Mahou Shoujo Ikusei Keikaku - Volume 1 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

THE MAGICAL KNIGHT

As the days went by, the leaves on the evenly spaced gingko trees lining the main street turned from green to yellow, completing their transformation. It felt like just yesterday that the sun was high even during evening, which made the rust-red sky seem lonely and almost colder than a normal winter’s day.

Shizuku Ashu drew the curtains closed and spoke to the room.

“People look so small from a sixth-floor apartment. The smaller they look, the less human they seem.”

“You think so too, Shizuku?”

“I suppose it’s not very magical girl–esque of me to say.”

“But it’s certainly Shizuku-esque of you to puzzle over ideas.”

Nana Habutae chuckled, and Shizuku’s expression softened. It seemed like ages since she’d last smiled. Whether as Nana Habutae or as Sister Nana, she only wore sadness and tears lately, never smiles.

The apartment was in Nana’s name, but Shizuku was practically her roommate. She came and went freely, returning to her own place barely even once a week.

Shizuku had been popular in middle and high school. Ever since childhood, she had received compliments for her face, fair as an angel’s or an elf’s, and becoming Winterprison didn’t change her outer appearance much. She was most certainly a girl, but the androgynous and mysterious air around her made her popular with about 30 percent boys and 70 percent girls. She had experience with both, having dated both sexes, but none of those relationships ever lasted very long. However, her relationship with Nana had lasted, uncharacteristically so.

The two first met in a university seminar. Eventually they became friends, spending weekends together, and Nana showed Shizuku the game she’d been playing recently, Magical Girl Raising Project. Thus, it seemed like fate that when she was chosen, Nana was, too. However, that wasn’t the reason they remained together. Shizuku wasn’t a doe-eyed young girl, enamored with “soul mates” and the like—she’d been drawn to Nana since before her transformation.

“I guess her smile’s just too cute.”

“Did you say something?”

“No, just muttering to myself.”

She sat on the sofa, crossed her legs, and rested her weight on the armrest. Nana constantly insisted it was unsightly, that it could hardly be comfortable, and that it looked like a monk’s self-flagellation, but this position was most relaxing to Shizuku. She could only be like this when she was in a safe place, free of the danger of being attacked.

The bookshelf was packed with romance novels, manga, and collections of romantic poems, and the light pink wallpaper, upon close inspection, bore a faint heart pattern. Pinned to a corkboard were pictures of Sister Nana and Winterprison, aka Nana Habutae and Shizuku Ashu, smiling. One in particular drew Shizuku’s eye, and she stood up. One of its corners was bent, so she flattened it out and made sure it was straight, then returned to the couch.

“You’re such a perfectionist.”

“Some would just call it fussy.”

“So you’re aware, then?” Nana laughed again. “Don’t make me laugh while I’m dealing with fire.”

“Is today’s menu curry?”

“Close, but no cigar.”

“Then is it stew?”

“That’s right, a spikenard cream stew. It’ll take a while to remove the bitterness, so be patient, okay?”

Shizuku’s expression clouded, in stark contrast to Nana’s as she lightly stirred the pot with a ladle. Spikenard? Cream stew? It’s not even the season for them…

Nana was constantly worrying about the fact that she was heavier than normal. Because of this, she refused to eat what she would have liked to in the name of her diet.

“You don’t need to suffer to get skinny. Besides, your roundness is healthy and, more importantly, cute.” The one time Shizuku had tried to give her heartfelt advice, Nana had ignored her for three days. You’re skinny when you transform into a magical girl, so what’s the problem? she thought to herself, but made sure to never say it out loud. She could never understand Nana’s maiden heart, but she had to pretend to or she would get the cold shoulder again.

Lately Nana had not only restrained her appetite, but tried to limit herself to vegetables. Somehow she procured mountain vegetables for dishes Shizuku had never heard of. Of course, alien dishes meant alien flavors, and each new one puzzled Shizuku.

Still…

It’s just good to see her smiling, she thought.

Nana was normally a cheerful girl, and she had glowed with joy over being able to save others as a classic heroine. But ever since the number of active magical girls within the city had hit sixteen and they had been forced to fight one another, that glow had faded.

Shizuku—Winterprison—knew what she had to do.

Nemurin. Ruler. So far there had been two. Only six remained to be cut. She had to make sure Sister Nana did not end up one of them. Just imagining her death broke Shizuku’s heart.

Something hadn’t seemed right about Ruler’s demise, and Swim Swim’s offer of a massive amount of points for free was definitely related. Some among them weren’t content to simply gather candy like the rules stated.

She picked up the glass fish decoration on the table and peered through it at Nana working in the kitchen. The distorted figure of the other girl appeared much slimmer. A smile crept onto her face, so to disguise it she called out to Nana.

“Let’s go out after we eat. You have any plans today?”

“I was thinking of going to Mount Takanami.”

“I don’t approve of you going out too far. It’s dangerous right now.”

“I’ll be fine with you around. But I really must go today.”

“Why?”

“The Musician of the Forest, Cranberry, contacted me and insisted we meet. Maybe she’s heard about our efforts. Maybe this time she’ll agree to help…”

Nana smiled weakly. She was probably stressed because Top Speed hadn’t reacted favorably and Ripple was pretty much hostile. Shizuku just wanted to give her a hug.

The meeting was at two in the morning, in a quarry at Mount Takanami.

The Musician of the Forest, Cranberry—Nana had seen her in chat before, but had never met her in real life. She had only “seen” her and not “talked with” her because, though Cranberry had a high chat attendance rate, she hardly ever said anything. All she did was serenade them with background music. She was a mysterious one. Didn’t everyone who attended the chat—except for Winterprison, who was only there to accompany another—do so because they wanted to talk? But despite the fact that she attended every chat, she remained silent and never interjected.

Sister Nana was excited for a potential new comrade, but Winterprison was on her guard. Sometimes the ones with no obvious goals or principles were more trouble than those who were openly dangerous.

Cranberry arrived right on time.

“Good evening, Sister Nana. Weiss Winterprison.”

“Good evening, Musician of the Forest, Cranberry.”

“Just Cranberry is fine, Sister Nana.”

“Very well, Cranberry. I’ve seen you many times in chat, but this is our first time meeting in person.”

“You two are just as I imagined. I’m a little surprised.”

While Winterprison simply lowered her head slightly and gave a curt “Thanks,” the other two conversed merrily and easily. In chat, Cranberry was stubbornly taciturn, but actually talking to her, she seemed like a modest adult woman fluent in societal niceties.

Long, pointed ears poked out from beneath her casually flowing blond hair, while thin vines dotted with flowers of all sizes wrapped around her shoulders, feet, waist, and thighs. She wore a frilled blouse and grass green jacket held together by an amber pin, and the top half of her outfit seemed quite modest. But downstairs, her thighs were almost completely exposed, and this, combined with her twenty-year-old appearance—ancient for a magical girl—made it all the more stimulating. After listening to Sister Nana’s passionate proposal, she slowly opened her mouth.

“I have a question for you, if that’s all right?”

“Yes, please. We’ll answer anything we can.”

“Could you stop this?”

“Huh?”

“Stop trying to spoil the game.”

Sister Nana turned to Winterprison for help. She seemed absolutely baffled. Winterprison removed her right hand from the pocket she’d stuck it in, and a smile crept onto Cranberry’s face.

“Err… What is the meaning of that?”

“Exactly what you think it means.”

Winterprison took a step forward in front of the confused Sister Nana, shielding her.

“Winterprison. I’ve wanted to fight you since the day I heard the rumors.”

“What?”

“That no one’s ever successfully made you use your right arm in hand-to-hand combat.”

Winterprison quickly took note of her surroundings: to the right, a cliff; to the left, piles of gravel; below her, stones scattered about. The weather was fairly clear, and she could see no traps or ambushes prepared. The quarry was more accurately an abandoned quarry, as the construction company that owned the land had disbanded long ago. Everything valuable, from machines to supplies, had already been seized and dismantled, the useless junk left among the stones of various shapes and sizes. Cranberry’s courteous behavior remained unaffected. Her aura hadn’t changed, either.

Slowly, she took a step forward.

She was in range. The moment Winterprison realized this, Cranberry unleashed a lightning-fast high kick. Winterprison managed to block with her left arm, but the blow was heavy, and her bones creaked. The tremendous force tousled her scarf. With a small yelp, Sister Nana fell onto her butt.

“That long scarf suits this quarry quite nicely.”

Cranberry’s fingers shot toward her opponent’s face, causing Winterprison to use her magic—wall creation. The material of the walls changed depending on where she was, so in a quarry it was stone. Standing six feet high, three feet wide, and an inch thick, the monolith split the ground between them. Cranberry’s assault, however, pierced through it easily and turned it to rubble, forcing Winterprison to roll on the ground to dodge.

Cranberry was stronger physically than the average magical girl, but she didn’t simply attack. She used martial arts. Beneath her movements flowed the confidence of a veteran. Without hesitation she had struck at the eye—and the brain right behind it. She was clearly aiming to kill.

“Winterprison!”

“Get back, Sister Nana.”

She needed to widen the gap between them and get Sister Nana away from the enemy. With those two goals in mind, Winterprison retreated a step. The quarry was littered with obstacles, forcing her to pay attention for even simple movements, but Cranberry didn’t seem to watch her step at all as she approached. She took no offensive stance. She simply smiled.

She demolished, obliterated, and even scaled wall after wall. As barriers, Winterprison’s stone defenses were utterly useless, couldn’t even slow her down. They weren’t weak, either, because they were reinforced with magic. Stone or not, they should have been stronger than steel, but before Cranberry’s unnatural strength they were no better than wood fences.

Predicting an attack, Winterprison took another half step back. But the attack she expected never came. Cranberry stepped forward, closing the vast gap. Winterprison blocked the low kick with her shin and felt a dull pain—her attacker’s pointed toes drove straight into her.

From low, Cranberry went high. The arc of her kick aimed at Winterprison’s head turned, slipped through her guard, and found purchase in her rib cage. The blow was powerful enough to knock the air out of her lungs.

And she didn’t stop. From middle to high, Cranberry’s toes struck at Winterprison’s temple. Staggered as she was, Winterprison couldn’t fully avoid the attack. It sliced her cheek open, sent blood and flesh flying, broke her cheekbone, shattered her teeth. She could hear the damage directly in her eardrums. Slamming her foot down, Winterprison barely stayed standing.

Then she felt a new energy in the pit of her stomach. It was magic. Not her original power, though—Sister Nana was giving her strength. Now she could fight back.

By the time Winterprison was internally ready to counterattack, Cranberry’s leg was already in front of her face. She tightly wound her scarf around it before the other girl could react. While symbolic, the garment was no mere decoration. It was a weapon. Like lightning, she yanked back with all her weight to snag Cranberry’s leg. Focusing entirely on her hands, gripping hard enough to break bone, she swung up and then down, and Cranberry hurtled toward a wall she’d just created. Unable to break the fall, her head crashed against the stone and sprayed blood everywhere.

The girl’s body bounced and rolled along the gravel, and Winterprison gave chase. She flung up a barricade to cut off any escape route and stop her in her tracks, then grabbed her. She tumbled with her in a tangle of limbs, clutched Cranberry by the arms, pinned her legs, pulled her long hair, and finally tied her up with it. Straddling Cranberry, Winterprison glared down at her.

She hit her without mercy. Once, twice, three, four, five, six, seven times. Cranberry seemed to be rolling with the punches in an effort to reduce the damage. Winterprison continued the onslaught. There was no need to finish it with one blow. Little by little, they would add up. Over and over, until she could hear the pain.

“Winterprison! Behind you!” she heard Sister Nana cry out. She whirled around, but there was nothing there—only Sister Nana, looking dumbfounded. A heavy blow struck the back of her head and sent her flying from her seat on top of Cranberry. Winterprison grasped at the gravel with her fingertips to slow herself, then balled her hand into a fist as she kneeled.

She’d reacted instinctively to Sister Nana’s voice behind her, but there had been nothing. All she’d done was give Cranberry a giant opening. There was no way Sister Nana had tried to distract her on purpose, and her confusion suggested she hadn’t even done the screaming in the first place.

Cranberry’s magic, then?

Within her blurry vision, she could see Cranberry trying to stand. Winterprison activated her magic as she stood, then rocketed toward her. Though it would seem counterintuitive, she placed the wall between her and Cranberry. It would be destroyed without any real effort, so she just needed to block off the enemy’s sight for a moment.

Winterprison picked up Sister Nana, leaped toward the cliff opposite Cranberry, and retreated from the quarry.

They’d gotten away.

Cranberry knew Mount Takanami like the back of her hand. Not to mention her five senses, especially her hearing, far exceeded mortal limits. She was confident she could catch them if she pursued.

But she didn’t. She gazed down from atop the cliff, saw that the shrubbery and incline blocked off most of the view, and shrugged.

“You’re letting them get away, pon?”

The voice from her magical phone was vaguely scornful and accusing. Cranberry was impressed that a synthetic voice could pull off such a skillful imitation.

“Didn’t you say you were going to finish off Sister Nana, pon? Letting her live won’t help the game progress, pon.”

“That… may not be entirely true.”

How long had it been since Cranberry last fought someone on equal ground like that? How long since someone had made her use her magic?

Her powers allowed her to control sound. Her “Winterprison! Behind you!” in Sister Nana’s voice had distracted her opponent long enough for a strike to the defenseless back of her head. If Cranberry hadn’t been restrained, she could have killed her, but instead Winterprison had escaped merely wounded.

Weiss Winterprison was stronger than anyone she’d ever fought. She’d gone toe-to-toe with Cranberry, albeit with the help of Sister Nana. Faced with an opponent she could finally go all-out on, joy bubbled up within her, like a light sparkling deep inside her brain. The experience made her feel like a girl in love. Perhaps she was.

For a proper fight with her, Cranberry would need to get rid of her source of restraint, Sister Nana. Yet without her, Winterprison wasn’t all that strong. It was unfortunate all around, really.

“I want time to think. Let’s just put things on hold for now.”

“How irresponsible, pon.”

“Then what about this? I’ll search for anyone sympathetic to Sister Nana… and eliminate the strongest ones.”

The biggest requirement was that they be strong. Fighting to kill, lives on the line—only then was she not alone. Blood flowing, flesh flying, entrails spilling, each understanding the other perfectly. The only restriction was that her opponent must be strong. She didn’t want to break the communication with a single attack.

She was aware that her thirst for battle was bordering on suicidal, but she would never have accepted this role if there was no fighting involved. Cranberry had no plans to change herself. Blood poured from her nose without stopping as the battle-crazed Musician of the Forest wiped it with her wrist.

Swim Swim, in her new position as leader, inherited Ruler’s will on a basic level, but also made it her own. She knew that was what Ruler would have done in her shoes. She still prioritized stealing candy over earning it herself, but now she was wiser about her methods. In attacking Snow White, they had challenged her head-on and barely succeeded. La Pucelle had been stronger than expected, and her ability to fight off three of them and come to Snow White’s aid was the reason their success was so narrow. If Snow White had been as strong as La Pucelle, if La Pucelle had been any stronger, if either had possessed some incredible magic—then the plan would have certainly ended in empty failure.

But that was what happened when you attacked head-on. Why not attack from the side, or the back? Swim Swim considered all her options. What could she do? What should she do? How could she best gain the most candy? How should she disable her opponent and take theirs? Over and over and over she thought, until the Peaky Angels made a suggestion.

“How about we sabotage the person in first place?” “A smear campaign, huh? Sis, you’re so magi-cool.”

And so they took to the message boards and started perpetrating terrible rumors about Snow White. It was surreal to see the twin angels sitting in the corner of the temple, their heads huddled together as they typed away on magical phones.

“I’ll say that girl in white mugged me!” “Then I’ll say the witch screamed at me!” “And the ninja kicked me!” “The nun punched my shoulder!”

Swim Swim started to wonder if Ruler would have found a better method after all.

“Thank you for the food.”

After finishing dinner, Koyuki put down her bowl and sighed. She could feel someone watching her, and when she raised her head, she discovered it was her father. His worry and curiosity were unmistakable. Koyuki shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Wh-what?”

“Oh… Nothing.”

For some reason, he hesitated and slapped his forehead below a receding hairline. He was acting odd. Normally, the patriarch of the Himekawa household expressed himself more clearly. The sounds of her mother doing the dishes in the kitchen were the same as always.

“Seriously, what, Dad? You’re weirding me out.”

“You’ve just seemed down lately.”

Koyuki reacted with shock, and she stared at her father in his pajamas. Everything but his hair was startlingly similar to how it was years ago. The more she grew, the more people commented that she resembled him, but she couldn’t for the life of her see how.

“You’re eating less, too. You barely moved your chopsticks yesterday. You’re pale. Mom thinks it might be boy troubles.”

From the kitchen came a loud shout, “I told you not to say that!”

“Today… you seemed more down than usual, but you at least ate all your food. That’s a relief.”

“Uh, right.”

“I guess that means you found some answers, then.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So, was it a boy?”

“Dad! God!”

She stood up and nearly tripped as she ran down the hall and up the stairs, and then she collapsed on her bed.

So they knew she was depressed. In other words, she’d caused them a lot of worry. She’d felt guilty, but the comment about boys made her forget that instantly. For a second, Souta’s face popped into her head, then changed to La Pucelle. Koyuki shook her head to dispel the image.

School, work, and earning magical candies. At school, she worked toward her future; at her job, she worked to preserve her present; and when she was a magical girl, she worked to keep herself alive. She couldn’t slack off on any of it. The only times Kano could think were before bed, in the bath, and on the way home from school.

The walk from her place to the station was five minutes, and the walk from her school to the station was seven minutes. For the thirty-five minutes between stations, including transfers, Kano rocked with the motion of the trains. Back when she’d had money she’d bought a train pass, but it would only last until the end of the third trimester of her second year. In her third year, she’d have to buy a bicycle, and if she couldn’t find one for cheap, she’d be forced to walk to school. So she decided she would at least get the most out of the peaceful train commute while she still could.

To and from school, her train was always full of middle schoolers. Kano stood alone amid the schoolmates and their idle chitchat, staring out the window. Among the sights was a big red diamond signboard for Koushu Chinese restaurant. It was famous for its delicious boiled dumplings, but crows tended to swarm in the trash area behind the restaurant. The owner was also famously stubborn, so complaints about this went unheard. Perhaps she could do something.

The building in front of the station was a municipal parking garage ready to collapse at any moment. The very first step of the stairway between the first and second floors was rusted and pocked with small holes. The place was badly in need of repair. Someone would get hurt sooner or later. Unfortunately, any reports would most likely fall on deaf ears. Perhaps she should ask Top Speed if she owned any repair tools.

Directly next to a supermarket and its bright signs was a pedestrian bridge. About once every three days, at around ten PM, a broad-shouldered, middle-aged man would sit on the bench there, which made her quite curious. From his dress he seemed to have a steady job, but he always hung his head with pain on his face. Perhaps she should talk to him one day.

These thoughts ran through her head like the train running through Nakayado. Kano retrieved her phone from her school bag—not her magical one, but her regular phone. The Internet was still buzzing with magical-girl sightings. And of course, Snow White’s surpassed everyone else’s. Whenever she thought of Nakayado, Kano wondered if she just wanted to earn candy, or if she simply cared that deeply for her assigned area. Two months ago, it would have definitely been the former. Now she wasn’t so sure. The former seemed more like Kano, while the latter seemed like the motivation of an irritating busybody. Still, she couldn’t say.

Kano’s desperate need for candy had led her to investigate every bit of Nakayado. As a result, from the trash situation of a Chinese restaurant to the stairs of a parking garage, there was nothing Kano didn’t know. Once, she’d shown Top Speed just the tip of her vast knowledge, and the other girl had praised her, saying, “Wow, you know everything! That’s the kinda love a magical girl should have for her neighborhood!” Kano had simply clicked her tongue over the big fuss, but she wasn’t exactly unhappy about it.

Did Snow White also think about such things while helping people? Kano read further down the page. There were stories of how the girl in white helped fix a bike chain, not caring that her dress would get stained, and how once she’d comforted a crying child, even though she looked like she wanted to cry herself. It was all rumors, but the actions and behavior painted a vivid picture of her true character.

Hearing the announcement for her station, Kano returned her phone to her bag.

Winterprison took her near-loss quite hard. And the attack from someone who’d agreed to a discussion had wounded Sister Nana. Bitterness filled Winterprison over losing at her specialty, hand-to-hand combat, even if she had been distracted by magic. Her inability to protect Sister Nana had been traumatic, but that was nothing compared to how Sister Nana herself must have felt. Her overconfidence had led her to hurt and not kill her opponent, but she swore that the next time they met she’d kill that piece of trash with one blow.

But for the battered Sister Nana, there was no time to rest.

The day after their battle with Cranberry, she learned she would be mentoring the newest addition to their ranks. Winterprison urged her to cancel or ask for more time, but the haggard Sister Nana stubbornly refused to do either.

Magical girls healed quickly, so Winterprison’s wounds were already completely gone. Sister Nana’s heart, however, showed no signs of mending. As she tottered forward, Winterprison followed two steps behind, thinking, If this newbie tries to harm Sister Nana, there will be no mercy.

A deep, dark night covered the town of Kobiki. The impenetrable gloom hid even the presences of magical girls. There were no tall buildings, but away from the lampposts no one could spot a few people having a conversation. Taking advantage of this, Winterprison and Sister Nana chose to have the meeting in front of an abandoned factory.

The area, long ago nicknamed Lumber Street, had suffered an extended period of recession that caused many businesses to close their doors and shut down their factories. Only reckless idiots looking to test their courage, professional thieves, and weirdos lurked here anymore. Most likely, a magical girl would be considered a weirdo rather than a thief, Winterprison thought disparagingly. But at that moment, Sister Nana entered her line of sight and quickly banished the thought.

Sister Nana was a saint, willing to sacrifice herself to save another. Winterprison didn’t consider herself even close to a saint, but she would die for the other woman’s sake.

But what about the other one in front of her?

With her basically normal clothes, Winterprison didn’t have much room to judge, but this girl’s outfit was relatively plain. She seemed almost like the main character from one of the books on Nana Habutae’s bookshelf—Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, come to life—except for the color. In the book, the main character didn’t wear all black. This Alice, black as a wet crow’s feather from head to toe, and silent as a mouse, resembled someone returning from a funeral in their mourning clothes. In her right arm, she held a white rabbit that, rather than looking cute, reinforced her creepiness.

Her clothes weren’t the only element of her unhealthy image, though. Magical girls, even outlaws like Calamity Mary or crazies like Cranberry, had beautiful skin, smooth cheeks, and healthy proportions. They showed their physical beauty in its natural form.

But this person—Hardgore Alice, the newbie under Sister Nana’s mentorship—had deep bags under her dead, black eyes. She stood slightly hunched, her pale lips parted about a pinkie’s width, her arms dangling limply at each side. Her complexion was more pale than white, like a person with constant indigestion.

It was impossible to tell if she was truly listening as Sister Nana prattled on passionately despite her depression. To Winterprison, it seemed like she was spacing out.

“Now is the time to band together. We have to pool our knowledge and think together to avoid any more victims. We need an idea to break out of our present dilemma.”

No answer. Not a sign that she was listening. She probably hadn’t even blinked. Hardgore Alice hadn’t moved a muscle since introducing herself.

The whole reason they were in this predicament in the first place was because a sixteenth magical girl had been added. So shouldn’t Alice, as the sixteenth, feel a little guilty? If she wasn’t planning on listening, the least she could do was pretend. Sister Nana deserved that much.

Alice annoyed Winterprison, and the frustration only burned hotter as time went on.

Sister Nana explained that the purpose of magic was to make others happy. No response.

She shared her experience of Calamity Mary’s attack. No response.

She explained how they earned candy by performing good deeds, and that once a week the girl with the lowest amount of candy was cut from the roster. No response.

She recounted her regret over Nemurin. No response.

A little perplexed, she shared how Ruler had been cut. No response.

Even their tussle with the crazy Cranberry. No response.

Winterprison was approaching the limit of her patience. From her cool appearance and quiet demeanor, most would say she was calm and logical, but in actuality Winterprison had a short temper. She was just about ready to yell at the girl.

“I heard that Snow White was attacked the other day. I bet they were after her candy. She’s been the undisputed top candy earner, after all. Oh, despicable…”

Alice’s shoulder twitched.

“This Snow White.”

Sister Nana stopped talking. She’d nearly missed the small whisper—the first time Alice had opened her mouth since they’d met.

“Is that the white magical girl?”

“Huh?”

“Is Snow White the white magical girl?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And her clothes are like a school uniform?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“I believe she was designated Kubegahama. Isn’t that right?” The last bit was directed at Winterprison, but before she could respond, Alice turned on her heel and ran off. Her footsteps faded into the distance.

“Does she even know how to say thank you?” she muttered, fully aware it was beside the point.

“Do you think… she went to go help Snow White?”

Winterprison found it more likely that she’d excitedly rushed off to steal from the girl with the most candy, but she knew the idea would upset Sister Nana, so she nodded stonily.

La Pucelle was sorry. Deeply, deeply sorry. Deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply sorry. She was sorry she’d been so naive as to think the update to the magical phones would only be used for willing transfers. She should have foreseen that people would use it to steal. That way, she would have been more on guard.

She was sorry for making the steel tower in Kubegahama her meeting place with Snow White. They’d even talked about it in chat, so it was practically public knowledge. That was probably the most appealing point for any potential criminals looking to attack.

She was sorry for being so sure she and Snow White shared the same ideals. Snow White had never wanted to fight. Arrogance had made La Pucelle believe their vision of what a magical girl should be was the same.

She was sorry for not realizing the initial attack was a diversion until it was actually said out loud. She’d been so excited at the chance to use her full power, drunk on it, that she had put Snow White in danger. It was completely her fault that 37,000 pieces of candy had been stolen.

But she wasn’t just sorry. La Pucelle actively worked to make sure everything she did as a magical girl went safer and smoother than ever before. Every day they changed their meeting spot. To minimize risk, they split their candy between them. Whenever they were together, they’d talk with their backs to each other. This way, they could respond to attacks from either side.

Then there was the shame.

She’d sworn to protect Snow White no matter what, yet only a few days later they’d been utterly defeated. It was unbearable. She was so ashamed she couldn’t bring herself to look at her friend. Yet, of course, she couldn’t afford not to. There was no telling when something similar might happen again, and that was when she would need to protect her. Snow White, however, had become depressed despite being saved. La Pucelle desperately wanted to cheer her up.

Seeing Snow White’s sadness upset her. The fact that someone had stolen her candy—that a magical girl would think to steal another’s candy—had shocked her. La Pucelle’s attempts at conversation mostly received half-hearted replies. If she said nothing, the only sound between them would be the night wind blowing as they both stared off into the distance.

She remembered how, as a child, Snow White—Koyuki Himekawa—had hated fighting. She was the kind of girl who cried over fights that didn’t involve her in the slightest. Of all the magical girls, she was the least suited to stealing and hurting others.

La Pucelle had to protect her.

The memory of Snow White in her arms atop the steel tower made her heart race. Her blood ran cold as she remembered the attack.

Now Snow White was no longer by her side. She’d already gone home.

“Good evening.”

“Hey.”

Suddenly, a voice came from behind, but La Pucelle answered without shock or panic. She’d felt the presence all night. Something had been observing them, and while she’d sensed it, Snow White had seemed unaware.

“Seems you noticed me.”

“Yeah.”

“Of course. But then why did you let Snow White leave?”

“Because this’ll be easier alone.”

“Well, well… That makes this simpler.”

The seventh port warehouse was shorter than the steel tower, but it was closer to the ocean, so the thick, salty scent of the waves on the wind was stronger. From the gaps between the clouds, stars flickered in and out of view. The one facing La Pucelle appeared quite old. All the magical girls she knew, enemy or friend, looked to be between ten and nineteen, but this one was at least twenty.

“La Pucelle, I heard you were victorious in a three-on-one battle.”

“I wouldn’t really call it a victory.”

“No need to be modest. It’s better for me if it’s the truth. Your strength is the only reason I would challenge you.”

La Pucelle blinked.

“You’re not after my candy?”

“I am the Musician of the Forest, Cranberry. I have no need for candy. All I want is a strong opponent.”

A magical girl who’s not trying to steal candy, eh? It had only been a few days since the last attack, so being on her guard wasn’t unwarranted. She was a bit embarrassed she’d been so quick to judge, though. To hide her embarrassment, she smacked the roof of the warehouse with her tail.

Still, this girl was crazy to stalk strong opponents to battle. Well, if she wanted a fight, La Pucelle would give one to her. She liked these sorts of situations. Two people aiming to be the strongest would meet each other and have a clean, fair fight, acknowledging each other’s power. She’d seen it so many times in manga and anime and had always dreamed of something similar.

“My name is La Pucelle. Musician of the Forest, Cranberry, I accept your challenge.”

“Thank you very much.”

La Pucelle drew her sword, and Cranberry readied her fists. The salt spray licked at the two combatants as they squared off atop the warehouse, rustling the flowers decorating Cranberry’s body. The blossoms reminded La Pucelle of Snow White, but Cranberry’s were darker, fresher, and more vibrant.