Gakusen Toshi Asterisk - Volume 10 - Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8 
TEAM ENFIELD 
Ayato was staring down at another him in the middle of the darkness. 
It was the him who had been sealed away by his sister’s ability. 
There were three locks attached to the chains that bound his body. The first lay broken, and the second was already unlocked. 
As for the third one—as he gazed down at it, he slowly unclenched his hand, revealing a glimmering key. 
Unlike last time, this time, the key was complete. 
He inserted it into the lock; with a faint echo though the darkness, it sprung open. 
As it did, a tremendous force seemed to lift up out of his body, trembling like a living thing, before soaring off into the void. 
Only then did he realize—or rather, only then could he clearly recognize—what it was. 
It wasn’t Ayato himself who had been sealed away. 
It was the Ayato of the past, of six years prior, who had parted with his sister. 
The young Ayato, wearing a carefree smile, held out his hand. 
The Ayato of now took it in his own—and as he did so, the darkness around them erupted into dazzling light. 

 

*   *   * 
“What…?!” Ernest’s eyes opened wide in shock. 
Ayato could hardly blame him. 
His opponent’s attack had been timed perfectly, making it all but impossible to evade. 
And yet, Ayato had done precisely that. 
He crouched down and stepped backward, pulling out his spare blade-type Lux from its holder at his waist. 
Ernest’s expression changed from one of startle to pure joy. 
“Amazing…!” he said as he resumed his fighting posture before, once again, stepping forward. 
First, he thrust his blade low toward the ground, following through with an upward arc. 
With his current Lux, blocking Ernest’s Lei-Glems simply wouldn’t be possible. 
Even so, Ayato dodged his consecutive strikes with minimal movement. 
“Hmm…” 
He felt like he had when he had fought Bujinsai, as if he had returned to who he was meant to be. 
He could feel the energy flowing through every corner of him, as if his mind and body had melted together and become one. 
He slashed upward with his blade, twisting his wrist as he did so to flow immediately into a diagonal downward slash. Ernest attempted to raise the Lei-Glems to defend himself but wasn’t able to prevent the second part of the attack from cutting through his uniform. 
“—!” 
Ernest hadn’t made a mistake. 
Ayato had simply been too fast. 
His body was moving much more naturally, precisely, and above all, faster than ever before. 
“Ernest!” 
Four additional luminescent wings had sprung from Laetitia’s back, making for twelve in total that were now rushing toward him. 
But catching his breath, Ayato then sliced through them all with a single flash of his blade. 
“How is that…?!” 
Even so, Team Lancelot’s coordination was nothing short of incredible. In the brief span of time that it had taken him to destroy those glowing wings, Kevin and Lionel had appeared out of nowhere to catch him in the middle of a pincer formation. 
Glancing across the stage, he could see that the only thing stopping Percival from joining in on the attack was Claudia. 
“Impressive! But without your Ser Veresta, you’re ours!” 
“En garde!” 
The two launched into a combination move, coming at him in the blink of an eye with both sword and spear. 
Ayato, however, turned aside the long blade with a casual flick of his body, while at the same time parrying the spear descending toward him from above with what must have looked like no more than a gentle caress. 
With that out of the way, he then followed through with an attack of his own. 
Kevin managed to raise his shield to deflect the full force of the strike, but Lionel, armed only with his two-handed greatsword, had no way of parrying it. 
“Lionel Karsch—crest broken.” 
“Wait… What?” 
The tip of Ayato’s blade had cut straight through his school crest. 
Lionel’s eyes opened wide in astonishment before he fell to his knees with a silent thud. 
Ayato, however, paid him little attention as he focused on launching another strike aimed for Kevin. 
“You’ve got to be kidding me…! That was… Even Ernest couldn’t do that…!” 
Gallardworth’s students prided themselves on their sturdiness in battle, so Kevin’s defensive techniques were as excellent as could have been expected. 
But even so— 
“Amagiri Shinmei Style Master Technique—Hornet Charge!” 
Ayato took a short step backward to gauge his timing before twisting his body and diving forward to unleash the attack. 
Kevin’s shield began to crack under the force of the repeated thrusts, until it finally shattered. 
Ayato stepped forward once again, this time aiming for his school crest, when— 
“Even I couldn’t do what, exactly?” 
Ernest inserted himself into the fray, deftly brushing aside Ayato’s blade. 
“Kevin, go see to Miss Enfield! Percival is probably nearing her limit!” 
“A-ah… Understood!” 
Ayato let him go, turning his gaze toward Ernest—when he was overcome by some inexplicable sense of unease. 
There was something different about his opponent’s stance. Gallardworth’s style of combat normally centered on maintaining a balance between offense and defense, but the way that Ernest was holding the Lei-Glems suggested he was focusing now purely on attack. 
And there was something else, too. 
“Now then, shall we continue?” As he spoke, his usual composed smile fell away, revealing a disquieting grin. 
“…Julis, are you okay?” 
“Ah, sorry!” 
As a barrage of Laetitia’s wings of light pummeled into her, one had managed to score a hit on Julis’s leg. Fortunately, with Saya’s help, she had been able to drive away the pursuit, but there was no hiding the fact that she was injured. 
Laetitia’s wings continued to sweep down to check their every movement, but Saya, though burdened with helping her and still with the vernier of the Waldenholt fully equipped, slid past them all as she made her way across the stage. 
Julis couldn’t say that she liked being put in this situation, but right now, she had no choice but to rely on her. 
She could probably still use her Strelitzia technique to fly across the stage, but in the air, she would make an easy target for Laetitia’s ever-transforming wings. 
“Anyway… When did Ayato get so strong?” 
As she summoned up a ring of fire to help defend Claudia from Kevin, she could do little but watch out of the corner of her eye in worry as he exchanged strikes against Ernest. 
There could be no mistaking that, until just a short moment ago, Ernest had had the advantage. 
That was to be expected—not only was he considered Asterisk’s premier swordsman, he was widely regarded as one of the greatest, if not the greatest of their age. 
And yet now, the situation seemed to have been reversed. 
No matter how you looked at it, amid the furious exchange of blows, Ayato was the one who had Ernest on his toes. 
On top of that, Ayato wasn’t even wielding the Ser Veresta. If he still had the Orga Lux, the battle might already have been over. 
Ayato was practically overwhelming him. 
She had heard from Claudia about how he had driven Yabuki’s father back, but to think that he could be this powerful… 
“…He must have completely broken the seal that Haru placed on him. In other words, that’s his real strength.” Saya’s voice, as she exchanged fire with Percival, was low, but it held an unmistakable touch of pride. 
“I can see that… I just had no idea he could be this strong…” 
“Do you remember what I told you a while ago? That if you really fought Ayato, you wouldn’t be in one piece?” 
“…Ah, I remember. It was when we were showing him around the campus, right?” 
At the time, she had thought Saya was merely trying to provoke her. 
“I always thought it was strange. If the Ayato I remembered had kept growing, he’d have to be really, really strong—like Haru was. He was still strong when he broke his seal, but not as strong as I had been expecting.” 
“What?!” 
Saya spun around sharply to dodge an oncoming attack from Laetitia aimed at her blind spot, Julis clinging to her to avoid being thrown off. 
“It might have made sense if he had given up on his training and stopped practicing, but that doesn’t look like it was the case,” Saya continued softly between carefully timed shots with her handgun. “When he came here, he was really trying to do his best, so he must have stayed at it after I moved away.” 
“What are you trying to say?” 
“…Haven’t you noticed? It’s been more than a year since Ayato first arrived here, but he hasn’t really gotten any stronger since then.” 
“What…?” Aghast, Julis stared back at her. “N-n-not at all! I mean, he’s…” But she stopped there, unable to properly refute her. 
Now that she mentioned it, the only time she had really felt a significant increase in Ayato’s strength was whenever he broke his seal. That was in spite of the countless hours that they had spent training together since the Phoenix. 
“He was still able to pick up new techniques, like our coordination patterns, but he didn’t really move beyond that… But his real power, the Ayato that I’d always known, has probably been held back by Haru’s seal all this time.” 
“I-impossible! If that’s true…” Julis stared at Ayato in shock. 
Haruka had placed that seal on him six years ago. In which case— 
“Right. That power has been building up in him for six years now. He should be able to win no matter who he faces,” Saya declared, brimming with confidence. 
Across the stage, a sudden flash of Ayato’s sword seemed to send the Lei-Glems flying from Ernest’s hand— 
No, wait… He threw it away himself? 
Julis had to strain her eyes to make out what was going on. 
This time, it was Ernest’s turn to undergo a transformation of his own. 
 
Ernest Fairclough was the kind of person who kept himself under control at all times. 

Even if it wasn’t what he himself truly wanted to do, if, by doing so, he could bring some kind of benefit to his friends, his house, his school—indeed, to all those around him—then that was good enough for him. 
This wasn’t to say that he was particularly philanthropic or altruistic at heart. Rather, if, by acting selfishly, one was to cause disadvantage to befall others, then it was simply more efficient to take the total sum of consequences into account and act accordingly. That was the most logical way to survive in this world under the thumb of the integrated enterprise foundations. 
It was, of course, stifling to live while having all but suffocated his heart, but Ernest excelled at deceiving even himself. That allowed him to keep breathing, and he didn’t feel any particular discomfort or difficulty as a result of it. Except, perhaps, when it came to what had happened with her. 
But that was a long time ago now. 
And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t sensed this moment coming. 
That way of living would break down the moment he wished for something that was difficult to change. 
Even if he had thrown everything else away, even if he cast aside everything that he had so painstakingly built up until now, there was one wish he needed to see come true. 
He feared it, somewhere deep inside himself, and yet, at the same time, he was desperately searching for it. 
“Haaah!” 
“Argh!” 
He warded away Ayato’s oncoming strike at his school crest with the Lei-Glems, but his opponent immediately adjusted the course of his movements and swooped down with another strike. 
Ayato Amagiri. 
His swordsmanship and movements—practically his whole fighting style—were completely different from just a brief moment ago. 
Their most essential components, however, remained unchanged. It was more like the gears had clicked into place, his technique becoming clearer and more precise. 
Even with the overwhelming advantage of the Lei-Glems, Ernest was still being one-sidedly pushed back. 
At this rate, it was only a matter of time before his school crest was destroyed. 
“Ha-ha… Ha-ha-ha…!” The situation was getting out of hand, but still, he couldn’t hold back his mirth. 
He couldn’t help but be overjoyed by this adversity and by the one who had plunged him into it. 
There was a craving deep inside him, something he couldn’t oppose. 
He had felt it, intuitively, the moment he had first set eyes upon this opponent. 
Ayato was just like himself. 
There was a wickedness inside his opponent, something that he kept under control at all times. 
And yet, that opponent was far freer that he himself was. It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t jealous—but that was hardly important. 
What mattered now was that that opponent—Ayato Amagiri—was closing in on him. 
Then so be it. 
In that case, there was no need to keep putting up with it any longer. 
He would acknowledge that craving, his impossible wish for change, for which he was willing to sacrifice anything and everything to have granted. 
He would unleash the power that he himself was keeping in check. 
“What are you…?” Ayato stared at him in surprise as he cast the Lei-Glems aside. 
Right. He didn’t care what happened next. 
Whether it was the gloomy, stifling Fairclough house; the excessive expectations and demands disguised as flattery of the people around him; the worthless Runesword that forced him to bury his true self; the alias Pendragon that hung heavy around his neck; the lip service and empty loyalty of the academy that purported to care about him; his companions bound to him through respect and friendship; his foolish, charming, courageous sister, so filled with self-reproach and dedication that she was willing to throw herself into the heat of battle for him; and then after, his memories of her—now that it had come to this, none of it mattered anymore. 
He activated the longsword-type Lux that he had been keeping in reserve and, for the first time in his life, felt a grin—a real, authentic grin—rising up from the depths of his heart. 
 
Ayato knew, on some instinctive level, to fall back. 
At that moment, a fierce slash, aimed directly at his neck, brushed against the edge of his skin. 
It wasn’t the kind of graceful arc that characterized Gallardworth’s style of swordsmanship—it was more direct than that, sharper, neither elegant nor showy, a technique designed to achieve nothing more than to slaughter one’s opponent. 
“…Is that the real you, Ernest Fairclough?” 
“Indeed. The real me to match the real you.” 
Casually lowering his sword, Ernest’s ever-handsome face now looked somewhat distorted. He directed a fiendish grin toward Ayato—one that looked, somehow, strangely familiar. 
“Yaaaaaargh!” 
“Raaaaaah!” 

 

The two roared as they charged at each other. 
Ernest, brushing Ayato’s downward swing to one side, twisted his body to put himself within reach of him and lunged toward him to trip him up. This kind of grappling technique didn’t exist in the Gallardworth style of combat—but it did in the Amagiri Shinmei style. As he approached the ground, Ayato used his free hand to propel himself around to kick Ernest’s legs out from under him. 
As the Gallardworth boy leaped backward to dodge the blow, Ayato regained his footing and, without a moment’s delay, lunged after him with a downward slash. Ernest bent backward to evade it, but the tip of his blade gashed across his chest, tearing straight through his uniform. That didn’t stop him, however, from attempting to counter with a powerful stab at Ayato’s flank—which, thanks to his quick reflexes, only managed to graze his skin. 
Neither was seriously injured. 
Even so, at this rate, the two were bound to keep wounding each other, the seriousness of those wounds increasing with every blow. They were both starting to take greater risks with all of their exchanges, both pulling back only at the very last moment. 
Ernest’s current technique was both ferocious and cold, but being based as it was on his overwhelming mastery of swordsmanship, no matter how rough or unsophisticated it might appear, he was showing no opening that Ayato might take advantage of. 
As they continued to exchange blows, their uniforms, Seidoukan and Gallardworth alike, tore with each strike, dashes of blood splashing across the stage. 
And yet, neither could deliver a conclusive blow. 
What was more, Ernest was always the first to move. 
“Ha-ha-ha-ha! How magnificent! How exhilarating! I truly feel alive!” He bared his teeth as he roared with laughter, still not letting up on his assault. 
The two locked swords, when all of a sudden, he elbowed Ayato in the chin at point-blank range. 
“Hrk…!” 
Ayato dodged backward out of pure reflex, Ernest swooping down on him yet again. He spat out the lump of blood building in his mouth, preparing this time to be the one to take the offensive. 
That way of fighting was the Amagiri Shinmei style’s specialty. 
“Amagiri Shinmei Style Grappling Technique—Grindstone Pommel!” 
Ayato moved in on his opponent, diving forward with a diagonal slash from top to bottom. Ernest may have managed to dodge that, but he couldn’t escape Ayato slamming the weapon’s hilt into his abdomen. 
“Guh?! 
Ayato didn’t stop there, using his free right hand to strike his opponent’s chin—only to have Ernest dive his knee deep into the pit of his stomach. 
Even having exchanged such fierce blows, both remained armed and ready, neither allowing themselves to sink to the ground in defeat. 
As Ernest lashed out with a downward diagonal slash, Ayato met it with an upward strike of his own, both deflecting the other’s attack. When they closed the distance, they lashed out at each other with their hands and elbows, homing in on the other’s vital organs, just waiting for an opportunity to pin their opponent down. 
Blood splattered across the stage with every strike of their blades, punch, and blow, and yet, neither one allowed himself to falter, neither allowed himself to yield so much as an inch of ground. 
They were remarkably similar. Ayato was perhaps the fitter of the two, but in terms of raw ferocity, he couldn’t keep pace. 
Either one might come out of the battle on top. 
Even so, if they kept this up, there could only be one outcome. One would end up taking the other’s life. 
He would have to finish it before it could come to that. 
Ayato fought to get his ragged breathing under control as he slowly edged toward his opponent, looking for some kind of opening, anything, when— 
“A halo of mercy and atonement I give to thee,” came Percival’s gentle voice ringing across the stage, followed by a wave of golden light. 
Neither Ayato nor Ernest, both fighting at their absolute best, should have had any difficulty evading it. 
For both of them, however, this was the perfect opportunity. 
The two threw themselves toward each other with all their weight, crashing together with such force that sparks flew in every direction. 
A crater erupted at their feet, the force of their blows so strong as to send rubble flying through the air. 
They were both putting everything they had left into this close-fought duel. 
They each clenched their teeth as they pushed against each other, but the difference in ability was readily apparent. More important than that, however, was that this wasn’t a contest of strength, but rather a kind of delicate negotiation. 
When finally they pulled back from each other, it was Ayato who retreated ever so slightly. 
Ernest only needed a split second to follow through once more. 
At that moment, Laetitia’s wings of light descended toward him, but Ernest paid that no heed as he lunged toward Ayato’s chest with the tip of his blade. 
It went without saying that, if Ernest had been his usual self, he would have linked up with Laetitia’s wings. 
If he had done that, Ayato would have lost then and there. 
However…that would have required that he fight as part of a team. 
“Burst into bloom—Anthurium!” 
A shield of fire manifested in front of Ayato’s chest, protecting his crest and stopping Ernest’s blade in its tracks. 
And then— 
“Boom.” 
Six separate beams of Saya’s homing blaster made straight for Ernest’s own badge. 
“Tch!” The Gallardworth student clicked his tongue as he cleared them away with a flick of his blade, but that split-second opening was all Ayato needed. 
“Amagiri Shinmei Style, Hidden Technique—Crescent Carnage!” 
Ayato launched himself off the stage to slice through Ernest’s school crest with a rounded arc, when— 
“Not yet!” 
Just before Ayato’s blade could reach him, Ernest managed to block it from making contact. 
“Yaaaaaargh!” 
Letting out an earsplitting roar, and with a gruesome grin that was a bloodcurdling concoction of savage ecstasy, Ernest pushed back against him. 
His longsword glimmered through the air as it sped straight toward him. 
With his arms outstretched, Ayato’s chest was now vulnerable, leaving him no possibility to defend himself. 
And yet— 
“Raaaaaah!” 
Right. 
The Gryps was, first and foremost, a team contest. 
“—?!” 
Claudia, having jumped out from behind him, parried Ernest’s blow with the blade in her right hand while using the chambered one held in her left to home in on his chest. 
“Ernest Fairclough—crest broken.” 
“End of battle! Winners: Team Enfield!” 
As the mechanical voice resounded across the now-silent stage, Claudia, the twin blades of the Pan-Dora still gripped in either hand, flashed the fallen team leader an exhausted smile. “As long as I have my companions behind me, even I’m fit to be your opponent, Ernest.”