Mahou Shoujo Ikusei Keikaku - Volume 13 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

RUN, RUN, TRANSFER STUDENT, RUN

  Kumi-Kumi

There were a number of rules for the school lunch.

It was nothing dramatic. Just like the elementary school Kumi-Kumi had attended until third grade, it was all really obvious stuff, like “Avoid leaving food on your plate as much as possible,” “Finish eating before lunchtime is over,” “Submit a form beforehand about any allergies,” “Serving duty is in a rotation, by group,” and “When there are extras of popular items like pudding, then do rock-paper-scissors among those who want it to pick who gets it.” And one of these rules was: “Eat your meal with your group.”

The girls moved around the desks and chairs, lining them up to face one another for the meal, chatting just as much in between bites as to not get in the way of eating. Even if they’d only met that day, this was bound to help them make friends. There was something Kumi-Kumi wanted to talk about with this new classmate and new member of Group Two. While she was at it, she also had a word or two of caution she wanted to say to Mephis.

Or so she’d intended, but Kana finished her meal like lightning, dashing out of the classroom before Kumi-Kumi had the time to speak. A magical girl is far faster than a human. They even eat faster.

Though Kumi-Kumi had hardly been able to talk with Kana at all, she did manage to caution Mephis. But it was hard to say that went well, either. Kumi-Kumi had admonished Mephis countless times since she’d first gotten acquainted with her, but she couldn’t think of a single time it had worked.

“Why…um, did you do something…so violent to Kana?” Kumi-Kumi asked.

“Oh, did I do something wrong? I didn’t, did I?” Mephis shot back. Adelheid shrugged with a deliberate-looking smile, while Lillian pretended not to hear anything and slurped her soup.

Mephis thrust her spork at the mumbling Kumi-Kumi. “You’re chickenshit, so I did you a favor by making a move. That told us lots of stuff, right? Like how good she is, if she’s the type who sucks it up or immediately loses it, if she’s got guts or can be intimidating. So then it’s fine, right? There’s no problem. This means you learned stuff ’cause I made a move for you, right? You’re always the first to complain, but you should appreciate stuff when it deserves it.”

That was all total nonsense. Mephis had snapped at Kana because she was in a bad mood. She was using post hoc rationalization to dress herself up in logical armor in an attempt to make it so Kumi-Kumi couldn’t complain. However, if Kumi-Kumi tried to point that out, then Mephis would really lose it. Bring up the color of her underwear, and she’d definitely snap.

With a snort, Mephis took off her glasses and held them in one hand, wiping them with a small cloth. It seemed they’d gotten clouded up from her effusing.

Adelheid and Lillian appeared to want to leave the conversation to Mephis and Kumi-Kumi. Though they clearly heard it all, they stayed out of it, chatting about the baseball game that had aired the day before. They knew just as well that nothing good came of making Mephis mad. As long as she wasn’t angry, she wasn’t a bad person, and there were things about her you could respect, like guts and competitive spirit. Mephis wasn’t the only one here with personality issues, so you had to be generous, like, “She’s one of us, so what can you do?”

Apparently done saying her piece, Mephis started an arrogant and know-it-all explanation about the number-four batter who’d struck out when he’d had the chance to turn the game around. Lillian barely understood the rules of baseball, and Mephis didn’t know the rules at all, but Adelheid had gotten into watching pro baseball through video games, so they’d started watching along with her. Mephis was capable of being cooperative with things like that, but then she’d never listen when people tried to scold her or tell her off. Was there some kind of trick to telling her things, or what?

They cleaned up once they finished eating, and after brushing their teeth, they were on break. But it wasn’t like they could freely go to the sports field, library, or the computer room where the PCs were. All of those were in the new school building, so they were out of their reach, since the magical girls were forbidden from leaving the old school building. The one place they were allowed—the gym in the old school building—they could only use three times a week: Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, during gym glass. It was Monday, so it was blocked off with a chain and lock. They weren’t allowed to go into the courtyard, and the door to the roof was generally locked. Ever since that fight that had broken out from playing a three of spades on a joker, the cards, which were one of their few pleasures, had been confiscated, and games like shogi and Reversi had been banned just in case, too. There was nowhere the girls could go for fun.

They could talk in the classroom or in the hallway, and that was it. Kumi-Kumi was no good at idle chitchat. When she said as much, Adelheid had laughed, saying, “Is there such a thing as bein’ good or bad at chattin’?” But that was just bragging from someone who wasn’t bad at it. Still, it wasn’t like she wanted to be alone, so she wound up going silent and listening to the others of her group talk.

They chatted about what was happening in a gag manga serialized online, which from there turned to the subject of a great manga in short-run serialization that had unfortunately been canceled, and Kumi-Kumi left, saying, “Bathroom.” None of Group Two were in the middle school–esque habit of going to the bathroom together.

“Kumi-Kumi.”

The moment Kumi-Kumi left the classroom, someone called out to her, and she jerked her head over to see Kana, who had dashed out of the room earlier.

Kumi-Kumi furrowed her brow, drew in a big breath, relaxed her face, and turned to face Kana. Though she really had been thinking she wouldn’t interrogate her, the first thing that came out of her mouth was questioning her behavior. “Where…um, where were you?”

“I went to check out the new school building,” Kana said without any diffidence, but also not proudly, like a delinquent who’d broken the rules. She said it dispassionately, like she was stating the facts, which made Kumi-Kumi suspicious. Even if she hadn’t been listening to the rules, she had to understand just from looking that nobody else was going into or out of the new school building.

“Entrance to the new school building is…generally…forbidden.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know.”

“I want you to…check the rules, one more time… No, more than once more might be good… Just check them. Ummm, at the very least…ah, the members of Group Two have to stick to the rules. A member of the group doing something…careless would cause trouble for the group as a whole—” After getting this far, Mephis’s face rose in Kumi-Kumi’s mind, and she swallowed what she was going to say next. The leader of Group Two herself broke the rules, so telling Kana only she should stick to them was a double standard. These thoughts cut her words short.

But Kana didn’t seem bothered, bowing her head. “I see. Pardon me.” Her shining silver hair swept downward in a gentle flow, then swished back the other way along with the motion of her head.

No matter how you looked at it, she was a magical girl.

She would not undo her transformation. She went out to the new school building. She ignored the rules and wasn’t ashamed of it in the least. And she’d come out of a prison, too. This was too unconventional for a mere elite. She was out of the ordinary—extreme, rather. Was she consciously trying to draw attention to herself, or was she just such a big idiot that she didn’t realize what she was doing? Someone with enough power to recommend her to the school had sent her over, so there was no way she could be a big idiot, but each individual action she took looked like nothing other than absolute idiocy.

Whether she was aware what Kumi-Kumi was thinking or not, Kana put a finger to her chin, took a step to the right, and looked into the classroom over Kumi-Kumi’s shoulder. “On my way here, I saw Group Three talking in the hallway.”

“…Oh yeah?”

“And Group Two is in the classroom? It seems that groups stick to their own during break times as well.”

“That’s right.” Ever since the Millionaire incident, Mephis had avoided Group One as much as possible, and it seemed like Group One was keeping their distance from Mephis, too. And Group Three had preferred to associate among themselves to begin with.

“If there’s a rule that says we stay with our group even during breaks, I’d like you to tell me.”

Kumi-Kumi’s right eyebrow raised a tick. Between being an ex-con, the way she wore her uniform, being the only one who stayed transformed, and how she’d refused to chat and just scarfed down her food, Kumi-Kumi had thought her a lawless character with no intention of making friends or sticking to the rules, but it seemed Kana was actually concerned about this.

She revised her evaluation, thinking this girl might actually be better than Mephis. “There isn’t, um, actually…a, you know…rule…that you can’t hang out…with other groups. But how should I put it…? There is, probably…something like a…tacit understanding. Well…since, before, um, like…there was…stuff.” Of course she couldn’t say, “It’s because our group leader was about to lose at cards and got violent, so things got awkward.” It was better to speak vaguely than to spread around her group’s shame.

Whatever Kana thought of this, she folded her arms and nodded. “I see. So you mean there’s some situation you can’t talk about?”

“Well, um…yeah. I can’t deny that.”

“And who’s most informed on this matter you can’t speak of?”

Someone from Group Two talking about the situation would only be advertising their own embarrassment. And if Kana brought up the subject with Group One and they found out Kumi-Kumi was the one who’d told her, that would make it look like she was insinuating something by sending Kana to them, and she could anticipate that would mess up the relationship between Groups One and Two even worse.

So then, Calkoro. She was the only one who’d know exactly why she’d made the decision and what her standard for judgment was, and she seemed like the best choice for someone they knew.

Kumi-Kumi was about to say, “You should get the teacher to tell you,” but then she reconsidered. Nothing good would come of it if she said, “I think the teacher would know,” and turned the problem over to her, and then the teacher thought Kumi-Kumi was using the newbie in Group Two to try to pull something. She could even imagine a worst-case situation where her graduation was put at risk. And Group Two already had poor evaluations to begin with.

By the time Kumi-Kumi thought to tell her, “You shouldn’t probe into that sort of thing,” Kana was already gone. Remembering that Kana’s magic was to let her know the answer to questions, Kumi-Kumi let out the umpteenth sigh of the day. This had all been nothing but hassle. Regardless, she walked to the bathroom.

  Calkoro

Kana quickly finished her school lunch and ran off. Calkoro had no idea what she planned to do or where she was going. She doubted that free spirit would report to her honestly about it, either.

But still, figuring that she had to report to Halna, Calkoro quickly bolted down her rice, laid down her chopsticks, and placed her plate and tray on the long table for school lunches. Calkoro had been trying to eat quickly, but most of the kids had already finished their meals. The only ones still eating were Arlie and Dory, who were poking each other in the sides with their fingers while the others all chatted.

The kids were all so carefree. It even made her envious. Calkoro had such a mountain of things to do. Before her melancholy reached her legs and kept her from moving, she quickly left the classroom. As she walked, she shaped her fingers in seals and muttered some spells. First, she made the inside of her mouth clean, and then she cast a spell for strengthening her digestive organs to help digestion and absorption. By doing this, even if she walked quickly after eating, she wouldn’t be tormented by stomachaches.

“Ms. Calkoro.”

Right as she was about to speed up, a voice called her to a stop, and she turned around. Her face automatically took on a beleaguered look. But she couldn’t be like that, even with this particular student. After a breath’s pause, Calkoro forced some dignity to her face befitting a teacher as she smiled and replied, “What is it?”

It was Kana. The tatters here and there on her uniform seemed to suit her, for some reason. The sort of damage that would normally come off as poor and dingy looked wild and sexy on her, achieving a perfect balance that increased rather than hurt her charm. Calkoro got the feeling that something about her couldn’t just be chalked up to her being a magical girl, but she couldn’t express that “something” in words.

Kana took three steps toward Calkoro. She was close enough that Calkoro could feel her breath. She clenched her sweaty palms. Her anxiety increased.

Calkoro had no idea what Kana was thinking. She was quite literally a criminal, and she wasn’t trying to hide that she was inspecting and exploring the school.

“There’s something I want you to tell me,” said Kana. She let out a sigh that stroked Calkoro from her jaw to her throat. Even that one exhalation was so captivating.

“What is it?” Calkoro asked.

“I heard there’s a reason they can’t tell me for why all the groups stick to themselves for everything.”

Kana did away with any kind of reservation or consideration. Her question absolutely abandoned any of the social techniques of the aristocratic classes, who hid their goals in their breast to sidle up with a smile—her question was like raising a naked blade over her head to charge forward. Calkoro reflexively made to back away, but Kana matched her with a step forward, bringing them closer instead. Not only did Calkoro feel her breath, even their skin was touching now.

Calkoro looked away. “Who told you that?”

“I heard you know a lot about situations you can’t say out loud.”

She missed her moment to attempt to deny it. She thought she had to say something, but her voice wouldn’t come out. Kana gently touched Calkoro’s arm with her right hand. Despite thinking privately, Does she have no sense of personal space? her voice still wouldn’t come out.

“A situation people can’t say out loud…” The issue of the factions rose to mind. This school was effectively an extension of factional conflict. The groups had been divided along factional lines to avoid quarrels as much as possible.

But Calkoro could never tell a student that—and definitely not this dubious magical girl. “Of course…I…can’t tell you… That’s not information I should be revealing to a student,” she somehow wrung out, though faltering.

Calkoro’s denial did not change Kana’s expression at all. Twisting her body around, Kana leaned her face in persistently close to her from below.

Sweat streaked down Calkoro’s forehead, stopping at her eyebrows. Her back was drenched, making her shirt stick to her skin, while the sweating from her underarms caught in the band of her bra, oozing into it.

“I want to know,” said Kana. “I don’t want to use my magic, if possible. I was careless before and wound up using my magic by accident, but I want to avoid using it.”

“I…I won’t say… You shouldn’t know that information.”

“In other words, you can’t tell me, but you know?”

“Well…”

“Now then, who is it?” Kana narrowed her eyes with a little nod. That slight gesture made her hair swish forward, stroking Calkoro’s robe.

Calkoro audibly swallowed. “Hey…”

“I understand. Where is the principal now?” Before she could hear Calkoro’s answer, Kana’s expression clouded. “Pardon me. I understand that I shouldn’t ask, but it just pops out of my mouth.”

Like a snake that had been wrapped around every inch of her body leaving its prey, Kana slithered away, straightening her fingers to place both hands at her thighs and bow her head. “Thank you. I’m grateful.”

Before Calkoro could even voice her surprise, the girl was gone.

Calkoro drew in a big breath, then blew it out, leaning her hands on her knees to support herself as she looked around. There was nobody in the area. It didn’t seem like she was being watched. What a disgraceful sight. It was difficult to express just what was disgraceful and how, but nevertheless, she understood that this was unquestionably a disgrace.

Her whole body was drenched with sweat. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She understood that she needed time to regain the presence of mind to think about things. So then there was only one thing to do.

Calkoro transformed, taking her magical-girl form. The sensation of cloth sticking to skin went away, and her heartbeat regained its calm. She let out a deep breath and inhaled a long one, then put her fingers to her glasses to adjust their position.

Once she’d regained her composure, she could start thinking. Just what the heck had that been? Being face-to-face with a magical girl while not transformed would make anyone anxious. And those various other conditions—being close enough to touch skin or Kana being fresh out of prison, and even not counting that, the fact that they had no idea what she really was—all would have increased her anxiety. But was that really all it was?

Removing her fingers from the temples of her glasses to press the pads of her fingers against the abacus at her side, she flicked a bead.

Calkoro’s magic was “an abacus that confers great calculating abilities,” but she wasn’t about to try calculating that earlier situation. At times when she was trying to compose herself, to settle her heart like a calm at sea, her hands would naturally reach out to her abacus. And it did work. Now that she’d cooled her head a little, she concluded that this was strange, after all.

It had never happened to her before. That girl held a fierce presence. That hadn’t been a danger to Calkoro’s person that she could express in words like “I thought I was going to die,” or even if she didn’t go that far, that she had felt a clear sense of hostility. There had been something big that she had never felt before. Kana’s presence alone had made her feel overwhelmed.

Calkoro had absolutely no clue as to what this thing she’d never felt before was. It wasn’t Kana’s magic. It was also different from her strength as a magical girl. So then what was it? The answer was not forthcoming. And Calkoro didn’t know why. And the conclusion that she didn’t know wouldn’t get her anywhere.

Hearing the sound of a door opening from behind her, she turned around. Kumi-Kumi, who’d just come out of the bathroom, was looking confused—or rather, suspicious. “Ms. Calkoro…did something happen?”

Remembering that oh yeah, she was transformed, Calkoro brought the hand that had been on her abacus to her mouth, and with a weighty cough in an attempt to put even a little dignity in it, she muttered, “It’s nothing,” as if she were telling that to herself, following up with, “You don’t have to worry about it.”

Kumi-Kumi was a student who would listen to what teachers said. Her expression dissolved, and she bowed and returned to the classroom.

I have to go to the principal’s office right away, Calkoro thought, but if she went in as a magical girl, then Halna would demand why she was transformed. But if she detransformed, then she’d be covered in sweat. She needed a change of clothes and a shower. After she did that, she’d head to the principal’s office. She decided her excuse for being late would be that “Kana was walking too fast.”

  Halna Midi Meren

As the one responsible for the management of the magical-girl class, Halna was ultimately no more than a manager, and she did not have the official title of “principal.” Though they did declare externally that they were an official operation, she only maintained and managed one class, and she had not been officially appointed to the position of school principal.

But nevertheless, because she was in charge, people called Halna the principal, and she didn’t bother to correct them. She more or less comported herself as if she were the principal, though she was not. And so there was no plate up in front of the room that had been arranged for her that read PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE, because it was not a room where the principal was.

Calling it just an “office” would be fair, but that wasn’t the sort of thing you would bother putting up a plaque to indicate. Compared to her role at the Information Bureau, the responsibility and volume of labor involved were so trifling it would fly away if you blew on it, and Halna was absent far more often than not. The majority of the students only thought of it as Some weird room; I don’t really know what it is.

A major point of the room was its role as a reception area, so it was properly furnished to look like a principal’s office, so as not to be a disgrace to outsiders. The carpet was extremely plush, to the point that your feet sank in it, which made it hard to walk. The silver candlesticks and beeswax candles weren’t a proper source of light. This was also the only place in the old school building that had been designed to hide the fire alarm and sprinklers from view. This sort of vacantly ostentatious authoritarian style was far from Halna’s own taste, but considering she didn’t use this room on a regular basis, it wasn’t like she couldn’t put up with it.

The design of the space had been done by the Puk Faction. Even if she wanted to complain, they had already been kicked out. It would be ingratitude to complain to them now, after so graciously making this facility and system for raising excellent magical girls, then offering the pretext for it to be seized from them.

As Halna’s pen was scrawling along under just the right level of brightness, there came a knock on the door. Looking up, Halna turned to the entrance. No motion of the black, thick-looking wooden door followed the sound. The person on the other side was waiting for Halna’s permission.

Some mages deemed it shameful to behave in different ways to different people. Halna, however, did not share that view. That was nothing more than the complaint of someone who couldn’t adapt to the needs of the moment, grumbling “I don’t quite like changing your attitude depending on the person” like an excuse.

In a tone of restrained inflection, neither gentle enough that she would be disrespected by those below her, nor cold enough that she would be loathed by those she didn’t want to hate her, she said, “Come in,” prompting the visitor to enter.

The one to come into the room was the new transfer student. Halna regretted having bothered worrying about her inflection and clicked her tongue before saying, “What do you want?”

“Your clothes are different from when we met this morning,” replied Kana. “They look easier to move in.”

“Formal robes make my shoulders stiff. They’re not suited to desk work. They make me less efficient. So what about that? If you’ve come to chat about something so trivial…”

“I have a question for you.”

“I have no desire to tell a criminal anything.”

“A prisoner and a criminal are two different things.”

“If you came here just to come up with such quibbling self-justification—”

“I’m not. There’s something I want you to tell me.”

People who rise to important stations young enough to be called exceptional will be tailed by prejudice and bias. When dealing with people of such despicable character, first, Halna would glare at them. For Halna, this was enough to resolve most issues.

However, this was not an effective method of resolution with this magical girl called Kana. She didn’t flinch under the look that people whispered was the glare of the Gorgon. Since her reaction indicated no pleasure or displeasure at all, it was even possible she didn’t understand what Halna meant by it.

The tension in Halna’s brow eased. Glaring at Kana would just add more pointless wrinkles. “…What is it you wanted to hear from me? Tell me.”

“I’m told there’s some unspoken reason for why the students will stick with their own groups, even during break times. I want to know why that is and why people won’t say.”

The factions of their sponsors, eh?

Halna immediately got it. But still, she couldn’t get what Kana meant by this.

She looked back at Kana’s face, but there was no information to be read off it. Not knowing what she was thinking had remained consistent from the time they’d met earlier that day. But the question as to whether she could come to like this magical girl was something else, and it was in fact fair to say that this was pushing in the negative direction.

Swallowing the invective that nearly leaped out of her, Halna examined Kana again. She wore a cool expression. It seemed the issue was not about her being gutsy or unable to read the atmosphere. The thought crossed Halna’s mind that perhaps it was doing this sort of thing repeatedly that had gotten her imprisoned.

“Why do you need to know that?” Halna asked.

“My memories got sealed away.”

“I’ve already been informed.”

“But not completely. I can talk, and I can think. It seems like I have a certain degree of knowledge, too. I can only ever remember things right when I think of them, but I believe I was more knowledgeable than I imagined,” Kana said, taking a step forward, avoiding the desk to attempt to circle around from the side.

Halna rose from her chair and kept her in place, saying, “Stop right there.” Not loudly, but sharply. “Why are you approaching me?”

“Someone once said that contact between student and teacher is important.”

“Don’t try to act smart, prisoner. Come any closer, and I’ll deem it an attack.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. I considered what I should do to be on better terms and then took action. I have no ill will.” Expression serious, both hands raised, Kana returned to her original position. “In other words, that’s what this is about, Halna…Ms. Halna. What should I do to become friends?”

“I don’t understand your point.”

“I want to befriend my classmates, but it’s no good for just one person to be unaware of a tacit understanding, isn’t it? I’m like an outsider. If I could know what it is, then I won’t be out of place in the class anymore. Or at least, there would be one less reason for me to be out of place.”

Halna stared intently at Kana’s face. The girl was overly serious. She didn’t seem to be fooling around. She also didn’t look as if she’d lost her mind. If she was speaking in earnest, Halna would be forced to doubt her sanity, but still, Halna figured out what her intentions were.

“In other words, you want to know what your classmates’ tacit understanding is, so you can be friends with them?” Halna said, punctuating each of her words as she mentally confirmed the information.

“That’s right,” Kana agreed readily. Her silver hair swished at the same moment the candlewick sizzled.

Halna still believed Kana was an infiltrator sent by the Caspar Faction. It wasn’t just in show business where the will of the sponsor was the most important thing for a magical girl—it was very much plausible that infiltrators would be wearing the masks of good magical girls to attend the school. But what about Kana? Was her mask managing to hide her goal? Her position as a prisoner would inevitably make her stick out like a sore thumb. And since coming to this school, she hadn’t even tried to hide that she was investigating things. She was far too crude an infiltrator.

Being the deputy chief of the Information Bureau, Halna knew quite a lot of things. Somehow or other, a magical girl named Pythie Frederica had curried favor with Ratsumukana-honome-no-kami to take control of the Caspar Faction. Even given that the Caspar Faction was lacking in both drive and ability, it was extraordinary to dominate it in such a short period of time. This Frederica she’d been hearing about was pretty sharp.

And if that was the one who had gone so far as to pull Kana out of prison for her ends, then was it possible for Kana to be merely a fool? Kana’s preincarceration records as well as her crimes had been entirely covered up. Halna had assumed this was inevitable, given the nature of the prison institution, but should she really be leaving it at that? Kana’s attempts at investigation were too blatant.

This didn’t fit right. There was an imbalance. Something was off.

Actually, though…perhaps I should see how she behaves now and make use of her.

“All right.” Striking her thigh, Halna plucked the notepad off her desk and tore off a page. Scribbling over the memo paper with her pen, she moved her fingers along with an incantation and cast a spell.

Kana tilted her head. “I’ve seen that technique before. A contract?”

Halna drew her chin back slightly. Kana wasn’t wrong. It was a very simple contract spell. It was used on those whose abilities as a mage were less than yourself and was often used by higher mages when binding their subordinates. Its use was limited, but that made it not consume much power, and it was easy to cast.

That Kana was able to guess at that from the incantation and seals meant that she had received education as a mage or that she was a magical girl who had associated with mages. Whichever it was, that was important information, but Halna couldn’t see any point to Kana having told her about it. Was Kana just trying to confuse her, or was this some sort of ploy? Or was she really nothing more than a fool?

“Don’t tell anyone what you have learned here,” Halna warned, “or who it was who informed you.”

“Understood. Then we have an agreement.”

“The groups in your class are divided based on which faction their backers are associated with. Magical girls from other factions are no more than competition, and when you include the risk of information leaks and other factors, there’s no need for them to be chummy.”

“I see, so that’s why.”

Halna laid the twice-folded paper on top of the desk and flicked it over to Kana. Right before it slid off the edge, the magical girl’s graceful fingers snatched it up from the side, deftly spreading it open with one hand. It described how Group One was the Osk Faction, Group Two was the Caspar Faction, and Group Three was a mishmash of other nobles and the Puk Faction.

Kana’s gaze went back and forth over the page twice, and then she flicked the paper back the other way. The twice-folded paper stopped halfway across the desk, in a position you couldn’t say was close to either of them. “I’ve memorized it. Throw it away.”

Halna crushed the memo paper in her hand, then tossed it into the trash bin on the floor. With an expression that would be viewed as serious, objectively speaking, she turned back to Kana. “Are we done?”

“Basically.”

“Then get out. Students shouldn’t linger around here.”

Kana took a step back, fingers of both hands pressed over her thighs as she bowed. “Thank you,” she said, and with a “Then pardon me,” there was the sound of the door closing, and she was gone.

Halna put her elbows on the table, supporting her chin with her hands. Even if she still didn’t know what Kana was scheming, if she could figure out that she did seem to be scheming something, then she should call things fine for now. If Kana continued acting so brazen, Halna would quickly discover her goal. And if Kana were to operate so as to keep only her goal from being known, then Halna would be able to manage that somewhat, too.

Whatever the Caspar Faction was after, this was the Information Bureau’s territory. And most of all, this facility for magical-girl education could be called Halna’s long-standing ambition. She had no reason to let Kana run rampant here.

Halna massaged her right upper arm a bit, then brought her hand to her shoulder and rubbed there. Stress had made her stiff. You couldn’t have even called that just now “sounding each other out.” She hadn’t sensed any hostile intent. Halna was accustomed to dealing with magical girls, given her position, but she’d tensed up anyway. She relaxed her left upper arm and shoulder in turn, then massaged her long ears.

It seemed this magical girl was of a caliber that she could exert pressure on the deputy chief of the Information Bureau—a position that couldn’t be managed without resistance to stress. Even if this girl appeared to be nothing other than a fool, if Halna took her at face value, she would surely be the one treated like a fool.

  Tetty Goodgripp

Once you’re in middle school, you have to be careful what you bring up in casual conversation. If you brought up the topic “What did you think of yesterday’s Cutie Healer episode?” you’d obviously get laughed at. “You’re watching Sunday-morning anime, even in middle school?” they’d say, or “Ohhh, so you’re one of those otaku.”

In that regard, the magical-girl class was great. People wouldn’t laugh at you or call you childish or immature for watching magical-girl anime, from Cutie Healer on down. They wouldn’t treat you like a creepy otaku for getting excited about transformation scenes or new members of the team. You might even be commended for being aspirational, passionate about research.

On Monday at lunch, Group One was excitedly chatting about the Cutie Healer episode that had broadcast the other day. Miss Ril brought up something the heroine’s mother had done, which seemed like foreshadowing, while Rappy talked about what a great idea it was to make the mascot transform into a cute boy. Arlie and Dory made interjections in broken Japanese, while occasionally having some kind of exchange in chirp-like words that seemed to be their mother tongue, occasionally even developing into fights, and when that happened, the other three pacified them, pulled them apart, or cut between them.

At some point, Dory smoothed the front of her skirt and hopped around, and figuring out that she wanted to go to the bathroom, Tetty prompted, “Let’s go together,” and with a “Then I’ll come, too,” the rest of them all headed out to the washroom. Some did their business, others waited as they continued their chat, others turned to the mirror and adjusted their hair, and once they were all done, with an “Okay, let’s go back,” they all shuffled off again.

Coming into the hallway, they didn’t go far before Tetty came to a stop. Someone was waiting for them. In an imposing stance, hands on hips, the magical girl somehow pulled off the torn uniform she wore as if it were meant to be that way.

Kana had only just had that spat with Mephis. Tetty had thought they’d make up during lunch, but apparently not. Tetty had been sympathetic to the other members of Kana’s group, thinking it would be hard to manage with the newcomer, but she’d never thought Kana would start trouble with Tetty’s group as well, and she couldn’t hide her bewilderment.

Miss Ril smiled like she didn’t know what to do. Arlie and Dory ignored everyone else, coming forward, until Rappy grabbed them by their collars to stop them.

Tetty was confused but stepped out in front of the rest of her group. “…Yes?”

“It seems I have a bit of information about the Information Bureau,” said Kana.

“Pardon?”

“The chief’s name is…yes, I think it was Alg Ve Lenz.”

Kana was looking at Tetty. In other words, she was speaking to Tetty. But Tetty had no clue what she was trying to say. Alg-whatever just sounded like a string of incomprehensible foreign words, and she didn’t know anything about the Information Bureau or its chief, either.

Praying, Please don’t take this the wrong way, she put on a polite smile and tilted her head. “Sorry. I kind of don’t know what you’re talking about or what you mean.”

Kana narrowed her eyes, put her hand to her chin, considered a few moments, and eventually nodded. “I see. No member of the Information Bureau would admit to their own membership, eh.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I should have taken the nature of the Information Bureau into consideration. I really haven’t been thinking enough. This has to be another side effect of my memories being taken from me. But I do remember the odd thing, surprisingly.” Kana drew her eyes away from Tetty and next turned to Miss Ril. “The chief of the Management Department is Ragi Zwe Nento. I don’t believe I’m wrong on this. He’s a narrow-minded old man who hates magical girls, but if he’s become involved in an educational facility for them, it seems he’s had a change of heart.”

Miss Ril tilted her head, an uncomfortable expression on her face. The angle of her tilt was a little shallower than Tetty’s. “Ummm…Management…Department? There’s such a place?”

Kana’s eyes widened, and she covered her face with her right hand, mussing around her hair. “The Magical Girl Management Department recommended your entry into this magical-girl class. In other words, you couldn’t not be acquainted with Ragi Zwe Nento.”

“Ohhh, that’s what you meant,” said Miss Ril. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about who recommended me. I think maybe I should thank them, but I’ve never had the opportunity to find out who it was.”

Rappy, who’d just been restraining Dory and Arlie, went “Ohhh!” and raised her hand. “I know, I know! That old man called Ragi-something-or-other! He’s the head honcho from the Magical Girl Management Department!”

Expression still serious, Kana tilted her head. It’s nothing but tilting heads here, Tetty thought.

“Why do you know Ragi Zwe Nento, Rappy?” Kana asked. “Wasn’t your recommendation from the Magical Girl Resources Department? You have nothing to do with Ragi Zwe Nento from Management.”

“No, it’s nothing like that! A while back, there was this kinda fad for doing extreme info theft from the Management Department! It was like a challenge thing, and people would sneak through the super-high-level department security to try to snatch random unimportant info! And a magical girl named Snow White pulled it off! And then she got famous! And a lot of girls tried to pull it off, just like her! I never did it, though. Oh, for real, seriously, I haven’t done anything I’d get in trouble for if it got brought up, okay? I just knew ’cause it was going around.”

Kana didn’t listen to Rappy all the way to the end, turning to Dory instead. “Regarding the lab…I don’t really remember. I apologize.”

“No apologiiize.”

Next, Kana turned to Arlie. “As for the Inspection Department… I believe I should have some sort of memories of it from when I was arrested, but since my memories were deleted, I can’t remember. I apologize.”

Arlie shook her head. She was making those words like chirping, but Tetty didn’t know what they meant. Like Dory, she had to be saying something like, “Don’t worry about it.”

Miss Ril’s tilted head went back to its original angle, and her cheeks trembled. “Kana…um, what is this about?”

“I’ve managed to find out which places recommended my classmates. I can’t tell you the source of the information.”

“Okay.”

“So then I thought if I could bring up the subject of those sponsors and get the conversation going, I might be able to make friends.”

“Okay…I don’t know about that.” Not sure about what she should say, Tetty gave Rappy a sidelong glance.

Rappy looked up at the ceiling for a while, then nodded right, before laughing. “You don’t need that to make friends!” and Miss Ril added, “Let’s be friends,” taking Kana’s hand in a firm clasp, and Arlie and Dory chittered, clapping Kana on the shoulder and back.

Tetty still didn’t really get what was going on, but she felt like she had to go along with everyone else, and so she put an arm around Kana’s shoulders and said, “Yes, let’s be friends,” patting her back. The words were empty, going with the flow without understanding anything, but Kana still said “Thank you” with a serious expression, bowing as she followed with, “I’m glad to be friends,” and that just made Tetty feel bad instead.

Wondering what in the heck she was doing, Tetty smiled, Miss Ril expressed joy, Rappy showed excitement, and Arlie and Dory skipped all around.