On Tuesday, February 5, 2097, at 3:30 PM, there was a large-scale terrorist attack on a certain hotel in Hakone.

This hotel was hosting the Master Clans Council. At the time of the attack, the council had completed the selection of the next Ten Master Clans, and representatives from the Eighteen Support Clans had already left. However, all representatives from the Ten had remained to discuss the various problems facing Japan’s magical society.

Six students—Tatsuya, Miyuki, Minami, Takuma, Kasumi, and Izumi—had received word of the attack while in class and immediately headed to the hotel, where they were now just arriving. The scene was still filled with cries and shouts.

The wounded and dead were being carried out of the burned-out hotel, while many others were moaning as they received first aid in the streets. The rubble’s continuous rumbling made it seem like detonations were still occurring periodically. It was every bit as horrible a scene as the Yokohama Incident had been the previous fall.

Miyuki headed toward the hotel proper, intent on putting out the blaze with her magic, but Tatsuya stopped her short with a hand on her shoulder.

“Tatsuya…?” she asked, looking back at him.

He shook his head. “We should leave it to them.”

The fire was well on its way to being extinguished. While the dangerous question of how many undetonated explosives might remain in the building lingered, the fire itself was being dealt with by trained professionals. Assuming that there might well be other preparations underway that weren’t obvious to them, Tatsuya concluded that it was better not to recklessly get involved.

“First, I think we should try to meet up with Au— Er, Mother and the others.”

He’d nearly said “Aunt” but then remembered Takuma and his other classmates were still right there. Correcting himself might have drawn more attention to the mistake, but he decided it was better to avoid saying anything that contradicted the official story.

Takumi, Izumi, and the others were constantly looking around as they spoke with Miyuki, but nonetheless it was Tatsuya who spotted the group of family heads first. “This way,” he instructed.

It was something of a spectacle to see the heads of the Ten Master Clans arranged in such a tight group, but it wasn’t obvious why they were still here at all. Tatsuya remained confused until he spotted people he guessed to be plainclothes detectives standing next to them.

“Father!” cried Izumi as soon as she saw him.

“Ah, wait, Izumi!” said Kasumi, following after her, likewise uninterested in anything but reuniting with her family.

“Are those…detectives?” After pausing to take in the situation, Takuma hurried after them toward his own father.

“What should we do, Tatsuya?” Miyuki asked, seeming to have realized that the ten family heads were being interviewed. Minami, too, looked to Tatsuya for answers.

“Well, we can’t very well leave Izumi and the others.”

All six of them had immediately rushed from school to the scene. Naturally, there had been no time to change, so all of them were still in their First High uniforms.

So if the freshmen were going to plunge headlong into a bad situation, the older students couldn’t just stand by and watch. Tatsuya gave Miyuki and Minami a helpless look, then started walking toward where Maya stood.

“Why are you questioning my father, huh?!

He and the others are obviously the victims here!”

Unsurprisingly, Izumi was giving a detective a piece of her mind. In contrast to her usual ladylike demeanor, she was absolutely fearless in times like these. Her youthful idealism made it impossible for her to accept the unfairness of public authority, and her position as a daughter of the Ten made it hard for a regular public servant to defy her—especially in front of the heads of those powerful families.

Still…why is nobody stopping her?

None of the family heads were doing anything to hold her objections back; they were all just standing by and watching. Under normal circumstances, this outburst should have earned her a scolding from her father, Kouichi Saegusa, but far from it—he seemed to be amused. His expression was serious, but his eyes were smiling.

The only ones really taken aback were the detectives themselves, but if this went on for much longer, the reputation of the Ten Clans would suffer. It would worsen the position of both the families and the students alike, just for the sake of some mischief. And since the adults weren’t making a move to stop it, Tatsuya finally decided to do it himself.

“Izumi, that’s enough.”

“Shiba! Why’re you stopping me?” Izumi looked back at Tatsuya, who’d clapped his hand on her shoulder.

As she raised a hand to brush him off, Tatsuya grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward him, taking advantage of her lower center of gravity. She had no time to resist—and seemingly put up no fight at all—as Tatsuya dragged her away from the detective like a dancer leading his partner across the ballroom.

“You need to cool your head. The police are only doing their job.” His words weren’t directed only at Izumi; they were for Kasumi and Takuma as well. “If we get in the way, it’ll only take them longer to gather the information they need.” Tatsuya turned to the plainclothes detective. “My apologies,” he said.

Somewhat overawed by Tatsuya’s smoothly impenetrable demeanor, the detective gave a vague nod and didn’t comment on the interruption.

Holding Izumi’s hand and gesturing with his eyes to Kasumi and Takuma, Tatsuya moved away from the adults.

All the family heads—Maya excepted—watched him with intense curiosity.

In particular, Kouichi’s and Gouki’s eyes shone with keen interest.

The police interview seemed to have just started, and it went on for longer than Tatsuya expected. Eventually, the plainclothes detectives were joined by a ring of uniformed officers who essentially fenced in the group of magicians. They were almost being treated like suspects.

But that wasn’t what Tatsuya was concerned about.

All that mattered to him was Maya’s well-being. This would be the worst possible time for her to dismiss him and Miyuki. Now that his sister’s position as the next head of the Yotsuba family was public, she and Tatsuya could no longer hide in the shadow of anonymity.

Meanwhile, their own positions were far from solidified. The only people he could be really certain were his allies were the workers at FLT R & D Section 3 from Ushiyama on down. When it came down to it, Yakumo and Kazama would probably adopt a policy of nonalignment. And he couldn’t even meet any of his “sponsors” above that level.

Maya was considered one of the strongest magicians in the world, and the reputation was deserved. Few could defeat her in combat, and the number of magicians who could come away from her Meteor Line unscathed was nearly zero. Not even Tatsuya was an exception.

Tatsuya’s Dismantling technique was an effective response to Meteor Line. But Maya was not only a potent magician; her casting speed was also second to none. She had a much more diverse hand to play than Tatsuya did. Meteor Line was not her only ace in the hole, either. There was no guarantee that Tatsuya would get to make the first move. If she cast Meteor Line before he completed Dismantle, he would not escape in one piece. The only thing that would let him win was his Regeneration, but anyone without a similar anomalous ability would stand no chance against Maya, since once Meteor Line was cast, no defensive magic—not even something like the Juumonji family’s Phalanx—could stop it.

But that overwhelming strength was limited to magical combat. Physically, Maya was completely average—she was a relatively delicate woman, with no particular training or conditioned strength beyond her natural beauty and health. If she was cut, she would be hurt; if shot, she would bleed.

No magician, no matter how strong, could keep a magical barrier active indefinitely. Continuous defense magic had yet to be perfected—even experimentally, to say nothing of practical deployment. If she was caught by surprise, even Maya Yotsuba could be fatally wounded by a single shot.

Tatsuya had hurried to the scene of the bombing fully prepared to use Regeneration in front of other people if he had to, but now he’d confirmed Maya’s immediate safety. They wouldn’t be able to talk for a little while—not that he had anything particular to say—so Tatsuya was considering simply returning to school. However, he just caught sight of a certain familiar red uniform.

“Ichijou,” Tatsuya called, though he wasn’t trying very hard to be heard over the din of the frantic triage.

Masaki nonetheless responded firmly to the hailing: “Shiba.”

He must have come here looking for his father, Gouki. Masaki’s stride was quick as he cast his gaze all around him. Tatsuya approached him.

“I see you’ve come, too, Miss Shiba.” Masaki looked beside Tatsuya to his sister, his expression a complicated mix of pleasure, disappointment, resignation, and yearning.

Miyuki was not holding Tatsuya’s arm.

She wasn’t clinging to him at all.

If anything, the space between them had widened. And yet, to Masaki, this seemed like evidence that they had gone from siblings to lovers.

“Yes, it’s awful.” It wasn’t hard for Miyuki to read Masaki’s thoughts as he looked at her. Even setting aside the impassioned engagement proposal that came immediately after the announcement of her and Tatsuya’s betrothal, Masaki’s expression, though complicated, was incredibly easy to understand.

In point of fact, Miyuki was more than a little bit annoyed with Masaki. While the Ichijou family’s interference had not weakened her position as Tatsuya’s fiancée, she was still unamused by complications suddenly cropping up immediately after the revelation that her fondest wish would very likely come true.

That being said, Miyuki was not so childish as to confront Masaki himself with that annoyance. Even if she found his actions displeasing, she personally bore Masaki no ill will at all. It was a simple enough matter for her to summon a pleasant smile, even at a time like this.

Still, since colder treatment would have helped him give up more quickly, that might have been the better tack for her to take—for both her sake and Masaki’s.

Because, even in a moment like this, Masaki couldn’t help but feel his mood lift after receiving a smile from the girl he had a crush on. “Yes, it really is,” he said, the affection evident in his voice. “Are the family heads over there?”

“Yes. It seems they’re being interviewed by the police.”

“Wait, what?!” Masaki was not so bewitched that he’d lost track of his priorities. “I’m sorry—you’ll have to excuse me,” he said with a bow before heading toward his father, alarmed at the prospect of the family heads being questioned as a group.

As if trading places, Katsuto emerged from behind the wall of uniformed officers interviewing the leaders of the Ten. If he alone was being released, it had to be out of consideration for his status as a minor. (In the past, the age of majority had been lowered to eighteen, but it was raised back to twenty in 2070. This was a reaction to the lowering of the age of majority during the Twenty Years’ Global War Outbreak in order to increase the share of the population who could be mobilized, and it had been a global trend. In extreme cases after the war, ages of majority as young as sixteen were suddenly raised as high as twenty-five.)

Once he emerged, Katsuto headed straight for Tatsuya and the other students. Evidently, he’d kept track of them after Izumi had been dragged away.

“Shiba—” he began. The reason Katsuto spoke that name and nothing more was because he didn’t really know which sibling he should speak with or exactly how to address them. Or at least, that was Tatsuya’s guess.

“It’s good to see a First High alum here, Juumonji. Have the police finished any of their questioning yet?” Tatsuya directed Katsuto’s attention toward himself and established that his position here relative to Katsuto was not as a member of one of the Master Clan families but rather as an underclassman from the same school.

Katsuto seemed to accept this, and his general demeanor relaxed quite a bit. “No, I just thought I should come over and explain the situation to you guys.”

He looked over at Tatsuya’s other companions. He knew Kasumi and Izumi. He’d never met Minami or Takuma before, or at least he didn’t consciously remember ever conversing with them.

“Are you by any chance Mr. Shippou’s…?” Katsuto offered to Takuma.

“Yes, I’m Takuma Shippou.” In contrast to Tatsuya, Takuma addressed his elder as a fellow member of one of the Ten Master Clans. While there was still the difference between a patriarch and the son of the patriarch, they were still on somewhat equal footing, given that both of their families were a part of the Master Clans.

“I’m Katsuto Juumonji. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance as well.”

Equal footing notwithstanding, the upperclassman-underclassman hierarchy still existed, so they naturally fell into that pattern. Takuma didn’t have enough nerve to instantly act chummy with Katsuto, whom he’d only just met.

“This is Minami Sakurai, and she’s a freshman our family’s looking after,” Tatsuya said, carefully timing his interjection to introduce her. Minami faced Katsuto and bowed politely. Katsuto was able to surmise from her general attitude that to some extent, Minami was a servant of the Yotsuba family. He acknowledged her with a nod, then returned to the subject at hand.

“You all came here because you got a disaster notification, right? As you can see, Ms. Yotsuba, Mr. Saegusa, and Mr. Shippou are all safe. They’re not even slightly wounded.”

Disaster notification messages were a network service accessed by personal terminals to inform family and friends that the user had been involved in an incident, using short-range wireless communication to gather relevant fire or earthquake reports and send them to preregistered recipients. The messages included whatever information about the incident the local authorities had gathered, along with a three-tiered urgency level based on the user’s lifelog as recorded by the terminal: “Safe,” “In Danger,” and “Deceased.”

However, this information was only a snapshot of the situation at the time the initial alert was sent, and so long as the user hadn’t opted into continuous transmission, there was no way of knowing from one message how the incident was developing. That was why everyone had hurried to the scene with such urgency.

“Yes, it seems not. But incidentally, would you mind telling us what happened here?” Takuma asked.

“Sure. But I have other people I need to explain things to, so I’m going to have to keep it simple.”

At Katsuto’s words, Tatsuya scanned the area. He saw some Yotsuba-affiliated people unobtrusively lingering around—specifically some of the butler Hanabishi’s staff, who handled situations requiring the use of force, along with a few others, who were probably relatives of other families. Unfortunately, he could make out no sign of any of the terrorists responsible for the bombing.

“If you would, please,” said Tatsuya with a polite bow meant to convey that even a simple explanation would do. Katsuto nodded understandingly.

“Honestly, most of the details are uncertain,” he began, before explaining that the meeting had been interrupted by suicide bombers, that the family heads had escaped via the roof, and that the bombers were reanimated corpses. “We don’t even know for sure that we were the real target. We’re quite certain that they were targeting the Master Clans Council, but the police haven’t drawn any firm conclusions, either.”

“Excuse me, Katsuto—er, I mean, Mr. Juumonji,” Kasumi interrupted, hastily correcting herself. The sisters had known Katsuto since before entering First High, so in their minds he was more of a friend than an alum. The fact that Mayumi called him Juumonji while Kasumi used Katsuto was a point that Kasumi and Izumi preferred not to over-scrutinize.

“What is it, Kasumi?” He seemed to feel the same way.

“What are the police asking Father—no, all the family heads?”

“They’re being asked what happened. We were on the scene and saw it with our own eyes.”

“So Father and the others aren’t being interrogated as suspects, then?” Izumi interjected from beside Kasumi. It was a rather natural thing to do, but Tatsuya and Miyuki were both slightly surprised by Izumi’s sincere concern for her father.

There flickered a hint of hesitation in Katsuto’s eyes as he considered the other Saegusa sister. Nonetheless, he didn’t attempt any temporary obfuscation of the truth. “They’re not suspected of collaboration. But the police are concerned that it was a conflict among magicians that invited the terrorist attack.”

“No, that’s not…” Izumi murmured, stunned, clenching her little hand into a fist.

…fair, she was surely thinking.

The anger wasn’t limited to Izumi. Takuma had carefully played the role of the listener, but his frustration was obvious as he clenched his jaw.

Tatsuya noted the effort his underclassmen were putting into containing their feelings and grumbled for them, “That sounds like the same logic the anti-magician organizations often use.”

The Saegusa sisters, Takuma, and Minami all stiffened at the suggestion.

“Brother, surely there aren’t any humanists in the police…?” Miyuki asked.

“I doubt it,” he agreed, eliciting a wave of relieved sighs around him. “If that were the case, the interrogation would undoubtedly be a lot more severe.”

Tatsuya thought back to after he’d fought the ancient magicians manipulated by Gongjin Zhou’s Taoists at Arashiyama in Kyoto and the relentless questioning he’d received from a detective who was none too fond of the Ten Master Clans.

His statement seemed to calm Miyuki and the freshmen, but Katsuto’s raised eyebrows and widened eyes suggested that some doubts lingered with him. “Shiba, I thought you two were cousins now, not siblings.”

Before Miyuki’s dismay could become obvious, Tatsuya smiled and replied, “Oh, you mean Miyuki addressing me as ‘brother’? Well, until a few days ago, we thought we were siblings, and old habits die hard.”

“Ah, I see. That makes sense.” Katsuto’s doubts immediately evaporated. It wasn’t that he was especially gullible, but rather it was that Tatsuya’s response was so smooth and natural. He was like a born liar, showing no visible trace of either guilt or pleasure at speaking falsehoods.

“Wait, is that my brother?” With convenient timing, Kasumi’s voice rang out, diverting Katsuto’s attention away.

“Oh, it’s Tomokazu,” Katsuto noted of the young man who was waving at them. “Shiba, did you have anything else you wanted to ask me?”

“No, nothing else.”

“What about you, Shippou?” Katsuto turned to Takuma.

“I don’t have anything, either.”

Katsuto nodded. “In that case, I’ll be going.” With that, he headed toward Tomokazu.

Just then, Izumi spoke up to Tatsuya and Miyuki. “Miyuki, Shiba—my brother looks rather lost, so we’ll get going as well. I figure we’ll head home with him, so please don’t worry about us.”

“Shiba, Miss President, we’ll be going as well. See you later, too, Sakurai!” Kasumi added, bowing to the siblings and waving to Minami. The twin sisters then followed behind Katsuto toward their brother.

“Tatsuya, is that person really Izumi and Kasumi’s…?” Miyuki wondered as she watched them go.

“Yes. Tomokazu Saegusa, the eldest son of the Saegusa family. He’s Izumi and Kasumi’s half brother by a different mother.”

“I see…” Miyuki’s voice contained a note of understanding in it; she had noticed the somehow distant tone in Kasumi and Izumi’s use of the word brother. “Oh, by the way, Tatsuya, about what you were saying before—”

“Ah, right, the possibility that the police have been infiltrated by elements that discriminate against magicians. Well, like I said, I don’t think we have to worry about that,” Tatsuya said, anticipating the question. “In fact, it might be simpler if that were the case,” he finished with a sigh.

“…I should think it would be a major problem if the police have been corrupted by any sort of ideology, whether or not it’s militant humanism, wouldn’t it?” She looked up at him with the question mark practically visible over her head.

“If a branch of the police has been tainted by prejudice against magicians, we’ll simply have to deal with them,” Tatsuya replied grimly, his thoughts clear on his face. “In any case, there’s no need for us to get involved. We can just pass the information along and let the police deal with the matter internally.”

“I can’t imagine this would happen, but…what if police who are hostile toward magicians became the majority? What would we do then?”

“There’d be nothing to do,” Tatsuya explained, shaking his head with a bitter expression. “So long as there’s no technology that can stand up to magic, the police will still need its own magicians in order to oppose the magicians that continue to exist, whether they like it or not. The government would act before things got to that point, I think…”

“Is there some possibility it wouldn’t play out that way?” Miyuki pressed the point anxiously.

“Even without any ideological shift in the police force to worry about, the more urgent matter right now is that the Ten Master Clans may be held partially responsible for this terrorist attack. If the ideologically neutral police start thinking that way, then there’s a good chance the apolitical masses will do the same thing.”

Tatsuya turned his gaze to Maya. The clan heads were still surrounded by a throng of officers.

“Public opinion could change a lot depending on how the media covers this attack. And unfortunately, I think there are a lot of people who will interpret what happened here as ‘ordinary folk suffered because of magicians.’”

Tatsuya turned from the crowd of officers to the line of ambulances. It looked like the most seriously injured victims had already been transported, but there were still over a dozen wounded lingering. Given these numbers, it seemed unlikely that the final body count would come in under ten.

“The ones responsible for terrorism are terrorists. But even if people feel the same way I do, once the media repeats their ‘the magicians who endangered innocent bystanders share the responsibility’ story enough times, more than a few are going to start believing what they hear.”

“But we’re Japanese citizens, the same as them,” Miyuki mourned, looking down. She didn’t stay that way long, though, proving that she was not the frail little girl she might appear to be. “Still—not all media are biased against magicians. Last April, some of the coverage acknowledged the rights and viewpoints of magicians, even if it was in the minority.”

Just as Miyuki said, when news stories maligning magicians had shot up the previous April, in the latter part of the month some of the coverage had pushed back against the wave of scorn.

But this time there were casualties—a lot of them. The circumstances were considerably worse this time around.

“That’s true. And the Master Clans Council isn’t going to just sit by and do nothing.”

The truth was, Tatsuya didn’t want to say anything to make her worry more. Whether he saw the future pessimistically or optimistically, things would happen as they happened. There was nothing either of them could do about the future in this moment, so there was consequently no point in worrying about the possibility of conditions worsening.

“Anyway, we’ve made sure that Mother’s all right, so we may as well head back to school.”

Having talked to Katsuto, Tatsuya had a general grasp of the situation, and it didn’t seem likely that they’d be able to accomplish anything else no matter how much longer they hung around. Here, at least, there was nothing to be gained by any further meddling, so it was best to leave the rest to the professionals.

With an “Okay, Tatsuya” and a nod, Miyuki agreed with her brother’s assessment, and Minami indicated her willingness to follow orders with a crisp bow.

“What’re you going to do, Shippou?”

“I’m…going to stay here a bit longer,” replied Takuma to Tatsuya’s question.

“Okay.” Tatsuya neither supported nor opposed Takuma’s decision. He had no obligation to look out for Takuma, and it would actually be inappropriate of him. Tatsuya gestured to Miyuki and Minami, and they started to leave.

“Um, Shiba—” came Takuma’s hesitant voice from behind them.

“What is it?”

“About what we were talking about earlier,” Takuma started, only to suddenly say, “no, never mind.”

It was obvious that he was feeling tentative about something, but Tatsuya merely offered, “Okay,” again and kept going.

A burned-down hotel with a large group of casualties and fatalities.

The mastermind of this gruesome act of terrorism watched the results of his work from an isolated house in Odawara, approximately nine kilometers from the scene.

Gu Jie’s suicide-bombing plan had succeeded with the smallest amount of losses he’d projected.

The explosives hidden all over the town hadn’t been caught by the bomb detectors. Even if they were obsolete, the USNA’s military produced quality munitions indeed. From far enough away, their shielding was effective against even modern-day explosive-detection sensors.

The flesh puppets he’d controlled with Reanimation, his corpse-controlling magic, hadn’t been caught by the sensors, either. Or even anyone in the hotel.

He didn’t mock their naive security measures. By Gu Jie’s estimation, the city’s security level was no worse than the USNA’s, where he’d lived until the previous month. But his skill had proven to be superior this time. He nodded to himself, satisfied.

Although he’d failed to so much as scratch any of the heads of the Ten Master Clans, that, too, was all according to his plan. He felt no regret, since he’d assumed from the start that explosives from mere hand-held missile launchers wouldn’t be enough to touch them.

As planned, the Ten Master Clans had protected themselves. They’d protected only themselves and left the others at the scene to die. Gu Jie, a master of magic who manipulated death itself, put the number of dead at over twenty. Add the wounded and the number of casualties couldn’t be fewer than fifty.

The suffering of some fifty people lay at the feet of the Ten Master Clans’ selfishness.

That was what Gu Jie wanted to show the people of Japan: that the Ten Master Clans would leave you to die if it meant preserving their own lives.

It was their fault that their fellow countrymen were dead.

The Ten Master Clans, the Yotsuba family—they would be hated by Japan’s people and would lose their place in this nation.

Just as he no longer had a place where he belonged in his homeland of Dahan.

A dark joy rose within Gu Jie, and he smiled, standing to leave. At his feet were the scattered bodies of the family who’d originally lived in the house he had taken for himself.

In a room at the USNA embassy, the number two in command of the Stars, Major Benjamin Canopus, watched a live feed of the scene at the Hakone terrorist attack.

His refined, masculine features were darkened by a frown. He couldn’t help but feel outrage and distress at the sight of noncombatants paying the price for terrorist acts, even when they didn’t hail from his country.

Canopus felt that every proper soldier had to be dedicated to protecting the distinction between combatants and civilians as defined in classical rules of engagement, so his duties with the Stars—which were frequently covert operations that involved concealing his military identity—were often opposed to his personal beliefs. He constantly felt conflicted. This made him all the more determined to take any and all measures necessary to avoid civilian casualties of any kind.

If he’d been allowed to, Canopus would have wanted to stop Hague’s (Gu Jie’s) plan. Even if it meant revealing the shameful fact that his nation had allowed obsolete weapons under their supervision to be stolen, he dearly wished he could’ve cooperated with the Japanese authorities to prevent the deaths of innocent civilians.

But he had not been allowed to. He had been forbidden from revealing the fact of the weapon theft to the Japanese. And to keep that truth hidden, cooperation with Japanese military and law enforcement was also not authorized.

The mission given to Canopus was the assassination of Hague. The mission came with a condition—not to give the Japanese authorities any reason to accuse the USNA of a violation of their sovereignty. It was made clear that the optimal outcome would be to lure Hague out into international waters and dispose of him there.

For someone who was a soldier through and through, Canopus had good political instincts. But he understood that being a soldier meant following orders and that the moment he disobeyed them, he ceased being a soldier and became an outlaw doling out violence based on nothing more than his personal preference.

So Canopus decided, for now, to remain a soldier and perform his duty.

After the questioning was finally over and they were released by the police, the leaders of the Ten Master Clans took the helicopter that Masaki had arrived in to the Kanto branch office of the Magic Association. Of course, Katsuto was with them and Masaki, too, as were Kasumi, Izumi, their older brother Tomokazu, and finally Takuma.

After reaching the Magic Association building, the family heads all assembled in a meeting room, leaving Masaki, Kasumi, Izumi, Tomokazu, and Takuma to wait in a separate room. Despite the urgent circumstances, once all ten of the family heads were seated around the meeting room’s roundtable, their eyes naturally turned to Mai Futatsugi, who was the eldest.

“Given the circumstances, let’s not waste time with pointless formalities. I’d like to hear from all of you how we should deal with this emergency.” As she sat at the focal point of nine separate gazes, Mai looked at each individual sitting at the table.

After her gaze had traveled all the way around the table, it settled on the person directly across from her—Kouichi.

“It will be difficult to keep the media in check,” Kouichi noted pessimistically. Among the Ten Master Clans, he was the most skilled at media manipulation. “Currently, there are sixteen fatalities. Given the people they’ve yet to find in the rubble, the final figure will probably be above twenty—that’s more than enough victims for the discourse to turn toward hysteria.”

“That doesn’t mean we can sit idly by and simply watch it unfold,” objected Isami, whose seat was separated from Kouichi’s by one place, which explained the lack of force in his voice.

“I can’t help but wonder if a wait-and-see approach isn’t called for at the moment,” Gen Mitsuya interjected, articulating a more conservative path. “If we act rashly and openly, the public will see right through it, which will only worsen the backlash.”

“I agree. We’re victims, too, and we’re not obligated to explain anything. There’s nothing to be gained by being hasty and inviting more suspicion,” Raizou Yatsushiro stated.

“But if we just stay silent, we’ll only be demonized. The blame will fall entirely on us. Magicians everywhere will end up under increased scrutiny,” Ichijou added.

“I agree with Mr. Ichijou. Of course, we can’t be overzealous and risk a backlash, but I don’t think silence is the right path, either. If we don’t push back now, our enemies will only tighten the noose around our necks.”

Both Gouki and Atsuko Mutsuzuka argued for a proactive response. The meeting had only barely gotten started, but already the mood was tense, and a clash seemed imminent. Mai furrowed her brow at this and tried to draw out other viewpoints from council members who had not yet spoken.

“Mr. Juumonji, what do you think? Please don’t hold back. Feel free to speak your mind.”

Katsuto inclined his head slightly at the others sitting around the table. “I believe media manipulation will be a waste of effort. On that point, I’m in agreement with Mr. Saegusa,” he said, surprisingly articulate and direct.

“So you believe we should do nothing?” asked Raizou, his expression one of surprise and amusement.

“No,” Katsuto replied, shaking his head as he fixed the man with his gaze. “I think we should assert our position without any manipulation or tricks. Specifically, I believe the Magic Association should issue a statement condemning all terrorism.”

“I see,” Raizou said, nodding at the unexpected response. It felt as though everyone had been so fixated on subtle, behind-the-scenes maneuvers that they’d lost sight of the obvious course of action.

“I believe we need to seriously consider the efficacy of Mr. Juumonji’s proposal,” Takumi Shippou said.

“I feel inclined to agree that issuing such a statement through the Magic Association is an excellent idea,” Raizou agreed, lightly raising his hand.

“Oh, I thought you felt there was no need for any excuses or apologies, Mr. Yatsushiro,” Atsuko remarked with a small degree of derision.

Gouki scowled at the rather impertinent comment, but Raizou merely laughed and let it go.

“What are your thoughts, Ms. Yotsuba?” Not even Atsuko seemed perturbed by Raizou’s lack of conviction. She briskly turned to Maya for her opinion.

Before parting her crimson lips to speak, Maya looked not to Atsuko but to Kouichi, who sat next to her. “It doesn’t seem to me that we need to limit ourselves to one response.”

“That is true,” said Kouichi, nodding evenly at what could have been seen as a provocation from Maya. “We should release a statement through the Magic Association. In it, we should not only condemn the terrorism but also pledge our full support and cooperation in apprehending those responsible.” Kouichi glanced around the roundtable to confirm that no one was in opposition to his proposal, before continuing. “Of course, I also think we should proceed with the aforementioned media manipulation.”

“But it won’t be easy to control the media here. You yourself said as much, Mr. Saegusa.”

Kouichi nodded with an empty smile at Gen’s point. “Indeed. I doubt we’ll be able to avoid the rise of voices claiming that magicians bear some of the responsibility. But I don’t think it would be in our best interests to do nothing, either. Even if magicians are partially responsible, I believe we must still act to encourage the message, in the media’s coverage, that terrorists are the real villains.”

Gen was not satisfied with this answer. “I wonder if it will be so simple. Once an anti-magician narrative is established, it won’t be easy to dislodge it.”

“Addressing the trend of hostility toward magicians will be a long-term project. But if we can harness the public’s greater hatred for terrorism, the unease they feel toward magicians could be eased. If we can catch the terrorists and show that we have in fact taken responsibility, that animosity would smoothly shift—”

Gouki interrupted Kouichi and Gen’s argument. “Catch the terrorists ourselves? That would involve considerable risk.”

“For the leaders of the Ten Master Clans to openly act, we would need the approval of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Even with approval per the unofficial rules that fall outside of national law, considering our relationship with the government, we still can’t ignore protocol.”

“Mr. Ichijou,” Kouichi asked, “how likely is it that we’ll be able to get their approval?”

Gouki shook his head. “That’s not even the only problem. If, in our attempt to capture the mastermind, we allow a second or third attack to occur, the Clans’ influence will crater. And it won’t just be us. Magicians everywhere will face more hardship and persecution.”

“But we can hardly afford to leave this attack unaddressed.”

Maya’s statement caused the council to murmur. Gouki, whose view she’d directly contradicted, wore obvious wide-eyed surprise on his face.

“In order to prevent both subsequent terrorist attacks and copycat incidents, we of the Ten Master Clans must stake our reputation on either capturing or eliminating the criminals behind this.”

To see Maya supporting Kouichi like this was completely unexpected by everyone except Maya herself.

“However, I also understand Mr. Ichijou’s caution.”

“…What do you mean by that?” Gouki wasn’t the only one looking at Maya dubiously. From behind the tinted lenses of his glasses, Kouichi was also watching her carefully.

“I mean that I don’t think it would be in our best interests to be seen directly engaging in a search for the fugitives. In addition to the consideration for how our reputation will suffer if we fail to catch him, we need to also stay vigilant to stop further outbreaks of aggression.”

“You’re saying we should prioritize counterterrorism readiness?” asked Mai.

“Exactly.” Maya nodded.

“So who will we delegate the search for the actual culprits to?” Atsuko asked. Her question was not directed just to Maya but rather to the entire council.

Maya answered with her family’s position: “The Yotsuba family is prepared to offer Tatsuya’s services.”

Immediately after, Gouki spat confrontationally, “We will give the task to Masaki.”

But just before each family head could begin nominating their relatives for the task, Mai stymied them. “Ms. Yotsuba, Mr. Ichijou, wait please. Tatsuya and Masaki are both still high school students, are they not? It often takes considerable time to flush out a criminal who’s gone into hiding. I’m not sure how I feel about asking high school students to forgo their studies for an assignment that has the potential to last so long.”

Gouki was at a loss for how to reply to this very reasonable point.

But Maya was unfazed and smiled warmly at Mai. “I appreciate your concern, Ms. Futatsugi. But there’s no need to worry,” she said. “It’s quite true that finding an enemy who’s gone into hiding is far more time consuming than striking an enemy standing right in front of you. But even taking that into consideration, with Tatsuya on the job, backed by the Yotsuba family, it won’t take more than a month to track the terrorist down. That shouldn’t seriously impact his academic progress.”

Mai found herself overpowered by Maya, who sounded not so much confident as precognizant, utterly certain of the outcome. “Still…” Mai started. But she, like Maya, was the head of one of the Ten Master Clans, and she wasn’t speechless for long. “…the fact remains that Tatsuya is a high school student. No matter how capable he may be, I can’t help but wonder about the optics of tasking someone so young with a counterterrorism operation.”

Maya met Mai’s objection with a faint smile, which seemed to say, Now this is a problem?

The details of the April 2095 terrorist attack on First High School had been kept secret for well over a year, but by this point, the broad strokes of the incident were well-known among the Ten Master Clans.

The particulars of the magic Tatsuya had used had been kept under wraps. However, after Tatsuya’s connection to the Yotsuba family was made public, the fact that he and Katsuto had been at the center of the terrorists’ defeat had spread out from the Juumonji family—in other words, from Katsuto—to the other members of the council.

Likewise, the assassination of No-Head Dragon’s leadership was being kept secret, but the events that occurred at the international conference hall during the Yokohama Incident were widely known from the outset. As far as the parasite incident went, the specifics were classified, but Tatsuya’s involvement there was also known. Maya herself had recently revealed that he’d been responsible for ending Gongjin Zhou the previous autumn. It was, as Maya pointed out, a bit late to claim that such situations were too dangerous for a mere high school student.

“Might we consider Tomokazu to lead the hunt?” Kouichi asked, nudging the deadlocked mood along. “My oldest son has finished his studies, and his job can make his time available. He’s also close to the scene in Hakone, where we may find clues as to where the terrorists are hiding. The Kanto-Izu region is the responsibility of my family and the Juumonji family.”

Kouichi watched the reactions this elicited from the other members around the table.

“If the fact that I had secret communication with Gongjin Zhou makes me untrustworthy, then I’m quite willing to cede command on the ground to Mr. Juumonji and have Tomokazu report to him.”

Gouki looked to Mai, Isami to Atsuko, and Takumi to Raizou. Kouichi’s true intentions were opaque to them.

“Do you really think that will make up for your misconduct?” Gen demanded, not bothering to make eye contact with either Mai or Maya.

Kouichi acknowledged the question with a calm, serious expression. “I don’t expect this to be enough to regain your trust, but I hope this can become the first step in clearing the black mark from my name.”

“I don’t see a problem with this,” said Maya crisply, supporting Kouichi’s proposal without even glancing in his direction. “Kanto does fall under the jurisdiction of the Saegusa and Juumonji families, after all. If Mr. Saegusa is giving us his assurance, then I think we can entrust him with this,” she continued, offering Mai a calm smile.

It was not Mai who replied, though, but rather Katsuto. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, I would also like to undertake this duty. If it is necessary, I will ask Tatsuya to assist as well, so please feel free to speak.”

“That’s very gracious of you. I believe Mr. Ichijou will also be willing to assist us.”

“Of course, we will offer our full support. Please use Masaki in whatever way you deem necessary.” Katsuto bowed briefly to Maya and Gouki, then turned his attention to Kouichi. “Mr. Saegusa, while I’ll be nominally in charge of this effort, Tomokazu will be the one giving actual direction.”

“Thank you very much.” Kouichi acknowledged Katsuto—who was young enough to be his son—with a bow.

But Katsuto was not finished. “However, Tatsuya of the Yotsuba family and Masaki of the Ichijou family will report directly to me.”

For just a moment, Kouichi’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. The tinted glasses he wore even indoors, however, kept anyone else from noticing the fleeting expression. “I will admit I don’t see the point of that, but I don’t mind,” he said, giving Katsuto an indulgent nod.

This time it was Katsuto who met Kouichi’s statement with a serene bow.

“Very well. We’ll issue a statement through the Magic Association condemning the terrorist attack, and Mr. Juumonji will be responsible for the apprehension of the ringleader, with Mr. Saegusa directing the main effort. Are we all agreed on this course of action?” Mai asked, seeking consensus.

Raizou raised a casual hand. “I have no objection to the proposal itself, but how can we be sure the terrorist leader is even in Japan?” he asked, pointing out that the corpses could have been controlled from abroad.

“We are certain he is,” said Gouki decisively. “The magic used to manipulate the bodies was not the type that uses preprogrammed actions. The activation timing, at the very least, would have relied on remote control. Sending a command to so many people would have required him to be hiding fairly close by.”

“How close is ‘fairly?’” Isami pressed.

Gouki thought about the question for a moment before answering. “That depends on the power of the caster but a ten-kilometer radius at most,” he said, then added, “assuming he wasn’t using a technique that we don’t know about.”

“Well, that’s not something we can take into account,” said Katsuto. “If the target can use magic beyond our knowledge, then capturing him won’t be possible, regardless of whether he’s in the country or not.”

“That’s a good point. I think our current plan is a good one,” Raizou encouraged, giving his support to the consensus Mai had presented to the council.

As if that were their signal, one by one the rest of the members voiced their assent.

With consensus reached, the impromptu Master Clans Council came to a close.

The family heads all promptly made haste for their respective home bases to quickly increase precautions meant to prevent a second terrorist attack from happening in the regions that fell under their supervision.

That said, there was no way the Ichijou family, for example, could keep the entire Hokuriku-Sanin region under continuous observation, nor could the Mutsuzuka family prevent any illegal use of magic in the entire Tohoku area. The regional responsibilities of the Ten pertained to the discovery of and response to events after the fact.

Prevention of terrorism was the job of law enforcement. All the Ten Master Clans could do was provide assistance. But in order to ensure the smooth deployment of that assistance, the family heads could not afford to be away from their bases. Or—as in the case of the Yotsuba family—the heads needed to be present at home in order to ensure that the assistance (or maybe interference, as it were) was given discreetly so their involvement would remain invisible.

In either case, the circumstances meant that the family heads needed to hurry home.

Gouki Ichijou, along with Masaki, was returning to Kanazawa by helicopter.

Just as the helicopter rose from the helipad at the Magic Association’s Kanto branch office, Gouki addressed his son. “Masaki.”

“Yes?” he replied in a formal tone, inferring the nature of the conversation from his father’s voice.

“I’m going to explain the Master Clans Council’s plan for addressing this terrorist attack.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The Ten Master Clans will release a statement through the Magic Association denouncing the attack, simultaneously beginning a search for the mastermind with the ultimate aim of bringing whoever’s responsible into our custody. Mr. Juumonji will be responsible for the search, with Mr. Saegusa’s eldest son, Tomokazu, assisting him.”

“What role will the Ichijou family play?”

“Aside from Mr. Juumonji, the family heads of the Ten will be focusing on preventing a second attack. You, Masaki, will pursue the terrorist leader at the direction of Mr. Juumonji.”

“Yes, sir,” Masaki replied, straightening his posture. His face was colored not with apprehension but excitement. He considered the role of tracking and apprehending the terrorist leader to be a prestigious one.

“You’ll probably have to take some time off school. I’ll make arrangements with the principal to have it treated as a sort of holiday.”

“I understand.”

Masaki loved his school life. In his heart of hearts, he wasn’t eager to leave it. But still more important to him was his duty to the Ten Master Clans. His expression was already tight, but his face turned even more serious at what his father and family leader said next:

“Tatsuya Shiba from the Yotsuba family will also participate in the search under Mr. Juumonji’s supervision. Show him what you’re made of, Masaki.”

“Yes, sir!” Masaki replied with a fierce nod.

The eventful day of February 5, 2097 was finally coming to an end.

Having rushed to the scene of the terrorist attack in Hakone earlier, Tatsuya and Miyuki (and Minami) were enjoying a moment of peace in their home.

Tatsuya had felt briefly reassured after confirming Maya’s safety, but he now had the premonition that beginning tomorrow, magicians would face a rising tide of public animosity. Even though he had to admit it all came with the vague sense that this shouldn’t be his problem.

As far as the terrorism itself went, he felt an ordinary amount of outrage at it.

He felt an ordinary amount of sympathy for the victims and their families.

But it was also plain fact that he was relieved that Miyuki had not been targeted.

He was not approaching the incident with an eye toward resolving it. As always, the most important thing to him was his sister. Even his concern for Maya was simply because in this moment, compared to her absence, Maya’s presence was more convenient—and safer—for Miyuki.

While it was a lower priority than Miyuki, if First High was attacked, Tatsuya would have been unable to ignore it.

But outside of that—for example, if the council was targeted—Tatsuya would not have felt any particular motivation to act.

Unless he was ordered to.

Tatsuya had banished all thoughts about the terrorist incident from his mind and was in Miyuki’s room helping her with her practical magical studies homework, until the phone suddenly started ringing. Before Miyuki could press the ANSWER CALL button, the receiver display switched to indicate a call in progress. Perhaps Minami had picked it up? The call had come not to Miyuki’s private number but to the house’s.

Just as Tatsuya shifted his broken concentration back to the homework, the phone beeped again. It was the notification of a call being transferred.

“Hello?” Miyuki asked, pressing the ANSWER CALL button and speaking into the mic.

“Miyuki, there’s a call from the family head for Tatsuya,” came Minami’s voice from the speaker.

“Understood. I’ll take it in the living room,” Tatsuya said as he stood. Not even pausing to wonder what the call could be about, he headed for the first floor.

Miyuki, of course, followed him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Aunt Maya.” Tatsuya greeted her with a bow when he came into the visiphone’s field of view, where Minami had remained rather than putting Maya on hold. When other people were around, Tatsuya made it a point to call Maya “Mother,” but around close relatives, he still used “Aunt.” Of course, Minami hadn’t been informed of the truth that Maya and Tatsuya weren’t really mother and son, still just aunt and nephew, but their trust that she wouldn’t go blabbing about such things to outsiders meant that she was treated as a relative.

“And I’m sorry to be calling at such a late hour,” Maya replied smoothly.

“No, we were still up studying.” It was the truth, but even so, it elicited a smile from Maya.

“So even you study, eh?” she asked, genuinely amused.

“Well, I am a high school student, after all, so I can’t exactly neglect my schoolwork,” he replied and then waited for her to get to the point.

“Well, I suppose it’s true that a student’s job is studying. It’s too bad I can’t let you give it your undivided attention.” Maya’s honest amusement gave way to her usual artificially pleasant face as she regarded Tatsuya from the other side of the display.

Tatsuya naturally straightened and prepared to receive his orders.

“Tatsuya, I am tasking you with apprehending the mastermind of today’s terrorist attack.”

“Apprehending? Not assassinating?”

“Ah, I suppose I misspoke. Find him and neutralize him. Dead or alive, it matters little.”

“Affirmative, Aunt Maya.” Tatsuya brought his heels together and bowed crisply. The only reason he didn’t reflexively salute was because he’d been conscious ahead of time of the need to perform a civilian bow. The fact that he’d still said, “Affirmative,” rather than a simple “Understood,” was thanks to the not-inconsiderable influence of the Independent Magic Battalion.

Of course, even if he had given a military salute, Maya probably wouldn’t have found it particularly notable or cared.

“The search is being carried out on the orders of the Master Clans Council. Mr. Juumonji is overseeing with the Saegusa family providing the bulk of the forces.”

“So does that mean I’ll also be operating under the direction of the Saegusa family?”

“No. Per Mr. Juumonji’s request, you’ll report directly to him,” Maya said before dropping a bomb. “And by ‘Mr. Juumonji,’ I mean Katsuto. At the recent Master Clans Council, he succeeded his father as head.”

But the bomb may as well have been a dud.

“I see,” Tatsuya stated dryly.

“So you’re not surprised?”

“In the Independent Magic Battalion even two years ago, I was hearing that Katsuto was already the de facto authority figure of his family, so no.”

“My goodness…you can never let your guard down around the military. Or maybe it was the doing of that young lady.”

By “that young lady,” Maya was referring to Kyouko Fujibayashi. She was well aware of Kyouko’s other name—the Electron Sorceress.

Then, with no particular preamble, Maya lobbed a second bombshell. “Masaki Ichijou will also be participating in the search and also reporting directly to Mr. Juumonji.”

“Ichijou?!” As far as Tatsuya was concerned, this bomb also fizzled, but it had an immediate effect on Miyuki, who was standing meekly beside him. “Er, I’m sorry,” Miyuki quickly added, blushing red.

“I don’t mind one bit. Your surprise is quite understandable,” Maya offered generously through the screen.

Miyuki wasn’t exactly emboldened by this, but she regained enough composure to pose the question that came to mind. “I don’t mean to bring up an earlier topic, but what about our studies? Taking orders from Mr. Juumonji means the search will take place in the Kanto region, correct? I can’t imagine we’d only be there for a week.”

On the other side of the screen, Maya smiled brightly at Miyuki. “I have no intention of letting this become some time-consuming affair. We already know the name and particulars of the target you’ll be neutralizing.”

At this, Tatsuya was finally surprised. But not at the fact that Maya already knew who the terrorist mastermind was. Rather, he was stunned that despite being a known entity, the terrorist still managed to make a clean getaway.

“The man’s name is Gu Jie. His English name is Gide Hague. Publicly, he’s a stateless refugee from Dahan associated with the Kunlun Institute. Apparently, he escaped before its destruction. He appears to be a man in his fifties with dark skin and white hair. Although by this point, he could have changed much of that.”

The individual Maya described matched the information Lina had given them. Tatsuya surmised that their sources were the same.

“Do you have an image of his face?”

“Unfortunately, no. Only a description.”

This was hardly different from having no leads at all, Tatsuya thought. Maya had given him a name and a description, but names could be changed. It seemed very optimistic to imagine that the search would be concluded quickly.

Tatsuya didn’t let his pessimism reach his face, but Miyuki looked obviously concerned.

“You needn’t worry too much about this, Miyuki. We’ll use some divination on our end to narrow down his possible hiding places.”

Evidently, some of the Yotsuba family’s magicians had sensory magic available to them that even Tatsuya was unfamiliar with—perhaps upstream time traversal like postcognition or psychometric detection of residual thoughts. He inferred as much from Maya’s use of the word divination. He could also imagine that the Kuroba’s specialty of espionage was supported by the existence of such magic. Tatsuya realized all over again that there was a lot he and Miyuki didn’t yet know about the Yotsuba family.

But this was not the time for such musings.

“Your part will come after that, Tatsuya. Once we’ve managed to identify him, he won’t escape, will he?”

Tatsuya recognized the question Maya put to him as an order and bowed crisply. “Gongjin Zhou very nearly did escape, but…I will do everything in my power, yes.”

Once her call to Tatsuya was concluded, Maya’s pleasant demeanor immediately shifted.

Behind her, as ever, Hayama stood at the ready.

Maya looked back at her trusted butler with an intensity on her face that she rarely showed. “Hayama, have you found any leads yet?”

“I’m afraid not, madam.”

“I see,” Maya said, irritation dripping from her voice. She hadn’t let Tatsuya see this mood nor had she let it slip in front of the other family heads.

Hayama did not tell his mistress to be patient. She knew just as well as he did that the memories of the dead victims wouldn’t disappear in only three or four days.

Rather than counseling patience, Hayama decided to ask after the source of her frustration. “Are you regretting not being able to put the intelligence from Colonel Balance to use, madam?”

Maya reflexively began to refute this, but she stopped herself with a deep sigh. “…I suppose I should know better than to try to put on a brave face in front of you, Hayama.” Her irritation gave way to an exhausted half smile. “Yes, I’m regretting the fact that despite getting advance warning, the enemy still managed to get the drop on us.”

It was no wonder she was exhausted. She’d escaped from a terrorist bombing on the second day of the already demanding Master Clans Council. She’d been interviewed by law enforcement, then pressed on to a second meeting to discuss how to respond.

Maya was an outstanding magician, but physically she was no different from an average person. Her youthful appearance was not merely external; she was just as healthy as she appeared to be. Nonetheless, she possessed only the fitness of a woman around thirty and nothing extraordinary.

“Madam, I understand how you feel, but there is no use in agonizing over things that have already happened. Even the Yotsuba family is not omnipotent.”

When physical exhaustion affected mental energy, it was a message from the body that it needed rest. If Maya wasn’t accepting that herself, then she needed someone who would help her do so.

Fortunately, Maya’s psychological condition had not deteriorated so much that she had become unable to recognize her body’s needs. “…You’re right. I don’t intend to spend more time than necessary on this, but it’s not going to be wrapped up by tomorrow or the day after, no matter what I do. I’ll get some rest. If anything happens, please tell me in the morning.”

“You may rest assured I will do so, madam.”

As Maya left her study, Hayama saw her off with a respectful bow.