Mahou Shoujo Ikusei Keikaku - Volume 9 - Chapter 6

Primula Farinosa

  Mariko Fukuroi

Mariko Fukuroi knew Marika Fukuroi, her magical-girl form, better than anyone.

Marika Fukuroi lived how she wanted and did what she wanted. Mariko also lived life as she pleased, but Marika was on a whole other level.

Everyone who knew Marika would acknowledge with irritation, “Yeah, she definitely does what she wants,” and Marika acknowledged it herself, too. Picking fights with the people around her, punching anyone she didn’t like, kicking even those she did like—her lifestyle was an immense nuisance for everyone aside from herself, but she was cheerful about it all, giving no shits for anything.

When she’d first become a magical girl, she’d been so utterly excited. Enjoying her new powers, she’d gone around having fun. She figured even an elementary school kid on the day of their field trip wouldn’t be as giddy as that. She’d been so ecstatic, she’d snapped a telephone pole and gotten scolded by her examiner. She’d considered punching her down but had gotten subdued herself instead.

Her examiner had been a veteran from the Archfiend Cram School and not one so soft as to be taken by surprise by a newbie who got carried away.

Marika had felt no sense of loss or discouragement then—in fact, she’d been excited. Discovering there were others as strong as her had made her want to try it out. It made her want to discover exactly how far she could go. And so Marika Fukuroi was born.

It wasn’t that Marika and Mariko had two different personalities. They shared one consciousness. But Marika was a tad more free-spirited and out of control than Mariko.

The months and days had flown by with frightening speed. All the while, Marika continued to act wildly as her whims dictated while Mariko supported her, deepening her research. Fortunately, she had inherited enough assets and real estate from her father that she could live off only the rental income. She had enough freedom to fully pursue her hobbies without getting a full-time job. Full-time magical girl was a job that should be done by someone who could eat without need for employment.

She set the three-layer lock on the door of her research lab. She would leave things to the security company while she was out. Keys jangling, she searched among them for the one to the family vehicle and returned to the car parked on the shoulder of the road. Her lab was closed for the moment, and she was taking a break from all research activity. She’d just left the electricity system on for her plant calluses.

“Marika’s Magic Research” was of number one importance to Mariko, the thing she had to treasure and value the most. Germinating various seeds on her head, she broadened or deepened the magic of the blossoms by altering the conditions she grew them in, such as the amount of sunlight and water given, adjusting the composition of the atmosphere, and adding magical nutrients and hormones. Exchanging techniques with a few mages who were no longer in office and providing them with her research results had won her better equipment as well as the mages’ specialized knowledge. Each time she was able to do something new, she invested more money and increased the scale of the plant that adjoined the lab.

These were not seeds for food. She’d made it so people thought, The daughter of a rich family is doing some research for pleasure; I don’t know what. When others asked, “What’s your daughter up to?” more than once or twice, her parents had responded with anger, not knowing how to reply. But even so, to Mariko and to Marika, the research was of primary importance.

So what was it that she was leaving aside this primary importance for?

In her car, she took out her cell phone and checked her messages. Various people associated with the school she’d be working at the next day had contacted her. There were greetings like, I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, a message that said, I want to discuss with you, so please call, someone checking with her like, Is this restaurant all right for the welcome party? and all sorts of various people contacting her through e-mail. If you included the spam, it filled up her phone’s entire display. She had slacked off only a little in keeping on top of them, and this was what she got.

As she considered the messages and which she should prioritize responding to, she was struck with an idea and pulled out her magical phone. She checked the in-box, but there was nothing there. Maybe some people would contact Mariko Fukuroi, but not a single magical girl would want to make contact with Marika Fukuroi. At the end, she looked at her history. The one there was Styler Mimi.

Styler Mimi was gone now. Though the beautician had cursed at Marika every time she visited, she’d let her into her house. Now that she was gone, there was nobody Marika could invite casually. Her relationship with Amy and Monako amounted to hanging out when they felt like it, and she often couldn’t get ahold of them. She didn’t know where they were or what they were doing right now, or in fact, even if they were alive.

Mariko turned off her magical phone. She’d known she’d get no messages. She hadn’t had to bother checking. About to delete Mimi’s address, after some consideration, she stopped and tossed her magical phone into her bag.

“Though I’ll only be with you until Mrs. Tadokoro’s return, I’m glad to meet you all.”

She smiled and bowed. There was an applause and then a slight murmuring. As expected of a university-oriented high school, there was very little whispering during morning announcements. But they did stare rudely. Maybe people in small towns were highly wary of strangers. And the examining looks of the teachers were no different from those of the students. No—they were perhaps even stronger, with the added feeling that they didn’t want an intruder coming in to mess up their little garden. Even as they smiled, they were evaluating to see just what sort of person this substitute teacher was.

Mariko adjusted her glasses and, with the sleeves of her long white jacket fluttering, returned to the chair that had been set for her in the corner of the gym.

She’d earned her teacher’s certification back in college. She’d figured she might as well, since there was no harm in having it, but contrary to her expectations, it had brought her harm. She’d been forced into doing something she didn’t want to do.

Society saw Mariko as someone who only ever immersed herself in research and didn’t get a job or get married. Since it was difficult to explain what her research was about without the magical-girl stuff, her parents perceived it as “Not something to be proud of,” “Useless,” and “Something we don’t really get.” So it was treated as the dark side of the Fukuroi household, and when the subject came up at the dinner table, it would make things uncomfortable.

They had a daughter who used her living alone as an excuse to indulge in her hobby of suspicious experiments. Of course, if you were her parents, you’d want her to return to society. Mariko’s parents frequently brought her “good ideas.” They would be photos and a written personal history of an arranged marriage partner or a job opportunity. Ninety-five percent of the time, Mariko refused flatly, but she felt a little bad about making her mother cry.

For that reason, it had become her habit to consent to one item that seemed like comparatively less hassle, to make it look like she really intended to involve herself with the world. She’d feel bad for her mother if she was constantly adding to her stress burden, making her worry about her daughter. She had to let off some of the pressure.

This time, it was a teaching job. It was a temporary position at a private high school. Basically, she was subbing for a teacher on maternity leave. Using the most powerful connections they had, her parents had thrust Mariko into that open bracket.

Their doing this made Mariko feel very sorry for all the other hopefuls who had been crowded out because of her. People who were serious about purely pursuing teaching as a career might tell her something like, “I feel bad for the students who’d get taught by a half-assed teacher like you,” but she had her own reasons for this, too.

“How old are you?”

“Are you married?”

“What type of shampoo do you use?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Why were you wearing a lab coat at the commencement ceremony?”

Casually ignoring the questions of the chattering girls who surged toward her after the morning announcements, Mariko headed back to the staff room and walked around bowing to the important people in order. She’d already said hi to everyone and distributed her business cards, but more things than you would expect could be managed smoothly just by bowing your head. This daughter was not as lacking in social graces as her parents thought.

There were no classes that day. But there were quite a few things she had to do. Greetings was one of them, but there were also meetings. She wanted to see the students’ faces. And there were also things she wanted to talk about with teachers of various subjects. She wanted to see the science room, and she wanted to check and see what kind of equipment they had in the science prep room. She also wanted to know what sort of activities the Science Club was engaged in. And she had to make sure to leave some time for the welcome party. There was also the after-party that they’d probably throw, too. Socializing with coworkers was important. She’d prepared for that much, at least.

She managed what needed to be done as fast as possible, and by the time she was able to take a break, the sun had already set. This kind of work wasn’t a total bore; she was gradually starting to enjoy herself. Besides, the school atmosphere wasn’t bad, either. It was nice to think back on the time she had been a student, too.

Taking the key from the cabinet in the staff room, she went up to the roof to look down over the sports field. The baseball team was doing warm-ups, and the Soccer Club was running laps. The school even had a lacrosse team.

The door was usually locked, so there was nobody on the roof. The door creaked with rust. The gutters were choked with leaves, and left without a channel, the fresh-fallen rain was overflowing. This was probably an expression of rationalism rather than negligence on the part of the school: There was no need to maintain a place that was always locked.

Mariko checked that the wall wasn’t dirty before leaning against it. If she approached the fence, the students running on the field might be able to see her. She’d only just been hired, so she probably shouldn’t let people see her committing even such minor infractions. Even from the wall, she could get enough of a view. The roof was good for this.

There were a lot of hassles, but this work wasn’t bad—so it seemed.

The smell of salt wafted from the sea to the west. The only flaw this view had was the tall iron tower. To the south, she could see a cluster of multistoried buildings of middling height—probably the types of shops with neon signs that would light up come nightfall.

Over by the school gates, she could see students heading home: some silently, with their gazes pointed at their feet; some talking with their friends; some goofing off to get a laugh; others engaged in a debate, a hair away from an argument. What had she been like as a kid? She’d found it too much of a bother to talk, and she’d only had two or three friends. Maybe people thought she was stubborn. If she were to be in school now, she’d be able to be a little more sociable. Just thinking about this sort of thing was fun, in its own way.

But she shouldn’t be having fun. Mariko checked her watch. Maybe I’ve taken too much of a break, she thought. Thirty minutes had passed. A bit long for a break.

She strode swiftly for the staff room, and as she turned a corner, she heard some girls chatting up ahead. But no matter how cheery she was feeling, she wasn’t so careless as to bump into someone. She calmly slipped past the students, bobbing her head with an “Oh, sorry there,” when her one of the girls caught her eye.

She wasn’t the type who stood out. She was plain, actually. Her clothing and hairstyle both firmly adhered to school regulation. Mariko had seen that face somewhere—but where? She suddenly remembered right as the girl passed by and grabbed her upper arm, stopping her in place. The girl seemed a bit uneasy, looking back at Mariko with doubt and a bit of shock.

This was the girl who had so calmly defied the teachings that Marika’s one-time teacher Archfiend Pam had constantly chanted like some sort of mantra: “Don’t detransform on the battlefield.” In that underground laboratory crowded with magical girls, the only one who’d left the most vivid impression on Mariko had been this girl—a human.

The girl was looking at Mariko, waiting in the expectation that Mariko was going to say something.

Mariko had stopped her without thinking, but no words would come out. The girl remained confused, and now, Mariko finally noticed the other girls with her who looked like her friends. One of them poked the girl in the side with an elbow.

“Hey, Koyuki. You know this teacher?”

Another girl immediately cut in: “Sorry, miss. She missed half the commencement ceremony, so she didn’t quite catch your introduction.”

Snow White. Also known as the Magical-Girl Hunter. Marika had witnessed her reverting to her human state back when Marika had gone underground in search of artificial magical girls. Many had lost their lives, among them Styler Mimi, whom Marika Fukuroi had forced to come with her. Mariko had thought back on that time in her hospital bed over and over, and even afterward, every little thing brought it back to her mind. Hadn’t there been any other, better way? Hadn’t there been a way to avoid deaths?

Her thoughts were racing, but figuring there was something else she should be thinking about now, she snapped back to reality.

What should she bring up first? How should she say it?

Cheers rose over the sports field. Snow White—Koyuki—glanced over to see where the commotion was coming from. Her expression was soft—maybe it was because this situation was nothing like the time they’d been underground. She really did look like just a regular girl.

“Oh, sorry.” In the end, Mariko couldn’t think of anything, so she apologized and let go of Koyuki’s arm. Picking out words in her mind, she wondered how to explain, but before she could say anything, Koyuki bowed her head.

“…Pardon me.”

Koyuki started walking again, passing by Mariko, and her two friends followed right after her, saying, “Hey, wait!” and “What was that about? Someone you know?”

Mariko turned around and watched them leave, then brushed a hand through her hair with a deep sigh, now having gathered herself enough to examine her surroundings once more. The students walking in the hallway were looking at them—some with blatant curiosity, some with suspicion, some as if this was entertainment. It seemed she’d brought attention to herself—and not in a good way.

The cheers outside the window gradually quieted down. Mariko pulled together the collar of her white coat.

  Koyuki Himekawa

Leaving school with her two friends—Sari, whom she’d gotten to know after starting high school, and Yoshiko, whom she’d been friends with since middle school—Koyuki went to the parfait place at the intersection in front of the train station. This place was a step up from the fast-food joints of their middle school days.

“Was that lady the new teacher?” Koyuki asked.

“Yeah, yeah, Mrs. Tadokoro is on maternity leave, right? That’s the substitute science teacher. You didn’t know ’cause you were skipping, huh, Koyuki?”

“I wasn’t skipping! I was just a little late.”

“The boys were freaking out! They were all whispering stuff to one another.”

“You were freaking out more than the boys, Sari,” said Yoshiko.

“It’s good manners to freak out when you see someone so pretty. That type’s nice, huh? All serious and proper with those glasses during the day, but I bet she’s crazy different at night… Heh-heh.”

“Why do we have to listen to your gross comments, again?”

“So what was that about, Koyuki? She looked like she knew you.”

“Yeah, yeah! How do you know her?”

“I don’t.”

“Whaaaaat?!” Koyuki’s friends shouted, filled with surprise and reproach.

“Come on. So then what was that about? Why’d she suddenly grab your arm?”

“Maybe you just forgot who she was?”

“I don’t think that’s it… But I’m not really quite sure.”

“You do that all the time, huh, Sari? Forgetting people’s faces,” said Yoshiko.

“All the time? Hey, I don’t appreciate being treated like I’m some ditz. It’s not my fault—if I forget who someone is, that means they weren’t memorable enough.”

“Sup, guys! Whatcha talking about?”

“Ohhh, Sumi!” said Sari. “Listen, Yoshi’s so mean!”

Cleanly avoiding Sari’s attempt to cling to her, Sumire took the open seat. She went to a different high school from Yoshiko, Sari, and Koyuki. But even if she had a different uniform and high school, they had met up after school like this a number of times, and she was close enough with Sari to flirt around with her. Yoshiko had been like, “Isn’t it just that she has no friends at her school?” in a way you couldn’t tell if it was concern or an insult, but Fal’s investigation had discovered that Sumire did have friends and seemed to be having a good time at school.

“Why are you complaining? Yoshi’s always been mean,” said Sumire.

“Ah, I knew it!”

“Yeah, anytime I’m onto something fun, this lovely lady immediately shoots me down.”

“Why are you changing the subject to me? We’re talking about Koyuki.”

“I’m okay talking about you instead, Yoshi.”

“Don’t you try to weasel out of this one, too, Koyuki!”

“Did Koyuki get up to something?”

“It looked like the new teacher knows her, but Koyuki says they’ve never met.”

“Whoa, that’s harsh, Koyuki.”

“And then Yoshi was trying to make it sound like I’m the forgetful one! But like, if it’s someone memorable, then I won’t forget them, right? So then I’m a step up from Koyuki. That teacher’s memorable, right? I mean, she’s pretty. That’s why I haven’t forgotten her name. It’s Mariko Fukuroi.”

There was the sound of liquid spurting, and then shrieks followed, and then came murmuring from the other customers. Koyuki coughed. She’d practically choked on her milkshake—actually, she had started choking.

“Whoa, Koyuki?! What’s going on?! You spewed milkshake all over everybody!”

“U-um, sorry, I’m okay. I just choked a little.”

“Y’know…,” said Sumire, “…I’d really appreciate it if you showed a little more concern for me, the one who got milkshake sprayed in her face.”

“I was thinking I’d be better off not saying anything ’cause you look real gross right now,” said Yoshiko.

“Hang on, I’m gonna take a pic. You look amazing, Sumi. Heyyy, over here! Gimme a weak smile! Ooh, maybe do two peace signs, too.”

“Whoa, she does look super gross… Sari, send that photo to me later, too.”

“S-sorry, Sumi.” Koyuki apologized to the staff, her friends, and the customers around as well.

Mariko Fukuroi—Koyuki knew a very similar name. The magical girl people said was battle-crazy through and through, who had even been expelled from the martial gathering that was the Archfiend Cram School. Not long ago, Snow White had fought together with her in the underground laboratory. Marika was as bold as the rumors said, but Koyuki had never imagined she’d be operating practically under her real name. And one more thing—Koyuki hadn’t expected she’d possess enough social graces to be able to teach, either.

  Mariko Fukuroi

She wanted to offer a proper thank-you to Snow White. If Snow White hadn’t been there, Marika Fukuroi would have died. Mariko wanted to hear about what had happened afterward, too, and about what had happened while Marika had been unconscious. And there were lots of things Mariko wanted to tell her about, too. But even if she wanted to talk to Snow White, Mariko didn’t know her contact information. When she had tried making inquiries at the desk at the Inspection Department, with which Snow White was affiliated, they’d yelled at her, like, “Of course we can’t release information about our investigators to the outside!” and in the end it had turned into a fight and blows had been exchanged, tables had flown, chairs had been stomped, the floor had given way, and the ceiling had collapsed. Maybe they just hadn’t wanted to turn it into a public matter, as Marika had avoided any punishment, but she still didn’t have Snow White’s contact information, and she’d been starting to give up, figuring there was nothing she could do.

They said magical girls had a mysterious luck when it came to encounters. In her long time as a magical girl, Marika had had countless opportunities to feel that personally. And this was another one of those moments.

Koyuki seemed to be smiling and talking without worry, like the sort of completely ordinary high school girl you’d find anywhere. The violent-sounding nickname of the Magical-Girl Hunter wasn’t at all fitting for her. But Mariko had just the smallest sense that something was off.

This wasn’t the lifestyle of a magical girl who had abandoned society. It looked as if her real life was quite fulfilling. She was doing a proper job being a magical girl and a human. She was too good, in fact. An active magical girl of high school age was expected to have more weaknesses. She was too flawless. She didn’t even let her guard down around her friends, who normally, she should be able to relax with. That was the kind of life she led.

Mariko thought about Snow White and Koyuki Himekawa, but she had to get other things done, too, or she couldn’t get on with her life. Guess I’ll at least pretend to be a good teacher, she thought after her bath, and she was about to pull a small stack of tests from her bag when her hand slipped and the papers fell onto the table, which was stacked with unwashed dishes. She hurriedly scooped up the stack, but some of the test papers had wound up stained by pizza cheese and meat sauce.

She sighed. What was she doing?

Maybe I can at least lighten the stains somehow, she thought as she spread out the test papers. Then she heard an unfamiliar ring. Or rather, she thought it was unfamiliar. When was the last time Marika’s magical phone had rung? Sliding the plates to the side, she somehow created space on the table to leave the test papers and pulled out her magical phone to check it.

It was from an unfamiliar address. Her magical phone wouldn’t accept any kind of spam mail, in the first place. The subject line was This is Snow White, and Mariko opened it without hesitation.

Displayed was a message of the same level of politeness as a student would use on an e-mail to a teacher: I’d like to meet. Could you let me know what evening is most convenient for you? Marika picked up the glasses she’d left in a gap between the dishes and read over the message one more time. It did indeed say she wanted to meet.

It seemed she’d realized that Mariko was Marika. Perhaps her two friends had helped out there. They were good friends. She was thankful for that.

If she wanted to meet, then any time was fine. Mariko could get ready in five minutes. Sweets would probably be a reasonable gift. A number of cake shops came to mind, and selecting a candidate, Mariko picked up her clutch bag, then pulled off the cloth covering her full-length mirror too hard and knocked over a bottle of face cream, then scrambled to put it back in place. She got the feeling that she was getting overexcited, or rather, panicking. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm down a bit, she flung her arms wide and knocked down her face cream again, and this time, it fell into the trash can beside the mirror.

  Fal

“Did you hear Marika Fukuroi attacked headquarters, pon?”

“Yeah. She broke the front desk, right?”

“Apparently, she barged in and yelled, ‘Where’s Snow White?!’ and made a huge mess of things, pon. Not just the furniture—even the floor and ceiling got destroyed, pon.”

But the Inspection Department still hadn’t revealed Snow White’s whereabouts. And Marika hadn’t given up there. However she’d managed to sniff her out, she’d found Snow White’s location and gotten a job in the life of Koyuki Himekawa, Snow White’s human form, what you would call her real identity.

“Dirty money uses these kinds of methods, pon. I hear they call your workplace to put pressure on you, pon. But this is way nastier than that. It’s more like a villain targeting a hero’s relatives, threatening their regular lives, pon. Truly an evil deed, pon.”

“You’re being too dramatic.”

“No! There’s nothing dramatic about this, pon! In order to get a teaching job, you have to jump more hurdles than just making a phone call, pon. And those hurdles are high enough to make you crane your neck. It’s not like having a teaching license is enough, pon. Either she’s using some connections or people, or engaging in kidnapping and confinement or threats or force of violence against related parties… How frightening, pon. With Marika Fukuroi, any of these things seems possible, pon.”

Precisely how much twisted enthusiasm and effort was she bringing to bear to approach Snow White? Occasionally, some magical girls would be obsessive like that. Fal’s old master, Keek, had also had that streak to her, and Keek’s teacher, Frederica, had been like that, too. Marika Fukuroi was a battle maniac who wanted nothing more than to fight, but if there was a certain opponent she wanted to engage, she’d probably get just as fixated.

“Threatening not only Snow White, but Koyuki Himekawa’s life, too—she’s dangerous. She’s bound to hurt your family and friends, pon. We have to deal with her somehow, pon.”

“I really think you’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic, pon! You can’t let your guard down, pon! Marika Fukuroi has always been a magical girl to be feared, someone you can’t underestimate, pon. Even just thinking about her makes me start shuddering, pon.”

“Did you know her?”

“I’ve used her data before, in the simulator. If you add Marika Fukuroi in the mix, things generally turn into a mess, pon. Nobody can stop her. So you can’t let your guard down, pon. Do exactly as we discussed, pon.”

After a hurried discussion, Fal and Snow White had decided to bring Marika Fukuroi to them. If her wish was to have a match against Snow White, then Fal wanted to fulfill that wish quickly and send her on her way. And if that wasn’t what she was after, then they had to find out what her goal was in getting this teaching job. It didn’t matter how she tried to hide her true intentions—in fact, the more she tried to hide it, the more Snow White’s magic would catch it.

“I think you’re being too hard on her.”

“Her methods will make masters in the craft flee barefooted! It’s impossible to be too hard on her, pon. Snow White, you’re too soft, pon. One day, that naïveté will pull the rug right out from under you, pon.”

“But she wasn’t thinking about anything that complicated.”

“Maybe she can be a strong ally against a common enemy. But the hero of turbulent times is the villain of peaceful times, pon. Whatever she’s plotting, it’s definitely not going to work out well for you, pon.”

Fal had put measures in place so that if anyone—from Koyuki’s family, friends, acquaintances, and relatives to any familiar neighborhood faces—was attacked, they would instantly be pulled into a digital space for their protection. With their meeting being at night, with no sun, and the place on top of a building and far from the ground, they had created a situation that would be disadvantageous to Marika.

“You’re underestimating a graduate of the Archfiend Cram School, Snow White, pon.”

“I’m not.”

“You can’t get cocky just because you caught Flame Flamey, pon. You misunderstand; Flame Flamey isn’t at all representative of the Archfiend Cram School, pon. In fact, she’s not even a standard or an example, pon. You should think of her as the bare minimum of its students, pon. Fal has been taught good and hard how scary the Archfiend Cram School is, pon.”

“Did something happen?”

“The presence of someone from the Archfiend Cram School takes the difficulty of a game to a whole other level, pon. It meant Fal wound up having to reassemble the whole program… I never want to have to go through that again, pon.”

“This isn’t about your personal grudge?”

“It’s not a grudge, pon! You absolutely can’t let your guard down. Keep Ruler at the ready, pon. Be ready to handle an attack from any direction, pon.”

Prompting Snow White many times to be cautious, Fal waited with her on the roof of the building. Fal didn’t forget to examine their surroundings. Fal didn’t know if it was plumbing for water or gas pipes or what; more of it was exposed than was usual, and so Fal wanted to make sure Snow White wouldn’t get tripped up. The spherical storage tank, maybe they could make a weapon. Or rather, Marika Fukuroi was liable to use it as a weapon.

“Hey, Fal.”

“What is it, pon?”

“Looks like she’s here.”

“Where?! Where, pon?! Above?! Or is she lurking in the shadows…?”

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

They could hear something—a brisk tapping on concrete. The sound got slowly louder, and by the time Fal understood they were footsteps, the door to the roof was slowly creaking open. A white box emerged from behind the door followed by a woman in a white lab coat who was holding the box in her right hand. Despite the cloudy, starless sky, the shine of the electric lights lower on the building made the whiteness of the coat and box stand out. It was a human woman, the substitute teacher who had grabbed Koyuki Himekawa’s arm the other day on her way home—Mariko Fukuroi. It was Marika Fukuroi’s identity before transforming.

“Hey, sup?” she said as she held up the box, and with a movement like slicing with a knife-hand, she made to approach Snow White—but then stopped partway. Her expression turned dubious, and she looked at Snow White transformed, then at Ruler held in her right hand. She seemed to be considering for a moment before she nodded and said, “Oh, I see.” After pushing up her glasses with her free left hand, she quickly closed the distance between herself and Snow White to hold the box out to her.

Without giving Fal the time to warn her, Snow White accepted the box, and Mariko turned around, striding off the way she’d come before disappearing back through the door to the roof.

“…What was that, pon?”

“She read the room.”

“What?”

Snow White set the white box down on a concrete block and readied Ruler in both hands. “I’ll have the cake later.”

“Cake? Oh, this box is cake, pon? Huh? Why cake?”

“Here she comes.”

The door to the roof opened with a fierce bang. It had been kicked open.

“Sorry to make you wait, Magical-Girl Hunter! You’re gonna show me a real good time! Ha-haaa!”

Marika Fukuroi, with an evening primrose shining white on her head, leaped at Snow White.