Chapter 3

At school, one of the advantages to assigning fixed classrooms was that it encouraged the students to build and foster personal relationships. As can be understood from the strong human unity brought about by blood relations and geographical proximity throughout the ages, locative affiliations connected to systematic attribution were a tendency shared by formal and informal groupings alike.

The actual point of all this, well…

“Morning. I heard about it, Shiba. That’s amazing!”

“Good morning, Shiba! Do your best!”

“Good morning, Shiba. I’ll be rooting for you.”

“Yo! Knock ’em dead, Shiba!”

…it could result in the creation of friendships at least to the degree where they could add encouragement to their greetings, despite not being people Tatsuya was all that familiar with.

Tatsuya found himself on the receiving end of one cheer after another after arriving at school on Monday. In regards to what—well, having been selected for the Nine School Competition team’s staff, of course.

“Man, news sure spreads fast.”

“It’s true. It was only decided last week; it hasn’t even been formally announced yet.”

“Seriously! Where do they get their news, anyway?”

Leo, Mizuki, and Erika weren’t playing dumb. They really didn’t seem to be the ones who told everyone about it. Well, it’s not like there was a gag order on anyone. Only upperclassmen were at the meeting, but they probably heard from their club mates.

“Wasn’t the official announcement going to be today?” asked Erika, wondering. Tatsuya nodded back, his face sullen.

The selections for the Nine School Competition members had finally ended last Friday, including those for the engineering team. It was supposed to be done two weeks ago, so they were running pretty late. Perhaps fortunately, things had been progressing in terms of arranging the apparatus such as competitive CADs and uniforms, which took the most time. Still, given that the engineer lineup hadn’t been solidified, the checks and operation testing on the delivered devices was mostly unfinished.

Even Miyuki was completely preoccupied with preparations despite being a competitor herself, so Tatsuya was determined not to let himself get lazy. He couldn’t get away from the feeling that he was doing so reluctantly, though.

“They’re making fifth period a school-wide assembly, aren’t they?” remarked Mizuki.

He checked today’s schedule on his classroom terminal. Third period in the morning and second period in the afternoon were shared between all the grade levels. Still, modern schools allowed students to work at their own pace using individually assigned terminals even though there was a concept of “standard progression” (the learning schedule and pacing determined to be standard), except for in the case of labs, practice, and gym class.

This meant the start and end times in such schools weren’t observed very strictly. The older you got, the more distinctions between class time and break time were ignored. The fact that the whole school had to gather for its representative team inauguration showed just how important the administration thought the event was.

“You’re going to be at the inauguration, too, right, Tatsuya?” asked Mizuki.

“Well, I suppose…” Tatsuya’s answer was rather unclear. That point was the main reason he didn’t look too happy.

“You’re the only freshman who’ll be there, aren’t you?” As Leo said, Tatsuya was the only first year selected for the technical staff. CAD-adjusting experience was essential, so the upperclassmen’s choosing him for the staff was the natural course of events. His level of skill was abnormal.

Of course, given that he was working as a professional at the forefront of CAD software development, being made an engineer for a high school competition might have actually felt below him. However, nobody, neither freshman nor upperclassman, knew about that. Only his little sister, Miyuki, knew.

“All the Course 1 kids seem preeeetty annoyed,” remarked Erika, though it was perfectly clear the Course 1 students were fuming from his selection, having had their pride destroyed just the other day in the exams.

“Still, all the competitors were Course 1 students…”

His complaint was correct. Every one of the athletes chosen for the rookie competition were Course 1 students, so it shouldn’t have been a big deal for him to be chosen for the tech staff—of course, that was his logic as someone who had already been chosen. It didn’t bring any comfort to the Course 1 students who wanted to go into engineering fields.

Tatsuya had seldom been on the envied side. He didn’t ever feel much envy himself, either. He still had too little life experience to take a guess at the subtleties involved here.

“I guess there’s nothing we can do about it,” said Mizuki. “Envy isn’t logical anyway.”

Her indication was right on the mark, but Tatsuya found himself unable to respond.

“He’ll be fine! There won’t be any rocks or magic flying onstage this time.”

And all he could do was grin drily at Erika’s extreme consolation.

After fourth period ended, he went backstage at the auditorium at the specified time. Miyuki, who arrived before him, held a blouson of thin make out to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, even though he got the feeling it was just what it looked like—he wanted to know what it was for.

“It’s the technical staff uniform,” answered Mayumi. “You wear it instead of your school uniform for the inauguration.”

That was what he expected. Mayumi was currently wearing a tailored sports jacket; it was probably the competitors’ uniform.

Miyuki, still in her school uniform, held the blouson out to Tatsuya with a smile teeming with anticipation. An antagonistic impulse crossed his mind, but he knew there wouldn’t be any point in resisting her. He obediently removed his blazer and placed it on a hanger placed nearby for the purpose, then bent down to put his arms through the blouson Miyuki spread out for him. She stretched it out behind him to get it on his shoulders, then came around front to fix up his collar and shirttails. Finally, she took a step back to get a good look at his entire upper body and smiled, satisfied.

Tatsuya was pretty sure he knew why she was in such a good mood: She was happy to see the emblem embroidered on the blouson’s left breast.

It was in the design of an eight-petal flower—First High’s school insignia.

The mark of a Course 1 student, not a substitute.

“It suits you so very well, Tatsuya…”

There wasn’t much variation in the uniforms between schools during interschool competitions, so it was obviously there so that people could tell what school a member was from. Miyuki, though, felt moved—as though something had, at last, been put in its rightful place.

Tatsuya didn’t care one way or another, and that’s why he didn’t feel the need to throw cold water on her excitement. There was a little time left before the inauguration, but he decided to wait for its commencement wearing the engineer blouson.

Miyuki gazed at him and his uniform with rapt attention, never growing tired of it. She did this while still in her own school uniform. Tatsuya glanced around, but he didn’t see a tailored jacket for her. They had a bit of time, but wouldn’t it be better to put it on early? “Shouldn’t you get changed?”

“I’m helping as a presenter for the ceremony,” she replied, her delirious face now replaced by her usual smile. That meant she would put her own position as a competitor on hold for the ceremony and play the part of the one sending them off…at least, that’s how Tatsuya interpreted it.

“I see. That’s a big job.”

“Please don’t pressure me…”

He knew she’d never actually feel timid about something so simple, but when her eyes wavered forlornly with her fainthearted words, he smiled and placed a hand on her head.

Earning them cold, piercing glares from others nearby.

The introduction of the so-called inauguration ceremony began at the scheduled time and proceeded without incident. Even with Tatsuya on the stage, nobody threw rocks or flung magic at him. Well, of course not.

Still, he was extremely uncomfortable here. The competitors and engineers had each formed their own lines. He was the only freshman on the engineering team, so he felt understandably out of place. He had proven his skill at the prep meeting, so fortunately nobody was being strange and acting hostile or disdainful toward him. They still couldn’t be said to be friendly and welcoming, though. Thinking highly of someone and being courteous were not the same.

His being placed on the team was an exceptional selection and special treatment in a few different ways. Now he was wearing the eight-petal emblem despite being a Course 2 student. Tatsuya, standing in the dazzling spotlight, thought to himself that some would have to take that as a provocation and oppose it, as if it were someone else’s problem.

Meanwhile, each competitor was being individually introduced by Mayumi. Each member, upon being introduced, had a badge embedded with an ID chip to let them enter the competition areas fastened to their uniform collar. Miyuki had been chosen for that job, as it gave her a moment of glory on the stage.

It was quite a process considering there were forty competitors alone (thirty-eight excluding Miyuki and Mayumi), but, perhaps due to her training in proper ladylike mannerisms, she nimbly and earnestly attached the badges to each uniform without breaking her smiling expression.

The male students, when faced with her smile at such a close proximity, could hear her breathing, and mostly turned red and had to work hard to maintain a straight expression. Female students all across the school would probably be making fun of them for it later, but over half of the female competitors were losing their calm—some getting red in the face in embarrassment—upon having the badge fastened to their uniforms as well. That evoked smiles rather than animosity from the audience—mostly the upperclassmen.

The badges were distributed not only to the competitors but to the staff as well. Once the operations staff members were all introduced, it was finally the tech staff’s turn.

“I’m getting a little nervous,” came the sudden voice from next to him. Tatsuya turned his head inconspicuously to look, and his eyes met a male student’s who was doing the same thing. Tatsuya was a little taller than him. If he recalled correctly, he was a junior named Kei Isori, and a Course 1 student, of course. (Indeed, the only Course 2 student on the stage was Tatsuya.)

“Understandable,” replied Tatsuya. Kei was one of the few students who showed a clear friendliness toward him. He was a good-looking boy, with gentle, androgynous features; when combined with his naturally delicate build, he could have passed for a slightly taller female student if he switched his slacks out for a skirt. In any case, he was a warrior; not only were his grades in magic theory at the top of the junior class, he was maintaining excellent scores in practical areas as well.

Looking at his beauty from up close again, he was convinced: You couldn’t judge a book by its cover.

Given the fact that they were onstage, their conversation ended there. However, the casual kindness he’d displayed in the midst of the vague hostility in the room was enough to put his mind more at ease despite how thickheaded he tended to be. It felt like a fog had lifted, giving him the opportunity to look down, off the stage.

As always the seating was freely chosen, and as always the students were split, with Course 1 in the front and Course 2 in the back.

But in those rows of people in the front half were a few outsiders.

They must have noticed Tatsuya looking at them.

Amazingly, in the third row back, in one of the front rows, Erika waved at him.

Tatsuya was shocked, as were others. Upon closer inspection, Mizuki sat next to Erika, with Leo on the other side and Mikihiko next to him. Behind them were a few more faces he knew. His classmates from 1-E were lumped up in front, not discouraged by the cold eyes of the Course 1 students.

As he stood captivated at their courage, the wagon Miyuki was pushing along came to him. Forty competitors, four operations staff members, eight technical staff members, minus the two presenters. Out of the fifty onstage, forty-nine had been introduced and conferred with a badge.

It was down to the fiftieth student—Tatsuya’s turn.

Mayumi announced his name. Was it just his imagination, or did she put more oomph into it than before? He took a step forward and bowed. Miyuki gave a bewitched smile—Tatsuya couldn’t help but feel concerned about his sister’s mental state—and came in front of him.

Just as she finished fastening the badge to his blouson…

…there was a huge round of applause.

He didn’t need to look; Erika and Leo had caused it, and his classmates all clapped for him at once.

The presenters, Mayumi and Miyuki, were surprised at the commotion. However, right before the Course 1 freshmen could begin to boo him, as though to ward it off, Mayumi and Miyuki both began clapping from either side of the stage.

The applause happened directly after the final member was introduced, and it smoothly changed into applause for all the chosen members and spread throughout the entire auditorium.

After the inauguration ceremony, the school-wide preparations for the Nine School Competition accelerated drastically. Once their events were determined, Miyuki, along with Shizuku and Honoka, practiced right up until school closed every day. With Tatsuya’s CAD adjustments and Miyuki’s job, they were running around late into the night, every night. Erika and Leo, who belonged to athletic clubs, were doing all kinds of assistant work as well.

Mizuki was the only one in a liberal arts club, so she often found herself waiting alone for everyone else this week. Last week’s ceremony had been heart-pounding for her—seating was free, but it took a lot of courage to go against the unspoken rule. She couldn’t have done it herself. In fact, if not for Erika, she couldn’t have even done it with other classmates. Mizuki knew she was introverted, and that made Erika seem so much more dazzling and enviable.

But I wonder why Erika was going through all that trouble…

Mizuki herself had been pulled into it by Erika. Mizuki greatly wanted to cheer Tatsuya on as much as anyone else, of course, but thinking back on it, she probably would have been satisfied giving him applause from the back.

Erika could be quite a thrill seeker sometimes, so part of her motivation probably arose from a desire to mess with the Course 1 students’ sense of elitism. At the same time, though, she was whimsical and capricious. She liked butting into other people’s problems, but she never asserted ways to deal with those problems—at least, not that Mizuki had seen. She didn’t get the feeling Erika’s passion in mobilizing the rest of their classmates in addition to their usual circle could be explained by the amusement factor alone.

Could Erika really… Could she…like…?

The boy that Erika was most friendly with, as far as she could tell, was Leo. She also seemed to have a convoluted past with Yoshida, who had taken third place in the theory portion on the exams. It seemed to Mizuki that she had a different kind of feeling, with a different sort of weight, toward Tatsuya. But even in the privacy of her own thoughts, Mizuki, for some reason, hesitated to define that feeling clearly.

It still hadn’t been five minutes since she started waiting at the entrance; it was too early to get tired and leave. Still, it was more than enough time for her thoughts to lose their inhibitions. She let her mind begin to wander. Essentially, she was vacantly daydreaming. And as her mind remained unfocused on any single thing, as her senses had been opened to the world, she noticed strange waves she wasn’t familiar with.

She only took a second to worry before boldly removing her glasses. A moment later, color surged forth. Rays of light of all shades and hues flowed into her vision. The stimulation made her eyes hurt, but she endured it for a little bit.

Mizuki taking her glasses off was like stepping out of a dark room into the bright summer sunlight. Things that once couldn’t be seen were now clearly visible. Her sense of sight and her brain groaned, trying to process the overload of information that she felt completely unable to control.

But while normal people would lose consciousness at such an information atrocity, this was the “other world,” which had been with her since she was born.

Human eyes grew used to even the brightest sunlight on them given a little while. Some people with dark-colored eyes suited for strong light would grow used it without even needing to wait.

Mizuki’s eyes were just as fast; she shut them hard, then blinked a few times, and her eyes got used to seeing many times the psionic light that normal magicians could perceive—as well as pushion light (pushion radiation) that normal magicians could barely even distinguish the colors of.

She put her glasses neatly in their case and focused on the waves that she had noticed earlier that seemed out of place. The light had been visible even blocked by her specially coated lenses, and she easily spotted it right away: pushion signals, wavering but regular, like breathing. She could tell exactly where the light source was now, too.

As though being lured toward it, she made her way to its source—the lab building.

The closer she got to the lab building, the more she thought she could feel chilly air floating. It was currently the middle of summer, and the evening sun was shining not evenly over the horizon, but unevenly from between the ridgelines of hills and mountains, and as the sun approached it, it created additional heat.

It was an illusion: Something was slipping a false cold air into the midsummer blaze.

Whatever it was, it was telling her to turn back. Threatening her, telling her not to get close.

She flinched away in unease toward the unknown thing…but she didn’t stop walking. Her reason told her to turn back, but her intuition as a user of magic and one preordained to live alongside it told her that she needed to confirm with her eyes what was there.

The entrance to the lab building opened quietly, without any squeaking or loud laughter to speak of. The lighting panels on the ceiling were staying bright enough that one could have read small letters without a problem. Everything was the same as usual.

Well, this was a school that taught magic, so a lot of people used this lab building. There wasn’t a real way faculty or upperclassmen wouldn’t have noticed something going wrong here.

There was less room for ghost stories in magic high schools than normal ones. If nothing had been reported, then the abnormality Mizuki was feeling had to be a magic-based phenomenon—or else a real supernatural occurrence, one that modern magic was unable to detect.

Though her spine shivered at the hazy, inauspicious thoughts crossing her mind, her feet carried her forward, as if being spurred—or dragged—along, farther and farther in.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Mizuki smelled a slight fragrance in the air. It was something she’d smelled before in magic pharmaceutics labs: the smell of various woods blended together to grant calming properties.

The waves she’d been chasing led toward the pharmaceutical lab room. The strange pushion radiation appeared to be a by-product of a student’s magical experimentation. Basically aware now that it wasn’t some sort of unknown supernatural occurrence, at least, Mizuki sighed in relief.

And then her curiosity, which had been hidden behind her unease, reared its head. One of the first things they learned in experimental magic courses was never to enter a room someone was doing magical experimentation in without being invited; the uninvited intruder’s magic calculation region could interfere with the currently active spell, meaning it was possible for magic to unexpectedly go crazy. In particular, inexperienced magicians—freshmen like her, for example—barging into a magic experiment was folly wrought with danger, as they’d repeatedly been warned.

That little warning, however, had completely slipped Mizuki’s mind. Her wariness was for the wrong thing as she tiptoed up to the closed lab door and pushed it open a tiny bit so she could peek in. Taking the utmost care not to make a noise, she brought her eye to the slightly open gap.

And the next moment, she very nearly shrieked.

Well, perhaps not so much a shriek as a grunt of surprise, for inside the pharmaceutical lab room, there were glowing orbs of blue, sky blue, and indigo dancing around in the air. Each of those lights had both “power” and a “will.”

The distribution of energy in the natural world was not homogeneous, nor did it attempt to be—she knew by “seeing” how the energy was dispersing, gathering, and flowing without end. The sight of a mass of natural phenomenon–causing “power” turning into a bubble-like object and floating around was something she was used to seeing. Her eyes could see the energy of everything in creation, and it looked a lot like the pushion radiance that streamed from the human mind.

But today was the first time she’d felt one of those floating, flitting masses had a will.

Spirits…? Is that what they are? she wondered. It was such an impact, such an emotional moment, that all other thoughts fled her brain. And the one calling those spirits, it was…

“Is that Yoshida…?” she muttered, forgetting what little caution she’d come into this with. It was a completely unconscious action, but the one she said the name of didn’t let it slip. Especially considering she had witnessed a skill of his, when nobody should have been looking—nobody should have ever come around here.

“Who’s there?!” he demanded, essentially on reflex. The “will” of the “lights” reacted to the reflexive anger in his words.

“Ahhh!” yelped Mizuki, closing her eyes as the glowing orbs advanced on her.

A moment later, what felt like a sudden gust of wind hit her from the side and she fell over.

It had been a torrent of psions that neither shook her hair nor fluttered her skirt.

It washed away the glowing orbs descending on her, protecting her, but she didn’t realize that since her eyes were closed.

She opened them very slowly to see Mikihiko glaring with a burning animosity toward someone meeting it expressionlessly: Tatsuya.

“…Calm down, Mikihiko. I don’t want to fight you—not now, and not here.”

Her eyes widened at Tatsuya’s sudden appearance. As she sat there frozen in place, she saw him raising his hands; he wasn’t holding anything. A sign that he didn’t want to fight, known and accepted by both magicians and non-magicians alike.

Mikihiko looked startled, and his own hostility vanished without a trace in that moment. With the tension in the air dissipated, Mizuki found herself able to move and stand up again as Mikihiko looked down dejectedly. “…Sorry, Tatsuya. I didn’t mean anything, either.”

He looked like a kid who was lost and couldn’t get home. Mizuki impulsively wanted to comfort him, but, vexingly, she couldn’t seem to find the right words.

Fortunately, she didn’t need to endure awkward silence for very long. “I’m not worried, so you shouldn’t worry, either. In the first place, it’s Mizuki’s fault for throwing a magician off while he was executing magic.”

“Huh? Who, me?!” she stammered, turning to him. When she saw Tatsuya’s mean-spirited smile, she realized he wasn’t seriously blaming her, to which she felt relief.

Mikihiko didn’t seem to take it that way, though. “No, it’s not her fault,” he denied a little hastily. Tatsuya’s indication had had some truth to it, and it had him all the more flustered. “It’s my own fault for losing my calm just because I heard my name; I’m still inexperienced… And, sorry, I forgot something important: Thank you, Tatsuya. You’re the reason I didn’t hurt Shibata.”

“I didn’t need to intervene; she wouldn’t have gotten hurt. That was spirit magic, wasn’t it?”

For some reason, Mikihiko hesitated a moment, then nodded. “We call it deity magic at home, though, following the doctrine of heavenly and earthly kami.” Still, he couldn’t yield on a part of his identity as a magician, so he asserted himself thus.

Spirit magic was a type of old magic. Anything involving altering eidos by using independent bodies of information that most people referred to as spirits was classified as “spirit magic” in the magic sciences. Occasionally the term spirit was shortened to SB, for spiritual being, but they were mostly called spirits by scholars.

“I don’t have the ability to see spirits, but I could tell you were in control of the spell. And it would certainly be hard to tell you not to be surprised if someone came walking in through your warding barrier.”

“How did you know about the… I see; you must have studied old magic, too. And you even knew the spell was working… You know, everything about you seems so irratio—er, beyond my comprehension.”

“I don’t really mind people calling me irrational, you know,” replied Tatsuya, grinning teasingly, causing a wry smile to come over Mikihiko’s face as well—as his clenched teeth loosened up.

“Well, I suppose it’s just as irrational to spread a barrier over a school lab room just because I didn’t want anyone to see, huh?”

“It certainly was.”

They both laughed, driving away the tense air once and for all.

“Was that a spell to summon natural spirits? It’s the first time I’ve seen it done.”

“…I guess there’s no point in hiding it now. Yeah, I was practicing summoning magic using water sprites,” answered Mikihiko, cleaning up the burning wood on the tabletop furnace. Mizuki was next to him, wiping the ashen table down with a cloth. Mikihiko had refused her help, of course, but she was too serious about these things to let it go.

“Water sprites… Unfortunately, I didn’t know anything more about them other than the fact that they’re masses of pushions… How did they look to you, Mizuki?”

“Huh? Oh, they looked the same to me,” she replied, smiling dubiously and waving her hands. “All I saw were balls of bluish-colored light.” Her swinging hands sent dirty water droplets into Mikihiko’s face, but she didn’t notice, since she was too preoccupied with the conversation having suddenly turned to her.

As for Mikihiko, splattered with the dirty water…well, he didn’t notice it, either.

He opened his eyes wide and his face stiffened. “Color…? You could tell what colors they were…?”

“Umm, well…yes?” said Mizuki, a little nervous about why Mikihiko was making such a scary face (subjectively, anyway). She couldn’t look straight at him; instead she glanced over to him every once in a while as she stammered, “Umm…there were blue ones, sky-blue ones, indigo ones… Oh!” Then she realized the water droplets on Mikihiko’s face. “I-I-I’m so sorry! Umm, right, my handkerchief! Where did I put that thing?!”

She frantically took her handkerchief out of her bag and went to wipe off Mikihiko’s cheek. Before it got there, though, he grabbed her wrist violently. Mizuki’s face distorted in surprise as he pulled her in close, catching her before she lost her balance. Then he brought his face close to hers as if to kiss her and looked right into her eyes.

“Umm, I, err…” Mizuki’s perplexed, flustered voice failed to convey her thoughts to him. He stared fixedly at her, unmoving, and she, unable to move, was starting to panic.

The unexpected pair locked eyes with each other.

“…If this is consensual, I’ll take my leave, but otherwise, won’t this be a problem?”

“Wah!” “Eek!”

The two of them were locked in silence as though they forgot breathing was an important function, but at Tatsuya’s skeptical words they snapped back to reality and practically bounced away from each other. What followed was a rather odd exchange.

“…Sorry about that.”

“N-no…I’m sorry.”

Tatsuya understood why Mikihiko apologized—it had almost been sexual harassment, and he would have been lucky to get away with a slap on the cheek—but why did Mizuki? She was probably confused. Tatsuya started to feel like not being here anymore.

“…Mizuki, Erika and Leo are already at the meeting place. We can leave without you two if you want.”

“Huh? Oh, Tatsuya, you came all this way to get me… Wait, what?!” Only understanding what Tatsuya’s words implied after some time (though she was the only one) she suddenly cried out and stopped talking. She probably had something she wanted to say, but her mouth flapped open and closed without a sound. Her speech center must have broken down under the extreme duress.

Tatsuya, in one of his bouts of “it’s not my problem,” figured it was only temporary—though unfortunately, he couldn’t keep up his straight face—and looked over to Mikihiko. The next topic of interest to him was Mikihiko’s sudden outburst. What could have caused it? Mikihiko seemed relieved at the change of topic, but Tatsuya took advantage of it and asked, “What was that all about, anyway, Mikihiko?”

“Sorry, I was just…a little surprised…” came the reply.

“Well, there’s no point apologizing to me,” remarked Tatsuya, causing Mikihiko to bow in apology to Mizuki again. “What were you surprised about?”

“Well… I’m really sorry. I just didn’t think anyone could see the colors of spirits… When I thought that she might have Crystalline Eyes, I couldn’t help myself… I’m just making excuses, but I definitely didn’t mean to be rude! I really just…sort of wanted to make sure, that’s all.”

Mikihiko’s sincere apology evoked a calming effect in Mizuki’s panic. As he said, it was just an excuse. It was wholly due to his own curiosity and affairs, and had nothing to do with her.

But as Mizuki watched him frantically make the excuse, she smiled kindly to indicate she wasn’t trying to fault him for anything anymore. “It’s okay, Yoshida. I was just surprised too,” she said, giving a bright smile to put him at ease before saying softly and quickly, “But it was embarrassing, so please don’t do that again.”

Mikihiko reddened and nodded several times.

With the attempted sexual harassment having been resolved peacefully, and Tatsuya’s teasing going indecisive, he didn’t feel like bringing it up again. He judged that they had both calmed down, then asked Mikihiko another question. “By the way, Mikihiko, what would be so surprising about it? You said something about seeing the colors of spirits being unusual.”

Tatsuya had the capacity to analyze psion information bodies, but he didn’t see them as images before his eyes, so he didn’t know whether distinguishing the colors of pushion information bodies was unique or not. Well, actually, just being able to perceive pushion information bodies was a rare skill, to be sure, but he didn’t know if seeing their colors had some sort of particular meaning. Mizuki empathized with that question, the same doubts in her mind, and looked at Mikihiko.

“And what are Crystalline Eyes, if you don’t mind me asking?” Mizuki’s eyes indicated that she wanted to ask the same thing.

“…It’s fine. It’s not really that much of a secret anyway.” There was a pause, seeming to indicate it wasn’t a light topic at all. Tatsuya realized then that every now and again, Mikihiko would show an irresponsible—no, a desperate—side of his attitude. “Spirits have colors. Those of us who employ spirits can tell their types by their colors.” Still, the actual explanation he gave, the words describing magic, weren’t irresponsible—they were earnest.

“But we’re not actually seeing them in the true sense of the word.”

Mizuki looked at him askance. Tatsuya didn’t know what he meant, either, but he didn’t impatiently ask him to continue, only urging him on with his eyes.

“Spirits don’t actually possess colors. The practitioner ‘sees’ different colors depending on the type of the technique and its school of style. For example, in my school, water sprites are blue. But in Europe, there are some schools saying water sprites are purple. Central Asia says they’re deep blue, close to black. This isn’t because the waves spirits give off are different depending on the location and type of technique being used. People see different colors purely because they perceive the world differently.”

“…So you’re not visually perceiving the color; you’re just interpreting what the waves should look like through your techniques, then?”

“That’s correct. We interpret the color of their waves as a matter of convenience to tell them apart. I guess you could say we assign the spirits colors. That’s why the spirits we’re aware of all have the same one. In my school, water sprites are blue, fire sprites are red, earth sprites are golden, and wind sprites are green. They don’t have any shades or saturation. We’re coloring them in our own minds by type, so they wouldn’t each have slight variations in color. Water sprites, no matter what kind, are always pure blue. Given this all happens in the mind, there shouldn’t be light blue or dark blue ones.”

“…But Mizuki saw them as such.”

“I think she’s able to perceive the difference in strengths and qualities among water sprites by differences in color. She’s actually seeing what color they are. In our school, we call such eyes Crystalline Eyes. Other schools seem to use the term to mean something else, but in our school, it refers to eyes that are able to see kami, the Shinto nature deities. Those who can see spirits are actually seeing these divine spirits, which are the source of these lesser spirits, their gathering place, and the embodiment of the natural phenomenon itself. They are aware of it, and are thus said to have the ability to locate the keys to interfering with this system. For us, those with Crystalline Eyes are shamans, priestesses who can access the system of divine spirits.”

“So for all of you, Mizuki is someone you would desperately want to get your hands on?”

“Well, yes, but… You don’t need to be that cautious! I don’t have the ability to control kami at the moment. A year ago I might have been conceited, blinded with ecstasy, and tried to make her mine by force, but now I don’t have the desire or the guts to do something like that. I also don’t really want to tell other practitioners about someone with the keys to techniques that use kami, either. I wouldn’t be able to stand twiddling my thumbs while some other divine magic user mastered its esoteric aspects, even if it was an immediate relative to me. I won’t tell anyone about your eyes, Shibata.”

Mikihiko’s eyes were firm, but somewhere in them were lights of madness. Tatsuya perceived them as his transformed desire to monopolize her. Not to make her his own, but not to let her belong to anyone else—that’s how he was looking at her.

“…I see. I’ll keep this all to myself as well, then,” nodded Tatsuya, his own interests aligned with Mikihiko’s desire not to let a friend be used by another.

He nodded both to Mikihiko and to Mizuki.

Mizuki returned his gesture with surprise, but quickly forced a smile, not understanding why he nodded to her.