be right back.”

Stricken by a sense of defeat she didn’t quite understand, Minami dejectedly returned to the kitchen.

While waiting for Minami to come back to the sofa, Tatsuya opened Maya’s letter on the table. It was a single sheet of letter paper, on which only a brief matter was written. He tried using Elemental Sight to check the envelope and paper for additional information but found no particular trace of artifice.

“That means Aunt Maya’s request really is only to help them capture Gongjin Zhou,” he said, explaining the facts.

Suspicion thoroughly colored Miyuki’s face. “Why would Aunt Maya deliver it in the form of a request instead of an order? She never does that.”

“I’m wondering about that, too. We won’t know the answer unless we ask her, but…”

Tatsuya looked at Miyuki, then turned his eyes on Minami. It wasn’t a harsh glare or anything. Nevertheless, tension jolted through Minami’s spine.

“The two of you may not realize this, but Aunt Maya has never had the power to give me an order. Or more precisely, she does, but her commands have a low priority.”

Surprise and wonder became apparent on their faces. Miyuki and Minami both put a hand to their respective mouths; was it a fruit of their education on etiquette, or had the maid taken on a shade of the master?

“Ensuring Miyuki’s safety is my highest priority, needless to say, but the next highest thing on the list is missions from the Independent Magic Battalion. Aunt Maya’s authority ranks below that, in third.”

Tatsuya could feel Miyuki shift in a swoon, but he didn’t pay it any more attention. Even Minami, focused on his words as she was, didn’t direct that cold gaze on Miyuki for her brother complex.

“Until now, though, whenever she’s given me work, she’s always phrased it in the form of a command. Maybe she somehow knows when I’m not currently on a mission, but in any case, that was what she normally did.”

Then Tatsuya reached for his teacup. Maybe he’d gotten thirsty from talking, and maybe he was summarizing his thoughts as he drank the black tea—his motions as he returned the cup to its saucer were a little slower than usual.

“If she’s doing this in a way that’s not normal, then the circumstances must not be normal, either. For example, maybe this mission needs some kind of special treatment.”

Understanding appeared on Minami’s face, but unease showed on Miyuki’s. “Then this mission might be especially dangerous?”

“Our foe has gravely wounded the head of the Kuroba family and still evades the Yotsuba’s pursuit. Whether we need to capture him or kill him, it certainly won’t be easy.”

As Tatsuya answered, he gently stroked his sister’s hair reassuringly. Sensing that he didn’t think this would be too dangerous a mission, Miyuki regained her composure.

“The issue isn’t the difficulty of the mission itself.”

But as Tatsuya removed his hand and spoke, tension returned to both Miyuki’s and Minami’s faces.

“I’ve never been in a situation where I didn’t know the target’s location, and you could say it’s rare for the Yotsuba in general. I mean, as far as I knew, nobody had the skills needed to slip away from the family.”

Tatsuya sighed, thinking about how difficult this job would be.

“That’s the situation—and that’s the guy we’re after. This is clearly going to be a long, drawn-out mission.”

The expression on Miyuki’s face changed from tension to unease to loneliness. Seeing that, Tatsuya rather quickly added, “Not that I’ll be gone from the house for an extended period. We still have school, and I don’t know how to conduct searches anyway. To find him, I’ll have to call on others. I’ll probably only be at bat once they find him.”

“…Will it come to fighting?”

“Ah, Miyuki, don’t look like that. It’s not like I’ll be facing the target alone. I’m sure the role they want me to fill is to block his escape route.”

As Tatsuya spoke, he pointed to his own eyes. Understanding what he meant, Miyuki breathed a sigh of relief.

“But at times, there may be quite a few days when I do need to leave the house.” He pretended not to see Miyuki give him a moping, that’s-not-what-you-said stare. “When I do, Minami, you have to protect Miyuki.”

Minami hadn’t really understood why they’d made her sit in on this. Because of that, up until this point, she’d only been following along with what Tatsuya was saying, all the while feeling like it wasn’t her business.

“Yes, sir!”

In a certain way, this was like a surprise attack. When Tatsuya reaffirmed her mission as a Guardian, Minami unintentionally straightened more than necessary and answered so loudly that it was almost a shout.

Tatsuya didn’t even give a chagrined smile at her overly enthusiastic reply. “In terms of magic power, Miyuki is stronger than you, Minami. If we assume you’ll be in combat, she would have more useful spells. But that doesn’t matter.”

“…Yes, sir.” This time, she gave a steady answer, responding to the seriousness in Tatsuya’s voice.

“To the Yotsuba family, you are Miyuki’s Guardian. But more importantly, to me, you are one of the few magicians in whom I can place my trust.”

Tatsuya’s voice was dark and grave. The one who’d sent Minami here had been Maya. He knew she had an ulterior motive in doing so, and he was pretty sure Minami knew that, too. But he still trusted her. He’d made that decision based on what he had seen with his own eyes and deemed her trustworthy.

“While I’m gone, Miyuki will be in your hands.”

“Yes. I will not let you down.”

Minami didn’t intend on averting her eyes from that trust.

The Kuroba “family,” due to the nature of its “work,” frequently went on “business trips.” Because of this, they had hotels they regularly used all over Japan. In major cities, they had hotels prepared for them through the Yotsuba influence, or even more directly, funded by the Yotsuba. The hotel Fumiya and Ayako were staying in this time was one of the establishments under the Yotsuba umbrella.

This meant they could call the main Yotsuba residence from these places without worrying about wiretapping.

“We’ve delivered the family head’s letter to Tatsuya. We also have a message from him.”

Fumiya was reporting today’s results to the Yotsuba main residence.

“What did Tatsuya say?”

The number he’d called was the direct line for Maya, but she rarely answered the phone, so he was talking to Hayama instead. He didn’t mind reporting the outcome of the job ordered of him by the head to her butler Hayama—he was easier to talk to.

“He said he understands and accepts.”

“Anything else? Did he not make mention of whether he would be censured should he not accept the mistress’s request?”

“No, nothing like that at all.”

“I see. Fumiya, Ayako, excellent work. I will contact Tatsuya regarding more detailed future arrangements.”

“All right. Thank you.”

On the screen, Hayama gave a polite bow. That meant the conversation was over. Fumiya bowed as well, then hung up.

“I suppose that means our mission is done. It really was just delivering a message this time.”

Ayako, who had been listening to the conversation, spoke in a drained voice to her brother, who had heaved a sigh after finishing his report. If you took those words at surface value, they may have sounded like a complaint for an unresisting mission, but if you looked at her expression, you’d know she actually welcomed the fact that it had ended so simply.

“And it’s still only six?” Ayako continued. “We have more than enough time to go home. What do you want to do?”

After sitting down, Fumiya shook his head. “No, let’s stay here for the night. The family went through the trouble of arranging this extravagant three-room suite for us.”

“Extravagant… If you keep saying such lower-middle class things, you won’t even be able to stand in for Father, much less represent Lady Maya.”

After mildly reproaching her little brother for his banter, Ayako realized his “banter” contained an uncharacteristically sarcastic venom.

“Fumiya, are you not happy with this job?” she asked, tone turning serious.

“Not the mission itself, exactly,” Fumiya said, albeit with an expression that stated he did, in fact, have a complaint related to the mission. “I mean, I get that being the messenger is an important job in its own right, and I know I’m the right choice for delivering Lady Maya’s messages to him. But…”

“You don’t like the delivery condition she gave you, do you?” said Ayako, gently filling in his evasive answer.

“Well, of course not!” Her sisterly tone caused Fumiya to release the emotions he’d been keeping down. “Don’t do anything about the tail? Don’t try to shake them off? What’s that all about?!”

That was the condition—or rather, the restriction—imposed on Fumiya for this mission.

At first, when Maya had personally ordered him to deliver the sealed letter to Tatsuya, he’d had no complaints about being used as an errand boy. In fact, he’d been elated. Part of it was simply that he’d have a chance to see Tatsuya, but he was also satisfied at being entrusted with the intermediary role of delivering the request to Tatsuya, with whom Maya had what could not be called a very friendly relationship (at least on the surface).

After Maya had left, however, the butler Hanabishi—second in the Yotsuba family’s servant hierarchy, in charge of various arrangements that came with externally sourced work—had informed him of the points of caution relating to the assignment. When he’d heard them, Fumiya had felt like someone had dumped cold water over him. Not that he wasn’t happy about getting to see Tatsuya anymore—what burdened him wasn’t disappointment but apprehension.

“We know we were being tailed, but we weren’t allowed to do anything about it?! And because of that, we’ve helplessly led who even knows right to where Tatsuya and Miyuki live!”

“It’s all right, Fumiya. Nobody could ever expose the link between Tatsuya and the Yotsuba, no matter who it is. He might not be aware of it, but the more you look into his personal data, the more you’d conclude he wasn’t related to the family. That’s how thoroughly they manipulated it.”

Unfortunately, Ayako’s consoling words didn’t have much of an effect on Fumiya at the moment.

“I wasn’t worried about any of that. At this point, anyone tailing us would obviously be a group trying to protect Gongjin Zhou.”

Ayako didn’t deny his conclusion by saying he was overthinking things. When he’d escaped Yokohama, Gongjin Zhou was aware his pursuers were Kurobas. And at the Nine School Competition last month, following orders from the main family, Fumiya and Ayako had made an especially conspicuous display of being Kurobas.

“We’re already bothering Tatsuya with the Kuroba’s failure—but now, because we allowed someone to tail us, they might end up in the crosshairs. How can I look Tatsuya in the face after this?” lamented Fumiya, looking down, voice pained.

Ayako came to stand in front of her younger brother. “Fumiya.”

“Wha—mrgh?!”

As Fumiya looked up, Ayako tugged out his cheeks.

“What did you do that for?!”

Fumiya quickly brushed his older sister’s hands away, and Ayako realized she’d been fairly brutal in her pulling and that his cheeks had gotten red. Seeing her little brother’s teary-eyed objections made Ayako give a momentary, truly amused-looking sadistic grin, but she immediately swapped it for a contrived smile to smooth it over.

“Ayako?” He sounded highly dubious.

“You need to lose some of that tension, Fumiya,” she declared. “It would be one thing if we’d been tailed because of you making a mistake. But it was the family’s orders. You can’t help it, can you? This is nothing you need to feel responsible for. And even if Tatsuya was attacked, it would be fine. If someone did start poking their nose in his business, he’d be the one figuring out their identity, not the other way around.”

“Ayako…”

Sitting in a chair as he was, Fumiya gave an upturned glare at his sister. From an outsider’s perspective—loath though Fumiya himself may have been to admit it—the expression was nothing if not adorable, but Ayako reeled back, sensing an indescribable force behind it.

“What you’re saying makes sense, I guess, but I did see how amused you just were.”

“Come…come now, Fumiya. Amusement? Never. Oh! If we’re not going straight home, we should get our luggage in order.”

“We don’t have any luggage to get ‘in order.’ We’re only staying one night!”

“Anyway, I’ll see you at dinner, Fumiya!”

“Huh? Hey, get back here!”

Those words needlessly hastened the escape of more than just thieves.

Ayako fled into her own room and locked the door before Fumiya could catch up.

It was a little over a month until this year’s Thesis Competition. Yet it still was not the core of the First High student body conversation.

“Hope no crazy stuff happens like last year.”

“There’s no way it’ll happen. We don’t even need to vote in the first place. Even if a rival candidate showed up, Shiba would still win by a landslide.”

“She’s so great… I hope she gives a speech at an assembly soon… Damn it, if only her brother wasn’t around!”

“You’re dumb, you know that? She can’t have a boyfriend because he’s around. It’s not like with celebrities—he’ll never cheat on her. Can’t find a better deal than that.”

That was what the junior guys were talking about, and…

“I wonder who Shiba will pick for council members.”

“I’d say you’re jumping the gun…but you’re not. It’s a popularity contest every year. Nobody would be crazy enough to run against her, especially this year.”

“If the freshman Saegusa moves up to vice president, I wonder if Mitsui will be the treasurer.”

“Huh? Wouldn’t Big Brother Shiba be moving up?”

“‘Big Brother’? You know he’s younger than you.”

“Well, yeah, but doesn’t he, like, really feel like a big brother?”

“In that case, you might as well call him Brother like she does. I could get used to having a ‘brother’ like him.”

“All right, all right. Wouldn’t that mean Brother would become the treasurer? But nobody else can keep her in check, right?”

“Ahhh, I hope nothing like last year happens…”

…that was what the senior girls were talking about. Other, similar conversations could be heard from all over the cafeteria. The First High students’ interest was currently on the student council elections happening at the end of this week.

Of course, it would be another popularity contest this year, doubtless without any competitors.

And this year, there wouldn’t be any major themes for the general student council assembly, either, like the rule changes regarding the right to be elected to council positions. The male students were generally talking about how wonderful Miyuki would look during the speech assembly she’d definitely be speaking in, and the female students were focused on who she’d choose for the new members.

“Hear that, Tatsuya? They’re calling you Brother.”

“It’s bad manners to eavesdrop, Erika.”

Their conversations also reached the table of one of the related parties, Tatsuya. Not only their voices, actually. Nobody was shameless enough to obviously stare at him, but his antenna had picked up several stolen glances since coming here.

The group he was currently sitting with had five people: Tatsuya, Erika, Leo, Mizuki, and Mikihiko. Had Miyuki joined them, everyone would have been staring, and it would have been a real nuisance, so she’d held back and taken lunch in the student council room. Honoka and Shizuku had gone with her. It wasn’t as though Honoka had chosen friendship over love, though. She was also trying her best to avoid a situation where everyone would wind up staring at her.

“Tatsuya, are you not gonna try to be president this year?”

“No. And it’s not like I was in the running last year, either.”

Leo’s question was based on vote counts, and Tatsuya’s answer reemphasized that the votes he got last year were invalid. Void votes had been submitted in droves last year, and that was a letdown not only for Miyuki, who had been given disgraceful and embarrassing nicknames, but for Tatsuya as well.

“Well, I doubt anything like last year is going to happen again this year,” said Erika to intercede, maybe thinking it would be bad to get Tatsuya too worked up.

“There’s no way anyone’s crazy enough to interrupt Miyuki’s speech,” said Mikihiko, expressing his agreement in a profound tone.

“By the way, Tatsuya, who is Miyuki going to choose as the new members?”

The other three perked up at Mizuki’s question—and so did all the tables around them.

“Haven’t heard. We don’t talk much about that stuff at home.”

Tatsuya could feel waves of disappointment from several directions at his answer.

“Like I said, nothing has been decided yet. Please don’t rush me like that when the elections aren’t even over.”

Around the same time in the student council room, Miyuki was asked the same thing, and her answer was a frustrated one.

“Honoka, Miyuki’s not going to budge an inch at this point. You should give up.”

“Yeah… Sorry, Miyuki. I was being annoying.”

Thankfully, her good friend chiding her made Honoka, who’d already been faltering under Miyuki’s aura of displeasure, quickly hold up the white flag.

“…I was being a little harsh, too. I’m sorry, Honoka. I should perfectly understand why you’re concerned with where my brother will be moving,” Miyuki said as she cast a glance behind Honoka.

Following her gaze, Honoka turned around.

Pixie was there, having finished preparing their after-lunch tea.

“Urgh.”

Honoka’s face drew back. Shizuku lightly patted her shoulder.

When Honoka turned back around, Shizuku shook her head. “Too late for that, Honoka.”

Honoka hung her head in disappointment.

Azusa, Isori, and Kanon watched warmly, smiling painfully at the girl.

Izumi and Kasumi exchanged confused glances.

“Huh? Isn’t that Minami over there?”

“Oh, you’re right.”

As Mizuki and Erika made mystified faces, Tatsuya put a little astonishment into his voice. “Minami comes to the cafeteria with her own classmates sometimes, you know.”

She must have noticed them watching. Turning around with her tray in her hands, at the tail end of a group of (probably) classmates, Minami gave a bow. Tatsuya looked back to his two female friends.

“Yeah, guess so.”

“Yes, right.”

The two of them began to laugh a little, insincerely, before Erika tried to force through a change of topic. “By the way, Tatsuya, why aren’t you in the Thesis Competition?”

Tatsuya wasn’t exactly ignorant of their “expectations,” but Minami wasn’t a topic he would stubbornly stick to for a long time. He happily answered Erika’s question.

“No particular reason. I just didn’t make it in time.”

“Wait, what’s that mean?”

Mikihiko was probably the one with the most interest in this subject. He openly doubted Tatsuya’s answer, which meant he’d probably been listening in.

“It means just what it sounds like. Why…?”

Tatsuya tried to wrap things up with just that, but with all five people around him seeming to demand an explanation with their eyes, he changed course with good grace.

“After the stellar reactor experiment, I have a research theme I’ve been working on independently, but it’s not at a stage where I can present it yet.”

“Huh… Must be a pretty advanced topic, then,” said Leo, nodding deeply and letting out a leading sigh.

“I guess,” Tatsuya replied. “As for what it is—that’s a secret.”

He couldn’t possibly tell them he was developing combat magic utilizing FAE theory.

“Whaaat?” complained Erika, naturally.

“Erika, you shouldn’t push him,” Mizuki cut in.

“If he’s keeping it a secret, he must have a good reason for it,” Mikihiko added to both Erika and Leo. “Besides, even when he told us the magic theory behind something on the level of a stellar reactor, it wasn’t enough to sate our curiosity.”

Essentially, he was saying that even if Tatsuya gave a detailed explanation, they probably wouldn’t understand it anyway. But in terms of just intelligence, these two were no pushovers. Still, that was why neither Erika nor Leo argued against the idea; they understood, because they weren’t stupid, that acting strange and persisting would come back to bite them.

“By the way, Tatsuya, did they not ask you to be support?”

“Not yet anyway.”

“Kei is the leader this year, right? I thought you two were friends.”

“I’d obviously help if he asked, but I don’t think it’ll be my place this year.”

Rather than smiling and nodding (and lying), Tatsuya answered Erika honestly.

“Really? Why?” Mizuki wondered as well, tilting her head in confusion.

“Because they’re having it in Kyoto this year.”

“The Thesis Competition alternates between Yokohama and Kyoto,” Mikihiko explained for the group. “They have different judging tendencies. When it’s in Yokohama, they rate practical topics more highly, but in Kyoto, I hear they like purely theoretical themes better.”

Tatsuya nodded in agreement. “When it’s held in Kyoto, presentations about fundamental issues of magic, like the Cardinal Code hypothesis, tend to be ranked higher than ones about magic-using power systems and magic program development and activation sequence improvement for them.”

Finally looking convinced, Leo nodded several times. “So from your point of view, you wouldn’t be able to show off what you’re good at.”

“I feel like you’re still beyond high school level when it comes to purely theoretical fields, too…” Mizuki offered hesitantly, not seeming to buy it.

“Hmm. Maybe that makes it even harder for him.”

Rather than answering Mizuki, Erika simply said what came to mind.

“?”

“I doubt Kei would sulk or get jealous, but since their methods are totally different, it would probably be a real struggle just to reconcile them.”

“They’re that different?”

“Look—Kei’s the one who engraves seals on my CAD, right? I can kinda tell just because Tatsuya does maintenance on it sometimes. They’re helping the same spells, but their approaches are way different.”

“Oh… Right. Seal-based assistance is close to our ancient-style talisman arts.”

As his friends were saying whatever they wanted, leaving the central figure out, the bell for afternoon classes chimed.

Seven thirty PM. Usually a time when everyone would still be around the table after dinner. Today, though, as the virtual clock’s hands pointed to 7:25, Tatsuya withdrew into his room. And right now, using a voice-only telephone with enhanced security, he was calling a woman at her private number.

“Hello? Tatsuya? It’s Fujibayashi.”

This telephone diverted all of the resources that it would have used on image processing on a normal videophone to encryption, and it processed the high-load encoding with a speed that wouldn’t hamper their conversation.

“This is Shiba, ma’am. I apologize for calling so late.”

The reason he’d cut his standard evening time with Miyuki short was that he’d arranged to call Fujibayashi in advance.

“It’s rare for you to be the one to contact me. Anything wrong? Did something suddenly come up?”

“Something that suddenly requires promptness. Something with more importance than time.”

The meaningfully roundabout expression created a short pause.

“…For some reason, I don’t really want to know anymore.”

“I wouldn’t want to say this if I didn’t have to, either, ma’am.”

“…”

Fujibayashi used her silence to urge Tatsuya to continue. Still, it was doubtless that tonight, at least, Tatsuya’s tongue would not be affected by how Fujibayashi reacted.

“I’d like to request General Kudou’s assistance.”

Despite telling her he didn’t want to say this, he spoke his request with perfect fluidity.

“…You want my grandfather’s help?”

“Yes, ma’am. I don’t make this request to Second Lieutenant Fujibayashi, aide to the Independent Magic Battalion, but to the daughter of the Fujibayashi family and granddaughter of General Kudou. I’d like you to prepare a location for a personal meeting with the general.”

“Personal—related to your ‘work’ with the Yotsuba, I assume?”

This time, Tatsuya used his own silence to answer.

“I suppose I don’t have the option of refusing. Not after what happened last month.”

“I suppose not.”

Fujibayashi was taken aback and nearly let that fact slip into her voice. She’d been the one to suggest it, but she hadn’t thought he’d unabashedly admit this request for cooperation was also calling in a favor.

She’d need a few seconds before she said her next words.

Tatsuya was the one who restarted the conversation. “I don’t mean to make an impossible request, ma’am. In fact, I believe the general will gladly lend me his aid.”

“May I ask what this ‘job’ entails?”

“It’s to root out and capture an immortalist who escaped from Yokohama Chinatown.”

“…Ah. In that case, I can see why the Yotsuba would want to borrow my grandfather.”

He could sense through the telephone that Fujibayashi’s tension had calmed.

“You seem to know that the Yotsuba are struggling.”

The Yotsuba weren’t the ones trying to get Retsu Kudou’s help—it was Tatsuya personally. But he didn’t clarify Fujibayashi’s misunderstanding. The conversation seemed about to wrap up in his favor, and he didn’t want to give her needless information that might confuse the situation.

“The JDF is struggling, too, to tell the truth. If you’re going to take him on, Lieutenant Fujibayashi would greatly welcome it.”

Purposely referring to herself in third person was to get Tatsuya back a little for his earlier line. Still, for Tatsuya, this trifling wordplay didn’t even sting.

Fujibayashi had probably realized it had had no effect as well. She cleared her throat in an effort to eliminate the awkwardness in the air. And then, tone purposefully businesslike, she answered the young man’s request.

“All right. I’ll inquire as to my grandfather’s schedule. Should I reply by e-mail?”

“Go ahead. For the encryption, please use the Independent Magic Battalion’s.”

Tatsuya had only said this because of security considerations. But Fujibayashi grew suspicious—thinking that he was taking a dig at her over the blank-sender e-mail from the month before last.

“…Right,” Fujibayashi said, curtly hanging up, her attitude leaving Tatsuya wondering what on earth he’d said to offend her.

Feeling thirsty after his phone call, Tatsuya headed to the dining room. There, he found his sister drinking black tea by herself.

“Brother, would you like a drink?” she asked, quickly standing from her seat in front of the dining table.

“Yeah, I’m a little thirsty,” he answered honestly. He avoided asking after Minami; whether she was studying, cleaning, or bathing, it took only one look to know she wasn’t there, and it wasn’t like he needed anything from her.

“I’ll prepare something right away.”

Tatsuya would have been fine with water, but he didn’t voice an objection to the offer. He knew she liked taking care of him, and placing himself in her hands didn’t make him unhappy, at least. Just the opposite, in fact, so he had no reason to refuse.

“Please wait for a moment in the living room.”

Tatsuya, following his sister’s request, moved into the living room.

A little under five minutes of waiting on the sofa later, Miyuki appeared from the dining room, carrying two glasses of iced milk tea on a tray. He thought she’d just been drinking hot tea; she must have remade it, including enough for herself.

Miyuki placed the coasters and glasses on the sofa set’s glass coffee table without making so much as a tink. One in front of Tatsuya and one next to it…then Miyuki, as though it were her natural right—and doubtless she considered it such—took the seat next to him.

Tatsuya was sitting on a one-seater sofa, so today they couldn’t nestle up against each other. Miyuki, however, didn’t seem to find this disheartening. Giving a subtle smile, she put her mouth to the straw of her well-cooled iced milk tea at the same time her brother did to his.

Miyuki was the first one to remove her lips from the straw. Returning the glass to the table, once again with nary a sound, she shifted on the sofa and gazed at the side of her brother’s face.

Tatsuya noticed the gaze immediately. He put down the glass with a soft plink, after which he met her eyes.

“Your phone call earlier—it had to do with what we were talking about yesterday, didn’t it?”

When Tatsuya had withdrawn to his room, he’d told her his goal—to make a phone call—but he hadn’t said who he’d be calling or what for. But Miyuki seemed to have caught on. After yesterday, maybe the deduction wasn’t that difficult. Still, he was impressed that she knew.

“That’s right.”

“May I ask who it was you were calling?”

He wavered for a moment but, in the end, decided to answer honestly. “Second Lieutenant Fujibayashi.”

“…Brother, did you commission the Independent Magic Battalion’s assistance?” Miyuki wondered gently. Tatsuya shared her concern: of whether it was all right to allow the military’s intervention into Yotsuba affairs. But that was why he’d called Fujibayashi and not Kazama.

“No, what I asked Ms. Fujibayashi was if she could act as a go-between for me and General Kudou.”

“But is that not dangerous? Aren’t your communications with the unit censored?”

In this age, even soldiers were guaranteed freedom of private communication. Nevertheless, the technology to exchange highly compressed, ultrasonic wave data using a voice telephone device had been established over fifty years ago. To handle this, the phones set up in crucial facilities had censoring features on them to prevent information leakage. It was said this was for automatically cutting out all sound waves excluding those in audible range, but there had still been hardware inserted between the sender and the receiver that checked the sound waves passing through; you couldn’t deny suspicions that other functions had been added to them. Tatsuya, too, had been cautious and considerate of that point.

“It should be fine. I called the lieutenant’s private number. I doubt even Echelon III could eavesdrop on a line the Electron Sorceress used personally. Nothing to worry about,” he explained.

However, that was a careless remark that showed he hadn’t learned from the past:

“…Oh. Ms. Fujibayashi’s private number. I see.”

By the time he’d realized his mistake, it was too late. He just now remembered having struggled to pacify his sister after something similar had bent her out of shape last April.

“By the way, Brother, however did you acquire such a thing?”

Miyuki’s tone and expression both were exact replicas of the broadcasting room shut-in incident that had preceded the Blanche attacks. At the time, the tumult was already at their doorstep, so he’d managed to leave things unsettled, but…

How am I going to explain this?

Frankly speaking, Tatsuya didn’t have a single thing to be guilty about. It wasn’t only Fujibayashi—he knew Kazama’s private number, and Sanada’s, and Yamanaka’s, too. But he doubted Miyuki would be seriously convinced if he revealed that. She might pretend she was, but it would be sure to drag on behind her in her mind.

And so Tatsuya decided:

Persuading her would not come easily today.

As Tatsuya predicted, Miyuki’s mood was not easily mended. Nevertheless, she would never take it out on him or ignore him or anything like that; from a more worldly perspective, it didn’t even turn into anything that could be termed a sibling quarrel. Objectively speaking, Miyuki was simply sulking a little, but even so, Tatsuya exerted his utmost to “repairing his relationship” with his sister, and by Wednesday, two days later, they’d entirely reverted to the friendly siblings they always were.

And the current date was Friday, September 28. On this night, with student council elections finally coming tomorrow, a phone call from Fujibayashi came to Tatsuya’s house.

“Ms. Fujibayashi. Is it all right to use this number?”

Tatsuya referred to her this way because she was wearing plain clothes: a frilled autumn blouse and a country-style long skirt. And his question was because the number she’d called was not assigned to the telephone with increased security he had in his room, instead connecting to their normal videophone.

“Nobody’s listening in at the moment. A shame—if they were, we could trace them.”

But apparently, she’d done it on purpose.

“Anyway, even if they do eavesdrop, we’ll be fine. I’m routing this through three layers of dummy signals.”

She spoke as though it didn’t matter, but because he was well versed in mechanical engineering in his own right, it drew a sigh out of Tatsuya rather than admiration.

“…How in the world are you able to do things meant for exclusive military use on public systems?”

But this was a misunderstanding.

“Because I’m not only doing it with physical tech.”

Right, thought Tatsuya. The Electron Sorceress seemed to be applying her secret techniques. Given time and the use of his “vision,” he might have been able to figure out how she was doing it. But he wasn’t much interested in skills he couldn’t personally reproduce.

“It’s still hard for me to maintain things like this for very long, though, so let me make this brief. My grandfather says he’ll meet with you.”

The answer Fujibayashi gave could be called, for the moment, good news for Tatsuya.

“Saturday, October 6, 1800 hours, at the main Kudou family estate in Ikoma. Can you fit that in?”

Tatsuya called up his plans in his mind and confirmed his schedule for that day was open. “That will be fine. And I know where it is.”

“Right.” Fujibayashi offered a mean grin. “He was happy when he heard you wanted to meet with him, Tatsuya.”

“Is this the part where I say ‘it’s an honor’?” Tatsuya murmured, erasing his expression.

Fujibayashi gave a chuckle. “Judging by your face, you’re not too thrilled by this honor. Sadly, you’ll have to accept. That’s how it goes when you ask him for help.”

“You mean I should be grateful just for not getting turned away at the front door.”

“Pretty much. You should prepare yourself, Tatsuya. With this, you’ll be jumping right into the very heart of that which fetters and binds Japan’s magical world.”

Fujibayashi’s advice came with a smile but also eyes of warning; Tatsuya took it calmly. “I’ve long since prepared myself for that much, at least.”

“Very good. I’ll be present that day as well.”

“I see—thank you.”

As Tatsuya gave a slight bow, the screen showing Fujibayashi’s smiling face blacked out.

Tatsuya had been taking that call in the living room. Though they weren’t quite participating in it, both Miyuki and Minami had listened to the conversation between him and Fujibayashi, and Fujibayashi hadn’t reprimanded him for it.

“Brother… Is this truly the right thing?”

Once Tatsuya was finished with the call, Miyuki spoke to him in a voice of worry. When he checked, Minami was giving him a look of sympathy as well… It was sympathy, rather than unease, because she properly understood what it meant to have a connection to the Old Master.

“About contacting Retsu Kudou? There’s no point worrying about that.”

Tatsuya smiled and picked up his glass of iced tea. But it was warm now, since his phone call had gone on longer than he’d thought, so he returned it to the table without drinking.

A thin mist began to swirl inside the glass. Because only the temperature of the glass’s contents were lowered, rather than the glass itself, the air touching the iced tea had condensed in midair.

It went without saying that it was Miyuki’s spell. The near-room-temperature black tea turned back into iced tea without cooling too much and certainly without freezing over. Tatsuya offered a smile and wordlessly gave her thanks; she blushed and looked down, also without a word.

After wetting his throat with the nice and cool straight tea, Tatsuya continued the answer to her question.

“Retsu Kudou is interested in me outside of this job. And it’s more than just a passing interest in a fascinating young person, too. He probably knows of my identity and my magic.”

Miyuki’s eyes widened. The latter part of her brother’s remarks seemed to have come as a considerable surprise. Another manifestation of the ill effects of thinking the Yotsuba were overly special, but Tatsuya didn’t particularly feel the need to chide her about it. For now, he wanted her to be cautious about only the Yotsuba. As long as Tatsuya didn’t neglect his own caution toward the Ten Master Clans and other magician groups, she’d be fine.

“Retsu Kudou was close with the head of the Yotsuba before the previous one, and I hear with that connection, he was a private tutor to Miya and Maya Yotsuba.”

“The one before last… Our grandfather, then?”

“Yeah. The central figure in that incident, which made the Yotsuba’s notoriety known throughout the world.”

For some reason, Miyuki smiled a little. When Tatsuya looked slightly confused, she giggled even more cutely. “…I’m sorry. You talk as though none of it is your business, Brother.”

Tatsuya frowned dubiously. “What do you mean?”

“Brother, if the world knew what really happened on the Scorching Halloween, it would be far worse than what the family head before last did.”

For an instant, a subtle expression came to his face, one somewhat different from utter impassivity, as though he’d mistaken the cold tea for vegetable juice.

“…In any case, because of all that, it’s not strange that he would know a lot about me.”

“Is it…all right?” asked Miyuki, stammering and nervous. No matter how few ears were around to hear, a sixteen-year-old girl would not want to ask if it was okay that they didn’t silence him.

“Not shutting him up, you mean?”

Tatsuya, however, had no hesitation putting it into words.

“He was once called the world’s trickiest. Even if we wanted to silence him, we’d have a very hard time doing so. And we probably don’t need to anyway. This may sound weird coming from me, but we’re talking about the personal data of a strategic-class magician. Retsu Kudou would obviously understand the necessity of keeping that a secret.”

For some time, Tatsuya had been referring to Retsu Kudou by his name, rather than “the Old Master” or “General.” He’d done it several times already, so it was probably an intentional act. He’d only do it when nobody was around to see or hear, but it was an expression of his refusal to pay the man any respect. He seemed to consider Retsu Kudou as someone unlikeable after the Parasidoll experiment.

Even still, Tatsuya rated his intelligence and abilities highly. He asserted they didn’t need to silence him because he’d judged the old man would understand the merits of keeping the joker that was Tatsuya Shiba in his hand.

“Also, it would be troublesome if we stayed enemies with him. For the future, I think we should try to even things out.”

“Can we trust him?”

“Allies don’t always need to be trustworthy. The important thing is that they’ll act as we instruct them when the time comes. I don’t mind having to pay a modest price for it.”

Minami had no idea what the siblings were talking about. But she didn’t try to ask her female master or that master’s older brother about it. At present, she was observing a rule she’d been taught: that a maid working in the house of one she served should never be needlessly curious.