Mahou Shoujo Ikusei Keikaku - Volume 8 - Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

GOOD-BYE, MY FRIEND

  Bluebell Candy

Bluebell Candy had no real reason for continuing to be a magical girl.

It wasn’t like she had any ambitions, goals, or aspirations. She lacked any principles or opinions. She was vague about philosophy, and it wasn’t as if she had particularly powerful admiration for magical girls, either.

She’d heard there were quite a lot of magical girls like this. As the magical girl who had become Bluebell’s mentor had lamented, “So many magical girls keep it up because it’s the path of least resistance,” and she’d finished off by telling her she should not become that kind of magical girl.

And in the end, that’s exactly who Bluebell had become.

Whether you could become a magical girl or not was decided based off the vague standard of “magical talent.” Being decided based on something so vague, Bluebell thought, perhaps it was unsurprising that plenty of people with vague directionality would wind up as magical girls.

But what had happened after that was unusual.

Bluebell, who wasn’t any good at hand-to-hand combat, whose magic was just producing candies, who was only average when it came to office work, and who didn’t really have any other special skills, had been assigned to the Research and Development Department and become a salaried magical girl.

Not so long ago, the word “salaryman” had described an ordinary phenomenon and not a profession to aspire to. But now, to the temp workers who dreamed of how nice it would be to get a full-time job, salarymen were not ordinary at all but the elite.

And among magical girls, too, those who got a salary were the elite. You had to have a unique magic or connections with higher-ups—something like that—or you wouldn’t be put on salary.

Bluebell had become a magical girl for no real reason and had become a salary earner for no real reason. Just like how she couldn’t remember how she’d managed to become a magical girl, she also didn’t remember how she’d managed to become a salary earner.

Every day, she commuted to the R&D building, where she sorted documents and performed errands and other sorts of odd jobs, doing the kind of work you didn’t even have to be a magical girl to do, baffled all the while as to how she’d come to be salaried until half a year had passed and she had met Princess Deluge.

She’d heard of Princess Deluge’s origins.

She didn’t have to ask to realize Deluge was hurting on the inside.

Even Bluebell, who had just sort of wound up a magical girl without having a conscious goal, knew that magical girls were supposed to be useful to others, at times like these.

She wanted to encourage Princess Deluge.

She wanted to cheer up Princess Deluge.

She wanted to help Princess Deluge smile brightly.

Bluebell stayed by Princess Deluge’s side constantly. When Deluge was sad, she would give her a candy; if there was something Deluge wanted, she would offer it to her. She would show Deluge the things she wanted to see and take her the places she wanted to go.

A lot of things were difficult or fundamentally impossible, with Bluebell’s level of authority, but being one of the regular staff who commuted to the R&D building, she also knew where the card keys were and the pass numbers her superiors often used. Bluebell had given Deluge whatever she wanted, and Deluge had prepared carefully before causing this mess.

Had Deluge intended to use Bluebell, all along?

Or had Deluge become inclined to do that because Bluebell had presented her with the opportunity and the means?

Deluge was completely different now from the time when she’d been stricken by sadness. She was searching for the card soldiers, trying to hunt them all down.

She looked like an incarnation of vengeance, burning with rage. But the truth was, she was very unstable. Bluebell knew that. That was why she couldn’t abandon Deluge. There was probably no going back anymore for Deluge. And it was the same for Bluebell. She couldn’t go back now.

Maybe Deluge lacked self-awareness in this area, and maybe she’d get angry at Bluebell and tell her, “I don’t need your meddling.” But Bluebell was with her because she wanted to protect her. If Bluebell wasn’t there, Deluge would do something even more extreme. It was because Bluebell was there that Deluge was only doing this much.

She could empathize with Deluge. If Bluebell was in the same position, having been deceived and with her friends murdered, Bluebell would have surely also wanted to get revenge. But even so, she would feel awful if she couldn’t at least leave Deluge the room to be able to go back.

Someone had once said magical girls existed to help people in trouble. Right now, Deluge was in trouble. That was why Bluebell would follow her.

  Princess Deluge

When she attacked the card soldiers as they fled her, she saw Tempest in them.

When she attacked the card soldiers that stood up to her, she saw Inferno in them.

When she attacked the card soldiers that tried to protect the others, she saw Quake in them.

When she witnessed a heart card soldier hiding in the shadows, trembling with her back toward Deluge, she started to see Cherry in her, but that thought quickly evaporated. Cherry hadn’t been trembling as she was killed. Though she could have escaped, she’d come back. She’d fought boldly and been killed.

Fixing her trident’s aim, Deluge couldn’t attack. Seeing the back facing her, trembling because she was trying to hide, Deluge’s aim wavered. Her breathing went ragged, and her field of vision narrowed. She felt like she would forget what she was trying to do now, what she was doing.

“Let’s stop this, Deluge,” a voice called to her from behind.

Her body moved reflexively.

Her trident pierced straight through the heart card soldier from behind. Despite how many she’d killed so far, the sensation was rawer than ever before.

She breathed out. Then in.

She froze the wound before any blood could spray out, pulling out her trident the instant before it hardened. The heart soldier collapsed without a cry, and her body crumbled apart, blowing away in the wind as it disappeared.

Last time, when they’d all fought the card soldiers in the lab, the card soldiers had left bodies after being killed. They had only finally disappeared once it was time for the full set to be revived. The bodies of the card soldiers she was fighting now disappeared when they were killed. They were different from those Deluge had fought before. But that didn’t mean she could forgive them.

Though she’d come to this town to search for Premium Sachiko, once Deluge had discovered Shufflin here, she’d forgotten herself and attacked. Stealing Premium Sachiko would be a heavier blow to the Osk Faction than destroying a whole lot of Shufflins. Her “friend” had said as much, too. Deluge knew that. She did, but when she saw a Shufflin, she just couldn’t stop herself.

Deluge turned back and glared at the magical girl who had spoken to her. “I thought I told you not to follow me if you’re going to get in my way.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… You just seemed like you were suffering.”

“Could you not make assumptions about how I feel?”

“Sorry…but…”

“I’ll say it one more time: If you’re going to get in my way, then please leave.”

Tearing her gaze from Bluebell, she faced forward.

Looking at Bluebell was painful. Even though Bluebell didn’t resemble them at all, Tempest’s face, Quake’s face, Inferno’s face, Cherry’s face would flicker up and then disappear. If Deluge had really wanted to make Bluebell go away, she could have left her behind, but she just couldn’t quite push her away, so she let her follow. Though she used harsh language and treated her unkindly, she felt relieved that Bluebell followed.

Grabbing onto some Demon Wings, Deluge climbed into the sky. Bluebell also grabbed some Demon Wings to follow. Seeing that, Deluge sighed, then felt angry with herself for it.

She encouraged herself to not forget.

Quake, who’d tried to protect Tempest and had been beheaded. Tempest then cried and yelled, begging for mercy, but it was no use—she, too, was beheaded. Inferno’s final attack hadn’t even hit the enemy and left her to die in regret. Cherry, who Deluge had thought of as a coward and a poor fighter, had nonetheless plucked up the courage to return to the laboratory, where she’d continued to use her magic to support her allies until her dying breath.

None of their deaths had been acceptable. None of their murders had been acceptable. It hadn’t been okay for any of them to just get used, get taken advantage of, and then thrown away when they were done. They’d all given everything they had trying to become magical girls. They had fought without ever knowing they’d been tricked into believing they had to fight to save the world from destruction.

Filru had been killed because she’d shown mercy to the enemy. If she hadn’t had the kindness to show consideration to the heart card soldiers, Filru would not have died.

Deluge couldn’t die until she’d gotten revenge for them all—until she could get even. So until the moment she would be allowed to die, she would abandon kindness. She didn’t know if she’d ever even had such a thing to begin with. Nami Aoki had been someone who would adapt to her surroundings, go along with the flow, and be fine with it all as long as she was okay. When her friend had been bullied, she hadn’t tried to help her, because it had been clear that trying would worsen her own situation.

The weak smile of her friend who had stopped coming to school rose in her mind, and she shook it off. That wasn’t something to be thinking about right now.

If she’d never had kindness from the start, that was convenient. If she lacked kindness, the enemy couldn’t take advantage of her.

Deluge stared at Bluebell, who was watching her with concern. Deluge’s chest ached. She was suffocating. She put her hand to her chest and squeezed. She was breathing harder.

“Deluge, here…”

Deluge snatched the medicine Bluebell offered her in a tight grip, swallowing it down without looking at Bluebell. It replenished her energy. She could still fight, but she was taking medicine more frequently. Even Deluge didn’t know just how long she could fight without a break.

There was no contact through the headset. She’d told the others to immediately inform her when they discovered card soldiers, but they were offering less information of sightings—perhaps because the enemy numbers had decreased.

So then she had to find them herself. She’d never planned to rely on Pfle’s subordinates in the first place. She sent the Demon Wings out all over the city as reconnaissance, reporting to her if they discovered magical girls. The Demon Wings were low-intelligence, so she couldn’t make them search for Sachiko only.

But she didn’t care.

She was going to kill the card soldiers. She was going to kill the whole Osk Faction, not leaving a single one alive.

Deploying the Demon Wings, she had them monitor from high above. If they found any card soldiers, Deluge would go to them. She’d kill them.

The truth was it would be better if Bluebell weren’t there. Bluebell should not be there. The moment this thought hit her, she told Bluebell, “I want you to go.”

But Bluebell wouldn’t go away. Terrified, she cried and trembled, but still kept following her the whole time. “I won’t go!” “I’ll always be by your side!” she said as she refused to leave Deluge. And hearing these things, Deluge was relieved from the bottom of her heart.

An image of Prism Cherry kept coming into her head, but she erased it from her mind. There was only one Prism Cherry. No—had been one. There was not even one now. Deluge knew the reason Prism Cherry was now gone. Remembering made the flames at the depths of her heart spark and blaze high. This was not embers. It was a raging fire.

After some time, the Demon Wings she’d scattered in the air notified her that they had discovered a magical girl. Burning with rage, Deluge came running, but when she saw this magical girl surrounded by Demon Wings, her anger turned to confusion, and confusion to irritation. She waffled for a moment between descending or ignoring her, but in the end, she decided to come down. Upon landing in front of the magical girl, her irritation built even more when Deluge discovered the girl was smiling.

“What are you here for?” She vented her irritation at the girl, not at all hiding it, but the girl’s smile never faltered.

“It seems we’ve wound up in a situation where we must cooperate in earnest. By the way, who is that with you? I would appreciate an introduction,” said Pfle, smiling all the while.

  Micchan the Dictionary

Not even a single demon was left. The barrage of shuriken and kunai had pierced their wings, cut off their heads, and sliced open their bodies, felling them one after another, until before she knew it, the enemy’s attacks were focusing solely on Micchan the Dictionary. But that was fine. Privately, she was grateful that they’d taken the heat off her even temporarily.

A shuriken had sliced open the skin on the left side of her head. It hadn’t gone to the bone, but blood was flowing toward her ear, blocked from going in by her earplug. Just this alone was no problem. It was a small mercy her legs hadn’t been injured.

“Shoujuu [rifle] to ryoujuu [shotgun].”

Her rifle was out of ammo, so she transformed it into a shotgun. She used its wide spray to fell all the shuriken flying at her.

There was still Glassianne, Dark Cutie, Deluge, and some more winged demons left. But they alone wouldn’t be enough. Even with all those people on the team, they still needed Micchan. This was not overconfidence or an excess of self-consciousness on her part.

Glassianne devoted herself purely to reconnaissance, which was probably what made her hold back, and she had an extreme tendency to avoid intruding. Dark Cutie could be motivated by impulses that were difficult for others to understand, and someone else needed to hold the reins. Micchan didn’t think they could fully trust Deluge and Bluebell, whom they’d only just met that day. And Pfle was not on the scene.

So they needed Micchan, no matter what, after all.

—I can’t let myself die here.

The enemy continued to throw shuriken as she ran without looking behind her, and Micchan shot down the shuriken, racing in pursuit. As Micchan set the demons on the enemy, she closed the distance bit by bit but got wounded in the process.

They flew down the mountain road until the area opened up into fields and farm roads. There was a metal drum with smoke hanging over it. A truck was parked by the side of the road, but there were no people around. Micchan kept pulling the shotgun’s trigger until she’d used up its remaining ammo, shooting down shuriken and kunai. When she ran out, she tossed the gun away, stripping off her white coat in the same motion, brandishing it in her right hand as she slid to the ground. Maintaining speed, she rolled forward and bounded to her feet again, waving her white coat to swipe down the shuriken.

She’d finally gotten this far. It was just 150 feet between her and the enemy—close enough the enemy would stop and face her. The cost had been great, but getting this close was worth it.

As Micchan had predicted from the enemy’s weapons, her motif was a ninja. A large scar sealed her left eye. Her left sleeve swayed in the wind, indicating nothing was inside. One eye and one arm. The enemy threw kunai and shuriken one after another with only one hand. Though having one eye should have affected her depth perception, her aim was precise.

The way her shuriken moved was different now, compared with before revealing herself. Earlier, she’d just kept raining down shuriken from a super-long distance. Now that she’d exposed herself, the shuriken moved irregularly. They would fly in a straight line, then suddenly change trajectory to aim for vitals from blind angles. Or three shuriken thrown in succession would hit at the same instant from completely different angles.

The enemy had stopped right here, choosing to attack with full strength even if it meant abandoning her own safety. She intended to settle the match now.

—Fine by me.

Micchan waved her white coat, then tucked the mess that was left of it into a pocket to hold up a rock in her palm. “Ishi [stone] to ita [board].”

She turned this rock she’d gotten from the roadside into a three-foot-squared board that was eight inches thick. When the shuriken flew at her, they pierced it with a thud.

“Ita [board] to nata [hatchet].” She transformed the board into a hatchet.

Wielding the hatchet that was big enough to cover her upper body, Micchan knocked down the shuriken. The enemy’s projectiles came for her via trajectories that ignored the laws of physics. They’d bend at right angles or suddenly come straight for her after drawing a parabola, moving like whimsical creatures.

“Nata [hatchet] to nawa [rope].” While approaching the enemy, she changed her weapon to rope. The closer she got to her opponent, the harder the shuriken came, the faster the pace of throwing. Now the hatchet was too heavy for Micchan to wield one-handed. She swung the rope like a whip, knocking down the shuriken, knocking down the kunai, and dodging three more kunai at the last instant.

“Nawa [rope] to iwa [boulder].” She turned the rope into a giant boulder and left it there, using it as a shield against the kunai that warped their trajectories to come at her from behind. Micchan pulled out the pin of a hand grenade with her right hand and threw it behind her, while with her left, she slid off her necktie, saying, “Tai [necktie] to tako [kite].”

The grenade exploded behind her, fanning Micchan with the wind of its blast. The giant magical kite she made from her necktie lifted up on the blast of wind, rising over sixty feet in the air at a forty-degree angle, evading the aim of the shuriken and kunai.

“Kaito [kite] to kaika [flame].” Without the kite to keep her up, she started to fall. She put the flame in her hand to the tassel of her scholar’s cap, setting it on fire. Doing this enabled her to keep one tool while leaving her hands open. Putting her freed right hand in her pocket, she pulled out the final metal scrap of those she’d used earlier to stop the car.

“Teppen [iron scrap] to teppeki [iron wall].”

As Micchan fell, before her eyes appeared a thick and sturdy metal wall. She and the wall fell at the same speed as the wall repelled shuriken and kunai.

She pulled the ragged white coat out of her pocket. “Boro [rag] to bou [staff].” With her rag-turned-quarterstaff, Micchan struck away the many shuriken that warped around the wall to come flying at her. These attacks around the wall hadn’t been properly aimed. Micchan’s hypothesis that the ninja couldn’t strike with precision unless she saw the opponent was probably 90 percent correct. This much, she could fight off. The ground was coming closer. Setting her feet against the wall, Micchan repelled all the shuriken and kunai that were flying at her one after another.

Micchan landed with the wall, shaking the ground. She softened the impact with a forward roll, maintaining her momentum to fly at the enemy.

“Bou [staff] to boku [ink].” She splashed the ninja with ink, but the ninja avoided it with a nimble step back, throwing a shuriken as if she were dancing.

“Boku [ink] to taku [table].” Micchan swung the table around to knock down the shuriken, then with the table over her shoulder, charged at the ninja. If her opponent still tried to put distance between them, then Micchan had options, too. They were no longer in the mountains, where there was lots of cover; there was nowhere to hide in a field like this.

“Taku [table] to aku [lye].” Her right hand cupped a handful of lye while her left ripped a strip of cloth off her clothes.

“Nuno [cloth] to ono [ax].” Swinging around the ax in one hand, she knocked down the incoming projectiles. The one kunai that made it through a gap in her swipe, she blocked with her elbow. It wounded her, but not seriously. The ninja had four shuriken and kunai ready in hand for her next shots. The instant before she could fire them, Micchan pointed the lye at the ninja.

“Rojuu [bittern] to kijuu [machine gun].” This time, she created a machine gun, one too heavy for just a single person to carry. A human wouldn’t even be able to shoot it properly if it wasn’t secured. But a magical girl could, even while running around.

The ninja ran toward her, throwing shuriken as she simultaneously drew her katana. Micchan fired her weapon: The ninja dodged with a right step, then with a left, repelling another shot with her katana. Two steps, and the ninja was already within arm’s reach.

The ninja had incredible agility as well as dynamic visual acuity, pulling off the circus-like feat of using her katana to block the bullets coming out of a magic heavy machine gun. But she’d paid a price to pull it off. Her block couldn’t handle the force of the bullets, and her blade was sent flying high into the sky.

Bullets thudded into the planting field, making continuous explosions of dirt as the raised footpath between the fields was blasted up. The ninja stepped diagonally to avoid the muzzle of the machine gun, but her katana had been wrenched from her grip too forcefully. She was off-balance. Micchan let go of the machine gun. The two of them were too close for ranged weapons now. She shouldn’t be using guns, but a simple weapon that could finish the enemy off swiftly. The machine gun had ultimately been just to motivate the enemy to come close. This ninja was a formidable foe who could take sweeping fire from a machine gun without the twitch of an eyebrow. At a glance, Micchan could tell how strong she was.

Micchan held the handle of the hatchet in her mouth. She’d even mastered ventriloquism so she could speak with just a part of her mouth open.

“Kaika [flame] to zaika [coin].” The flame that had been burning on the tassel of her scholar’s cap transformed into a coin.

“Zaika [coin] to zairu [rope].” The coin transformed into a climbing rope, which Micchan took in hand.

Smacking the shuriken, swiping the kunai, she whipped the climbing rope around in front of her to use it as a shield, then wrapped it around the enemy’s legs. With her right leg trapped, the enemy drew a short sword, but she was too slow. Reeling her in, Micchan dashed up to her in one burst.

The enemy swung her short sword down on Micchan. Her slice was nimbler than Micchan had anticipated.

“Nawa [rope] to nata [hatchet].”

Freed from the restraint of the rope, the enemy lost her balance. The angle of her slice veered off, and Micchan barely dodged it. Her rebound swipe aimed for the end of Micchan’s chin, but she blocked that with the hatchet.

The two blades clashed and creaked, breaking off a little shard of iron that flew away. Between the agility of that slice and the strength that was no lesser than Micchan’s in a struggle of locked weapons, this was not a magical girl who purely focused on projectile weapons and attacked from a distance. She was pretty strong, even in a close-range fight. But Micchan was still going to win.

As their blades were locked, Micchan gently touched her fingertip to the dull side of the blade the enemy pressed toward her.

“Katana [blade] to kanna [plane].”

Against the will of its owner, the katana she’d been pressing at Micchan transformed into a carpenter’s plane. No magical girl would predict something like this in a fight. The equilibrium of force between hatchet and katana broke, and when the ninja magical girl fell forward, Micchan drove her knee up into her gut, then slammed the handle of the hatchet into her backbone to send her to the ground. The plane tool flew out of the ninja’s hands. When she tried to get up, Micchan swung her hatchet at her—but then she felt a shock in her right hand and smothered a cry.

The back of Micchan’s right hand had been crushed, and she could see white bone. She quickly understood what had happened. A geta was flying away, drawing a string of blood in its wake. While lying on her face, the ninja had bent her leg like a scorpion’s tail to throw her shoe, smacking it into the back of Micchan’s hand.

Micchan clenched her teeth around the handle of the hatchet in her mouth.

“Nata [hatchet] to futa [lid]!”

She judged that her right hand was unusable. This hatchet was made a little too heavy to wield in her left hand only. Using the pot lid, Micchan smacked down the other geta, then grappled with the ninja as she tried to get to her feet.

The enemy fired a kunai, but Micchan was faster. Firmly grasping the red scarf that fluttered in the wind, she yanked it close to her. The ninja’s white throat came into range of her hatchet.

The ninja pursed her lips, and Micchan thrust out her forehead. She felt a tiny prick there. The ninja had waited for the moment Micchan’s face had come close to spit a needle from her mouth. Being a ninja, she really did pull every single move. But it really seemed there would be no more.

Micchan pressed her forehead, with the needle stuck in it, into the ninja’s jaw, putting her body weight into it. She sat on the ninja, keeping her from moving her lower body. She’d lost the grip strength in her right hand, but it wasn’t like she couldn’t use her arm. Using her elbow, she strangled the ninja with her red scarf while she used her left hand to hold down the ninja’s right arm. The handle of her hatchet was slick with spit as she pushed it hard into her jaw.

The well-sharpened blade of the hatchet neared the ninja’s throat.

A fierce spray of blood. Her scholar’s cap and the ninja’s costume were dirtied by the dark-red fluid.

Micchan’s eyes widened as she saw something unbelievable. The point of a katana extended from her chest. The hatchet came away from her mouth. A thread of mixed blood and saliva extended from it. The ninja knocked her aside, and Micchan weakly rolled over the ground. She couldn’t fight it. She touched the point of the katana with her hand, but it was slippery with blood, and she couldn’t get a grip on it.

—This katana…

It wasn’t the short sword—that weapon had been turned into the plane tool. This one was longer; it was the katana the ninja had been using earlier. The machine gun’s fire had shot another katana high into the sky and Micchan hadn’t seen where it landed.

It hadn’t been knocked aside. The ninja had made it look as if her katana had been bashed out of her grip, while she’d actually thrown it high into the air. She’d gone so far as losing her balance and leaving herself open to commit to pretending it had been knocked away in an attempt to trick Micchan.

—Damn it…

More than having been tricked, Micchan was frustrated that the ninja had blocked the fire of the machine gun with ease. Through her clouding vision, Micchan could see the ninja getting to her feet. Micchan couldn’t get up. The gesture of the ninja raising up her kunai looked strangely slow.

  Fal

The three of them ran from alley to alley, choosing roads that wouldn’t draw attention. With Snow White in the lead, Sachiko next, and Uluru as rear guard, they ran as fast as they could without ever stopping.

“Magical girl detected! Behind us, pon!”

Uluru drew her gun and spun around, and Snow White passed by her side to strike the enemy with her weapon, Ruler. The demon used its square wing as a shield to block Snow White’s attack, but when it tried to push back, she evaded its shove, and it lost its balance, when without missing a beat, Uluru smacked it with the stock of her gun. Its face crushed, the black shadow weakly fell to the ground.

“That’s not the one I meant, pon!”

The magical girl that only Fal had been able to detect appeared before them in less than a second. The magical girl in black who’d fought with Snow White in the amusement park came rushing up the alley.

Sachiko cried out and tried to run the other way, but when she saw the shadow hound that ran along that side, she let out another cry.

It was Dark Cutie. A shadow extended from her hand to run along the wall and execute a pincer attack with her main body. The shadow bared its teeth at Sachiko and howled like a dog. Fal figured out how their location had been discovered. That was a hunting dog. It had picked up on their smell to follow them, trailing them from the amusement park to their hiding place under the bridge.

The hound snapped at Sachiko, who made a desperate attempt to dodge but tripped over her own feet and landed on the concrete. The hound took advantage of its superior position to snap at her. Uluru punched at it from the side with her gun, but the hound’s fangs seized her weapon. Dark Cutie moved soundlessly through the shadow to circle around behind Uluru, swinging up a knife-hand, and Snow White swung Ruler in a wide sweep. Dark Cutie pressed herself against the wall to evade, but the hound failed to dodge, and with a yip, it was sliced in half and melted away.

Scooping up Sachiko in her arms, Uluru yelled, “Surrender! Or you’ll die!”

The enemy didn’t stop. It was as if she couldn’t hear it at all. She stayed out of Ruler’s range, creating shadow weapons like whips and spears, and her hands never stopped attacking. Snow White smacked aside every attack—not just the ones aimed at her but also the attacks on Uluru and Sachiko.

“Uluru can kill all of you solo, you know!”

Dark Cutie paid it no mind.

“Look behind you! There’s an ambush coming for you!”

She was completely ignoring her.

Snow White repelled the blade that ran along the wall toward her. On the other side of the alley, she could see the sunset. The enemy’s magic made use of shadows to create weapons and animals. This opponent having the sun at her back was no laughing matter.

Uluru hesitated but then ran, pulling Sachiko’s hand. The sound of her footsteps grew distant. Snow White jumped off the wall of a high-rise, then set her foot on a windowsill on the opposite side, kicking away the shadow blade that reached up at her from below as she headed for the rooftop.

Dark Cutie didn’t pursue Uluru, going after Snow White instead. She threw a shadow rope along the wall, her shadow hook getting a firm hold on the rooftop fence. She only needed about half the time Snow White did to climb up to the roof.

  Princess Deluge

Being new models, the Demon Wings’ abilities were greatly enhanced compared with older Disrupters. With their added flying ability, they were as fast as a magical girl; they were stable, and they could even engage in high-speed acrobatic flight.

Deluge had flown in the past, before getting the Demon Wings. Princess Tempest had invited her out, holding her under her arms to go for a walk in the sky. Deluge had been completely unstable and spent the whole time being scared she would fall, but it wound up being a good memory. Inferno had looked genuinely concerned when Deluge told her about it: “You seem levelheaded, but you can be reckless, Deluge.”

She didn’t have the time for basking in sentimentality and memories like that.

Deluge grabbed hold of some Demon Wings to zoom through the air, tearing through the clouds. Her special abilities included being resistant to snow and ice, so flying at high altitudes was no problem for her.

She dialed a number, and finding there was still no answer, she tucked her magical phone away.

Her “friend” had called Pfle a schemer and a liar.

It wasn’t that she trusted what said “friend” said 100 percent. That “friend” only thought of her as someone to use, and they would understand that Deluge felt the same way. Neither of them thought well of the other; they were just together for convenience’s sake. This “friend” only communicated with Deluge by periodically leaving messages on her bed out of the blue or periodically a piece of paper; how much could Deluge trust someone like that? No one else would likely trust them, she figured. It was only after Deluge had gained substantiation for the information the “friend” had brought her—the existence of figures above Shufflin and Grim Heart, the quarrel among the Three Sages, the ceremony, the deaths of her friends, and other such things—that she’d finally come to be able to trust them to a degree.

Even with all this, it was just “a degree.” This was exactly why she didn’t trust them fully. But she thought their evaluation of Pfle may have been correct. When she actually met Pfle, she understood. She had traits similar to the old Nami Aoki, only bigger, stronger, tougher, and sketchier.

Her coming to W City with no advance notice to see Deluge was also very fishy.

“Things have gotten quite serious,” said Pfle. “Now doesn’t seem like the time to be searching for Premium Sachiko.”

“Do you even understand your own position?” Deluge replied.

“It’s precisely because of our cooperation that I came here to advise you. Why would I go out just to trick or deceive you? I could do something like that without coming all the way here.”

“I have my own goals. If stealing Premium Sachiko will harm the Osk Faction, then that’s all I’m going to do.”

“Nothing good will come of growing stubborn. There’s something more important I want to request of you. Could you confirm if Shadow Gale is safe?”

Was she trying to push through with a bluff? Deluge glared at Pfle, but Pfle coolly ignored it as she continued.

“The hostage is important to me, and to you as well, I assume. Given our shared values, wouldn’t you consider it wise to check?”

Deluge glared at her for a bit, but Pfle just kept saying “Contact them,” and “I’m not trying to deceive you,” and made no move to budge or leave.

“If this is a groundless fear or misunderstanding on my part, then that’s fine. You may laugh at my foolishness. In the case that it’s no mistake or false impression on my part, then this is a grave issue. Listen, Deluge, it wouldn’t be so much effort for you, would it? There’s no risk, either. And there is merit in it, too. You won’t have me following you about anymore. That’s quite the benefit, isn’t it? Don’t you feel like you want to give it a shot?”

The option of leaving Pfle behind crossed Deluge’s mind. But then she thought next, wouldn’t Pfle try to meet her through Dark Cutie or Glassianne? Pfle was the type to do something like that.

Deluge weighed whether there really were no disadvantages to this offer before concluding that there were not.

It would indeed be beneficial to have this annoying magical girl go away. She did have the feeling that she was being taken for a ride, but she didn’t want any further irritation.

“Are you all right, Deluge?” Bluebell asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Good evening,” Pfle greeted Bluebell. “I’m Deluge’s friend.”

“Oh yes, I’m a friend of hers, too.”

While those two were doing this strange self-introduction, Deluge pulled out her magical phone. She dialed the number of the hideout where Shadow Gale was locked up, then waited for a while.

…They’re not picking up?

It couldn’t be that there was no one at the hideout. Deluge had arranged for the three of them to take turns keeping watch on Shadow Gale. If it were only Demon Wings, they probably wouldn’t be able to pick up the phone, but Deluge ensured there would be at least two magical girls stationed there.

She dialed again. No answer.

One more time. No answer.

“Any word?”

Deluge glared (albeit not so pointedly) at Pfle and her smug, self-satisfied face. “Bluebell, a candy.”

“Right.”

She sucked on a candy and soon felt better.

“Is that your magic? You make candies?” asked Pfle.

“Yes, the candies that I make—”

“I’m going,” interrupted Deluge.

“Huh? Where?” asked Bluebell. “I’ll go, too!”

“You don’t have to follow me. More importantly, keep watch on that magical girl.”

“Huh? Keep watch on her?”

“Don’t listen to her, no matter what she says. And you don’t need to answer her, either.”

“That’s quite the awful treatment.”

“I’ll be right back if this turns out to be nothing. If anything happens, call my magical phone.” After instructing Bluebell so emphatically not to follow her, Deluge was not going to actively use her. If she let Bluebell get involved, then even she would have no place to return to. Deluge had thought it would be best to let her get involved in a way that would enable her to excuse herself somewhat afterward.

But the situation wouldn’t allow for that. She didn’t have the time, either.

Deluge hadn’t told anyone about her hideout. She had three magical girls, including Armor Arlie, and countless Demon Wings stationed there. Even if they had been attacked by forces capable of breaking through, it was unthinkable that there wouldn’t even be time for them to contact Deluge.

An accident had occurred. She had to go see what had happened, or she wouldn’t know.

Lifted off by Demon Wings under both arms, Deluge jumped into flight.

The Demon Wings descended gradually. Emerging from the clouds, she could see the lights of the buildings below.

What had happened? Had Pfle known? Deluge hadn’t bothered asking since she had the feeling Pfle would dodge the question. Deluge pulled a tablet of her drug from its case and put it in her mouth.

  Glassianne

Micchan the Dictionary had died. Glassianne thought she’d accounted for such a possible outcome, but now that it had actually happened, it felt nigh impossible. She couldn’t calm down at all, not in the slightest, not one bit. Her heart was pounding out of her chest.

Before she knew it, she was sighing, and though she continued searching for enemies, she felt like her concentration was flagging. She couldn’t do her job like this; nothing about any of this was good.

The ninja who had killed Micchan had disappeared like smoke. When Glassianne had seen Micchan’s struggle, she’d requested backup from Deluge, but by the time she had arrived, the fight had been over.

Glassianne lifted her head.

Bringing her mouth close to the headset, she just about told Dark Cutie that Micchan had been killed, but after some consideration, she brought her hand away again. Dark Cutie was in the middle of a fight with Snow White. Judging from how she’d left the fleeing Premium Sachiko to go face Snow White, it seemed she’d lost her head. Dark Cutie would get like this, from time to time. Whenever she’d gotten like that in the past, Micchan the Dictionary would act as the proxy leader. Now that Micchan was gone, however, Glassianne could not fill that role.

So now what am I gonna do?

She could no longer focus purely on reconnaissance. But being specialized in this area, Glassianne couldn’t do anything else. She was a specialist, not a generalist.

Dark Cutie was now a horse with a carrot dangling in front of her nose. What would be the point of reporting to her that Micchan had been killed when she was already worked up to begin with? At the very least, Glassianne doubted it would work to their advantage.

For now, she would back up Dark Cutie. It would be best to leave Sachiko and Uluru to others. Glassianne made up her mind. She would contact Princess Deluge and tell her that Micchan had been killed by the ninja magical girl and that Uluru and Sachiko had escaped and have her bump up the level of alert of the demons on watch around the estate. That seemed like a good idea.

Glassianne switched over her headset, connecting to Deluge. “Miss Deluge, this is Glassianne. Premium Sachiko and Uluru have escaped. Please raise the level of alert of the demons stationed around the estate. Dark Cutie is currently in combat with Snow White. Location: the roof of the Kamihayashi building in block four of the Kuna district. Requesting backup there, as well. And one more thing—Micchan the Dictionary was killed by a ninja magical girl. I believe it’s the same enemy who was throwing shuriken and kunai at us in the amusement park.”

“Oh-ho… Someone killed Micchan the Dictionary, hmm?”

Startled, Glassianne removed the headset, bringing it away from her face to look at it. It was still a headset—nothing had changed. She put it on again and said, “…Hello?”

“Whatever is the matter, Glassianne? Your voice sounds farther away now.”

She hadn’t been mishearing, after all. “…Boss? Why are you on the line?”

“I was just meeting with Deluge myself. I had her tell me about the situation in W City. Thanks to her kind, careful, and thorough explanation, now I have a general grasp on things. After all, I wouldn’t understand any of it since I wasn’t there myself.”

“Right…”

“In any case, there’s been a slight change of plans. There’s no need to kidnap Premium Sachiko.”

“Pardon?”

“We withdraw. We’ll meet at the previously decided location. Could you inform Dark Cutie as well? I’m busy with things on my end.”

“What? I mean, pardon?”

“Am I understood?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.”

This exchange only created more questions for Glassianne. But she had her orders from the boss.

So what was going to happen now? If things weren’t going to work out at present, then the situation had to be pretty desperate. Glassianne prayed for Micchan to watch over her from heaven—but then it hit her that if Micchan were anywhere, she might actually be in hell. Glassianne corrected herself: Watch over me from the other side, okay?

Micchan had done quite a lot of bad things in life, so this prayer was more accurate. Gee, I’m actually pretty quick-thinking! Glassianne thought, patting herself on the back as she contacted Dark Cutie through the headset.

  Dark Cutie

If she was considering the mission, she should have pursued Sachiko. But Dark Cutie had let Sachiko get away and let her feet take her up to the top of the high-rise instead. She felt as if she had been invited there.

This magical girl was named Snow White.

The name gave you a sense of purity and beauty—it was a name appropriate to a heroine. It excited her.

She was also called the Magical-Girl Hunter. Kind of a scary title for a heroine, more like a villain’s, if anything. But since Snow White got that title because she was purported to catch bad magical girls, in terms of behavior, it was unmistakably associated with the heroic side.

She was affiliated with the Inspection Department, and there were no lack of those who called her their top ace.

The flower decorations scattered all over her white costume, as if indicating purity, were beautiful, and her school uniform motif, with its armband and such, made you think of positions like a committee chair or a member of the disciplinary committee. It was a perfect fit for a girl whose lifestyle was about cracking down on evil.

As Snow White faced Dark Cutie, readying herself, Dark Cutie locked her in view, lowering her stance and tangling up each of her hands.

She could divine no emotions from Snow White’s expression. She could sense no anger, joy, or sadness. She was quiet like a calm sea, with nothing peeking through the features on her face. The naginata weapon she had raised in an overhead position slowly lowered.

This was unsatisfactory. It would be appropriate for a heroine to feel anger toward evil or sadness at being forced to fight another magical girl—being expressionless was not good. A heroine should be filled with more emotion than anyone else, and she should show that in her expressions, without hiding it. Perhaps this was an imposition, but it was what Dark Cutie thought.

A villain would behave like a villain, and in order to fight like a villain, the heroine must behave like a heroine.

Restraining her right-hand hound for the moment, Dark Cutie made a fox with her left hand.

From the right-hand side, she set the hound at Snow White, while from her left, she sent the fox. She had them attack on auto, not giving them any detailed instructions so that it didn’t matter if Snow White read her mind.

Snow White blocked the hound’s attack with the handle of her naginata and kicked at the fox, but the fox swiftly twisted around to evade her counterattack. Dark Cutie lifted her leg high and transformed her leg’s shadow into a winding whip, which she then snapped at Snow White. But before it could connect, Snow White backed up a step, and the whip only smacked the ground at her feet.

The whip’s job was ultimately just to get in her way. Snow White could read her mind. It was best for Dark Cutie to assume she wasn’t going to hit, attacking from outside the range of the naginata.

Snow White’s evasion of the whip created the slightest opening. The hound snapped at the handle of the naginata, putting all its body weight into it as it tugged. The fox ran up the other side, snapping at her Achilles tendon, and there was a sharp sound as its fangs came together.

That was a metallic sound. What the fox’s teeth had bitten into was not Snow White’s Achilles tendon.

—A fire extinguisher?

Snow White had withdrawn one hand from her two-handed grip on the naginata to pull a fire extinguisher from the bag at her waist and thrust it into the fox’s mouth. And while she was at it, she slammed the fire extinguisher and the fox’s head onto the roof a few times, sending concrete flying and scattering.

As Snow White attacked, Dark Cutie snapped her whip, but this time, Snow White dodged with a backflip. She twisted the naginata and her body at the same time, trying to peel the hound biting the handle of her naginata up from the floor. The shadow hound couldn’t take it and released the handle from its mouth, but an instant later, the naginata sliced the hound in half, and it melted away and disappeared.

Having dealt with the two beasts, Snow White landed lightly and picked up the fire extinguisher.

With her naginata, she lopped off the shadow spear that flew toward her next, then repelled the shadow whip with its handle. Her reactions were good.

—Then how about this?

With her right hand, a snake, her left a wolf, her right leg a whip, and her left leg a scythe, Dark Cutie stood on her tiptoes and spun like a ballerina, showering her with whip strikes, while from the sides she deployed the sharp-fanged wolf and the snake with poison that could knock you out from just a scrape. Snow White shoved the extinguisher into the snake’s mouth and avoided the wolf’s fangs by jumping onto the fence, jumping again from there to avoid the whip while she used the handle of her naginata to block the follow-up strike from the scythe.

Snow White was still dealing with it all easily. Dark Cutie decided to add a little more.

Bending her neck to touch her shoulder, she made a cat shadow. Now with the snake, the cat struck in between wolf, spear, and whip, not even giving Snow White the time to exhale, she attacked. Concrete fragments flew, the iron fence bent and twisted, but even so, Snow White stood there without a single wound.

Dark Cutie smiled. She had the feeling she could hear a voice from her headset, but it seemed inconsequential; she didn’t pay attention to what was being said.

Changing the wolf from her left hand into scissors, Dark Cutie snipped off the hair decoration that kept her hair tied. Her hair, which was gathered into a shape like animal ears, fell over her face with a swish. At a glance, Dark Cutie looked like she had short hair, but when she undid this part, its original length was restored. With the characteristic thick, full hair of a magical girl, she could create shadows. Mussing up her hair, she created a capturing net with the silhouette.

With this move added to her continuous assault using the snake, wolf, cat, whip, spear, and net, she attacked Snow White. As the shadow puppets flung themselves at her, Snow White leaped, rolled, swept them aside, blocked and dodged them, running all over the roof, sometimes failing to dodge entirely and getting hit, but she carefully avoided any fatal wounds. At most, she got some bruises or shallow cuts.

Snow White kept on dodging, never making any move to strike back. She focused only on evasion, dealing with the storm of continuous attacks. It was a tightrope walk: Never mind half a step, half a toe’s mistake would cost her life. Though this should have been giving her far worse than just a stomachache, her expression remained cool.

Wonderful. Dark Cutie was finally feeling cheery. Snow White was trying to buy time. She was trying to make herself a sacrificial pawn in order to let Sachiko and the other one get away. But even saying that, she likely didn’t intend to die here. She was the sort of sacrificial pawn who would live and escape in the end.

Dark Cutie wound up to punch the ground. Pulling out a large piece of concrete, she lifted it up to eye level. Snow White was watching her, naginata raised. Dark Cutie then grabbed the chain-link fence with her left hand and ripped it out. With the concrete lump in her right hand and the fence in her left, she held both up to the deeply reddening light of the setting sun.

She could make shadow pictures with more than just her own body. If she used tools, she could make the shadows even bigger, heavier, stronger. Snow White had hopped all around the roof to evade her attacks, but if Dark Cutie’s silhouettes got bigger, there would be fewer places to jump to.

Snow White must have picked up on Dark Cutie’s intention, as she leaped to the top of the fence.

Naginata in her right hand, she gripped the nozzle of the fire extinguisher in her left. Dark Cutie wrapped the shadow rope around the fence, yanking on it with all her strength to rapidly jet sideways and avoid a direct hit. But when the fire extinguisher’s powder spread out over the whole roof, it blocked her field of vision.

Dark Cutie jumped back and got on top of the iron fence. The use of the fire extinguisher kept her from making shadows. Even if she were to try, they would be faint and be that much weaker.

Of course, it wasn’t as if Dark Cutie had not thought up a way to deal with this. Since the enemy had been moving around holding a fire extinguisher, it was good manners as a villain to come up with a countermeasure for a fire extinguisher in the meantime. Dark Cutie said into her headset, “Anne, give me Snow White’s position.”

“Liiiisten! Like I’ve been telling you! Retreat! We’re withdrawing!”

“…What?”

“You weren’t listening at all, were you, Leader? I’ve been yelling myself hoarse! The boss contacted me earlier—we’re withdrawing!”

“Ridiculous.”

“No, you’re ridiculous! Micchan is dead!”

“…I see. Then I’ll eliminate Snow White so that I can withdraw safely.”

“Listen, you…”

“Anne, give me Snow White’s position.”

“She ran down the road while scattering extinguisher powder, then disappeared.”

“She disappeared?”

Gradually, the extinguisher powder cleared as the wind blew it away. Snow White was gone. Dark Cutie approached the edge of the roof and looked down and saw white powder leading through the back alley toward one of the main roads.

“I can’t say for sure, but I think she returned to human form while she was hidden in the white powder and disappeared into the crowd. The road is full of students coming home from school and salarymen on the way back from work right now. They’re all angry that some idiot used a fire extinguisher in a place like this.”

Dark Cutie thought about Snow White.

The Magical Girl-Hunter had managed to completely evade Glassianne’s glasses by pulling this move that spat in the face of the philosophy that it was amateur to undo your transformation on the battlefield.

This way of fighting was not what Dark Cutie would call suitable for a heroine. But Dark Cutie wasn’t opposed to using anything you could in life and just trying to survive. Cutie Altair had said something along those lines in episode twenty of Cutie Healer Galaxy:

“If you die now, then that’s the end. If you survive, there’s still a next time.”

The scene of Cutie Altair being helpless in the face of the Space Chaos’s magic was followed by the famous scene where she swore they’d fight again. The heroine had to survive. No matter how much like the protagonist someone seemed, if she died in the middle of the story, that meant she was nothing more than a side character.

“What do I have to do to be able to chase down Snow White?” said Dark Cutie.

“What do you have to do…? Hmm… Well, if you attack every single one of the civilians around here, you might get her, too.”

“That’s not something a villain should do. That’s just pure evil.”

“Micchan really was something. I’m impressed she had someone like you acting as a proper leader.”

Dark Cutie turned around and narrowed her eyes. The setting sun was about to disappear behind the mountain summit.

Snow White, were you waiting for this time of day…?

It struck Dark Cutie that maybe this was an invitation. She jumped down from the high-rise to search for Snow White.

Upon landing soundlessly, a mosquito passed by her eyes, making a grating noise. She raised a hand to smack it, rethought that, and lowered her hand. She saw herself in this mosquito that had survived so late into the year and, somehow, was unable to squish it.

A villain was a villain because there existed a hero of justice. What should a villain do when she continued to live on, without ever being defeated by the righteous hero?

A mosquito out of season would eventually die. The life span of a villain was longer than that of a mosquito. Would she forever live as a disgrace in a world with no just hero, or would the hero of justice one day come?

Dark Cutie put her hands together and raised them up to the streetlight to create a shadow bat. The shadow bat flapped its wings on the wall’s surface, snapped up the mosquito that had passed by, chewed, and swallowed.

Mosquitoes died easily. Villains were more tenacious.

Micchan the Dictionary had died. Since she’d been a companion of Dark Cutie’s, it should be fine to think of her as a villain. Most of all, she had been tenacious. Both villains and heroes were tenacious. Micchan the Dictionary couldn’t have been a heroine. Her outfit had been mostly white, and perhaps that one thing about her had been hero-worthy, but in every other way, Micchan had gone against hero doctrine.

Dark Cutie separated her hands. The body of the bat split in two, broke into pieces, and was swallowed by the darkness.

She clicked on her magical phone to connect to the magical-girl directory. Dark Cutie was affiliated with the Magical Girl Resources Department, albeit unofficially, meaning she had the authority to peruse materials regular magical girls could not touch.

Snow White was a survivor of the final exam that had been held by the infamous Cranberry, Musician of the Forest.

She’d been disciple of Pythie Frederica, who currently had a bounty on her head.

All on her own, she’d arrested the Lake of Fire Flame Flamey, a student of the Archfiend Cram School.

She’d defeated Keek, a magical girl whom even the Magical Kingdom had been helpless to stop, and freed the girls who had been trapped inside her game.

She’d contributed to the arrest of Grim Heart, the incarnation of Chêne Osk Baal Mel, one of the Three Sages, the highest authority in the Magical Kingdom—beings said to surpass all magical girls.

The name of the weapon she possessed was Ruler, supposedly named after the one magical girl who had ever gotten the best of Snow White.

A smile came to Dark Cutie’s face.

If Micchan or Glassianne were to see her, they would have been astonished, disturbed. “You can actually smile?” they’d say, inching away from her.

This smile was born from her certainty: Snow White was unquestionably a heroine. She had been born in order to defeat Dark Cutie. The two of them had met by chance in this city for the sake of that fateful battle.

Just now must have been their “encounter” arc. Their final battle would be the next time or the time after that.

“Withdrawal order acknowledged,” Dark Cutie said into her headset.

“Oh, okay then. I was ready to leave you behind there, Leader. Seriously.”

  Premium Sachiko

It wasn’t that Sachiko had never used her magic once. She wished she could make it so that she’d never used it before. She also wished she could at least forget about it. But when she wondered if maybe forgetting would be a sin, she also thought that might in fact be true, and so then even the desire to forget it came to seem sinful.

She’d have nightmares and be unable to sleep, cry out, and leap out of bed, which made Uluru get mad at her. But no matter how Sachiko suffered, it wouldn’t undo the things she’d done. Whether or not you were forgiven depended on what it was you’d done, no matter how much you deeply regretted it.

And what Sachiko had done was not something she could be forgiven for.

She’d done it out of curiosity.

The three of them had become magical girls at nearly the same time; they’d all still been little and had played with their magic. Uluru would tell ridiculous lies to startle everyone, and they’d all get mad at her, while Sorami would guess at what was inside boxes without opening them, startling Sachiko very much.

Sachiko had not been allowed to use her magic. Compared with Uluru’s and Sorami’s magic, the outcome of hers was hard to predict. Just how great a thing was it to use up a lifetime’s worth of luck? Even setting aside Sachiko’s young age, she hadn’t really been able to imagine what would happen.

But Sachiko had thought it was boring that she was the only one who had to sit on her hands and just watch when Uluru and Sorami looked like they were having fun with their magic. The “contracts” that Sachiko produced were all Chinese characters she couldn’t read, and she didn’t know what they said, but she had been told that if you were to circle all of them and “complete the contract,” her magic powers would work.

At the time, it hadn’t only been Sachiko, Sorami, and Uluru at Puk Puck’s estate. There had also been girls of the same age, all magical girls. They all spent their lives getting praise from Puk Puck when they used their magic in ways to make her proud, and at other times Puk Puck scolded them when they used it in the wrong way.

Sachiko had always been shy. She needed a lot more time than most in order to befriend someone. So she’d taken time to become friends with those other girls. She could only make friends through one process: First, they became friends with Sorami; then they also became friends with Uluru; and then when Sachiko was playing with Uluru and Sorami, the other girl would come hang out with them. Over the course of many playdates, they would make friends with Sachiko.

Of the friends she had made like that, there had been two particularly nice girls.

The both of them had sympathized with Sachiko.

“You’re the only one who’s not allowed to use your magic, huh?”

“That sucks.”

“You couldn’t use it secretly, could you?”

“But then I’ll get scolded if I did, probably…,” Sachiko had said.

“So then it’s fine as long as you don’t get found out, right?”

“Yeah, you just have to not get found out. If you don’t tell the grown-ups you used it, nobody’ll find out.”

“But…”

“It’s okay. Let’s try using it once.”

“Magic is real fun. I feel bad that you’re the only one who can’t use yours, Sachiko.”

“Yeah. If you do get found out and you get scolded, we’ll come together with you to say sorry to Lady Puk Puck,” said the two friends, encouraging her. Sachiko, who had been even more of a coward then than now, was moved by their passionate support and came to think, It’s fine, as long as the grown-ups don’t find out, and even if they do, if they come say sorry with me, it’d be okay, and she had tried using her magic.

Some adults had defended her, saying she hadn’t thought through it properly because she was a child. But most people started looking at her coldly. Sachiko figured that Uluru, Sorami, and the other children had sort of picked up on what had happened. They just hadn’t brought it up either out of kindness or out of fear.

When you used up all of someone’s luck, a terrible death would come to them. One friend, after being so glad to win the big prize at the candy store, without any warning on her way back home, had been hit right in the head by a meteorite falling from the sky.

The second one had gotten into an accident when she had gone to look for a book at the library. She’d been so glad the book that had always been on loan, no matter how long she waited, was there, and then once she had finished reading that book, a driver who’d fallen asleep at the wheel drove his truck through the fence and crashed through the wall.

Both deaths had been like something out of a gag manga or slapstick comedy. Someone who knew nothing of the situation might laugh if they heard these stories. Maybe they’d put them in the newspaper’s funny pages, and there would be a bit of a stir about it.

But to the people involved, it wasn’t in the least bit humorous.

Sachiko’s friends had died because of her magic. The fact that she hadn’t known they would die was no excuse. No matter how Puk Puck consoled her, no matter how she said it wasn’t her fault, Sachiko was the one who had killed them.

Sachiko decided in her heart that she would never, ever use her magic. If she used her magic, someone would die. If the lucky four-leaf clover magical girl brought misfortune instead, then it would be better never to use her magic in the first place.

“I don’t want to do the ceremony…,” said Sachiko.

“But seriously, why don’t you?” Uluru asked her.

“Because I just don’t wanna!”

The two of them had had similar exchanges many times over while heading to the place where they’d arranged to meet Snow White. Uluru raged and yelled, and occasionally tried to coax her or bribe her with things, but Sachiko still would not acquiesce.

“Believe in Lady Puk Puck. Uluru’s not telling you to believe in her. You’re going to use your magic on the device. It doesn’t matter whether the device lives or dies, ’cause it can’t die or anything in the first place. It’s not a living thing.”

That was what Uluru said. So had the others.

But Sachiko couldn’t stop imagining it. Whenever she thought about the ceremony, no matter what, nothing but bad things came to mind. Was that because she had killed her friends with her magic or because there really was something up with the ceremony that made her want to run away?

“Listen. You understand that we’re in trouble right now, yes? Maybe there’s no helping that you’re scared, but we only have Snow White on our side when there’s so many enemies. That’s the sort of situation we’re in right now. This is way more dangerous than some ceremony.”

“But—”

“Fine.” Uluru nodded a bunch of times in resignation, putting her hands on Sachiko’s shoulders. “Uluru will ask Lady Puk Puck: ‘The ceremony really is safe, right? Nobody’s going to die, right?’ But just understand that it’ll be rude, okay? And if we find out it really isn’t safe, then Uluru’ll be on your side, Sachiko. Then that’ll be fine, right? Right now, we have to get back home or we’ll be in danger. Snow White and Uluru could die, okay? You don’t want that to happen, right?”

“Well…no.”

“So then let’s go home together.” Uluru patted Sachiko’s shoulders. “It’ll be okay. ’Cause Uluru promised to Lady Puk Puck to protect you. You’d feel bad if someone were to be unfortunate because of you, right? Then Uluru won’t let that happen. You can tell this isn’t a lie, right? ’Cause if it were, you’d really feel like you want to trust Uluru.”

“Yeah…”

“So then let’s go home now. We’ll think about what happens next once we’re home,” Uluru said with particular cheer.

Sachiko looked down at her feet. There were marks on the floor of the warehouse of something having been dragged from the entrance to the edge, and at the end of the trail were dense cracks.

  Uluru

Uluru sent an e-mail to Puk Puck.

The enemy had discovered their hiding spot. According to Snow White, there were lots of enemies and the area around the estate was probably being watched, so it was best to be careful when going in or out. Uluru and Sachiko were still safe; they had temporarily split with Snow White, but she was also safe—Uluru had thrown all this information into a message and sent it.

The reply came quickly. It expressed concern for Uluru and Sachiko’s safety.

The message was casually worded, but imagining Puk Puck’s face, Uluru’s heart ached. Puk Puck would be worried about them. Puk Puck was kinder and more considerate than anyone. Having served Puk Puck for many years, Uluru had experienced Puk Puck’s consideration many times.

She wanted to get out of this situation as quickly as possible and put Puk Puck at ease.

She would make every effort to that end.

With things like the enemy attack and Sorami’s death coming one after another, Uluru had been thrown for a loop, shaken to her core. Puk Puck’s message was effective in suppressing that impulse. Uluru would have liked to hear Puk Puck’s voice if possible, but you couldn’t ask for too much. Frankly, Uluru had been hoping for backup to finally come, but beggars can’t be choosers, after all.

Leading Sachiko, avoiding big roads and places with a lot of pedestrian traffic, they chose to go through empty alleys as much as possible. Then they only traveled narrow roads, occasionally running over railway lines or coming up with schemes like clinging to the bottoms of large trucks until they arrived at the industrial district on the outside of town.

This area was filled with warehouses. There were endless lines of square, undecorated and angular concrete buildings; the only way to tell them apart was by the numbers written on them. It was close enough to the sea that the air had a subtle salty odor to it, but the places where boats unloaded their cargo were crowded with people.

Uluru zigzagged between the warehouses, pressed herself against warehouse D82, farthest from the ocean, and knocked.

They hadn’t discussed either the position of the warehouse or the knock signal. But with Snow White, Uluru didn’t have to communicate by speaking out loud. Snow White could read her mind as she ran and understand that it was Uluru there, even if she just knocked without having decided on a signal.

The door opened heavily, and the instant a person-sized space opened up, Uluru slid herself in and beckoned to Sachiko, who was waiting behind her, then quickly closed the door and locked it again. Inside, the warehouse was pitch-black without a single prick of light, but that was no problem when they were all magical girls.

“How are things on your end?” Uluru asked Snow White.

“I lost her,” she replied. “But she might track us by smell again, so I think we should switch locations periodically.”

“I sent a message to Lady Puk Puck. She sends her encouragement.”

“I see…”

“Yeah…”

Just by looking, Uluru could tell Snow White was disappointed to know backup wasn’t coming after all. Right now, however, Uluru couldn’t bring herself to accuse her of rudeness.

Sachiko slumped on the floor, seemingly exhausted. That was understandable.

Uluru looked at Snow White, which made Uluru think, This makes it seem like I want help, but she couldn’t take back having looked.

Suddenly, Snow White froze. Neither her face nor body so much as twitched.

It was as if she was focused and deep in thought, and for some reason or another, Uluru straightened herself in her seat.

  CQ Angel Hamuel

She pondered and pondered, but in the end, she gave up.

Until now, Hamuel had overcome things by milking all the wisdom of the many tight spots she’d ever been in. Some things she could pull off, others not. This was something she could not do.

If only I had some Shufflins left, she thought. But someone she might call the Shufflin Hunter from Hell had just about wiped out all Shufflins in W City, and the most Hamuel could do was order them to flee. She was now stuck hiding atop some roof after the enemy had swarmed her in midair where she’d been looking out over the battlefield from the sky and giving instructions.

Her forces hadn’t been entirely wiped out. But it would be impossible to turn the tables now.

Hamuel had given up, but only on the capture of Premium Sachiko. She wasn’t going to give up on everything and shamelessly return to offer up her own head. If she couldn’t pluck any results now, then she’d plant some seeds that could be harvested down the line. She didn’t know when she’d be able to harvest, they might not even sprout before then, and even if they did, they could well wither before their flowers bloomed. But even if they did wilt, it was better to sow seeds than to not.

Hamuel wiggled a few times to slip out from the crack between a machine and the wall. The dust wafted off her as she patted off her chest, shoulders, bottom, and back, and she leaned out from the roof to look below.

The sun had set. Vehicle headlights came and went. She circled around the circumference of the roof, looking not just down but also up, but it wasn’t like there was anything special around.

It seemed the report from the surviving Shufflins was correct; the winged demons had disappeared from W City. With a lamenting sigh, wishing they could’ve disappeared before her forces had been so reduced, Hamuel pulled herself together and picked up the mic of her wireless radio.

She mentally prepared what she would say. Seating herself on the edge of the roof, she turned up the volume of the radio.

Her target was Snow White.

“Can you hear me…? Can you hear me…?” She should be able to hear. That was how Hamuel’s magic worked. It was impossible to block out her voice or avoid hearing it.

“I’m currently speaking directly into your mind.”

It was too bad Hamuel couldn’t see her reaction. Even if talking to her was the same either way, she would have wanted to see her expression with a telescope while doing it.

“I’m the one who’s been commanding the Shufflins… Oh, I’ll let you know just in case—I’m not the Joker.” She tried to sound as sincere and rational as she could. “As you can tell, my magic can transmit my voice to others one-way. Unfortunately, I can’t hear anything you say, so don’t take it personally. Plugging your ears won’t do anything, either. My sincerest apologies; this won’t harm you, but I do ask that you put up with it for a moment.”

Thinking about how she was addressing the Magical-Girl Hunter made her a little nervous. This was completely different from giving orders to the Shufflins.

“As someone who has been in combat with you, I express respect for the way you all have fought. Though it is with great disappointment, I will give up and withdraw this time around—since total annihilation would be inevitable if I continued. This is without question a disgrace—however, I figure so that I might be able to excuse myself to my superiors, at least, I would say a few words to you before returning. Being that I have no personal hostility toward you.”

She would not lie. A poor lie would wind up shooting her in the foot. Hamuel’s style was to reveal the full truth. But it was necessary to be careful when selecting whom to entrust that truth to.

“In fact, I would even like to become friends with you. Not long ago, you defeated Grim Heart, the incarnation of our leader Osk. That battle provided us with valuable data.”

Hamuel thought of Grim Heart while she had still been alive. She would never have wanted Grim Heart as an ally or as an enemy. By the time she’d heard Grim Heart had been outwitted, not only Hamuel but the whole faction had been turned on its head in shock. Those on the inside had probably been more shocked than the other factions.

“The concept in the development of Grim Heart was the ‘automatic rejection of communication.’ This magic was conceived as a countermeasure against a certain magical girl. That magical girl is your current leader, Puk Puck.”

Snow White was currently acting in support of the Puk Faction. There was no record of such behavior in the past, which led Hamuel to believe this was either provisional employment or Snow White had only recently joined. So there was a chance she’d still be in time.

“I’ll explain things in their proper order: It’s highly unusual for the Three Sages to meet face-to-face. I don’t even know if they have faces at all, but well, that doesn’t matter. Anyhow, when they engage in any sort of negotiation, they’ll use an incarnation. Since some time ago, the Puk Faction has been using the one crowned as their leader, Puk Puck. And ever since, the Puk Faction has achieved greater benefits in negotiations, and they’ve been put at a disadvantage less often.”

Hamuel continued to talk to Snow White one-sidedly. She felt like her throat was getting dry, but of course, that was her imagination.

“The Osk Faction has tried all possible means and all possible magical girls when engaging in negotiation, but against Puk Puck, it never goes well, no matter what. Furthermore, any magical girls involved in negotiations with Puk Puck have a surprisingly good impression of her.” Just once, when acting as attendant for a meeting, Hamuel had spotted Puk Puck from a distance. She clearly remembered Puk Puck coming off extremely well even from that brief glance.

“After thousands—tens of thousands of negotiations since, the Osk Faction compiled some statistics. We’ve tried mixing various experimental techniques and alternating between magical-girl incarnations, and ultimately, we came to the following conclusion: Puk Puck’s magic is to distort the impression she gives others.”

What sort of look was on Snow White’s face now? Hamuel started to picture it but then shook her head to concentrate again.

“Any remarks or rude behavior that might give a bad impression are distorted, and other people feel as if they’re held in esteem. They think highly of Puk Puck. Even enemies once they meet and talk with her become her friend.”

Hamuel paused for a moment. Was Snow White listening properly? Hamuel could never quite get used to making speeches when she couldn’t see how the audience reacted.

“There has been a rule ever since forbidding Puk Puck’s involvement in any discussion among the Three Sages or their incarnations since anything would easily be approved for her, two-against-one. On this matter, the Puk Faction hasn’t really complained—more like, they’ve made excuses. And since they haven’t voiced any real opposition, they must be aware that what they’re doing is just barely crossing the line.”

The Shufflins were sending her the signal that they were ready to withdraw now. Hamuel gave them the okay with a wink and decided to continue her broadcasting for a little while longer.

“I don’t think we’re mistaken about Puk Puck’s magic. No matter how she might try to disguise it with words, even if you read the intentions behind those words with your magic, all that will reach you is good feelings.”

Hamuel stood. It was about time to finish. “So please be careful. Any feelings like sympathy, trust, and attachment might well originate from Puk Puck’s magic. Though it may be no use in saying it now.”

That was it for warnings. In order to gain Snow White’s favor, Hamuel would offer even further beneficial information. “Yes, yes, as proof that I have no ill will, I’ll tell you something nice: It seems the other force aside from us has withdrawn. Though I don’t know if they had a time limit or if there was some other reason for their retreat. Well, they may have just pretended to withdraw while they’re actually keeping an eye on things, so please take care to make your own judgment on that point.” Hamuel figured it was 99 percent likely the withdrawal of the third force was not a feint. But she would urge further caution. “It seems that group is quite good at reconnaissance, and they’ve eliminated the Shufflins in town in a targeted manner. Based on the trends from such activity, it seems as if major roads, busy areas, facilities where people gather, etc., are under closest watch. Since the Shufflins deployed at such positions were all attacked, I believe it would be best to avoid such locations.”

She didn’t know how Snow White was reacting. But it wasn’t as if Hamuel didn’t sense that she’d made an impact. Of course, this could well be nothing more than her own fantasy.

“Well then, pardon me for rattling on and on. I can’t have you losing sleep over such a long-winded sermon and then getting mad at me! So I’ll leave it there. I very much hope we will be allies the next time we meet. The Osk Faction will welcome you. I did hate Grim Heart myself, you know.”

She cut off communication.

She figured she’d basically told the truth. Hamuel wasn’t fond of lies. It was unlikely for a lie to please someone. It was easy to please someone with the truth.

Though Snow White was associated with the Puk Faction, this was recent, and she wouldn’t have been under the influence of Puk Puck’s power for very long. Even if this never turned into more than a little seed of doubt, that was surely more meaningful than nothing.

Even to Hamuel watching on, it had felt odd that Puk Puck hadn’t sent any backup at all. Between that and the withdrawal of the mysterious third party, there was something happening that was out of Hamuel’s field of knowledge. A future where she was indeed cooperating with Snow White might actually be close at hand.

  Snow White

She couldn’t hear the voice anymore.

Just what were that person’s intentions? Of course, Snow White couldn’t take what had been said at face value. Still, it wasn’t like she couldn’t believe any of it. Anyone could feel doubtful, based on the logic of that voice, and Snow White wouldn’t even be able to trust her own magic anymore.

She had assumed Uluru, Sachiko, and Sorami’s attachment to Puk Puck was rooted in her personality. But if, as the voice said, this was the magic of an incarnation of one of the Three Sages, she could easily pull something like deceiving people over the course of decades.

If the question was, was there anything suspicious about Puk Puck, the answer was yes. Why was it she had so stubbornly not sent them backup? If she was a Sage incarnation, she’d have lots of subordinates. Inside the estate alone, Snow White had heard the hearts’ voices of many magical girls. If she had truly wanted to retrieve Sachiko, she could have just deployed those as backup.

Did she not actually want Sachiko back?

That didn’t make sense, either. Uluru and Sorami had never been lying. Puk Puck had gone so far as to use Snow White, an outsider, to look for Sachiko—so then how could she not want to get Sachiko back?

Was it possible to falsify everything, including Snow White’s own thoughts, the worries that troubled Puk Puck most deeply, her unconscious thoughts about things she didn’t want to happen? Snow White got the feeling that an incarnation of one of the Three Sages could manage that. The other Sage incarnation Snow White had encountered, Grim Heart, had prevented Snow White from hearing her thoughts at all until she lifted her magic.

Snow White clenched her hand around her armband.

Sachiko did not want to do the ceremony. Her dislike of it was abnormal. She said that if she were to join the ceremony, someone was sure to meet misfortune. Puk Puck hadn’t been thinking anything of the sort. She hadn’t wanted to sacrifice anyone through the ceremony. Knowing Puk Puck’s personality, Sachiko should have known that, but she still didn’t want to do it. Was it solely because she was a coward? Or had she sensed something?

Snow White looked at Sachiko. Recently, the girl had gone entirely silent, not saying anything at all. When Snow White had discovered her in the amusement park, she’d been huddled up as small as possible, squatting in the darkness. Even though she was no longer doing that, she somehow looked smaller than before. Her curly bangs hung in despondence.

“…Snow White? What’s wrong, pon?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Nothing…? Are you really okay? You looked like you were kind of zoning out.”

“I’m all right.”

There was no time. She didn’t have the freedom to be taking these groundless rumors from the Osk Faction seriously. If they just sat around, Dark Cutie would come after them. Snow White always had lots of things she needed to do, even right now.

  Bluebell Candy

Bluebell Candy had heard that a magical girl in a wheelchair named Pfle was the head of the Magical Girl Resources Department. When someone rose through the ranks quickly, there were plenty of opportunities for people to talk about them—even out of pure envy. Pfle was important enough that even Bluebell, who had no friends to gossip with, would know about her. It was fair to assume Pfle was pretty famous.

Pfle examined Bluebell’s face closely, and Bluebell hid behind a cedar tree, showing only half her face. Maybe it was rude, but her fear took precedence. “U-um… C-can I help you…?”

“You’re bad at lying… Actually, I doubt you’re even capable of lying in the first place.”

Bluebell didn’t get how Pfle could say such things when they’d only just met. “Well, that’s true… Um, I think I am a bad liar, but…”

“That’s a good thing. Liars get up to nothing good. The Research and Development Department made a good choice in hiring you.”

“Huh? Do you know about me?”

“Of course. I’m with Magical Girl Resources.”

“Oh… That’s right.”

Pfle rotated her wheelchair on its right wheel. She was looking up at the sky. “We’re out in the wilderness, but with the city so close, I can’t say the stars are shining beautifully.”

“Right…”

Just talking to Pfle left Bluebell mentally drained. She wasn’t good at talking with important people. In elementary school, when she’d been put in charge of the principal’s office on cleaning duty, she’d been given more opportunities to speak with the principal whether she liked it or not, and that had been so exhausting. Even setting aside Pfle being an important person, Bluebell felt the girl herself was exhausting.

Things might have been different if Deluge was there, but she had left. When Pfle had shown up suddenly, the two of them had had some kind of conversation, and then Deluge had flown off somewhere, taking the Demon Wings with her. When Bluebell tried to follow, Deluge had kicked her down and politely ordered, “Don’t go anywhere. Please wait there.” Now Bluebell was left waiting together with Pfle.

Being told not to follow had made her very sad, but she was also a bit happy to hear Deluge say not to go anywhere. It made her think that maybe Deluge did need her. That said, it was also possible Deluge didn’t want Bluebell going off somewhere spouting half-truths.

There was no one around at night in the middle of nowhere—no road for cars to travel, not even any hiking paths or animal trails. The two of them were the only ones there.

“Did you get to know Deluge from the R&D Department?” Pfle asked her suddenly.

Bluebell nearly had a heart attack; she desperately tried to calm herself as she answered, “Yes, um, I did.”

“Why are you with her?”

“Because I couldn’t just leave her alone.”

“Indeed, she’s someone you couldn’t simply leave to their own devices. But wouldn’t having an outsider with her cause lots of problems when there are so many things she doesn’t want known?”

Bluebell shuddered at the thought of what it meant to “silence someone.” Pfle’s position as the head of the Magical Girl Resources Department gave a sense of reality to the fictional-seeming phrase that only ever appeared in period dramas or detective shows. Even if this was a rare thing, Bluebell was not happy about that at all.

“U-um! I’m—I’m not exactly p-planning to tell anyone!”

“Sure you aren’t. You don’t lie anyway.”

Bluebell breathed a sigh of relief.

That relief made her thoughts turn to the other person she had to worry about. “Um…”

“Yes?”

“Where did Deluge go? She’ll come back, right?”

“Regardless of her original intentions, she’ll likely return. Princess Deluge is on high alert right now. I’m sure there are several foes she would try to take on precisely because they are dangerous, but I doubt they’re in the direction she’s going. If she were a little more thickheaded, I would have liked to plant a transmitter on her to find out where she’s going, but careless use of such cheap tricks would surely expose me. And that would inevitably damage trust, which is not what I want.”

“Dangerous? Did Deluge go somewhere dangerous?”

“I expressly spoke at length for you, but you only jump on the parts you want to know.”

“Oh, um, sorry.”

Pfle looked up at the sky once more. Bluebell had the random thought that her jawline was so pretty.

“It’s coming,” said Pfle.

“Coming?”

Hearing the sound of a bird, Bluebell was startled and inched closer to Pfle. Was it an owl or another type of bird? Having been born and raised in the city, Bluebell didn’t know anything about distinguishing bird calls.

“I’m not talking about a bird.”

“You’re not?”

There was a rustling in the thicket. Bluebell let out a little shriek and clung to Pfle.

“It’s a shame about Micchan,” said Pfle.

“…Yes,” agreed one of the newcomers.

“Right?” said the other newcomer. “I figured she was the one person who’d never croak. Even the gods couldn’t have expected me and the leader to be the ones to survive. Oh, but I guess it’s less gods and more so reapers in this case, huh?”

The magical girl who seemed to be melting into the shadow was Dark Cutie, while the bespectacled one with glasses was Glassianne, who appeared somehow relieved. Dark Cutie was in a sourer mood. She’d been a lady of few words since the moment they’d met, but now Bluebell got the feeling she was less taciturn and more sullen.

The magical girl in the scholar’s cap who’d been with them, Micchan the Dictionary, was gone. Bluebell could surmise what had happened to her from Pfle’s remark, “It’s a shame about Micchan.” If the fight had been that intense, that had to be what she meant. Bluebell felt a chill that was out of season and out of place. One wrong step and maybe Deluge would’ve wound up like that. Or maybe it wasn’t that one wrong step would have ended it, but that she had been lucky to survive at all.

“Looks like Miss Deluge isn’t here,” said Glassianne. “Where’d she go?”

“She’s gone to check on the safety of an important individual.”

“Important individual? You’re really trying to hint at something, huh? Can I assume that’s someone more important than Premium Sachiko?”

Pfle smiled.

Dark Cutie furrowed her brow, and Glassianne’s expression turned from a grin to something more serious. Bluebell wrapped her arms around her body to try and stop herself from trembling. Her body and arms were so cold. Pfle’s smile was filled with irritation and anger, but it was nonetheless a smile.

“It’s probably too late now,” said Pfle. “We’ve fallen behind… Or have we been forestalled? If we’re going to recover at this point in time, we’ll need both wholehearted efforts and dazzling wits. Oh, Glassianne— You need not consider pursuing Deluge with your glasses. We need even stronger cooperation.”

  Snow White

By the time they emerged from the warehouse, the sun had fully set—prime time for magical girls who hid under cover of darkness.

But this time of day wouldn’t make Dark Cutie happy. If she was going to use her hound to hunt for them, she’d have to prepare her own light. With a light like the one that had been made for her in the amusement park illuminating her to walk the streets at night, she would stand out hopelessly.

The plan was as follows:

Snow White alone would detransform and head to Puk Puck’s estate on foot and via public transportation with Sachiko and Uluru in her bag the whole time. “Uluru trusts you,” Uluru said as she leaped into the bag, adding, “No more of your nonsense,” to Sachiko, who’d been reluctant as she got dragged in as well.

The enemy knew what Snow White looked like, but they didn’t know what Koyuki Himekawa looked like. She could walk boldly all around the city like this and no one would question her. Fal would be inside Koyuki’s pocket, checking for magical girls in the area, and when the time came, he could make her transform instantly. Fal was synced up with Snow White’s transformation mechanism. With human reflexes, by the time she sensed a magical-girl attack, it would already be too late. That was why it was said that no magical girl would turn back to human form on the battlefield. But for that, Fal could respond in a matter of seconds.

Koyuki Himekawa would get as close to the estate as she could get, and depending on how things went, she’d transform there and buy some time. Uluru would come out of the bag as well and they’d fight together, and when the enemy faltered, they’d let Sachiko out and have her dash into the house on her own. If someone who had been assumed until a moment ago to be just some high school girl were to suddenly transform into a magical girl, their opponents would be unprepared. They would take advantage of that.

Getting trailed by Dark Cutie’s shadow hounds was a cause for concern, but now that it was nighttime, she couldn’t track Snow White and Fal so easily. She hadn’t caught up to them when they had been in the warehouse, so that meant by using public transportation, they’d be able to get even farther away from her.

Transferring from train to bus, Koyuki headed for the city center. Even at this time of day, there were more people out and about than there were in N City, Koyuki’s hometown. That just made it all the easier for magical girls to hide in the crowds. Fal widened his enemy search radius to its utmost limit, keeping a cautious watch, but there had been nothing so far.

The crowds of people meant there were more trains in operation equipped with a greater number of cars. They wouldn’t be waiting for up to an hour for the train to come. They moved smoothly along, and up until this point, they passed by not even one magical girl.

“You haven’t detected any magical girls?” Snow White asked Fal.

“There’s only you, pon.”

“Really?”

“What would I lie for, pon?”

“Not a single card soldier or black shadow has approached so far?”

“Maybe they’re focusing their forces in the area around the estate, pon?”

“I don’t like this.”

“Snow White. If you think this won’t work, just pretend to be an innocent bystander and walk right past, pon. You can’t risk your life trying to do this, pon. It isn’t worth it to go that far, pon.”

There had been so many enemies, but now there were none. Though they were approaching the estate, they still had yet to pass any. The “voice” had told Snow White that the enemy forces had withdrawn. Was that true? Uluru and Sachiko had also happily told her they hadn’t seen a single enemy up until they’d met with Snow White.

Snow White maintained a completely natural pace as she walked along the sidewalk. They were nearing the estate. No new magical girls had been detected. She could see the tiled roof of Puk Puck’s estate.

“…There’s nothing, pon.”

“No one surrounding the estate?”

“I mean, there’s no pings.”

Whether it was Shufflins or demons, if they were to approach, Fal would detect them. And magical girls, of course, would ping his radar, too. Their expectation that there would be a watch near the estate making it impossible to come in or out had come to nothing, but Snow White couldn’t be glad about it. She couldn’t help but feel there had to be something up.

“You can’t let your guard down, pon. Don’t run yet, just walk, pon.”

“Roger.”

No new magical girls detected. She approached the mansion feeling impatient, but she couldn’t rush. She went with caution. She’d asked Fal to send a message to the estate from her magical phone—a simple one saying she was bringing Sachiko and would be there soon. No backup had come, but they could at least open the gates and send someone to receive them.

“New detections: none. Detections: none. Detections—yes! A magical girl has entered range and is coming straight over to make contact, pon!”

Fal made Snow White transform, saying, “One magical girl detected besides you, Snow White!”

Snow White ran. Uluru leaped out of the bag and chased after her.

The white walls of the estate were already right in front of them. They were close enough that a small stretch of her arm and she’d nearly reach. If no one else got in their way now, just one step, and they’d be able to return Premium Sachiko.

But then, Snow White’s pace slackened. Uluru, running behind her, nearly fell over. Her feet got tangled up and she protested, “Hey, what’re you doing?!”

With no heed to Uluru’s wailing, Snow White slowed from a run to a walk before eventually coming to a full stop.

Thirty feet away stood a magical girl—one she knew well. High-toothed geta, a shuriken-shaped hair clip, a ninja-themed costume, one eye and one arm, her sleeve swaying in the wind. Snow White had thought she’d gone missing after getting involved in that incident. No matter how Snow White had searched, she’d never been able to find her. Lit under the light of the streetlamp, the right side of her upper body was colored a pale yellow.

“…Ripple.”

“It’s been a long time, Snow White.”

That ever-so-familiar face was smiling.

Snow White took a step forward. Her hands were shaking.

“Snow White? Is that really Ripple, pon?”

“It’s Ripple… It’s Ripple; it’s her. Those thoughts…” They’re hers. Snow White could hear them. That was Ripple’s mind. Snow White dashed forward and clung to Ripple, who embraced her tight and gently stroked her back. This ninja girl’s hands felt like Ripple’s, too.

“Ripple! Why—?! How?! Where have you been all this time?!”

“I’m sorry, Snow White. I just couldn’t…”

A little confused, Uluru ran up to them and called out, “What’s this? Someone you know?”

“It’s a friend of hers who went missing, pon,” Fal answered.

The hand stroking Snow White froze.

Snow White was unable to stop her. Arms still around Snow White, Ripple reached into the bag that hung from Snow White’s waist, thrusting her hand in. When Ripple pulled her hand out, she had a pained-looking Premium Sachiko by the neck, and before Snow White could even be startled, there was a shower of blood.

Clutching her neck, Premium Sachiko fell to the ground. Uluru cried out. Snow White looked up at Ripple in a daze; Ripple stared at her bloodstained right hand, her expression twisted with utter shock.

Snow White could hear Ripple’s mind at work—Ripple was confused. Ripple’s heart, her mind—

“Why…? Why did you…?” With a wail, Uluru raised her gun and struck Ripple.

Ripple let it hit her; the gun stock smacked her across the face and sent her tumbling to the ground. Uluru stepped forward to hit her again, but Snow White moved to stand between her and Ripple.

“Get out of my way!” Uluru screamed, swinging at Snow White. But before she could bring down her gun, Snow White blocked it and turned back to Ripple.

“Ripple!” she cried.

Ripple’s expression, twisted in shock, shifted to sadness, then to anger. She turned away.

“Ripple!”

Ripple didn’t answer. She ran off, only her thoughts pouring into Snow White: what Ripple had done, what Ripple had been made to do. Ripple’s heart was crying out—it cried out that she could no longer be with Snow White.

“Sachiko! Sachiko!”

Uluru’s screams brought Snow White back to reality. Premium Sachiko’s transformation had been undone, and she was in human form, facedown in a sea of blood.

“Medical attention! She needs medical attention, pon! We might still make it, pon!” Fal cried.

Snow White and Uluru looked at each other, then picked Sachiko up and ran into the estate.

The heat was seeping away from Sachiko’s body. Her heartbeat and breathing both stopped.

Why had Ripple been waiting in front of the estate? Why had there been no other magical girls besides her? Why had she done something like this? Why had she looked at Snow White after she’d done it with such disbelief, such incredulity?

No matter how much she mulled it over, none of it added up. The gates of the estate opened heavily, and the two magical girls leaped inside as if they were racing to get in.