THE STUDENT COUNCIL ELECTION AND THE QUEEN

“We’ll be retiring this month, too, huh…?”

The thing to subtly change the mood in the student council room, in which they’d been excitedly talking about their summer vacations, had been a remark from Mayumi.

Until then, on this first day of the new term, the student council room lunchtime (which always had a considerably biased ratio of girls to boys) had been taken up by students recounting their experiences of the summer.

In these times, during which it was typical to protect one’s chastity until marriage—to use an old way of describing it—these “summer experiences” were quite a bit more sobered than the so-called age of free sex. However, the reason women had stopped having premarital sex was because it was now seen as “cool” not to flirt with men. The result was the same, but the mind-set was significantly different than the days before the age of free sex.

Still, it wasn’t like there were any social penalties for women who did go all the way, so there were certainly some girls who did. But the majority of girls liked to brag about games of chicken, where they slammed on the brakes right at the last possible second. Not to mention the fact that none of the girls in this student council room would ever sell themselves cheaply. Plus, all of them had several methods of self-defense if it came to that. There would never be any accidents or criminal acts committed.

Even so, a succession of lines like “He tore off my parka” or “He pushed me down onto the bed” or “His breath on my neck” would make any healthy young man uncomfortable. Not to mention when they casually ended the story with “I would have liked a more romantic mood” or “I got bored, so I put him to sleep.” Those men wouldn’t be able to stand it anymore.

Either he was no longer treated as a male or they had forgotten he was actually there (it could have been an accident), but Tatsuya had gotten fed up with this “summer experience” talk that they weren’t supposed to let members of the opposite sex hear. For a little while now, he’d been concentrating on a grimoire (a unique paper document he found in the disciplinary committee room), so he missed the conversation shifting toward the subject of the council members’ retirements.

But because the new topic could have involved him—in fact, it was almost sure to—his keen sense of hearing picked up on it.

“Oh, now that you mention it, the student council elections are next month, aren’t they?” remarked Tatsuya, looking for confirmation.

The answer came from Suzune. “Yes. The elections are at the end of the month, but we do have to put on a display. We’ll have to announce them by the end of next week and get all the necessary preparations done.”

Suzune, on the other hand, had sat through the entire girls-only talk—which might not have been rated R but definitely PG-13—without letting her cool and collected expression break down. He had to wonder about that; she was a girl their age, after all.

He had his questions, but he asked something else for his second question, of course. “Only a display?” He was commenting on how she’d implied the election would just be for show.

Suzune understood what he meant. “We have elections if there are multiple candidates. However, there are only so many students willing to become student council president, so it ends up being an internal battle.”

He thought back and remembered hearing something like that on the first day he’d been called to this room. “Does that mean the student council president is decided without needing an election?”

“Not necessarily. It’s been that way for five years—meaning it was different six years ago. No non–student council member has ever become president, so even if we do have an election, it would likely be a one-on-one contest between Hattori and Nakajou. They’ll probably talk it out and decide who the candidate will be before the election.”

I see. An internal battle indeed, thought Tatsuya.

One of those major contenders, however, wasn’t convinced. “I can’t possibly be student council president! We don’t have to talk it out, because I don’t plan on being a candidate.”

That was enough to convince Tatsuya. Someone already teary-eyed at this point wouldn’t be a good student council president. Although…

“If that happens, we’ll have our first student council president in six years who isn’t at the top of his class…”

“I guess Hanzou will be the next president…”

Neither the disciplinary committee chairwoman nor the current student council president sounded very happy with that. Leaving aside their personal likes and dislikes, Azusa was probably closer to them on a policy level. Tatsuya kind of understood why they’d want to put her in the president’s chair, but… If she doesn’t actually want the job, then…

If there were no candidates at all, they’d end up having to persuade her to do it, but if Hattori was a candidate, then he was the most appropriate to have there.

“Azusa, you were the top of the class last year when you enrolled?” Miyuki’s thoughts, though, had gone in a different direction than his. He was caught somewhat off guard, but he knew what she was thinking by her remark. He realized he, too, had been thinking Hattori was the top student last year.

Mayumi nodded toward his sister. “That’s right. There’s not much of a gap in grades right now, is there?” she asked Azusa.

Suzune was the one to respond. “In theory, Isori is at the top of the class, with Nakajou in second and Hattori in third. In practice, Hattori is at the top, with Nakajou second by a slim margin. Hattori is also first overall, with Nakajou again second by a slim margin.”

Is there…a point in putting the first semester rankings up on the big conference display to explain? They’re on the school bulletin boards… thought Tatsuya. There was an old saying about being careful who to associate with, but any serious student would never be able to compete with this president and chairwoman on equal terms. That was his assessment of Suzune.

“Azusa’s practical grades are higher than Chiyoda’s, aren’t they?” Miyuki had already seen the rankings, too, but she probably had a different impression now, upon seeing the name of someone she’d become friends with during the Nine School Competition.

“Kanon doesn’t have much attention to detail, after all.”

Mayumi smiled drily, then corrected Mari’s blunt criticism. “At the very least, shouldn’t you phrase that as, ‘she’s dynamic,’” she said. “Attention to detail is Ah-chan’s thing, so she’s not meant for sporting events like the Nines.”

“But next year she’ll probably have to be a competitor, too.”

Azusa had been watching Mayumi support her as though it didn’t concern her, but she reacted to the bomb thrown by Mari with a jolt.

“…I know I’m the one who brought it up, but…that’s next year, Nakajou. There’s no point getting ahead of ourselves about it now.”

“Y-you’re right. Next year…we’ll have lots of promising athletes besides Chiyoda, like Shiba and Kitayama and Mitsui…” she said, forcing out a superficial laugh.

Mari sighed back at her. “Yes, we had plenty of promising freshman girls this year…but I don’t think second place in the class should push the responsibility onto her underclassmen.”

“No, I wouldn’t, I would never force them. I just meant, well, we need to have the right people in the right places, and…”

What she was saying seemed logical enough, but she couldn’t argue very much against those bemused eyes on her. Once again, Tatsuya thought the role of student council president would definitely be hard for her.

When he stepped into the disciplinary committee HQ for the first time in six weeks, it was unusually crowded.

“I don’t recall hearing we were planning a meeting,” mentioned Tatsuya to Mari, who was standing next to the entrance for some reason.

She nodded, as if it were a matter of grave concern. “You wouldn’t have. I don’t remember notifying you.”

“Then is this a new-term ceremony or…?”

“The only entrance ceremony we have is at the beginning of the year.”

“There aren’t any particular committee functions, then?”

“Not really.”

Tatsuya bowed slightly to her, then walked away toward the locker with the personal video recorders in it…and then stopped after taking three steps. He turned around to Mari, who was standing at the same distance as she had been before. In other words, she’d stayed in step with him.

“…What is it?”

“No functions, but that doesn’t change the fact that this is a big event for the disciplinary committee.”

“Oh…” replied Tatsuya, exhausted.

Mari sighed at him. “…I think you should fix that habit of yours where you don’t care about the rest of the world.”

“I browse the major news.”

“I’m talking about things closer to you,” she said, shaking her head as if to say there was no fixing him. At least, that’s how it seemed to Tatsuya.

But Mari was the one who broke first. “The disciplinary committee doesn’t have terms of office.”

“I am aware. I do find it rather strange, though, that you don’t have to quit even though new people get elected.”

“We may cling to the position, but it’s not a very comfortable one to have. Every year we replace the people who graduate anyway, so not many members quit before that.” Mari made a slight slumping gesture with her shoulders. Probably an unconscious display of her being fed up with the explanations around school about why the disciplinary committee had the special privileges and rank that they did.

“One of the seniors selected by the club committee resigned with the end of the last term. His replacement is coming today.”

Tatsuya raised his eyebrows in a display of incomplete understanding. “And we’re having a welcoming party?”

“No, not at all. You know as well as the rest of us we’re not that unified as a group.”

She was right. The words divided and opposed fit the disciplinary committee better than unified. That was why Tatsuya felt confused. What was this gathering for, then?

“It’s just rare for a girl to be chosen for the committee. The bunch of idlers came to see.”

I see, thought Tatsuya. His upperclassmen had all come here not out of a sense of camaraderie but of curiosity. But if that was the reason, then…

“You must have gotten attention when you were chosen, too, Chairwoman.”

Mari fell silent, her face sullen. It didn’t seem to be something she wanted to remember. Maybe she’d been standing at the door so she could keep an eye on everyone, so that her underclassman wouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable.

“…Well, we’ll leave my case aside. I’d like you to look after her for a while once we get her settled into the committee.”

“…Do you mean me, Chairwoman?” It was reasonable he’d come back with a question like that. Chores and errands were for the underlings to do, but backing up a new member definitely wasn’t a job to leave to an underling.

“You, Tatsuya.”

Mari’s face, though, was 100 percent serious.

“I have a feeling I know who the new person coming is, but…I still don’t think this is a job for a freshman.”

“No, not at all. Nobody in the disciplinary committee is more suitable for this job than you.”

The placement of emphasis on the words disciplinary committee unconsciously made sense to him, and decided his defeat.

The new committee member was exactly the one he’d expected.

“Now that we’re all introduced…Kanon, I want you to go with Tatsuya for the day and get an idea of what patrolling is like.”

Introductions didn’t seem necessary for a person as famous as Kanon, but they’d gone through the motions anyway. After that, some of which had been excessively excited, Mari came back over to Tatsuya, the last one in the room, and announced the words above.

As always, Tatsuya didn’t seem to have the right to refuse. In fact, based on him staying behind after all the other committees left, Kanon’s own choice could only have been Tatsuya or Mari.

“Huh, why? You’re not going to teach me, Mari?”

And, as he thought, she seemed to prefer the latter. He was right there, too. Her attitude was fairly rude, no ifs about it, but Tatsuya could understand the complaint. It didn’t have to be Mari. If it was a junior like her, that would be fine, but Kanon probably didn’t appreciate Mari making an underclassman out to be her elder. But Tatsuya, too, wanted Mari to be Kanon’s instructor, so internally he cheered Kanon on, hoping she pressed further.

“You won’t learn much from me. Anyone with a guilty conscience takes one look at me and sneaks away. In that regard, Tatsuya has the longest list of incidents he’s run into in the whole committee. The most arrests made, too, incidentally.”

“Oh, I see. That makes sense.”

…Unfortunately, Kanon quite easily agreed.

That aside, Tatsuya was stricken with the urge to ask, “‘Incidentally’?” but he gave up immediately. He knew the effort would only go to waste.

“There’s no set patrol route you need to follow. You also don’t have to look around every single corner of the school. I’ve never been on patrol with another member, but I believe many of them only go around specific routes.”

He wasn’t happy about it, but he still had to do his job. Tatsuya was trying to be serious as he lectured Kanon on the job description while they walked together, but…

“Huh… Shiba, you’re really adaptable.”

…The sudden impression of him was wholly unrelated to his explanation.

“I mean, right after you enrolled, you started doing this important job of patrolling the school all by yourself. I’ve heard tales of your heroism from club recruitment week.”

“Well, there was a lot going on back then…”

He felt like her admiration was somewhat misdirected, but he didn’t deliberately argue the point. Suddenly throwing him into a patrol job by himself was normal; Kanon was the one acting overprotective.

But if he’d told her that truth, nobody would be happy. Instead of arguing, he continued his lecture:

“For my part, I primarily focus on checking the practice rooms. Past patrol reports indicate very few cases of problems occurring in classrooms.”

“Since they’re always monitored. Even if you wanted to do something outrageous like in a novel, you couldn’t.”

“A novel…?” Now he was interested in what kinds of novels she was reading. But he didn’t know what he’d do if she confessed to him that they were all erotic titles, so he put a lid on his curiosity.

“You don’t go to the gym or the sports grounds? I’d think more problems would happen there than in the practice rooms.”

“As long as nothing special is going on, like the club recruitment week, those are under the club committee’s jurisdiction, as a rule. Of course, if a fight were to break out, the disciplinary committee would be the ones to step in.”

Kanon had been placed in the disciplinary committee by the club committee’s selection, after all. Plus, she was a regular in track and field (who specialized in obstacle courses). She would already know about the club committee’s privileges of autonomy.

“It’s still okay just to take a look around, though, right? I mean, if a problem did happen, it would be too late by the time you ran over there.”

And yet she still says things like this, thought Tatsuya. She must be totally willing to get into a turf war…

Upon Kanon’s insistence, they decided to focus mainly on the gymnasiums for their patrol today. (Tatsuya was rather serious in his doubt of whether he really needed to accompany her or not.)

Because of its location relative to the school, the first one they visited was small gym number two. By pure coincidence, the kenjutsu club was using it to practice today.

“…Shiba, my man. You’ve got a different girl with you every time I see you.”

“Please stop making things out to be scandalous.”

Kirihara was the one to address him, his tone hard to judge as serious or joking—though Tatsuya felt a certain percentage was doubtlessly serious.

“That’s right, Kirihara. You’re being rude to Chiyoda. Her heart belongs to Isori.”

“…Sure, that’s fine, too.”

It was Sayaka’s remark that caused Kanon to wince and Tatsuya to heave a sigh.

The reason Sayaka, a kendo club member, was taking part in kenjutsu practice wasn’t because they were on a date using club activity time.

Ever since the incident that spring, more and more people started to hold the opinion that magic-based competitive clubs and nonmagic-based ones should have more mutual interaction with one another. Especially for the clubs whose sports were originally the same, where the only rule was whether or not you could use magic—the tendency had sprung up to get everyone to come out of their shells and proactively adopt the strong points of each side.

The initiative had been spearheaded by the kendo and kenjutsu clubs, with Sayaka and Kirihara paving the way for the first chance to participate in an interclub exchange (since they were also part of the original incident that caused the friction).

That didn’t mean, of course, that the two of them weren’t getting along with each other during practice.

Back to the subject at hand.

Despite Sayaka’s advice (?), Tatsuya decided to explain the situation to Kirihara, who was still looking at him suspiciously. “Chairwoman Watanabe ordered us to go together.”

And despite his earlier remark, he couldn’t resist making the excuse. It would be one thing if he’d volunteered for this, but the job had been forced upon him and even stigmatized him afterward. He couldn’t help it.

“I see! So the rumors were true.” Kirihara believed him unexpectedly easily but added a little extra to the statement.

“Rumors?”

“What? Shiba, you didn’t know?”

“The rumors are that Chairwoman Watanabe is setting Chiyoda up to be the next disciplinary committee chairwoman. I didn’t really believe it, since I figured she wasn’t the sort of person who’d want to go through all that trouble.”

After Sayaka passed the baton to Kirihara for the explanation, Tatsuya chose to remain silent. He knew those rumors were perfectly true.

“That’s why I told you she would if it was for Chiyoda. Watanabe really likes her. If she wanted to install someone in her place, especially Chiyoda, who has no experience, she’d do all that and more.”

Tatsuya’s staying quiet didn’t quell the excitement, though.

“You don’t say? I didn’t know she was a treasure trove on the outside and inside. You’re right, though. They do make a pretty picture when they’re together.”

Out of all the theater entertainment that had appeared in recent times, one could say the most traditional of them was the girls’ musical. That was why Tatsuya didn’t feel like Kirihara saying she was a “treasure trove on the inside” was especially dishonorable, but Kanon’s emotions seemed to have come to a different conclusion.

“Really, now? Say what you want about me, but giving Mari the yuri treatment… You’ve got some nerve!”

“Wait a minute!”

An aura of flames rose up behind Kanon like the fierce deity Acala. (It was actually just a diffusion of energized psionic particles.)

“I didn’t say anything about that!”

In terms of pure power, Kanon was number one among the juniors, and her cries of anger were high-pitched as well. Kirihara waved his arms and shook his head frantically. “Words are cheap!”

Tatsuya sighed heavily at Kanon’s unnecessarily strong pronouncement, and then stuck out his right arm, quickly and smoothly.

“Hyan!”

At the same time a discordant yelp rang out, the storm of dancing psions settled down.

“Wh-what are you doing?!” cried Kanon, slumping to the floor, her face red, her eyes indicating that her current condition hadn’t been caused by pain.

“…That worked better than I expected. I honestly thought all the talk about pleasure points was fake.”

A pressure-point technique he’d learned from Yakumo. As he stared at his index finger, which he’d used to poke the “key pleasure point” on her back (he’d just learned about it this morning), Tatsuya mumbled to himself, making Kanon’s face flush even more.

But Tatsuya’s expression went back to normal. “Chiyoda, you’re a disciplinary officer. You can’t be the one causing trouble.”

She groaned. “But…”

“No buts. Listen, if you come under sexual harassment, you can just take legal action with the punishment committee. As a rule, a disciplinary committee member’s testimony is taken as evidence.”

“Hey, wait!”

With the conversation suddenly on the verge of a major upheaval, Kirihara quickly tried to interrupt, but Tatsuya and Kanon didn’t even glance at him.

“Do. You. Understand? In the future, please refrain from causing moments like this that could boil over.”

“…All right, I got it.”

Kanon looked away, her face sullen. She didn’t hear it when Sayaka muttered, “…Wasn’t what Shiba just did also harassment?”

“Come to think of it, the student council elections are coming up, aren’t they?”

Now that the chaotic situation had finally settled down, and perhaps reminded of it by talk of the next disciplinary committee chairperson, Sayaka broached the topic for the second time today (for Tatsuya, anyway). They moved near the wall so they wouldn’t get in the other club members’ way, standing in a circle trading idle chatter.

“End of the month, right?” answered Kirihara to her question. “Yeah, I guess they are coming up.”

“They say it’ll be a choice between Hattori and Nakajou.” Kanon quickly added herself as a friendly member of the conversation, either because they were all juniors or there was no hierarchy obsession present.

“No, Hattori’s not gonna do it,” Kirihara stated.

Though it was the second time Tatsuya had talked about this, a new fact now came to light.

“Wait, really?” Kanon seemed just as surprised at the news.

“Yeah. He’s been recommended for the next club committee chairman. He wants to do it, too. He said he won’t be in the election.”

“Hattori? Really…? I guess that’s reasonable. You have to have more brute strength for the club committee anyway.” Kanon seemed convinced as she nodded at the young man’s answer.

Now that they said something, Tatsuya, too, had an image of the club committee as more rough around the edges than the student council. They already had a lot of elements fighting over things like headhunting and job stealing. Katsuto had them all under his watchful stare for now, so nothing major would happen. If he were ordinary, though, it wouldn’t be the same.

But still…, thought Tatsuya. That meant neither of the two strongest candidates for the next student council president would be in the election.

Who would the next president be?

On the way home after patrolling…

Miyuki was finished with her student council duties. Leo, Erika, Mizuki, Shizuku, and Honoka were finished with their club activities. Mikihiko had finished with his independent training in the lab building.

After meeting up with all the usual suspects of the group for the first time in a while, Tatsuya and the others now sat around a café table, at a place on the way to the train station.

And at some point, once again, the conversation turned to the student council elections.

Leo groaned in thought. “To be honest, I’m not sure she’s very reliable.”—A harsh opinion of Azusa.

“But her abilities are top-notch.”

“I think the student council president should be someone nice and kind.”

Shizuku and Mizuki seemed to be supporters of Azusa.

“In any case, Hattori doing it is completely out of the question now, right?” Erika asked once again.

“Yeah,” confirmed Tatsuya. “He heard it from the man himself. Even our current president couldn’t snatch away the person they decided would be the next chairman of the club committee.”

“Right… I don’t think any of them could stand up to Chairman Juumonji.” Erika nodded to herself a few times.

“Then doesn’t that mean Nakajou is the only one who can run for office?” asked Mizuki, bringing the topic back to their predictions on the next president.

“But she said she didn’t want to, right? I got it. Miyuki, you should run!”

Miyuki’s eyes widened at Erika’s unexpected suggestion. “Wait, Erika, what are you saying?”

Surprisingly, though, Erika seemed to like her own idea. “It’s not like there’s a rule that says a freshman can’t be student council president, right? I’d think she’s powerful and famous enough for it. She won the rookies’ Pillar Break at the Nines, plus she won the main Mirage Bat event over all the juniors and seniors.”

“Don’t be unreasonable. A high school student’s ability can’t be measured on magic power alone.”

“You have Tatsuya for the academic side, don’t you? If you were president you could name whoever you want as officers.”

Mizuki then entered the exchange between Erika and Miyuki, on Erika’s side. “You’re right. President Saegusa said she wanted to abolish the Course 1 rule, didn’t she?”

“You too, Mizuki…?” Miyuki said, meaning to chide her, though a waver stole into her voice.

“Yeah! Plus, if you were president, you could get Tatsuya out of the disciplinary committee…”

Erika’s whispers of Mephistopheles (the girls’ edition) clearly affected Miyuki.

“Couldn’t Tatsuya be student council president instead?”

“Hah, that could be pretty cool.”

He wasn’t trying to compete with his childhood friend, but this time Mikihiko was the one to suggest something crazy. Leo was getting carried away, too.

Tatsuya looked at Leo in mild exasperation. “Not happening,” he said flatly. “Miyuki might be able to gain some support, but there’s no possibility I’d get any votes.”

Shizuku, however, thought differently. “But you were a key figure in the competition.”

“Well, Shizuku, that’s… Even if I concede that I did contribute to our victory, I only appeared in one event. You can’t tell what’s going on behind the scenes from the other side.”

Tatsuya once again refused the possibility of entering the running, but then Honoka gave a zealous rebuttal: “But I would definitely vote for Tatsuya if he ran!”

“So would I, Tatsuya,” agreed Miyuki. “If you were to run for office, I would do anything, from making campaign speeches to handing out flyers.”

Thus Miyuki and Honoka subtly competed over him from either side. Tatsuya felt their enthusiasm bringing on a mild headache.