Gakusen Toshi Asterisk - Volume 13 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 
AKARI YACHIGUSA III 
“But are you sure you’re okay with that kind of promise?” 
Akari found herself being pulled from her reverie into the present by a certain young man’s voice. 
“To be honest with you, I can think of a lot of words to describe the student council president,” he went on, “but trustworthy isn’t one of them. Not that I’m trying to get in your way or anything, I mean.” 
They were on their way back from the student council president’s office. Madiath, walking along beside her, scratched his head, his whole demeanor one of diffidence. 
The two had entered the Eclipse just the previous day—but as it happened, Seidoukan Academy’s student council president had been among the spectators and, having seen firsthand exactly how well they had performed there, was now insisting that the two of them enter the upcoming Phoenix. Both she and Madiath had simply wanted to pass their days in peace and quiet, but given that Madiath was only able to attend the school thanks to his special scholarship, he hadn’t been able to refuse. For her part, given that her relatives were all but guaranteed to oppose it, Akari had turned down the suggestion, but in the end, she had been all but forced to agree to let the academy attempt to persuade her family to allow her to enter. 
There was no sign of anyone else but them in the corridor, bathed red by the setting sun. She came to a sudden stop, shaking her head and flashing Madiath her usual ambiguous smile. “I’m grateful for your concern. But you know, I can’t help but think that you wouldn’t have been exposed if you hadn’t entered the Eclipse for my sake. So it’s really my fault for getting you caught up in everything like this. I’d like to apologize,” she said, bowing her head. 
“There’s no need for that,” Madiath replied, waving his hands with an awkward look. 
Madiath Mesa was undoubtedly more than a little odd. At first glance, he came across as a kind-natured, agreeable young man, but every now and then his eyes would take on a chillingly cold appearance. They were the eyes of someone who had completely cut himself off from everything else—of someone who regarded everyone outside himself as if they were no more than moving clumps of earth. 
While he did seem to be showing some degree of emotion during their match at the Eclipse, when he had faced Scarmask and the Fallen Swordsman, even then he had seemed to have shown little care one way or the other for his opponents. 
That coldness of his was no doubt due to his upbringing. Akari had only heard a little so far, but from what he had told her, he had often been forced to fight to the death since he was a small child. It didn’t take much imagination to picture what that would do to someone’s heart. 
And that particular side of him seemed to call out to her. It wasn’t sympathy or pity or solidarity. Rather, what she felt was something close to respect for this person, so like herself but yet who had gone through such different experiences in life. 
Until now, Akari had never fallen in love with anyone. Of course, Kotoha had been an important friend for many years now, but there was no mistaking that the two belonged to different worlds, with a vast, unseeable wall standing between them. She had once put that down to her being a Genestella—but even after having come to Asterisk, she still felt the same way toward all the other Genestella she had met. In other words, her sense of isolation was a unique problem—a unique deficiency—stemming from herself, and so she had concluded that it wasn’t the kind of thing that could ever be healed. She had all but resigned herself to that fate when Madiath had appeared before her. 
“Well, there’s no need for you to enter the Phoenix if you don’t want to…,” he pointed out. 
“No, it’s all right,” Akari answered, taking off down the corridor once more. “And besides… This might be a good opportunity.” 
“A good opportunity?” Madiath repeated as he followed after her. 
“Yes. For me to face my mother.” 
And to move past the vagueness that seemed to define her. 
“…Do you really need to do that, though?” 
“Well… Now that you mention it, I wonder. I can’t really say for sure… But it’s thanks to you that I’ve started feeling this way, Madiath.” 
“Me?” He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “What did I do?” 
Without answering, Akari took another step forward—and then spun around and flashed him an enigmatic smile. 
He had done a lot. He had come to her aid—both when they had first met and when they had entered the Eclipse. But more than that, he had been himself. He had proven to her that there were others like her in this world—that she wasn’t alone. 
“Thank you. For coming into my life.” 
For Akari, Madiath Mesa was, perhaps, the first person she had ever fallen in love with. 
The next week, Akari was called to the office of the student council president once more. 
When she entered the room, she was startled to find several of her relatives waiting for her, her grandfather included. Every last one was an important figure in the family. 
“…Grandfather,” she said, bowing her head in greeting. 
At this, her grandfather glanced toward her, his eyes filled with the same hatred and scorn he had always shown her, before snorting contemptuously. “Hmph. So you’re still wearing that idiot look of yours.” 
It was a cold voice, one that showed not even the slightest hint of familial concern. 
“Shameful.” 
“You haven’t changed at all.” 
The voices of the other two, standing behind him, were practically echoes of her grandfather’s. 
…? 
There was something in those voices, however, that left her feeling uncomfortable. 
Their aversion to her didn’t seem to have changed, and yet they couldn’t hide a certain restlessness, a certain something bordering on vulgarity. 
“…Can this bungling girl really be of use to you?” her grandfather murmured, shaking his head and glancing toward the student council president behind his desk. That gaze, however, normally so caustic, now hid a hint of eagerness. 
That was all it took for Akari to understand what was going on. 
As promised, the student council president really had persuaded her grandfather—and through him, the whole Yachigusa family. 
“Of course, of course, she really is quite outstanding. We’ve no doubt in our minds that she’ll make quite a contribution to the academy,” the president said with a cheerful laugh. “And needless to say, to you as well.” 
“That would be nice, if true… We really have had our hands full with her carelessness ever since she was a girl… But if you insist, we’ll be happy to oblige, indeed…” Her grandfather nodded repeatedly. 
This was practically all the confirmation she needed. 
The family patriarch turned his cold gaze toward her. “That’s right, Akari. Just this once, we’ll let you enter this—what did you call it? Festa?—that you’ve set your eyes upon.” 
His bare repugnance and hatred were unchanged. Akari had no way of knowing exactly what the student council president—or rather, Galaxy—had offered him in exchange for letting her enter, but she doubted that, whatever it was, it had improved her own standing in their eyes. 
But she had known that from the very beginning. She had never even bothered to hope that her grandfather and his cronies would ever deign to recognize her. 
All she wanted was the love of one person—even if she would never receive it. 
“…And what did my mother say?” she asked in a soft voice. 
Her grandfather broke into an ill-humored frown. “She agreed to it. Obviously.” 
Akari found herself wondering whether that was really true. 
She knew full well that her mother had had no say in matters for a long time now. Even if she had been opposed to it, there would have been nothing that she could have done. And because her mother was institutionalized somewhere, Akari couldn’t help but wonder whether the others had even bothered to inform her. 
“What’s with those eyes, girl? You think I’m lying to you?” her grandfather flared, anger and wrath beginning to seethe from his whole body. 
“No, not at all…” 
“Well, Akari certainly has been worried about her mother,” the student council president interrupted, flashing her a warm grin. “I can guarantee you that we haven’t burdened her in any way or compelled her against her will. We’ve treated everyone fairly, just as we promised. But there’s no need to take my word for it, Miss Yachigusa. See for yourself.” And with that, he pressed a button on the terminal built into his desk, opening a large air-window. 
“!” 
There, in front of her, was the image of a familiar Japanese-style room. 
A room deep inside the Yachigusa residence. 
The figure, sitting up on a futon spread over the floor, was unmistakably her mother. 
“Mom…” 
How many years had it been since Akari had seen that face, her long black hair, her tall, elegant features? She looked slightly thinner than Akari remembered, but apart from that, she didn’t look to have aged very much. 

“But Mom’s… I thought she was supposed to be in the hospital…” 
“She was discharged. She’s recovered,” her grandfather explained disinterestedly. 
“I see… I didn’t know.” 
“What makes you think we’d go out of our way to tell you?” he said brusquely. 
“Akari.” 
No sooner did she hear that voice than a shock wave swept through her whole body. 
She had no memory of her mother ever having called her name. 
Her mother’s expression was unreadable. Her frigid, disinterested gaze, mixed in with confusion and exhaustion, was just as Akari remembered it—but like with those of her grandfather and the others, there was something else mixed in as well. She couldn’t pin down what it was, though. 
“I shouldn’t need to tell you this, but I can’t accept you. We’re just too different. I’m not strong enough to overcome that.” Her mother spoke in a soft, hoarse voice, as if breathing out a tired sigh. “And yet… It’s also true that you’ve finally brought something to the Yachigusa name. My father might not be willing to recognize that, but for my part, I am grateful.” On the other side of the air-window, her mother bowed her head. 
“Please, Mother, you don’t need to… I’m just…,” Akari stammered. 
Her mother, however, paid her little heed. “I’m doing this because it’s necessary. This tournament of yours might simply be an amusement for you, but still… If I can help the family, I’ll do what I have to. I can’t accept you, but at least I’m willing to have this conversation.” 
“—!” Akari’s eyes flew open wide in shock. 
Her body trembling as she fought to keep her emotions from bursting forth, she managed to squeeze out weakly: “That’s enough, Mother…” 
She knew that her mother wasn’t lying. And that being the case, what more could she possibly hope for? 
“Are you convinced now, Miss Yachigusa?” the student council president asked again, clapping her lightly on the shoulder. “Can we count on you to enter the Phoenix?” 
When she left the student council president’s office, Akari found Madiath leaning against the wall outside. 
“Ah, were you waiting for me? Thank you, Madiath.” 
“…I wasn’t expecting this. Judging by how you look, I’m guessing the discussion went well?” 
“Yes, fortunately.” 
Madiath narrowed his eyes suspiciously for a moment but quickly returned to his usual easygoing expression. “Well, I guess that’s good. I suppose you’ll be my partner in the tournament, then?” 
“It looks that way. I hope I don’t end up weighing you down,” she said, bowing her head deeply. 
Madiath gave her an exaggerated shrug. “You’ll overtake me with a little training. Although, that might not even be necessary.” 
“Huh?” 
“I’ve looked into it, and there doesn’t seem to be any major players entering the Phoenix this time around. So long as no one like the Ban’yuu Tenra signs up at the last minute, we shouldn’t have any real difficulties taking the crown,” he said, as if it really wouldn’t be any problem at all. “So if you want to prepare for it, you’d probably be better off thinking about what kind of wish you want granted.” 
“Wish…? That might be difficult…” 
If she were to ask for money, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about paying for her tuition any longer, but winning the Festa seemed like overkill if that was all that she wanted. In that case, she wondered, maybe she would be better off using her wish to benefit the outlook of her family? 
“Speaking of which, have you decided what you want?” she asked Madiath. 
“Hmm… Well, now that I’ve been exposed, I was thinking of freeing myself from this special scholarship. But then again, seeing as I only have to put up with it until I graduate, I might as well save my wish for something else. Not that I really want anything in particular, though…” He paused there, rubbing his chin with his hand as he fell deep into thought—when suddenly, he looked up. “Ah, right. Maybe I’ll ask for you?” 
“…Huh?” Akari, not realizing for a moment that he was emphasizing the noun in that sentence and not the preposition, found her face turning scarlet. “Th-that’s, Madiath, I…!” 
“Ha-ha, I’m joking. Anyway, the Festa claims not to grant wishes that violate people’s human rights. They wouldn’t give anyone away like that.” 
“…Right.” 
Realizing that he was making fun of her, Akari had pretended to be taken aback by what he had said, but she was surprised to find that, deep down, she was somewhat disappointed. 
“Well, there’s no use counting our chickens before they’ve hatched. Why don’t we go for a little training?” 
“Ah… R-right.” 
There wasn’t a lot of time left before the Phoenix was due to get underway. 
Madiath may well have been right about there not being any particularly strong opponents entering this year, but the Festa was always filled with surprises. There would be no telling how it would turn out ahead of time. Akari, who had spent much of her life trapped in that dark, lonely existence, knew that well. 
“Well then, I’m looking forward to working with you, Akari,” Madiath said, holding out his right hand. 
“Hee-hee, the pleasure’s mine,” Akari replied, taking it in her own. 
“Huh…?” Madiath murmured, frowning. 
“Hmm? What is it?” 
“Nothing… It’s just—this is the first time I’ve seen you smile like that.” 
“Huh…?” 
That day, that moment, was to be a turning point in both their lives. 
For better or for worse. 
 
“Chairman. It’s almost time.” 
Madiath opened his heavy eyelids at the sound of his subordinate’s voice and found himself staring up at the ceiling of his familiar office. 

 

He must have fallen asleep in his chair, he realized. Checking the time, it seemed that the opening ceremony of the Lindvolus was indeed due to get underway shortly. 
“Ah, my apologies. Thanks for waking me. It wouldn’t do to sleep in on a day like this, now, would it?” 
“You look exhausted,” his subordinate replied, fetching his coat for him. 
“The big shots at the IEFs just won’t leave us alone around this time of year. I guess it’s wearing even me out.” 
“That’s understandable. You’re overseeing both the most anticipated Festa in history and the Concordia, after all.” His subordinate’s voice was filled with praise and admiration. He was a simple, honest man, this subordinate—which no doubt meant that he wouldn’t make much headway in life. 
“The Concordia has been out of my hands for a while now. I’ve merely been involved in preparing the facilities and receiving our guests. All to maintain and develop the Festa, of course,” Madiath said, putting on his coat and glancing out the window. 
He was heading toward the huge dome beyond the orderly lines of buildings in front of him—to that arena that would, from today, be the center of the world’s excitement and passions for the next two weeks. 
It was also the place where he and Akari had fought side by side. 
“It’s time,” his subordinate said again, unable to contain his own excitement. 
“…Indeed it is,” Madiath murmured in response as the flood of emotions bore down on him. 
There was no way that his subordinate would be able to understand the nature of what lay behind those emotions—nor, for that matter, would his comrades Dirk or Varda be able to grasp them, either. They were his—and his alone. Hatred, anger, pity, conflict, and everything else that went with them. 
“Let’s get going. This Lindvolus will be one for the history books—I guarantee you that.”