Sunday, February 10, shortly before 3:00 PM.

With Miyuki in tow, Tatsuya visited the Kitayama family estate.

Though, in the interest of accuracy, perhaps it was better to say that Miyuki had her brother in tow.

The siblings were visiting the Kitayama family because yesterday in their classroom, Shizuku had invited Miyuki over. At first, Miyuki had misunderstood the invitation for tea as a formal, traditional tea ceremony and had been wondering if she ought to wear a proper kimono for the occasion, but upon being told by Shizuku that they’d be serving black tea, she had been rather embarrassed by her misunderstanding.

Their shoes still on due to the nature of the house, they were shown into an elegant Western-style room. Looking at the paintings hanging on the walls and the vases standing next to them, Tatsuya wondered how much this all must have cost, but he soon stopped thinking about it. Miyuki wasn’t some unruly child who without supervision might break a valuable object, but pointing out how expensive everything must have been would surely make her feel awkward.

Shizuku was already sitting in the room when they entered it. She was wearing a collared, knee-length dress and high heels. It wasn’t quite so neatly ceremonious as to be a formal afternoon dress, but it unmistakably brought that sensibility to mind.

Miyuki, in fact, was dressed similarly. Tatsuya had consulted with her as to whether casual or formal dress was more appropriate, and he inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t misread the situation.

Tatsuya, per Miyuki’s advice, had worn an unremarkable dark suit. He’d considered coming in his school uniform, but he’d gone with the suit in order to better match Miyuki’s outfit.

Shizuku stood upon seeing Tatsuya and Miyuki. “Welcome to my home,” she said, bowing with her hands politely clasped.

“Thank you so much for inviting us,” Tatsuya said, returning her bow. Though his reply may have lacked a certain elegance, it was certainly polite enough. A half step behind her brother, Miyuki also bowed, and hers was faultlessly graceful.

“Please,” Shizuku insisted formally, gesturing to the seats that had been prepared for Tatsuya and Miyuki. She was being as reserved with her conversation as ever, but her manners were twice as polite as they even normally were. Whatever the reason, she was fully in “elegant young lady” mode today.

Shizuku looked to a maid who was standing off to one side. The woman looked to be in her thirties. She was well put together, but both Miyuki and Tatsuya could immediately tell that she had been chosen not for her appearance but for her skill.

She placed a stylish kettle on top an induction heater, then pressed a switch. The sound of boiling water soon emanated from the kettle. She had probably heated the water in advance before bringing it to a boil.

The maid took a teapot out of the warmer, placing a generous amount of black tea leaves inside the thoroughly warmed pot.

As soon as the water in the kettle reached a boil, she turned off the induction burner, and briskly poured its water into the pot. She quickly placed the teapot’s lid on top, then took a step back, her eyes lowered.

“Tatsuya, if you’d prefer coffee, I can have some made right away,” she whispered. Her way of talking was as usual, but the atmosphere was different. Shizuku seemed faintly nervous.

“No, that’s fine. I enjoy black tea, too.” Tatsuya decided to at least speak to her normally, like they were classmates. He didn’t pry into what was making her nervous. They would probably find out soon enough, so he felt no need to hurry things.

“By the way, Shizuku,” Miyuki said, following Tatsuya’s lead and using a more informal register. “Will Honoka be here, too?”

“Ah, no. That is, well…”

Shizuku was prevaricating—practically begging them not to ask the reason for Honoka’s absence.

Her words stumbled to a halt. Not even Miyuki, the most socially adept of the three, attempted to pick up the conversation where it had left off.

“Miss,” said the maid from next to Shizuku, breaking the silence suddenly.

“Ah, er, thank you!”

It was the maid warning Shizuku not to oversteep the tea. Shizuku removed the lid from the pot, stirred it gently with a spoon, then replaced the lid.

Then, picking up a ceramic tea strainer in one hand and the teapot in the other, she poured the tea evenly into three teacups. She served the one into which the last drops fell to Tatsuya and the one next to it to Miyuki.

“Please,” she said.

“Thank you,” Tatsuya said, with Miyuki wordlessly bowing before picking up her cup.

“It’s delicious,” Miyuki said after a sip. Next to her, Tatsuya nodded emphatically. “You’re just as good at making black tea as you are at matcha, aren’t you?” she finished.

“Oh, it’s nothing special…” Shizuku said, looking away bashfully.

“You’ve had Shizuku’s matcha, Miyuki?” Tatsuya asked.

“Yes. It’s really quite delicious, you know. I’d certainly want my brother to be able to taste it.”

“…You were better at it, Miyuki,” Shizuku said abruptly—clearly to cover up her own embarrassment—fixing her once-averted gaze back on Miyuki. “And, your ‘brother,’ Miyuki?”

“Hmm? Oh…” For a moment, Miyuki didn’t grasp what Shizuku was getting at, but she soon understood the question: Why are you still calling him your brother when he’s your cousin?

But this was an odd time to be asking such a question. Shizuku must have seen and heard Miyuki referring to Tatsuya as her brother dozens of times at school.

Still, Miyuki kept her answer polite. “I’ve been calling him that since middle school… I guess old habits are hard to break.” In addition to looking somewhat abashed, she even added some unnecessary explanation.

“Since middle school?”

“Yes, um, it’s sort of…”

Miyuki trailed off vaguely. She had started calling Tatsuya her brother in their first year of middle school, during the incident that summer in Okinawa. Before that, her mother had strictly forbidden them from treating each other like siblings.

Even though she’d been only a child and hadn’t known the reasoning behind anything, Miyuki still hated the memories she had of all the days when she’d been rude and dismissive toward the brother she would later come to love so much. That she’d ever done so was a secret she couldn’t bear to tell anyone.

Another awkward silence fell over the table.

But this time, a distraction arrived with perfect timing: There was a knock at the door.

A different maid than the one who had helped prepare the tea went to the door and opened it.

“Miss, the master of the house has arrived.”

“See him in,” answered Shizuku, without asking Tatsuya or Miyuki their inclinations.

Tatsuya soon realized that today’s invitation must have come from not Shizuku but rather her father.

“My apologies for interrupting your conversation,” said Shizuku’s father, Ushio Kitayama, coming to stand alongside his daughter as he greeted the already-standing Tatsuya and Miyuki. Ushio wore a button-down shirt and a double-breasted knit jacket over it, giving him a casual, rougher style—although he didn’t look even slightly sloppy.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” Tatsuya said. If Ushio really was the person responsible for their invitation, it would’ve been appropriate to thank him, but for now, Tatsuya decided to continue with the assumption that they were here at Shizuku’s behest. It made things easier for both sides.

But why would a major player in finance be so roundabout? Tatsuya felt more caution than curiosity at the question. He surely didn’t think of them as ordinary high school students. Someone with the Yotsuba name would be a desirable ally for just about everyone operating at the top levels of the finance world, and there was value even in being recognized as their rival.

Previously, Tatsuya had been told to stay away from Shizuku by her mother, but that had only been an emotional reaction—a parent’s desire to protect her daughter from someone she didn’t comprehend. But it didn’t make sense that a similar reason could possibly have motivated Ushio’s invitation.

“No, no, I’m the one brazenly intruding upon you young people here. You’ll have to excuse me, really.”

“There’s nothing brazen about it. By rights, as guests in your home we ought to have greeted you properly. Please pardon our impropriety.”

“Well, Shizuku is the one who invited you, so I hardly think that’s necessary. But apropos of my brazenness, would you mind if I stayed to chat a bit?”

“If you don’t mind our company, certainly not.”

“Oh, lovely. Let’s sit and talk, then,” Ushio said, taking a seat across from Tatsuya. A beat later, Tatsuya, Miyuki, and Shizuko all followed suit.

“Now then, there’s hardly anything to talk about except this anti-magician negativity campaign.”

The topic was within Tatsuya’s range of supposition, but he was surprised to see Ushio plunging into it so directly.

“Both my wife and daughter are magicians, after all, so I can’t help but be concerned about the recent developments. I wonder how the Ten Master Clans intend to deal with this wave spreading across the nation that’s trying to make magicians out to be the enemy.”

“I can’t speak in specifics, but I was acknowledged as a member of the Yotsuba family just this past New Year’s. Miyuki was also raised separately from the main family. At the moment, neither of us are in a position to know very much about what the Ten Master Clans are planning.”

Ushio nodded magnanimously, betraying no doubt about Tatsuya’s answer. “That makes sense. Well, my wife tells me that as the leaders of Japan’s magical community, the Ten have a variety of unusual customs.”

Tatsuya nodded lightly, but only to indicate that he’d understood. Obviously, Ushio was going somewhere with this statement.

“But surely, you haven’t heard nothing, right? Are you simply not permitted to tell me anything at all?”

All Tatsuya had heard was what was necessary to carry out his own particular mission. And he hadn’t been told not to discuss that mission’s details.

“I imagine you know this, since it’s already been publicly announced, but the Ten recently began a search for the person behind the terrorist attack. The police will ultimately be responsible for apprehending him, but I’m also participating in the search.”

“I see. So this is following through on the statement issued through the Magic Association of Japan. I wonder if the media will play a countermove of some kind.”

“I haven’t heard anything about that,” Tatsuya admitted.

“Indeed…” Ushio sighed, as from beside him the maid placed a teacup in front of him. He acknowledged her with a glance, then took a sip from the freshly poured tea. “Well, as I said, I can’t pretend as though this anti-magician talk has nothing to do with me. If the Ten Master Clans wanted my cooperation, I might be able to speak to some people in the media.”

It was true that Ushio Kitayama’s financial resources gave him a certain amount of influence in the mass media. Even if he couldn’t single-handedly turn the rising tide of anti-magician sentiment, he could certainly dampen its energy.

It ought to have been an offer Tatsuya was pleased to hear. He wasn’t ignorant about the power of public discourse. Even the Yotsuba family couldn’t stand fully apart from the rest of Japanese society. Magicians were not in any position to declare their independence and form a self-governing territory—not yet anyway.

But Tatsuya’s answer was a negative one. “Unfortunately, I can’t act as a representative of the Ten Master Clans. Neither Miyuki nor myself can even represent the Yotsuba family to the Master Clans Council. Also, given the circumstances, I don’t think that taking the magicians’ side and intervening with the media would lead to a desirable outcome for Shizuku.”

Ushio’s eyes glittered. He’d worn the face of an affable father thus far, but now he was nothing short of a captain of industry who represented all of Japan. “And why is that?”

“The anti-magician activities are only one aspect of a general anti-social movement. Magicians are simply a convenient outlet for a more fundamental frustration plaguing society. If anything, your position as a wealthy man would make you a convenient focal point for that frustration, and I don’t think you should give these agitators another tool to use in their instigation. These people will not draw fine distinctions—there’s a real danger that their malice would extend not just to your wife and Shizuku but even to Wataru.”

Ushio brought his teacup to his lips, taking a moment to consider Tatsuya’s statement.

“…While I think it’s dangerous to categorize all anti-magician criticism as anarchism, I can tell that you’re genuinely concerned about my son and my daughter. But do you really think I should do nothing?”

“If a magician—no, if a student of First High—becomes a victim of a crime, then I expect we’ll ask for your assistance then.”

“…And you don’t intend to prevent that harm before it happens?”

“It’s impossible to protect the entire student body every moment they’re away from school. We’ll encourage caution, but anything beyond that is difficult, I think.”

“You make a good point.” Ushio gave Tatsuya an appraising glance, but it was quickly replaced with a self-possessed smile. “I understand your position. I’ll stay quiet for the moment. But if the situation deteriorates, do please come and check with me. I don’t mean to be a broken record about this, but I truly do consider this my problem as well.”

“Understood. I’ll be counting on you when the time comes,” Tatsuya said with a bow.

Ushio stood. “Well, I’ve imposed enough. Please enjoy your afternoon,” he said, bowing to Tatsuya and Miyuki before leaving the room.

Tatsuya had turned down Ushio Kitayama’s offer because media manipulation simply wasn’t his job.

But the Ten Master Clans hadn’t yet decided if media intervention was unnecessary. The evening of the day the Shiba siblings visited the Kitayama residence, Kouichi Saegusa invited a Diet member named Kouzuke to an expensive restaurant.

Representative Kouzuke was a young politician in the ruling party whose constituency was in Tokyo and who was known to have a favorable view of magicians. Many considered him to be all but guaranteed for a cabinet position in the next term, but the recent rise in anti-magician sentiment had put him in a less certain position. That didn’t mean he was suddenly going to flip to the anti-magician camp, but he’d been forced into silence for the past few days.

When the after-dinner coffee was brought in, Kouichi told the garçon that they were not to be disturbed for a while and had the doors to their private dining room closed. He then directed his attention back to Kouzuke.

“I trust you enjoyed the dinner?”

“Yes, it was spectacular.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’ll make sure to pass your compliments on to the chef.”

“Oh, please, let me do it myself. There are so many prying eyes and ears around Akasaka and Shinbashi that I haven’t been able to properly relax in some time. An establishment like this is a treasure.”

Kouichi and Kouzuke were roughly the same age, and their conversation flowed with ease and familiarity.

“Now then, Mr. Saegusa. I’d love to hear whatever it is you have to say to me.” Cutting away the pleasantries, Kouzuke pushed toward the evening’s real topic. “From what I can guess, you want to deal with the media?”

“You’re as perceptive as ever, Mr. Kouzuke. Just as you say,” Kouichi said, casually flattering the man. But Kouzuke only smirked bitterly. Given the circumstances, there was no other reason for Kouichi to come calling. He wasn’t annoyed about it, but given the obvious motivation, Kouzuke felt no pleasure at the flattery.

“A request from none other than Mr. Saegusa. Well, I’m prepared for a certain amount of risk. Shall we put pressure on the media? Or would you rather push the narrative that the real villains here are the terrorists, while magicians are simply victims, just like the bystanders?” Kouzuke grinned. He was still a young politician, but he already had the confidence and bearing of an official backed by the ruling party who’d triumphed through hellish power struggles to achieve his current position.

“No, I wouldn’t ask for anything so forceful,” Kouichi said, undaunted by Kouzuke’s brashness. If he’d taken the offer at face value, he’d be considerably indebted to Kouzuke, which would put the Saegusa family at Kouzuke’s beck and call for any number of requests.

Kouichi was a veteran of more negotiations than any other family head in the Ten Master Clans. Kouzuke didn’t have the skill it would take to steal the initiative from him.

“What I need from you, Mr. Kouzuke, is when magicians are harmed by anti-magician groups, to keep an eye out and make sure that those stories don’t get smothered in the national discourse.”

Kouichi’s request was considerably more conservative than what Kouzuke had proposed.

“Obviously, we won’t permit criminal activity, but…are you sure that’s sufficient?” Kouzuke asked dubiously.

Kouichi laughed, shaking his head. “It’s the wish of every virtuous citizen for obvious things to be treated as obviously important, Mr. Kouzuke! For example, if a student from First High is assaulted by an anti-magician demonstrator, the attacker could claim that it was in self-defense simply because the victim was a magician.”

“No, surely not.”

“You don’t think so?”

Kouzuke got the strange sense that behind Kouichi’s sunglasses, his artificial eye glittered with a suspicious light. Kouzuke was now the more intimidated one of the two.

“They resorted to violence because of the latent danger that magic might be used against them. It was justifiable self-defense. Can you really say that the media and certain members of the opposition party wouldn’t say such a thing?”

Faced with Kouichi’s quiet smile, Kouzuke’s breath caught in his throat.

“Despite employing intimidation and harassment themselves, they use convenient logic to justify resorting to violence at the first sign of resistance. And politicians and the media defend them and embolden them. Do you really think this is impossible?”

“Well…”

“When their misinformation or unlawfulness is threatened with exposure, it’s not at all rare for these groups to resort to agitation, threats, and outright violence in order to suppress their opponent’s grievances. But for the adversely affected party, this isn’t admissible. Even when magicians are victims, their complaints go unheard. Such is the deplorable state toward which I fear this nation is headed.”

“Mr. Saegusa, surely you’re not…” Kouzuke’s voice wavered, but not out of fear of the scenario Kouichi had laid out. “Surely you’re not considering using First High students or Magic University students as sacrifices to alter public opinion…?”

The faint smile on Kouichi’s lips vanished, and he looked into Kouzuke’s face. “My dearest hope is that nothing at all happens. But it’s not possible for us to prevent every incident of unjust violence against a magician.”

Gazing steadily at Kouzuke, Kouichi’s smile returned, this time with a sly significance.

“Even if the police are out on patrol in full force, they can’t do anything until an incident actually happens. So I’m asking that if such an incident does come to pass, that it be handled correctly. I look forward to your cooperation, Mr. Kouzuke.”

“…I…I understand,” Kouzuke stammered his acceptance, which Kouichi received with that same mysteriously glittering smile.

Monday, February 11. Tatsuya walked to school with Miyuki and Minami as he usually did, but on his way to his classroom, he noticed a strange commotion around the campus.

The morning after Gu Jie’s declaration of responsibility, the school mood had also been unsettled, this was different somehow. There was anxiety, yes, but a sense of curiosity seemed to predominate. In that way, it reminded Tatsuya of the day Lina had come to the school for her study abroad.

The mood in Class 2-E was no different.

“Good morning,” Mizuki said.

“Morning,” Tatsuya replied. “Hey, Mizuki. Seems like everybody’s restless this morning. Did something happen?”

“I’m not totally sure myself, but…apparently Ichijou from Third High is here for some reason.”

“Ichijou?” Tatsuya couldn’t disguise his surprise.

Masaki simply visiting Tokyo wasn’t itself cause for attention. Maya had told Tatsuya that Masaki had been put on the hunt for the terrorists under Katsuto. It was also within the realm of possibility that he would miss a considerable number of school days and live in Tokyo for a while.

But even if so, there wasn’t any need for him to attend First High. Hachiouji, where First High was located, was part of old central Tokyo, but it was quite far away from the Juumonji family’s estate. Magic University, where Katsuto was enrolled, was in Nerima, which also wasn’t close. It was very difficult to imagine Masaki visiting First High because he just happened to be in the neighborhood.

Surely he wasn’t…transferring…?

“Who did you hear that from, Mizuki?”

“Me,” came the answer from behind Tatsuya. Instead of leaning in through the window, Erika had entered the classroom and come up behind him.

“Morning, Erika. So where did you spot Ichijou?” Tatsuya asked over his shoulder.

“I didn’t directly spot him, per se,” she replied, not even bothering with a disappointed expression as she gave up on startling Tatsuya. “Some girl saw the vice principal escorting him into the principal’s office. I asked around, and it seems like a bunch of people are saying the same thing, so I’m pretty sure it’s accurate.”

Erika had a much larger circle of acquaintances than Tatsuya. His face was more well-known around the school, but Erika knew far more students than he did. If this information was what Erika had concluded after running around asking her contacts about it, then Tatsuya was inclined to believe that Masaki was indeed here at First High—and that he’d been escorted to see the principal by the vice principal.

“The principal’s office, huh…”

Tatsuya was starting to think the unlikely scenario he’d just imagined might actually be true.

Like Tatsuya, Miyuki wasn’t in a position to appreciate the rumor.

“As I’m sure you all know, Ichijou is a student at Third High, but because of some family circumstances, he will be living in Tokyo for about a month.” It was vice principal Yaosaka, not the guidance counselor, who stood in front of Class 2-A with Masaki beside him.

It was surprising enough that Masaki was here at all, but the fact that the vice principal was introducing him personally was so shocking that none of actual content of the introduction was entering the students’ heads.

None of the students would dare try to whisper to one another in front of the vice principal, but the classroom practically hummed with excitement, which only increased at Yaosaka’s mention of “family circumstances.” There wasn’t a single student in Class 2-A who didn’t know what that meant. Family circumstances—in other words, Ichijou family circumstances. Every boy and girl in the class knew it had to have something to do with the terrorist attack a few days earlier.

But there was a difference of temperature between the gazes of the boys and those of the girls in the class.

One of the girls raised her hand. “Vice Principal, do you mean that Ichijou is transferring from Third High into this class?” she asked with a hopeful note in her voice.

This had already been explained, but Yaosaka patiently repeated himself. “He is not transferring. As you can see from his uniform, Ichijou will continue to be enrolled in Third High School. However, since it’s not practical for him to commute to Third High in Kanazawa from where he is currently staying in Tokyo, he will be allowed to use a terminal in this classroom to access the Magic University and magic high school network to continue his curriculum at Third High.”

Class 2-A had unfortunately lost a student the previous month. The unoccupied desk had remained open since then.

“He won’t be able to transfer credits from practicums or laboratories, but he’ll still be studying alongside all of you. I think this will be a good opportunity to learn and grow for both Ichijou and this class. I hope you’ll all get along in the spirit of friendly competition. Now then, Ichijou.”

At Yaosaka’s prompt, Masaki took a half step forward.

“I’m Masaki Ichijou from Third High School. I appreciate the kindness you’re all showing me by allowing me to study with you. It may not be a very long time, but I look forward to the coming month.”

A warm round of applause greeted Masaki as he bowed. Class 2-A had the experience of Lina joining them during her exchange, so they were more used to bombshells like this than the rest of First High—which was part of why Principal Momoyama had placed Masaki with them.

It certainly wasn’t the result of the proposal the Ichijou family had recently made to the Yotsuba family.

—And yet, Miyuki couldn’t help but be suspicious. Even as she clapped along with the rest of the class, she sighed in her heart.

During lunch, Masaki didn’t sit at the same table as Miyuki. He seemingly prioritized improving his relationship with the boys in the class and mingled with Morisaki’s group of friends.

“That’s unexpected,” murmured Erika as she looked on from a slight distance away. “I was so sure he’d stick to Miyuki like glue.”

“If he did that, both the guys and girls in the class would immediately hate him,” commented Mikihiko with a smirk.

“Lina was a girl, so it seemed totally natural that she would hang out with Miyuki, but Ichijou’s a guy, so it’s different,” agreed Honoka with a smile.

“Yeah, good point. If he went around chasing girls’ tails on his first day, it’d wreck his Prince Charming image, I guess.”

“Chasing tails? Erika, way to be blunt…” Mizuki chided.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Yeah, ‘tails’…”

“That’s no good? Butts, then.”

“Erika…”

“What kind of girl was Lina?” Shizuku asked Honoka, leaving Erika to her one-sided teasing of Mizuki.

“Oh, that’s right—you didn’t get a chance to talk to Lina much, did you, Shizuku?”

Lina had come to First High on the pretense of being an exchange student. The other half of the exchange had been Shizuku. Shizuku left the country just as Lina was arriving, so she hadn’t gotten to know the American girl at all.

“I heard she was blonde and superhot.”

“She totally was. Blonde hair and these vivid blue eyes. She was really pretty.”

“Prettier than Miyuki?”

“Huh? Of course not…” Honoka sputtered, glancing at Miyuki with a nervous smile. “But…they were different types, you know? Like Miyuki’s the ‘elegant beauty’ type.”

Shizuku looked briefly at the increasingly awkward Miyuki before nodding at Honoka to continue. As close friends, Shizuku and Honoka had similar behavioral patterns.

“But Lina was more like the ‘cute’ type, I think. She had a face like a porcelain doll, but her vibe was more casual…like, easy to approach, energetic, lively, and cheerful.”

“I think those last two are basically the same thing.”

“Ngh…! W-well, anyway, she was really American seeming.”

“Sounds like you’re prejudiced toward Americans…”

Honoka tried to bulldoze her way past Shizuku’s teasing. “And she was a really strong magician, too. She was even a good match against Miyuki!” she concluded.

“She was as good-looking as Miyuki? Whoa.” This seemed to catch Shizuku’s interest, and she abandoned her teasing.

“Well, she did some here as a representative of the USNA, in a way,” Tatsuya said, eliciting grins from Erika and Leo—although both of them were well aware that Lina’s true identity was a secret. They wouldn’t blab about it here where there was no telling who might overhear.

Shizuku, the only one who didn’t know Lina’s true identity, cocked her head in confusion at Erika’s meaningful smile.

“Her magic abilities aside, she was a fun girl. I’m sure you’d like her, too, Shizuku—she was plenty easy to tease.”

“It’s not like I’m the king of teasing or anything.”

“Tatsuya…I think you’re being a little rude to both Shizuku and Lina, honestly,” Miyuki rebuked.

In response to successive objections from Shizuku and Miyuki, Tatsuya smiled and apologized. “Sorry.”

“Anyway, I never dreamed that Ichijou would start studying at First High. Was there any explanation at all as to why he transferred here?” Mikihiko interjected, leaving the subject of Lina aside for the moment and posing the question the three students from Class 2-A had been wondering about all morning. He phrased the question politely since Miyuki was there.

“They said it wasn’t a transfer.”

“He’s going to be staying in Tokyo for a while, so they’re going to let him use a terminal at our school to continue his academic classes at Third High online. That’s why he’s still wearing his Third High uniform instead of a First High one.”

“Family circumstances? Like, the Ichijou family?” Mikihiko asked, after hearing Honoka’s explanation, furrowing his brow. “I figure these days they’ve got their hands full with the terrorist attack stuff, but…Tatsuya, do you know anything about this?”

Tatsuya neither lied nor exercised his right to remain silent. “You know the statement that was issued through the Magic Association, right?”

“Uh, the one that said they were gonna track down the terrorist mastermind? That one?”

“Ichijou is in Tokyo on that mission. Incidentally, Mayumi Saegusa and Katsuto Juumonji are also participating in the search. And so am I.”

On reason for the mission was to demonstrate to the world that the Ten Master Clans were not simply standing idly by. The media-directed statement through the Magic Association had been another part of that calculated response. Tatsuya understood this, so there was no reason for him not to explain the situation.

“Huh… Hey, Tatsuya.”

“What?”

“Uh…should I help, too?”

Mikihiko’s reaction came as a surprise to Tatsuya.

The Ten Master Clans were not searching for the terrorist Gu Jie to retaliate for the attack. It was the job of the police to track down a criminal responsible for abetting murder, injury, and use of explosives in the destruction of property—it would be a misplaced overstep of their authority for the civilian Ten Master Clans to undertake the search themselves.

The Ten Master Clans were aiding in the search as part of a campaign to sway public opinion. There would be little point in someone not from one of those families joining the effort.

“I think you’d be better off keeping an eye out for anti-magician groups,” said Tatsuya, trying to direct Mikihiko’s concern in a different direction. But it wasn’t a diversion—the matter in question was also of critical importance.

“Anti-magician groups?”

“You’re the one who told me about people who were verbally harassing and photographing students from this school, Mikihiko.”

“Oh, right—that.” It had been the substance of a report from the disciplinary committee the second Monday of the new semester. “I’m surprised you’d remember such a minor detail.”

“I was just thinking how surprised I was that you’d forgotten about it.”

Mikihiko blinked rapidly at the unexpected scolding from Tatsuya.

“It started happening even before the terrorist attack. Public opinion is turning against magicians, and we can no longer ignore the possibility that groups who don’t look favorably on magicians—like the humanists—will be increasingly aggressive or even violent toward students.”

Tatsuya’s decisive words spurred Mikihiko to action. For a moment, it seemed like he was just staring at his feet, but then he pulled out his portable terminal and seemed to check some data. “There still aren’t any reports of physical violence…but the number of harassment incidents occurring off campus has clearly been increasing.”

Mikihiko was looking at data the disciplinary committee had assembled from student reports.

“I’m sorry, Tatsuya. It looks like I really dropped the ball here. Until you pointed it out just now, I’d been totally focused on on-campus matters,” Mikihiko muttered, but there was reason to sympathize with his inattention. Ever since Gu Jie’s declaration the previous Wednesday, the student body had been anxious and irritable. The slightest nudge would cause quarrels, and there had even been a few scuffles that turned physical. It was an unstable situation, and Mikihiko, as the president of the disciplinary committee, had to prioritize school matters first and foremost.

“Would you pass that data along to the student council? The reports through last week are finished, so I’ll incorporate them and make a report,” said Tatsuya.

That said, given the anxieties the students were voicing, the faculty office would have to be informed. What Tatsuya meant by his statement was that, separately from the disciplinary committee, the student council would prepare its own report based on student consultations.

“Understood. I’ll do my best to make sure all the information makes its way to you.” Mikihiko nodded firmly.

“We’ll be counting on you, disciplinary committee president!” yelled Erika. She was half teasing, but Mikihiko could tell she was also genuinely trying to encourage him.

After the day’s classes ended, Tatsuya visited Class 2-A’s room.

Miyuki’s keen senses picked up on his approach, and she came out into the hall to meet him. “Tatsuya, did you come to pick me up?” she asked. It was relatively rare for Tatsuya to meet up with Miyuki on the way to the student council room rather than the other way around.

“Yes. I also had something I wanted to talk to Ichijou about.”

Miyuki looked slightly crestfallen. “Oh, Ichijou? I see. I’ll get him.”

She didn’t dwell on her disappointment, though, and turned around with a smile, heading back into her classroom.

That smile gave Tatsuya a sense of unease. It was new as of this year, and he’d seen it several times already. He first started noticing it ever since they’d returned from the New Year’s celebration.

There was an undesirable shift happening within Miyuki. Tatsuya’s gut told him that if he neglected the situation, there would be unpleasant consequences.

But at the moment, he didn’t have the luxury of digging into the matter.

Here and now, dealing with Masaki took priority.

“Thank you,” Masaki said politely to Miyuki before addressing Tatsuya. “What is it, Shiba?”

“Ichijou, do you hear about the meetings Juumonji is holding?” Tatsuya didn’t need to re-explain their mission; as fellow members of Ten Master Clans families, they were both perfectly aware of their orders to find the terrorist mastermind.

But having just arrived in Tokyo, Masaki hadn’t learned any more than that. “No, I hadn’t…” he said.

“It’s not really a formal meeting so much as it is Saegusa, Juumonji, and me all taking the opportunity to mutually share relevant information. Do you want to come?”

“Hmm.” Masaki stopped to consider Tatsuya’s invitation but not for more than about ten seconds. “As long as I wouldn’t be in the way, I think will, yes.”

Masaki was well aware of the need to exchange field intelligence and build consensus during the search. What he’d been worried about briefly was whether the presence of a Third High student would disrupt the mood in meeting made up of one First High student and two First High alumni. But he soon decided this was no time to be worrying about such minor details.

“All right. Today’s meeting is at 6:00 PM. Get out your terminal, and I’ll forward you the location.”

“Uh, okay,” Masaki said, slightly surprised, as he produced a portable terminal from his pocket. In a conversation like this, a Third High student would’ve just said, Okay, we’ll go together. He hadn’t felt particularly inclined to walk somewhere side by side with his romantic rival, but upon learning that they really would be traveling separately, he felt rather deflated.

He suddenly felt very keenly that this wasn’t Third High, and it sparked a bout of loneliness.

Tatsuya’s eye hadn’t missed the change in the other boy’s expression, but he had no interest in Masaki’s thoughts or feelings at the moment. “Did you get the data?” he asked in a businesslike tone.

“…There it is.”

“All right, I’ll see you at that location. Six PM.” Masaki nodded, and Tatsuya took his leave. “Shall we go, Miyuki?”

He’d be skipping student council duties in order to continue the search, but having come all the way to Class 2-A, he decided to at least escort his sister to the student council room.

“Yes!” Miyuki nodded to Tatsuya with a smile, then turned toward Masaki. “If you’ll excuse us, Ichijou.”

“Good luck with the student council work,” he replied with a gentle smile.

For a moment, he watched Miyuki and Tatsuya go as they headed to the student council room.

Tatsuya felt Masaki’s gaze linger on his back.

This time, he couldn’t ignore what Masaki was thinking and feeling.

At exactly 6:00 PM, Tatsuya entered the restaurant where Katsuto was waiting, and at 7:00 PM, he left.

Today, Katsuto, Mayumi, and Tatsuya all had no progress to report. Tatsuya had already shared information about the situation in Kamakura during the day—to the extent that he could talk about it, of course. Tonight’s meeting, then, was over once Masaki had been brought up to speed on the current state of the search. Once that was done, they quickly concluded.

Afterward, Katsuto, Mayumi, and Masaki decided to get something to eat, but Tatsuya demurred and went home. He’d been invited, but after he’d refused once, they didn’t press the matter. Katsuto and Mayumi both seemed to take notice of Tatsuya and Masaki’s adversarial relationship vis-à-vis Miyuki.

Inside the cabinet whisking him home, Tatsuya thought about his sister. Her forced smile when he’d stopped by her classroom had lingered in the corner of his mind.

It wasn’t like he’d only noticed it today. He’d seen her do it several times, ever since they’d returned from the main Yotsuba house after the New Year, and each time it had bothered him. But Miyuki seemed to not want him to notice, so Tatsuya had thus far not pressed the matter.

But seeing her like that today, it had started to feel untenable. It was increasingly obvious that she was forcing herself to keep up appearances for some reason. Tatsuya felt a need to at least talk to her about it before she crumpled under whatever burden she was carrying.

Even after he transferred from a cabinet to a commuter and got closer to home, Tatsuya continued to mull over the problem of how to delicately broach the subject.

Forcing the matter would be a bad move—hurting Miyuki in the process of asking her what was wrong would be totally counterproductive. That said, he doubted she would willingly open up to him. Leading questions were little better than using force. It wasn’t like interrogating a prisoner—getting her to talk wasn’t the real goal.

In the end, Tatsuya found himself standing in front of his house without a surefire plan. As he reached his hand out to open the gate, his movements were a mite slower than usual.

Normally, he would have opened the gate already and have been standing in front of the door when Miyuki opened it, but instead his hand was still on the gate’s handle when she came out to greet him.

“Welcome home, Tatsuya! —Oh, what’s the matter? Are you not feeling well?” she said, looking suddenly pale at the mere thought.

“No, I was just thinking about something. Anyway, glad to be home, Miyuki.”

Tatsuya scolded himself—what was the point of trying to figure out what to do if he was just going to make Miyuki worry more?

He hadn’t completely deflated, but nevertheless Tatsuya finished a late dinner with Miyuki without bringing the subject up.

He turned down her offer of after-dinner tea and took a bath, and upon feeling refreshed, he resolved again to talk to her.

Instead of retiring to his room, Tatsuya headed for the living room, where Miyuki was waiting for him in a lacy, classically shaped knee-length dress. She had removed the apron she’d been wearing previously.

“I’ll make some coffee for you, Tatsuya, so please feel free to have a seat,” Miyuki said, standing before Tatsuya could get a word out of his mouth.

She was so brisk, he wondered if she was being evasive.

Tatsuya got the feeling that she somehow had seen through what he was going to ask her, and she was already dreading the question.

But that also had to mean that Miyuki was aware that Tatsuya was feeling apprehensive. Unlike Tatsuya, however, who had only a vague unease that he didn’t understand, what Miyuki was carrying something within herself that she understood all too well.

Still, from Tatsuya’s perspective, he had no idea what was causing her such anguish and was still grappling with how to best phrase the question when Miyuki returned to the living room carrying a tray. “Here you are.”

Deep in thought, Tatsuya had lost track of time, and he couldn’t help but look up and glance at the clock.

Miyuki placed a saucer with a coffee cup on it on the table, peering at Tatsuya’s face with a concerned expression. “Um, Tatsuya…are you absolutely sure that you’re not overly tired? You’ve been rather distracted ever since you came home.”

Tatsuya wanted to scold himself for his thoughtlessness. He’d made Miyuki worry about him again. This is no time to be spacing out, mulling things over, he chided himself.

“Miyuki, could you have a seat?”

“Yes, but…?”

This was his chance. He didn’t relish it, but at least here, Miyuki couldn’t run away or evade the subject.

“The person I’m worried about is you, Miyuki.”

Up until last year, Miyuki would’ve been overjoyed to hear these words.

But now, her eyes flicked this way and that to avoid Tatsuya’s gaze.

No matter how Tatsuya tried, his sister would not look him in the eye. Regardless, he pushed onward.

“What are you so upset about?”

“I’m not upset…”

Miyuki’s reply was utterly unconvincing. As though aware of this, she turned her head away, not just averting her eyes.

“Please talk to me, Miyuki.”

In profile, she blinked rapidly. Her eyes flickered back and forth uncertainly.

If Tatsuya had stared at her for ten more seconds, she probably would have spilled her worries out without omitting a single thing. But capricious fate intervened to save her—or perhaps deviously stole her chance to unburden herself.

Miyuki stood suddenly at the sound of the visiphone’s ring. She could have taken the call at the table’s wireless console, but instead she hurried to the wall panel with such speed that her skirt fluttered behind her.

When she saw the caller name that was displayed there, she exclaimed, “Oh! It’s Aunt Maya!”

“Put her through,” Tatsuya said, already standing and moving to the camera’s field of view.

Miyuki pressed the ANSWER button on the panel.

Maya’s form appeared on the visiphone’s screen. “Good evening, Tatsuya. Have I caught you at a bad moment?”

It wasn’t as obvious as it would have been if she had been meeting them in person, but Maya’s gaze did land on the coffee cup on the table. “No, it’s fine. What can I do for you today?”

It was a fairly strained answer for Tatsuya, but Maya made no move to pounce on it. “Gu Jie got away from us last Saturday. We’ve figured out why, so I thought I’d let you know.”

Tatsuya immediately wondered why that was something the head of the Yotsuba family had to directly tell him, but:

“Apparently, our communications have been intercepted.”

“I was under the impression that Yotsuba family communications were thoroughly encrypted.”

“We use military-strength encryption that cycles hourly, but it appears it’s been broken.”

Just as Maya said, the Yotsuba family encryption keys changed every hour.

Every month, Tatsuya had to go to the Magic Association in person and receive a storage media from a courier containing sixty days’ worth of encryption keys (the extra thirty days being a safety margin for unforeseen circumstances). The encryption device that Ayako had given to Balance contained 43,200 keys, and the device itself had been hardened against theft and unauthorized access of that data to the full extent of what was currently possible technologically.

It was far-fetched to imagine that all this effort had been for naught.

But no matter how far-fetched a theory was, so long as it could not be thoroughly disproven, it had to be acknowledged and treated as if it was truth.

“Does that mean we should assume that this conversation is being intercepted as well?”

“Yes. From now on, leads pertaining to this case will be delivered by physical correspondence only.”

“Understood.”

Maya had used the word correspondence, but Tatsuya didn’t think that she was referring to mail delivered by the postal service.

There was another thing. Maya’s phone call this evening had to mean that a new lead had been uncovered today and that she planned to inform him about it tomorrow.

“I think that’s all I had to say. Although—I just remembered, Tatsuya, are things going well with Mr. Juumonji and the young lady from the Saegusa family? I believe the Ichijou scion was supposed to be getting involved today.”

Tatsuya wasn’t sure what she meant by this sudden question. “If you’re talking about the meetings, they’re proceeding apace,” he answered without giving the matter much thought.

“Is that so? Well, keep your wits about you. Don’t get too friendly with any of them.”

Tatsuya regarded Maya dubiously.

Seemingly amused by his expression, Maya laughed. “Oh, goodness, hadn’t you noticed? It wasn’t the Juumonji family who asked that Ms. Saegusa be included in the meetings, it was Mr. Saegusa. He’s hoping you and she will go on some dates; for him, the meetings are nothing more than a pretext.”

Tatsuya was instantly appalled that Maya would say this right in front of Miyuki, but he didn’t let that show. “So there’s an ulterior motive, then. I’ll be on my guard,” he said with a deliberately obvious frown.

“Yes, you do that. Good night, then—to you, too, Miyuki.”

“Thank you very much.” Tatsuya bowed.

“Good night, Aunt Maya.”

The call ended. Miyuki and Tatsuya stood there facing the dark display.

As Tatsuya had predicted, Miyuki was displeased.

But it was impossible to tell by only looking at her face.

Instead, a powerful feeling of discomfort assailed Tatsuya. At the same time, he got the feeling he knew what its true identity was:

Jealousy.

He took no pleasure in his sister’s jealousy. He had never once wanted her to pursue him aggressively or sulk over him, though he’d never found it bothersome or annoying.

There was no need for her to contain herself and her emotions around him, Tatsuya felt. But he also thought that her doing so now was proof that she was maturing, or at least trying to.

Some might venture that the depth of someone’s jealousy was equal to the depth of their love. But jealousy was not a virtue. Tatsuya’s intuition told him that Miyuki’s change was not a desirable one, but his common sense decided that it was a natural reaction for a young lady to have.

All that being said, Tatsuya found it impossible to plainly tell Miyuki that she could be every bit as jealous as her heart told her to be.

The next morning, February 12, saw a dusting of light snow.

Thanks to the heavy cloud cover, it was still very dark despite the approaching dawn.

Tatsuya rode down the hill at close to sixty kilometers per hour on his way home from Yakumo’s temple.

Given the darkness, it ought to have been difficult to make out the faces of anybody he happened to ride past. But you didn’t have to be Tatsuya to recognize her.

She was unmistakable, after all.

Tatsuya did not, strictly speaking, recognize her face—since she wore a newsboy cap on her head, large sunglasses over her eyes, and a muffler covering her mouth and chin.

Despite the steep angle of descent, Tatsuya came to a quick stop, halting directly in front of Yoshimi.

“Good morning, Miss Yoshimi.”

Yoshimi responded to Tatsuya’s greeting with a neat bow. She then produced an envelope from her coat pocket and thrust it at him.

She was Maya’s messenger.

“Package received,” Tatsuya said as he accepted the envelope, at which Yoshimi’s head bobbed down and up in a faint nod. He couldn’t even tell whether she was actually looking at him through her dark sunglasses.

After failing to ascertain her expression, Tatsuya again regarded Yoshimi. She struck him as odd. Her efforts to hide her face were so obvious that she was practically broadcasting Look, I’m a suspicious person.

It wasn’t so odd to be wearing a muffler over one’s face during the height of winter, and a newsboy cap was a plausible fashion choice. The combination of the two wasn’t even that odd. The problem really was the—

“Miss Yoshimi, I think your outfit is making you stand out. Maybe you should take off those sunglasses?” Tatsuya suggested, even though he knew the advice would almost certainly be unwelcome.

Wordlessly, Yoshimi shook her head back and forth twice.

Upon returning home and taking a shower, Tatsuya opened the envelope in the living room before eating breakfast.

“Breakfast is ready,” Miyuki called as she came from the dining room. She soon hit upon what the letter Tatsuya was reading had to be. “Oh, is that what Aunt Maya talked about last night…?”

“It is,” he replied, standing. Having finished it, he handed the letter to Miyuki.

Miyuki took the paper hesitantly, and as her eyes followed the writing on it, they widened. When she looked back up to Tatsuya, those same eyes were filled with dismay.

The letter suggested that the National Defense Force might have been involved in Gu Jie’s escape.

“No organization is totally free of corruption. The NDF is no exception. I’d like to believe that only one section is rotten, though,” Tatsuya stated, taking the letter back from Miyuki and slipping it back into its envelope. “That said, it might be time to stop dwelling on the mistakes of the past. Regardless of whether or not they wish to, if they’re actively hindering us, this is not the time for us to hold back.”

“Tatsuya…” Miyuki murmured, looking up at her brother with a worried expression.

Tatsuya smiled and stroked her hair, then headed toward the dining room to attend to breakfast.

Class 2-A’s first period was practical studies. Today’s subject was the definition of a magic program’s termination condition.

No magic continued forever. The effective duration was always limited. However, if the termination conditions of a magic program weren’t clearly defined, it could end up continuing without any clear indication of when its effects would end.

One magic program could not interfere with another. Unless a special technique like program demolition or dispersion were used, an active piece of magic could not be undone. All you could do was overwrite it.

Overwriting one kind of magic into another required event interference strength that exceeded the currently running magic—even if all you were trying to do was restore something that had been altered by magic to its previous state. Thus, the ability to define termination conditions for a program factored heavily into the overall skill of a magician.

Magic program termination definitions fell into two broad categories. One was to define the active duration at the time of casting. This method’s effectiveness had recently gained a great deal of traction thanks to developments in Taurus Silver’s flight magic.

The other was to define the outcome condition of the magic program, which would instruct the program to continue until some specified change or state was reached, at which point the program would end. This method tended to be used more often in practice.

The subject of the day’s practice was specifying a program’s termination condition using duration as the variable. The practice itself consisted of changing the color of a white plastic ball to red, green, and blue in turn, completing ten sets within thirty seconds. The duration and repetition count varied depending on the specific practice routine, but the average of one change per second was always the same.

If the timing wasn’t specified precisely, the program would either take too long or go too fast. It was also not uncommon to see cases where, as the required interference strength rose with the need to activate one program before the previous one finished, students would be unable to complete the specified number of repetitions. There wasn’t any particular requirement to keep the activation time to an average of one second, but getting to the end and having to make adjustments was considerably more difficult if you didn’t.

Since today was simply a practice day, not an evaluation day, students were paired up to take turns drilling together, with the non-caster acting as timekeeper. The last time they’d trained like this, the practice room had been filled with pairs of students, one busy with the sequential casting while the other stared at an analog stopwatch summoned on their portable terminal in order to keep careful track of time.

The problem that had come up last time was that there was an odd number of students in Class 2-A. Rather than sticking three people in one of the groups, a certain student had been asked to tackle the exercise solo. And that student had been Miyuki.

The fact was that every student, boy or girl, had raised their hand in offering to be paired up with Miyuki. However, none of them had approached her before they’d paired up with somebody else—all these classmates suddenly volunteering to pair up with her already had partners. Thus, Miyuki had been left as the remainder.

Yesterday had been a classroom study and laboratory day, so the pair problem hadn’t come up, but today, like the previous week, ought to have seen Class 2-A in the same awkward situation. Except today, Masaki had transferred in.

After receiving an explanation of the day’s activities, Masaki immediately walked up to Miyuki. “Would you mind pairing up with me, Shiba?” he asked, counting himself fortunate that nobody else had asked her yet.

A murmur ran through the practice room. Muttered regrets and imprecations spilled from the lips of the class’s boys in particular. But it was too late for that.

“Yes, with pleasure. Thank you very much, Ichijou.”

Miyuki herself must have been quite tired of practicing alone—the smile she met Masaki’s request with was brighter than it had to be.

Upon hearing the explanation of the drill, Masaki had thought, Oh, that’s easy, although he avoided saying it out loud.

The junior students at Third High were currently practicing how to direct magic toward a target placed on the other side of a wall. It went without saying that this was training for learning how to hit opponents with magic attacks even when they were hidden behind cover.

Compared with the practical combat-oriented training at Third High, this drill seemed like little more than a cheap trick.

As he watched Miyuki do the drill first, that impression only deepened. She changed the ball’s color exactly once per second, completing three sets of ten in thirty seconds without so much as a tenth of a second’s discrepancy. Masaki found the brilliance of the color she changed the balls to even more impressive than the accuracy of her sense of timing, because it showed how strong her interference ability was.

“Thirty seconds on the dot. I’d expect no less, Shiba,”

“Thank you. Now, whenever you’re ready, Ichijou.”

Masaki had praised her out of politeness, but at the lovely girl’s encouragement, he found himself surprisingly motivated. All notion of sandbagging left his mind, and he concentrated on the magic as though it were a combat drill.

“How would you like me to count? Shall I let you know every time ten seconds passes?” asked Miyuki

Masaki was about to reply that there was no need, but he thought better of it. “How about you count down the final ten seconds, then?” The idea of Miyuki counting down for him was strangely appealing.

“Understood,” she stated.

The sound of her bright voice almost made Masaki smile in spite of himself. He hastily assumed a stern face. “On your signal,” he said.

He concentrated his willpower anew on the magic. His spirit prepared for battle.

“All right, three, two, one, begin!”

As he set the completion time in his mental clock, Masaki began casting.

Red… Green… Blue.

Red… Green… Blue.

His colors were no less vivid than Miyuki’s

Masaki felt a certain satisfaction at this evidence that he was just as strong as her.

Red… Green… Blue.

Red… Green… —Blue.

His rhythm started to falter, perhaps owing to the intrusion of idle thoughts.

Red—Green… Blue.

His sense of timing was functioning normally.

Red… Green—Blue.

But the sequence had unmistakably ended up shortened.

Red… —Green… —Blue.

Masaki compensated by introducing a termination condition longer than one second.

Red… Green… Blue.

Then he returned the interval to normal. He decided to use the final ten-second countdown to make any further adjustments.

Miyuki began her countdown. “Ten, nine, eight…”

His drift was now under a second.

Masaki decided to use the very last casting to sync back up with the allotted time.

“Three, two…”

Red, green…

“One.”

“Blue.”

The plastic ball’s color returned to white.

“Done.” Just a moment later, Miyuki announced the exercise was over. “Your extra time was 0.7 seconds. With that score, it’s very hard to believe this was your first try, Ichijou,” she said, smiling at him.

Masaki returned her smile, managing to hold back a grimace.

The pass-fail line for this drill was a drift of no more than one second, without the aid of an external count. While he’d managed the time portion well enough, that had come with Miyuki’s countdown. When he thought about how Miyuki had hit the time perfectly without his help, it was impossible for him to be happy about his own result.

“Thirty seconds on the nose. Nailed it, Honoka.”

Honoka giggled. “This kind of thing is my specialty.”

The voice Masaki heard from somewhere nearby only made him feel worse.

After using the practice session’s entire hour, Masaki finally crossed the pass-fail line.

Morning classes had ended.

It had taken Masaki all of second period to recover from the surprisingly arduous battle that he’d weathered through first period. A female student addressed him from his side.

“Hi, Ichijou.”

Masaki turned in the direction of the voice. He had the excellent memory that was typical of magicians, so the name Honoka came to his mind with very little effort.

“Um, you’re Mitsui, right?”

He knew her name not from the introductions the previous day, nor because he’d asked around about her, but rather because her name had lingered in his memory as the winner of the Mirage Bat event at the Nine School Competition.

“Yes, Honoka Mitsui,” Honoka said, nodding with a content smile. This wasn’t because she had a crush on him—it was simply because remembering names made interpersonal relationships go that much more smoothly. It was an obvious reaction to have.

Masaki filed Honoka’s smile under the category of politeness—which was why her next statement took him by surprise.

“So, Ichijou, would you like to go to the dining hall with us?”

“Who, me?”

“That’s right. With us.” Honoka looked back over her shoulder. Behind her stood Shizuku and Miyuki.

When Shizuku met Masaki’s eyes, she nodded, her expression unchanging. No—the ambiguous gesture might have been a bow.

Miyuki flashed an impenetrable smile; it was impossible to tell what she was thinking. He had no idea whether he was actually being welcomed or whether his presence would be bothersome.

“…You really won’t mind if I accompany you?” Masaki asked, suddenly polite despite himself.

Miyuki correctly noticed that Masaki was primarily addressing her, and her expression softened, albeit somewhat ruefully. Her polite smile became a genuine one. “Yes, by all means,” she answered.

“In that case—I’d be happy to!” Masaki rose to his feet energetically.

When they all arrived in the dining hall a bit late, it was Erika who raised her voice. “Huh?”

She had been the one who’d acted surprised at Masaki’s actions the previous day, saying I was sure he’d just stick to Miyuki. But now that he was doing what she’d expected he would do all along, she seemed to find it puzzling.

The reaction wasn’t limited to Erika, either—Leo and Mikihiko also regarded Masaki dubiously.

“Er, Tatsuya, is it all right if Ichijou sits with us?” Miyuki asked.

“Of course.” Tatsuya shrugged, unconcerned.

If anything, it was Masaki who was the most flustered.

As he stood here unmoving, Tatsuya spoke to him in a brusque—although not unfamiliar—tone. “You know how to order, right, Ichijou? The dining hall and purchase system here should work the same way you’re used to.”

“Er, yeah. No problem.”

“Let’s go, Ichijou,” Miyuki said, and at her invitation, they headed toward the ordering console. Honoka and Shizuku watched them go.

Miyuki returned with her lunch and sat next to Tatsuya.

Masaki sat directly across from her.

Honoka sat next to Masaki, across from Tatsuya.

That was where Erika normally sat, so she moved to sit next to Miyuki. After she deliberately made her way around to the other side of the table, she looked at Masaki, who sat diagonally across from her, and suddenly addressed him.

“So, Ichijou, how’s the investigation going?”

Ichijou almost choked on the soup he’d just started drinking. He’d met Erika before, in Kyoto, so it wasn’t her overfamiliar attitude that surprised him. Rather, it was her broaching his mission—which fell in a legal gray area—out in the open here, where there was no telling who might overhear.

To Masaki’s surprise, as he was struggling to come up with a response, it was Tatsuya who came to his rescue. “Erika, he just arrived in Tokyo. No matter how outstandingly talented a magician he is, he’s not going to come to the table with hard results after a single day.”

“Yeah, I guess not.”

“That’s right, Erika. You shouldn’t put people on the spot like that,” chided Miyuki, then turned to Masaki and bowed. “I’m sorry about that, Ichijou.”

“Ah, er, no, you don’t need to apologize…”

Miyuki gave the now deeply flustered Masaki an open, genuine smile. She seemed to find his innocent honesty rather refreshing. “In any case, Ichijou, I must say I’m rather envious of you.”

“Huh? Um, why?” Masaki’s composure eroded more and more under Miyuki’s bright smile.

“My brother just called you an ‘outstandingly talented magician.’ He’s surprisingly hard to impress, you know.” There was something aggressive in Miyuki’s eyes as she smiled. No—not so much aggressive as jealous.

Her comment was clearly meant as a joke, but it made the last vestiges of Masaki’s composure crumble, and he was no longer able to think of anything. His misgivings about the way Miyuki talked about her brother, too, went flying off into oblivion.

Tatsuya spoke up. “That’s not true,” he said. Whether he said it to pull Miyuki’s gaze away from Masaki or to scold her for teasing him so obviously, in any case it was clear that he was trying to throw him a rope.

But his attempt was cut off by Honoka. “So, Tatsuya, you really do think Ichijou is just that good, don’t you?” she said, as though covering for Miyuki. “That makes it like a manly rivalry kinda thing, right?”

Tatsuya couldn’t just defer to Miyuki when Honoka addressed him so directly. No sooner had he looked to Miyuki next to him than he returned his gaze to the person sitting opposite him. “You say ‘rivals,’ but Ichijou’s magic strength is far above mine.”

“But aren’t the drills we did today the kind of thing you specialize in?”

Tatsuya acknowledged Honoka’s statement without excessive modesty. “I suppose, but only because the exercise is more about accuracy than speed or strength.”

Masaki wasn’t particularly relieved to hear this, but then Mizuki interjected. “Tatsuya perfectly nailed the one-second pace right from the start,” she said proudly, almost as though she were boasting about herself.

“Is that true?! Tatsuya, that’s amazing!”

Masaki glumly took the damage that hearing Mizuki and Honoka’s chatter inflicted. Sitting across from him, Miyuki attempted to comfort him instead of leaving him to fend for himself. “I mean, I can usually finish more or less on time, but I always drift a little slow or fast in the middle.”

But Honoka was sitting next to Masaki, which put her closer to him that Miyuki was. She didn’t even glance in his direction. “So, Tatsuya, do you have any tips for the rest of us?” she asked, taking advantage of Miyuki being occupied with Masaki and attempting to draw his attention to her.

From Honoka’s perspective, it was all proceeding just as she’d planned.

Honoka had been the one who’d invited Masaki to their table. She’d pushed Masaki at Miyuki and was using the opening to get closer to Tatsuya.

It would have been all too unfair to Honoka to call this sinister.

“The rules of fair play do not apply in love and war”—the famous saying appeared in a tragicomedy written by a seventeenth-century English playwright. Of course, in the modern era, there were multinational agreements that outlawed certain methods of warfare, so these words weren’t quite unconditionally true.

Likewise, it couldn’t really be claimed that anything was allowed in romance. For example, coercive methods like breaking up with one’s lover and saying I’m pregnant with your child would be criticized as a fraudulent, morally unacceptable act.

But Honoka’s actions were nothing so deceptive and were well within bounds for anyone pursuing a romantic interest. It probably wasn’t the kind of thing you’d normally do to your friend, but that was just proof of how serious Honoka’s feelings really were.

Tatsuya left Miyuki at school and returned home, then climbed on his trusty motorcycle and headed to Tsuchiura. His destination, it went without saying, was the base of the National Defense Force 101^st Brigade, the headquarters of the Independent Magic Battalion.

Tatsuya was casually dressed in pleather and a generously cut jacket, but at the base’s gate, his ID card spoke louder than his outfit. All he had to do was remove his helmet and he was let into the base without incident.

He parked his bike in front of battalion headquarters and looked up at the building, which had three floors aboveground and three floors below. It was a heavy gaze, weighed down by the negotiation he was about to undertake.

Nevertheless, the issue could not be left unaddressed. The Ten Master Clans’ pursuit of Gu Jie, the mastermind of the Hakone terrorist attack, was in part a public-facing pose meant to assuage rising anti-magician sentiment.

Having seen Gu Jie’s methods in person, Tatsuya was resolved to deal with this ancient magician from the continent as quickly as possible. Not because Maya had ordered him to but on his own conviction.

Gu’s use of humans as literal tools was in direct opposition to Tatsuya’s desire to offer magicians a life outside of being living weapons for the military.

They were mortal enemies. For Tatsuya to bring about the future he envisioned, he could not allow the man to live.

Gu had to die. To accomplish this, it would be impossible to avoid killing some of the people he’d made into his tools.

Tatsuya shook his head lightly and composed himself, then entered the building and registered his arrival—although he’d already called ahead to confirm Kazama’s availability. He would’ve preferred to avoid such a thing, but he knew he couldn’t very well show up unannounced.

Five minutes remained until the agreed-upon time, but Tatsuya was waved in anyway. He didn’t pass anyone on the way to the commander’s office; they seemed to be as understaffed as ever.

“Specialist Ooguro here, sir,” said Tatsuya as he faced the office and knocked at the door. The person inside wasn’t actually hearing his voice through the door; instead, there was a microphone in the door that filtered incoming voices before relaying them to the interior.

“Come.” This voice, too, was reproduced by a speaker in the door. Advancements in technology had allowed things like this to be largely invisible to their users.

After hearing the locks disengage, Tatsuya opened the door.

Kazama sat behind a desk; today he was alone. A touchscreen terminal occupied much of the desk’s surface. Apparently, he’d had been reviewing plans and reports until Tatsuya’s arrival. Undoubtedly, his promotion had resulted in an increase in approval duties.

Tatsuya approached the desk and saluted.

Kazama stood and returned the salute but then immediately sat back down. Tatsuya continued to stand since he hadn’t been invited to take a seat.

“At ease, Specialist. So what’re you in such a rush about today?” Kazama wasn’t angry. His voice was pleasant as he asked the question.

“Given the risk of having our communication intercepted, I thought I should come speak with you personally.”

“Huh… Are you saying there’s a chance the battalion’s encryption has been compromised?”

Tatsuya played one of his opening cards. “Affirmative, sir. I’ve been warned that there’s a high probability that the Yotsuba family’s encryption has been broken.”

Kazama’s eyebrows rose fractionally. “I would imagine that our encryption is stronger than the Yotsuba’s.”

“I believe so as well, sir. But I decided caution was warranted.”

Tatsuya didn’t explain why, but Kazama did not demand elaboration. “…I see. Well, Specialist, let’s hear what you’ve got to say.”

“There is a possibility that the special forces training camp at Zama base has been compromised by hostile foreign agents.”

Special forces was a euphemism for the soldiers at said special forces training camp who’d been subjected to enhancement that included procedures to strengthen their magic ability. It was called a training camp, but in reality, it was one of the military’s facilities for the confinement of the subjects of human experimentation. When it came to subjects like this, the military had a large vocabulary of terms it used to justify their imprisonment.

That information alone, if leaked, would be enough to force the minister of defense to resign, but there was something even more problematic about the special forces training facility at Zama: It was the site of joint research with the USNA.

While it had occurred during the high international tensions that led up to the Global War Outbreak, the fact that Japanese citizens had been provided as test subjects for foreign experimentation was a shameful betrayal of the highest order.

This was the terrible legacy the military inherited from before the war, and it was one that could never be allowed to come to light. And Tatsuya was saying that this facility, which ought to have been managed with the utmost diligence, had been at least partially compromised by hostile foreign elements.

“…What happened?” asked Kazama. He didn’t say What? or Are you serious? nor did he ask Tatsuya what his basis for the statement was.

What he wanted to know was what Tatsuya had encountered that led to this revelation.

“Early this past Saturday, while in pursuit of the culprit behind the Hakone attack, I engaged magicians who specialized in combustion magic. They were enhanced soldiers who were supposed to be stationed at Zama.”

The special forces training facility at Zama base housed enhanced magicians whose psychic-like combustion and explosion abilities made them particularly useful for combat. Yoshimi’s analysis of the three magicians who’d been turned into Generators that Tatsuya had dispatched at Kamakura early Saturday morning revealed that they were from the Zama training facility.

“Are you telling me that the terrorists’ reach extends to Zama base?”

“Affirmative, sir.”

Kazama murmured ominously as he folded his arms and scowled. It had been a bad enough scandal when Gongjin Zhou had hidden away at the Uji base, but the geopolitical significance of Zama made this situation even more serious.

This was a stone’s throw from Tokyo, the nation’s capital. It involved a facility that existed solely to keep the truth about human experimentation from the world, a comfortable cage for combatants whose destructive ability rivaled heavy weaponry.

The escape of experimental subjects alone would have already constituted a major problem. If the fact that those subjects had become pawns of an anti-Japanese terrorist was to become public, the buck would not stop with the National Defense Force.

“Who knows about this?” Kazama asked, his eyes closed.

“This has all been kept within the Yotsuba family.”

In other words, the information hadn’t leaked to the rest of the Ten Master Clans. Tatsuya thought he saw Kazama’s expression soften slightly. But his brows were still deeply furrowed and his arms still folded. “Do you plan to strike Zama base, Specialist?”

“No, Colonel.” Tatsuya’s tone shifted subtly. “I don’t believe that Gu Jie is hiding at Zama base the way Gongjin Zhou took refuge at Uji base.”

“So our puppet master’s name is Gu Jie, eh?” muttered Kazama, as though trying to burn the name into his memory, then uncrossed his arms and looked up at Tatsuya. “But you said experimental subjects from Zama base ended up as this Gu person’s pawns?”

“There is no doubt about it. However, the fact that he used magicians from the special forces training facility as Generators doesn’t mean that we can immediately conclude that he’s infiltrated the base.”

“Meaning you suspect that Gu had a collaborator inside the base who let them out, then?”

“Affirmative, sir.”

“Hmm… I suppose that is more plausible than an unknown foreigner being allowed to enter the base. But how?”

“I expect he turned one of the base staff into a puppet. He probably has techniques that can rob someone of their free will without resorting to the drastic move of turning them into a Generator.”

Kazama placed his elbows on his desk and folded his hands together, sinking wordlessly into thought. “…Do we know the identities of the subjects who were turned into Generators?”

“Here, sir.”

Tatsuya offered Kazama an unsealed envelope. From within it, Kazama produced three folded sheets of paper, on each of which was printed the photograph and physical attributes of one of the Generators.

“Once we inform Zama base of this, they’ll probably identify the puppet within a day or two. But, Specialist, I get the sense that you’re not here to ask me for cooperation with your investigation.”

Still sitting, Kazama looked Tatsuya in the eye. It wasn’t overstatement to call the piercing gaze a glare.

Tatsuya played his second card.

“The truth is that we already know where Gu Jie is hiding. But it happens to be just next door to Zama base.”

“…So you’re worried about combat erupting on the base when you go after him?”

Tatsuya answered Kazama’s low, heavy question quickly and affirmatively. “There’s a significant chance of that. The enhanced soldiers kept there, including the ones at the special forces training facility, undoubtedly harbor considerable hostility toward the Ten Master Clans, so if any of them were incited to attack, they would enter the confrontation with the resolve to be killed.”

Kazama could not refute Tatsuya’s prediction. The facility had been built with the express purpose of confining the subjects of forced experimentation. Given the circumstances, they would not let their charges go easily. But there were in fact escape incidents every year, and the Ten Master Clans assisted with the cleanup that inevitably followed.

It sounded inhumane, but from the military’s perspective, disposal of escapees was both cheaper and safer than continuing to detain them. For as long as the experimental subjects lived, considerable effort had to be expended to keep them a secret. Likewise, if they died, they left no evidence behind. With the power of the state available, it wasn’t difficult to bury the truth. At the very least, it didn’t incur the cost of allowing them to continue to live.

If clandestine combat broke out near Zama base and the base command learned that the Yotsuba family was involved, it was entirely possible that the facility overseers would deliberately release the experimental subjects in order to foist the task of their disposal off on the Yotsubas.

“You’ll need the general’s assistance if you want a guarantee to not interfere from Zama base.”

“In that case, there won’t be time. Gu Jie will escape.”

“…You really want to settle this, Specialist?”

“I plan to do everything I possibly can to avoid combat with our military. But if inadvertent combat is unavoidable, I will erase all traces of evidence.”

Tatsuya was saying that he would use the classified Mist Dispersion technique against friendly forces.

“It’ll be unavoidable.” Kazama’s smile was bitter, but there was no hesitation in his voice as he authorized use of Mist Dispersion.

Tatsuya took care of various errands on his way from Tsuchiura base to the Zama base area, and by the time he arrived at his destination, it was 8:00 PM.

He had told neither Katsuto nor Mayumi that he was coming here, and obviously not Masaki. He’d settled on only Yotsuba family personnel to accompany him.

The other members of the operation seemed to have already arrived. Tatsuya left his bike in the park’s parking lot and approached an unmarked van that was waiting in the same lot.

Once he was close enough that he could address them in a relatively quiet voice, Tatsuya greeted his second cousins next to the van, who, like him, were keeping a low profile. “Fumiya, Ayako, I’m glad you could make it on a weekend.”

“Tatsuya!” Fumiya, like Tatsuya, kept his voice low, but he couldn’t hide the shock in it. “I didn’t notice you at all. You’re getting better and better at staying stealthy.”

“Good evening, Tatsuya. I understand that it’s unavoidable given the circumstances, but I don’t appreciate having things sprung on me, so in the future please be more careful,” quipped Ayako nastily, in sharp contrast to Fumiya’s delighted compliment. Ever since the announcement of Miyuki and Tatsuya’s engagement, her attitude toward Tatsuya had changed slightly.

She was less reserved when she interacted with him now, and if anything, the distance between them felt smaller than ever. But that was the proof that Ayako was doing her best to accept reality.

“You nearly made poor Yoshimi pass out from shock.”

Next to Ayako was Yoshimi, wearing her usual identity-obscuring outfit. She shook her head rapidly.

“You don’t have to put on a brave face, Yoshimi. For such a sensible person, Tatsuya is obliviousness incarnate, so you’re honestly doing him a favor to tell him these things.” Ayako’s barbed comment here was less due to her being less reserved around Tatsuya and more that she was letting her guard down to Yoshimi.

“It’s fine. This isn’t enough to bother me.”

“Huh…? I don’t know—you seemed pretty alarmed.”

“No, I wasn’t. I’m an adult.” Yoshimi was more talkative with Ayako, maybe because she didn’t feel a need to be as cautious with her cousins.

Tatsuya was Yoshimi and Ayako’s second cousin on their fathers’ side.

Yoshimi was Ayako’s mother’s older brother’s daughter. In other words, a maternal cousin.

Her full name was Yoshimi Shinonome. She was twenty-one years old, but she wasn’t attending college. For high school, in order to keep her time free, she had studied via correspondence instead of attending magic high school in person, and even then, her investigation duties took priority.

In that sense, she ought to have been considered Ayako’s senior and an older sister figure, but between the two of them, Ayako seemed to hold the reins. This wasn’t because she was the eldest daughter of the Kuroba family but rather a simple matter of personalities. Or at least that’s what Tatsuya thought, looking at them from the outside.

“Tatsuya, would you change clothes in the van?” Fumiya asked, ignoring his sister and cousin clowning around. They’d brought close-quarters combat gear in the van.

Meanwhile, Fumiya was wearing his usual combat disguise. His makeup was heavier than before—maybe he was leaning into the sexiness of it.

“I’ll do that,” said Tatsuya, and without commenting on Fumiya’s pretty-girl costume, he climbed into the van.

The combat suit the Yotsuba family had provided looked quite similar to what Tatsuya had arrived wearing, with the obvious difference being that the liner of the jacket was a full jumpsuit. But in terms of its performance, it approached the level of the Independent Magic Battalion’s MOVAL suits.

Today Tatsuya was armed not with the gun-style Silverhorn but rather Silver Torus, a set of thought-actuated bracelets. Concealed under his jacket he carried a sidearm and combat knife rather than a CAD. If they were caught by the police, they wouldn’t get off with a simple questioning. This was another reason why they were taking the trouble to change clothes here.

Tatsuya flipped up the face guard of his gas mask–equipped helmet and addressed Fumiya, who was gazing at the dashing figure Tatsuya now cut, and Ayako, whose minidress was densely dotted with decorative buttons (each of which was either a flash-bang or a gas capsule). “Let’s go.”

Fumiya, who was already looking at Tatsuya, quickly nodded.

At some point, Ayako had started an argument with Yoshimi over which of them was dressed the least appropriately for the mission, but she then turned to Tatsuya and bowed faintly.

Tatsuya began walking.

Behind him followed Fumiya and Ayako—and a number of black-suited agents.

Suddenly surrounded herself by several shadowy figures, Yoshimi watched the three of them go.

“Looks like security’s extremely tight,” said Ayako in a worried tone as she looked through a pair of sensor-equipped binoculars that were sensitive to electromagnetic radiation down to the infrared level.

Tatsuya, Ayako, and Fumiya were observing their target building from within an invisibility field Ayako had set up. This was Gu Jie’s new safe house, the location of which Yoshimi had read from the corpse of one of the dead Generators. Superficially, it appeared to be a three-story private hospital, but in reality it was a secret research facility that performed illegal procedures at the military’s behest. They’d expected a tight perimeter.

“It won’t be too difficult to infiltrate the building, but with this level of security, I can’t imagine they haven’t prepared for that possibility,” Ayako murmured.

“You’re thinking this is an ambush, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Tatsuya confirmed the security situation with his own magical vision. Given its use as a facility that performed procedures for the military, it had to be fully prepared for mental intrusion.

The hospital’s owner had probably already had his mind rewritten. He might already be dead.

Surely, Tatsuya wasn’t the only one who had come to that deduction, and with all that in mind, he continued examining the interior and exterior of the building.

The security equipment in place was undoubtedly high-grade, but it wasn’t anything beyond what was commercially available. It wasn’t quite as sophisticated as the sensor net deployed for the Cross-Country Steeplechase course during the Nine School Competition, for instance.

He could sense nine people within the building.

There were five humans with normal structural information. He surmised that those were the on-duty doctors and nurses.

There was one person whose cranial region’s structural information was corrupted by noise. That was probably the puppeted hospital chief.

There were two people with structural information distorted in a way he recognized. Definitely Generators.

And then one person with very strange structural information: It was much closer to what a baseline human would have than the Generators, but the age data was decidedly weird.

People who looked physically younger than they actually were still had a singular source of age data, which would record their actual age. Meanwhile, the factors that made someone look physically younger or older were recorded as health data.

But in the eidos Tatsuya was currently observing, there were two separate instances of the data that showed physical age.

I feel like I’ve seen something like this before…but where and when? Tatsuya dug through the troves of data in his mind to produce the memory. That’s right… It was Gongjin Zhou.

He’d had to concentrate to discern the location information that the Qimen Dunjia technique had falsified, so he hadn’t noticed the abnormal structural information at the time. But he’d never forgotten the strange unease he’d felt then.

“Found him. That’s probably Gu Jie himself,” Tatsuya whispered to Fumiya and Ayako.

They immediately tensed.

“Let’s get a move on.”

The three pushed toward the front of the hospital. Thanks to the obfuscation magic provided by the supporting agents, they encountered no one along their route. When the military’s intervention materialized, they might be seen, but they probably wouldn’t be spotted by residents of the neighborhood, at least.

“Tatsuya.”

He nodded at Ayako’s voice, then pressed a button on a transmitter he held.

The lights illuminating the hospital gate went dark. Another group of operatives had cut the power lines leading to the building. Underground cables could naturally be cut without excavation if magic was an option.

Of course, even a private hospital was still a hospital. The assumption was that it would have backup generators on-site.

After confirming the security systems had been cut, Tatsuya gave Ayako a hand signal.

Ayako’s Pseudo-Teleportation magic jumped all three of them to the hospital roof.

The lights still hadn’t come back on.

“Let’s move just like we planned.”

Per the plan, Ayako would secure their exfiltration here. Fumiya would guard her.

Tatsuya would proceed alone to secure Gu Jie.

Fumiya and Ayako had both strongly objected to this plan of action, but neither of them were so foolish as to dispute it now, while it was being carried out.

“Take care of yourself,” said the cousins, who together looked like a beautiful set of sisters.

The lights came back on almost exactly as Tatsuya entered the building from the roof.

He remained calm. The timing of the power’s restoration more or less matched what they had estimated during planning, and it didn’t even really qualify as a close shave.

However, he couldn’t afford to waste time, either. Possibly alerted to their movements because of the power outage, the eidos Tatsuya identified as Gu Jie had moved from a hospital room on the third floor and was heading down an emergency staircase.

It was convenient that he’d left a room and entered the stairs—this lowered the risk of the on-duty staff getting involved.

Tatsuya sprinted toward the emergency exit, coming to a sudden stop just before the last room of the hallway.

A hail of bullets came through the door, peppering the opposite wall.

Tatsuya shifted his vision from the emergency staircase to the room he was next to, focusing on the ambushers’ guns.

He dismantled the weapons and rendered a combustion magic program inert using Program Dispersion.

Another Generator approaching him from behind brandished a gun, which Tatsuya disassembled into parts.

The room door slammed open, and the enhanced magician-turned-Generator charged at him.

The magician who’d provided the material for this Generator had more than just his magic strength enhanced at the military research facility. He drew a knife and slashed at Tatsuya with speed and strength far beyond that of an ordinary human.

But not only were Tatsuya’s magic skills a product of old Lab Four, he’d also undergone intensive training as a close-quarters combat magician. If anything, his training had emphasized physical proficiency over magical strength, and he’d been thoroughly drilled in the specifics of controlling the movement of opponents using something much more primitive than psions—brute strength.

He hadn’t been biochemically enhanced, but by reinforcing the structural information of his own body, Tatsuya had made it virtually impossible to be injured even when bearing loads that exceeded the theoretical limit of his spinal column.

Facing Tatsuya, the Generator loosed combustion magic at him. The fact that he didn’t use a CAD was proof that he’d been forcibly reverted into a psychic.

Again, Tatsuya nullified the magic using Program Dispersion. Simultaneously, he drew his own knife from within his jacket and intercepted the Generator’s blade.

They clashed for an instant.

Tatsuya relaxed in an attempt to parry his opponent’s knife just as the Generator pulled back.

Tatsuya’s attempt to collapse his opponent’s stance ended without success. But in exchange, he’d opened up enough space between them to put himself out of knife range.

Tatsuya turned his back on the attacker in front of him.

As though looking over his shoulder, he threw his knife at the Generator approaching from behind.

Taken off guard, the other attacker stopped and swatted the knife aside with his own blade.

For an instant, his eyes flicked away from Tatsuya.

By the time his gaze returned to Tatsuya—

—he was staring down the barrel of Tatsuya’s gun.

Fitted with a suppressor, the sidearm’s report was muted.

The Generator had been expecting Tatsuya to use magic, but instead he’d taken a bullet at close range.

The low-velocity, high-caliber bullet slammed into the Generator—who was about Tatsuya’s size and build. He fell backward, but there was no blood visible, which was proof that he was wearing considerable body armor.

Tatsuya turned around again.

He caught a horizontal knife slash coming at him from the left by grabbing his assailant by the wrist. His magic-calculation region quickly dismantled the Ignition and Combustion programs the Generator was about to unleash.

The Generator’s casting speed was more than a match for a psychic. In sacrificing flexibility, his enhancements let him regain such speed at warping phenomena that he could activate it with a mere word. And after having been made into a Generator, the mental resources that had formerly been used for self-awareness were overwritten and redirected, accelerating those abilities further.

But even then, Tatsuya’s dismantling was faster. As fast as the Generator’s ability could execute magic, Tatsuya could dismantle that magic faster.

Tatsuya twisted the right arm of the knife-wielding Generator, collapsing his body. Then he fired his gun.

Even without the ability to feel pain, the degradation of the Generator’s physical condition became noise that interfered with his ability to activate magic.

The other Generator that Tatsuya had knocked down had gotten back onto his feet, but his casting speed was still considerably impaired.

Having cleared away all his enemy’s magic, Tatsuya’s magic-calculation region was now free to conduct a counterattack.

He activated Partial Dismantle.

Holes opened up in both of his opponents’ chests.

Even without their hearts, the Generators feebly tried to continue fighting, but their futile death throes soon ended.

After confirming their total lack of psionic activity, Tatsuya continued to the emergency stairs.

The eidos he identified as Gu Jie had already reached the first floor.

Tatsuya jumped from the stairs.

Using slight inertial control, he eliminated the injury that would’ve resulted and fixed his sights on the ambulance that Gu Jie was trying to get into.

Why did a hospital that didn’t take urgent patients have an ambulance? And why did that ambulance have bulletproof, heat-resistant armor?

Tatsuya set aside such questions for the time being.

The psionic noise that emanated from the ambulance to jam his casting was also an obstacle he wasn’t concerned about.

The several high-powered rifle rounds that were fired in rapid succession at him out of nowhere, though, were an obstacle he couldn’t ignore.

That day, a large USNA military VTOL transport was scheduled for a flight to Zama base. Zama had been designated as a joint USNA-Japan base, so while it was fairly uncommon for American aircraft to land there, it also wasn’t particularly surprising. Thanks to their historical understanding, the USNA knew about the existence of a special forces training facility that needed to be kept a secret. Their aircraft could not be denied landing privileges without a good reason.

After the transport hit the tarmac, the base commander received a request for a meeting from the transport captain. This was not particularly unusual, either. It saved the commander the trouble of asking what the reason for the visit was.

The transport captain introduced himself as Major Benjamin Lowes. The base commander got the impression of a formidable officer, clean-cut and intelligent—a man who extended his courtesy not just because he was addressing a fellow service member of an allied nation but as a matter of personal character.

But that didn’t mean the base commander let his guard down. He knew the man he was addressing was a high-level magician the moment he walked into the building.

As a facility built to keep enhanced magicians under confinement, it was equipped with instruments that measured magical ability. Those instruments’ readings had been skillfully garbled, which paradoxically proved that Major Lowes was a magician of considerable ability.

Once they’d finished exchanging diplomatic pleasantries, Major Lowes made an astonishing statement. “I’m extremely embarrassed to say that I’ve come to take a deserter into custody.”

“A deserter?” said the astonished base commander, only narrowly avoiding adding Again? He was one of the few officers in the National Defense Force who knew that the previous year’s vampire incidents had been caused by a deserter from the American military. This, too, was thanks to his position of responsibility over the special forces training facility.

“You may already know this, Commander, but in December of last year, some of our soldiers escaped and became fugitives here in Japan. We’ve confirmed that most of them are now deceased but haven’t accounted for all of them yet.”

Major Lowes—Benjamin Canopus, the commander of the first Stars unit—lied, having guessed exactly what the base commander was thinking. And because the commander had incomplete knowledge, he didn’t question the lie.

“We don’t know what his goal is, but we’ve discovered that one of the deserters who’s continued to elude us is planning to abduct a doctor attached to this base who’s responsible for medical treatment of your magicians. He’ll be attacking tonight.”

“…Thank you for sharing this intelligence, Major.”

“I presume you already know what I’m going to ask, Commander.”

The commander expected that this favor was for the base security detail to deal with this attack themselves. It was happening right at their own base, and the target was a civilian who was working for them so would be the obvious course of action.

But Canopus was one step ahead of him and preempted that guess. “We’ve heard that your Ten Master Clans have also been tracking our deserters. It would be an undesirable outcome for both Japan and the USNA if the magicians on standby at this base were to be disturbed.”

His teeth bitterly clenched, the base commander held back the words that instinctually rose up in his throat.

“What I am asking for is your discretion, Commander. Would you be willing to overlook the actions of my unit as we deal with this threat?”

“…That oversteps my authority. I’ll need permission from central command.”

“Commander, this is a matter of urgency. The deserter plans to strike within a few hours. If you’re unable to let us handle it, then I’m also willing to cooperate with your forces in order to thwart the attack.” Here Canopus played his card: “Perhaps you could lend us some of the troops stationed here at the training facility. I think numbers twenty-four, twenty-six, twenty-nine, thirty-seven, and forty-one would be suitable.”

These were the administrative numbers of the enhanced magicians that Gu Jie had “stolen.”

“…Very well, we’ll cooperate with you. But I expect a full debriefing!” spat the base commander.

Canopus met this demand with a pleasant expression and a salute.

This conversation took place three hours before Tatsuya and his unit commenced their operation.

Tatsuya instinctively ducked, but it wasn’t enough for a perfect dodge. The first bullet tore into his left arm, and while he dropped into a roll, he dismantled the second shot. By the time his body touched the ground during his evasive roll, the wound in his left shoulder was already gone thanks to his regeneration.

Unexpectedly, the sniper descended to the ground, situating himself between Tatsuya and Gu Jie’s position—although given the speed of his descent, fall might have been a better term to describe it.

There was no shadow from a chopper or other aircraft. It was like he’d been shot here from a cannon.

As Tatsuya read the sniper’s physical information using Elemental Sight, he couldn’t suppress his shock. What is the American military doing here?!

Zama was a joint Japanese-American base. The fact that American troops were present wasn’t in and of itself strange.

But why were American troops trying to aid Gu Jie’s escape?

Even as he processed this new development, Tatsuya’s training as a combat magician almost automatically kept his mind focused on the neutralization of his opponent.

He dismantled the high-powered rifle into its basic components and forcibly stripped the sniper of his equipment, body armor included.

If it had been a Japanese soldier, Tatsuya would’ve deleted him, destroying all evidence and leaving no body behind.

But this American soldier was completely outside his expectations, and he couldn’t decide how to deal with him.

Deleting him—bad idea, Tatsuya concluded upon neutralizing him. He was engaged in a clandestine mission himself, after all. If he gave the American military a pretext to object that their soldier had been captured, it would only be added trouble.

The sniper was standing there stunned, not comprehending how or why his gear had come undone. Tatsuya fired several rounds into him, then vaporized the body armor, reconstituted the sniper rifle using regeneration, and left it there. This would disguise the corpse, making it impossible to tell what sort of magic Tatsuya had used on it.

He then resumed his search for his target. The ambulance carrying Gu Jie had already sped away.

Tatsuya expanded his sensory field and searched for Gu Jie’s location.

However, he was unable to find the man. He’d noticed a much higher-priority situation developing, and it was one he couldn’t ignore.

Fumiya and Ayako were fighting for their lives.

Tatsuya sprinted back inside the building.

Fumiya had taken immediate action against the soldier who descended onto the roof.

He’d used Direct Pain, a magic technique that directly stimulated the nervous system’s pain response, to rob the soldier of strength in both his hands, causing him to drop his sniper rifle. However, this wouldn’t help him and his sister against the grenade that came arcing in behind them.

Ayako quickly threw up an anti-material barrier to deal with any shrapnel that the explosion might send their way. But the grenade didn’t have an explosive anti-personnel charge; it was a smoke bomb.

The rapidly expanding cloud of smoke made the already poor visibility worse.

Fumiya could aim his magic without relying on physical sight, but he wasn’t as good at it as Tatsuya. His Direct Pain technique acted on the consciousness of the target. One would think that the inability to see the target would therefore have little bearing on its effectiveness.

But in reality, it was the opposite. Consciousness itself did not have a physical presence in the world. It did not have a location that could be searched for. As such, to aim the magic, you needed some kind of a physical marker that was connected to the consciousness that was the target.

Within the smoke, Fumiya and Ayako found themselves enveloped in a soundless noise, a vibration like shattering glass.

“Cast Jamming?” Fumiya asked.

“No,” Ayako replied. “It’s not. But what…?” She didn’t seem at all comforted by the fact that it wasn’t Cast Jamming, her face tense as she looked around for the source of the noise.

Meanwhile, Fumiya concluded that as long as the psionic noise wasn’t interfering with their magic, they could afford not to locate its source right away. The immediate priority was pushing back the unknown enemy attacking them.

With his left hand, Fumiya activated his CAD, attempting to call up a movement program that would circulate the air and blow the smoke away. However, the CAD didn’t work correctly. The resulting program was corrupted and unusable.

The CAD he’d just tried to use, a portable terminal-type multipurpose unit, was just as familiar to him as his specialized knuckle-duster CAD. There was no way a magician of Fumiya’s level would make a mistake in using it.

A series of high-powered rounds pierced the smoke and impacted the anti-material barrier.

“Yami, pour more psions into your CAD!” shouted Ayako as she turned toward Fumiya, using her own CAD to strengthen the barrier by pumping more psionic energy into it.

Fumiya tried using his CAD again, this time doing as Ayako said and using about twice the usual amount of psions.

As long as the activation program was the same, the signal strength that came back from the CAD was roughly proportional to the amount of psions injected. The resulting activation program was noisy, but Fumiya was skilled enough to filter the noise and forcibly activate an airflow program.

The smoke cleared.

The number of enemies had increased to five. Three carried sniper rifles, and two—including the one affected by Fumiya’s attack, whose arms were shaking uncontrollably—pointed flashlight-like devices with flared trumpetlike ends at Fumiya and Ayako.

Fumiya and Ayako both immediately intuited that those horn-shaped devices were responsible for scrambling their CADs.

They were Cast Jammers, CAD interference mechanisms—a breakthrough by the USNA that put them ahead of the rest of the world. The two of them hadn’t known of the existence of such a device, but they cleverly deduced what it had to be from the adverse effect it had on their CADs.

“Sis, you should get clear,” Fumiya told Ayako. “I’ll contact you, so come get me when I do!”

“—All right!” Ayako was about to object, but she quickly thought better of it and nodded. She was well aware that her strengths didn’t lie in direct combat.

But the decision came too late.

Fumiya suddenly turned to face the enemy. He leaped, his long skirt fluttering as he loosed a kick.

The soldier attempting to attack Ayako from behind her in midair went flying.

But Fumiya didn’t come away entirely unscathed.

“Yami, are you hurt?!”

His thick tights were split, and blood dripped from his leg. The soldier he’d kicked had managed to slash him with a knife.

The material of Fumiya’s outfit wasn’t ordinary fabric. Even if it wasn’t as robust as the bullet- and blade-resistant armor of Tatsuya’s combat suit, it still offered a high degree of protection. The knives the American soldiers were carrying couldn’t have been made with ordinary metals.

“I’m okay!” said Fumiya, reassuring Ayako as he landed on one foot. But the fact that he was careful not to land on his injured leg made it clear that the wound was anything but minor. And with their hands full handling the next wave that came down from above, there wasn’t going to be a chance to heal the wound.

Ayako snapped a decorative button off her outfit and tossed it behind Fumiya.

There was a blinding flash of light, and the enemies advancing on Fumiya were stopped in their tracks for a moment.

They then crumpled to the ground at Fumiya’s magic.

Meanwhile, a hail of bullets rained down on the two.

Ayako had no opportunity to maneuver away from their position, either. She had to keep the shield up in order to protect Fumiya from the high-powered rifle rounds.

If it hadn’t had been for the Cast Jammer interference, it would have been simple for her to use Pseudo-Teleportation to escape in the gap between bursts of rifle fire. Fumiya was in a similar situation—normally, he would have been able to drop this number of targets simultaneously, but as it was, he was reduced to using Direct Pain on one individual soldier at a time. Neither of them had room to wonder how or why their enemies seemed to keep appearing, one after the other.

The enemy was deliberately sending reinforcements only to replace their losses.

If they’d thrown the same number of troops at the pair simultaneously, the battle would have been much harder.

But neither Fumiya nor Ayako noticed this.

The enhanced soldiers weren’t even magicians, and Fumiya was struggling against them. Ayako couldn’t make her escape because she had to keep the barrier against the rifle fire up. Before she could even think about doing anything else, someone would have to deal with those rifles.

Just as Fumiya was about to make a foolhardy gamble to break this deadlock, the situation changed.

He heard two shots.

The noise interfering with his CAD suddenly vanished.

“Tatsuya!” Ayako shouted despite herself.

There in the doorway to the roof exit stood Tatsuya, his face hidden by his helmet. His gun was pointed at the soldiers who’d been operating the Cast Jammers.

*   *   *

Tatsuya took an interior route to the roof to avoid exposing himself to sniper fire, but he also took the opportunity to release knockout gas throughout the first and second floors. He’d given up on the possibility of fully concealing the commotion of the operation, but he still needed to keep the civilian doctors and nurses from getting caught in the crossfire.

Given how long that detour had taken, Tatsuya had ended up cutting it pretty close, but he’d still managed to make it in time. At the very least, he’d stopped Fumiya from trying a reckless attack.

The moment gunfire rang out, the two Cast Jammers snapped in half.

The rounds Tatsuya had fired off had been for show. He’d simultaneously used dismantling magic to destroy the Cast Jammers.

Sniper rifles were immediately trained on him.

Tatsuya didn’t dismantle them.

High-powered rounds shot forth from the distant barrels. Tatsuya calculated their trajectories back to their origins and held his hand up.

This was the trick he’d entered in the 2095 thesis competition, but here its effect was devastating.

The soldiers froze at the illusion that Tatsuya had caught the bullets with his hand.

Tatsuya, however, did not waste the moment.

Using Dismantle, he put holes in their body armor and the vulnerable flesh beneath. Both the soldiers armed with rifles and the ones carrying Cast Jammers collapsed, viscera pouring from their midsections.

On the opposite side of the roof, Fumiya mopped up the rest of them with Direct Pain.

“Are you two hurt?” Tatsuya asked, his expression tense behind his helmet’s visor.

He turned his left palm toward Fumiya’s injured leg. The knife wound vanished in an instant, and the slash in his tights also closed up, returning to its original state.

After confirming that the two hadn’t sustained any other injuries, Tatsuya shot his gun into each of the five holes he’d put in the enemy soldiers’ body armor.

“Um, what are you doing…?” Ayako asked uncomfortably, her face pale.

“I want to make it seem like they were shot. Anybody watching will see right through it, of course, but…” Tatsuya answered with a wry smile. Next, he set about using his knife to stab every soldier that Fumiya had felled. “I’m not killing them. If they’re treated quickly, they’ll live,” he added from within his helmet.

His excuse wasn’t particularly convincing, but he wasn’t trying to justify his actions—he just wanted to obtain Fumiya and Ayako’s understanding.

“…Are we going to leave them?” Likewise, Fumiya wasn’t criticizing Tatsuya—it was an honest question.

“These are American soldiers. Capturing them would have political consequences, and they won’t have any information we need anyway.”

“Understood,” Fumiya replied, though he wasn’t completely convinced. Even if they were foreign soldiers, he was certain that the fact they’d disrupted the mission would mean they would have clues.

But he also understood that openly inviting conflict with the USNA military was a terrifying prospect.

“All right, let’s go collect the enemies you took down inside the hospital.”

Tatsuya nodded at Fumiya’s suggestion. “There are Generator bodies we need to take a look at on the third floor. I’ll lead the way,” he said, and the three reentered the building.

Meanwhile, a conversation was taking place inside the large VTOL transport that was landing at Zama base.

“Major Canopus, the interference unit has been completely wiped out.”

“Wait to exfiltrate them until the Yotsuba people have pulled out.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Did the car with Hague in it escape successfully?”

“There are no vehicles in pursuit.”

“Good. Keep it under satellite observation.”

“Yes, sir.”

In the race to get Gide Hague, also known as Gu Jie, Canopus was currently a step ahead of the Yotsuba hunting party. He had an advantage: As part of their security measures against foreign and stateless magicians, the USNA intelligence agency had recorded Gu Jie’s psionic wave signature.

They also had a short-range radar that was capable of tracking a given psionic wave signature—a technology that Japan had not yet developed. Given this, Gu Jie was as good as in the USNA’s hands.

But Canopus was not moving to bring him in. He was following to the letter the orders Colonel Balance had given him.

The only question on his mind was how to interfere with the pursuit of the Japanese magicians while somehow leading Gu Jie back out to international waters.