Mahou Shoujo Ikusei Keikaku - Volume 12 - Chapter 3

No Magical Girls at This Blossom Viewing

She looked up. Above her were branches full of pale-pink cherry blossoms so delicate you could practically see the blue sky through them. A single petal floated slowly, gently, then landed right on Sanae’s forehead. It felt as if all the cherry blossoms in full bloom on those branches were looming closer. No matter how beautiful they were, so many of them at once seemed practically grotesque.

She’d never thought about things like this before. It used to be that she’d had piles of things to do that were more important than gazing at or thinking about cherry blossoms. But now, Sanae had the free time to take it easy and watch the petals fall. In other words, she was grumbling about how hard her life was.

After completing her training period, Sanae had been assigned to her first-choice position in a prominent department. She’d become very suddenly motivated. Whittling down on the time she slept, taking moments in between regular work hours, she’d picked out the inefficiencies, large and small. There had been so many areas where they could cut costs, if they just corrected them. She’d organized a plan to cut useless alliances and make the company more efficient and streamlined.

Sanae had been proud of her work. But a week after her assignment, when she’d written up the issues with their current situation, her boss had looked at her like trash. Her ideas had not been adopted, and ever since, she’d wound up clashing with her boss and seniors over every little thing, earning herself a reputation as a problem employee.

It had been her rotten luck to be placed under foolish management. Her boss was an idiot who stubbornly believed in if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it; in his mind, change led to failure. That had led to a bottleneck. Her first step, which should have gotten her foot in the door to a successful career, had instead tossed Sanae into the bowels of hell. Getting transferred to a subsidiary out in the boondocks was clearly not conducive to being promoted to management.

Now that she’d wound up working at the N City office, Sanae was only ever made to do the kind of work anyone could handle. She gritted her teeth through every mundane task until she was eventually asked to stake out a spot for a cherry blossom viewing party.

There had been plenty of irritations in her life back in her school days as well, and those irritations had only increased in number since she’d moved into the workforce. She should have been climbing higher and making her way through narrower gates, but the further she got, the stronger and greater the resistance from those around her. Whether it was a top-tier school or one of the most prominent general trading companies in Japan, there were always incompetents, and they dragged Sanae down.

Ever since childhood, Sanae Mokuou had committed to a life of insisting that what was correct was correct. Her exceptionally strong memory and wits had supported that she was correct. Be it in entrance exams or any sort of qualification exam, Sanae was always a winner. If someone who ranked at the top of the class at the highest educational institute in the country said so, then that made the statement correct. It had always been like that.

But if you asked Sanae if she was a winner now, then the answer would be no.

Perhaps if she could have gone overseas, she would have been judged differently for doing the same things. No—idiots who didn’t have what it took to be in a leadership position should never have gotten a management role out of the nasty old custom of age-based promotion in the first place.

Acknowledging that she’d lost because of some idiots was the one thing she absolutely didn’t want to do. And after getting a job at a good company fresh out of college, she felt that finding a newer, more entry-level position somewhere would be a loss, too. Though it would have been forgivable if she’d failed due to her own fault, she absolutely couldn’t tolerate losing because of idiots. She’d quit her current job whenever it best suited her.

This wasn’t stubbornness. She was just a little bit fastidious. She couldn’t stand pulling the short straw when she hadn’t done anything wrong. It was this fastidiousness that made her always give 110 percent in any work she was assigned—despite her dissatisfaction with her situation, and even when the task was of the sort anyone could do.

If she was asked to pour tea, then she would search online and go to the library to fish around for books to help her figure out a steeping and pouring method that could make cheap tea leaves taste even slightly better. If she was told to make copies, she would read the entire copy machine manual from cover to cover until she was able to handle everything from routine fixes to repairs that even a professional might struggle with.

And securing a spot for cherry blossom viewing was no different. She rode her folding bike around N City to find the best location. The spot had to be obscure, a hidden gem of sorts—but the cherry blossoms still had to be just as beautiful as in the well-known locations, otherwise there was no point. Searching online brought up nothing but the popular spots, so she had to find a place on foot, the old-fashioned way. A merger of cities had made N City ridiculously large, and going around town was really exhausting. Her thighs and calves swelled and her knees shook, and she could hardly stand up at work the next day.

Finding Jounan Park took a lot of time and effort, but it was perfect in every way: centrally located in the middle of downtown, surrounded by buildings like a hole had opened up in that space, and with very few people around. The cherry blossom trees stood a foot or two apart, in full and dense bloom as if competing in height. The space wasn’t entirely empty, though. Aside from Sanae, there was a scattering of people who’d put tarps down, but there were far fewer people than in the more central park—few enough that she didn’t need to reserve a spot. But she would put her full effort into the task. She would protect this spot with her life until her office closed for the day.

Sure, she knew she was overdoing it a bit.

She shook her head. Negativity would push success further away. Pulling her phone from her bag, she launched an app—the game she’d started recently, Magical Girl Raising Project.

Sanae had never once played video games, even as a child. She thought paying money to waste time was stupid. But now Sanae had lots of time, as well as a lot of stress to vent. You might assume she’d still think video games were dumb, but her phone had been in her hand and the game downloaded before she even realized it. And when she gave it a try, the game rewarded her for precisely the amount of effort she put in. It was far kinder than the real world. So that’s why there are always more video game addicts, huh, she had thought, and considering how she was now, she had to laugh at herself.

Sanae had chosen Magical Girl Raising Project entirely because it was free. She was too old to want to be a magical girl; she’d believed that magical girls really existed when she was just a little girl. Back then, Sanae had thought that if you put in the effort, you could become a magical girl, but her current lot in life was proof that wasn’t true. In retrospect, maybe that had been Sanae’s first failure.

Her phone screen lit up, and a cute magical-girl avatar appeared against a background of a field of tulips. She had her star tiara, eagle scepter, emperor cape, and Cinderella glass slippers— all rare items imposing enough to clear a path wherever her avatar went.

Even in a video game, if she was going to do something, then she’d take it seriously, with full commitment.

Her magical-girl name was Ruler. She’d come up with it from the English word, which meant “commander” or “monarch,” but nobody had figured that out. Whenever she opened up the in-game chat and other players saw the name Ruler, they only ever said things like, “It sure is convenient to be able to move from one town to another instantly, huh? Oh, but I don’t like hitting my head when I use it indoors.” And so she regretted picking it, figuring she should have given herself a name that even idiots could understand, but Magical Girl Raising Project didn’t let you change your name.

Sanae was surrounded by idiots wherever she went. Most of the world was made up of fools.

Today was Friday, and a new in-game event was about to begin—in roughly thirty seconds or so. First, she would check what the event was; if she could do it solo, she’d immediately speed through the entire thing, and if she needed help, she’d create a party with the fewest people possible and take the lead that afternoon. Ruler’s costume made it clear that she was a capable player. Recruiting party members would net her a veritable flood of candidates, and she would just select whoever seemed most useful.

Even if they were idiots or incompetents, if they had rare magic abilities or strong combat abilities, they would make good pawns. An excellent leader at the helm would enable them to perform above their capabilities.

The moment she opened up the window to start the event, the activation sound effect blared, startling her. But that couldn’t have happened; Sanae always played Magical Girl Raising Project on silent. If anyone ever saw her doing something so juvenile as playing a video game at her age, the shame would kill her.

She looked around to make sure no one had heard her and then discovered the source of the sound. A woman on a nearby bench was staring intently at her smartphone. The light projected on her face was from Magical Girl Raising Project. Sanae had been waiting for the event to start so she could activate her mission, and the woman’s phone must’ve made the activation sound at almost the same moment, making Sanae think it was her own phone.

The middle-aged woman sitting on the bench was an absolute sight—legs splayed wide, she wore a leopard-print long-sleeved T-shirt and hardly any makeup; she had a nasty look in her eyes, dyed brown hair with her black roots showing, and a One Cup sake in her hand. Had Sanae realized a woman like her was nearby, she would’ve picked a spot somewhere else. It seemed the woman had arrived after Sanae, sitting herself down on that bench at some point.

I hope she leaves before the blossom viewing starts, Sanae thought, and since she didn’t want to get involved with the woman, she quickly averted her eyes.

The woman was also playing Magical Girl Raising Project, but Sanae felt no affinity with her. Free stuff always attracts the dregs of society. That’s why you see so many idiots, even in video games.

When Sanae took a quick look around, she saw most of the people who’d come for the cherry blossoms were gazing not at the flowers but at their phone screens.

The one sitting on the bench next to the middle-aged woman was a boy of about middle school age, also on his phone. Judging from his hairstyle, his build, his vibe, and also from the soccer ball at his feet, this boy was a jock, but he was fully engrossed in his phone.

A little ways away, there was a tall girl leaning against a cherry tree. She wore the uniform of a prep school that was fairly prestigious in this city; she, too, was absorbed in her phone.

And that kid over there was in the uniform of a private elementary school. She looked as if she was still only in first or second grade, so was it okay for her to be on her phone instead of playing with friends? Just what were her parents doing?

And past her was a young couple—

Whoa.

Sanae couldn’t help but gasp, doing a double take. Atop a one-person picnic blanket were a couple pressed right up against each other. They were looking at each other’s phones, whispering and smiling, being incredibly mushy in a way that would normally gross Sanae out, but the man was absolutely gorgeous. He had a slim build and a slightly feminine allure that wafted from the charming smile on his lips.

Not many pop stars or actors were that beautiful. If Sanae had a man like him by her side, whispering things like, “No one else has to know what a catch you are,” or “I have more fun looking at you than the flowers,” even a mundane task like picking a cherry blossom viewing spot would be a thrill.

Being careful not to stare, Sanae enjoyed the eye candy, and then, as an afterthought, also looked over toward the woman next to him. She was plain, with the kind of face you’d find anywhere—the type who’d call herself plus size, but then people would call her fat behind her back.

Right when Sanae had been in such a good mood, now she was mad again. The world was unfair and unreasonable. Things weren’t the way they should be. Her irritation grew. She came back around to wondering why she had to be in a place like this, and that got her angry again.

“Hey, lady.”

Sanae spun around with a start, worried that she was going to be accused of staring at the couple and that she’d never recover from the shame. But when she looked to see who’d just spoken to her, those fears vanished. It was a girl in middle or high school. She wore a shirt with some character on it Sanae didn’t recognize and a basic blue knit cap. Her bright manicure further contributed to Sanae’s impression that the girl was ridiculously simple—not just in looks, but probably in mind, too.

“Staking out a spot to view the cherry blossoms?” the girl asked. “Sheesh, it’s rough working for the man, huh?”

Even her tone was frivolous. Sanae glared at the girl. “…What is it? You need something?”

“I could hold your place for you. Three hundred yen for one hour.”

Ridiculous. How was she supposed to trust someone she’d only just met? Sanae could envision the whole scenario: She’d pay the three hundred yen, and then while she was off somewhere else, the girl would vanish, and the spot would get stolen, and Sanae’s coworkers wouldn’t trust her.

Sanae tried to shoo the girl away, but the girl persisted. “I’ll even give you a discount: two hundred fifty yen. How about it?” Sanae continued waving her off until the girl finally gave up and picked a different target—a young man, maybe a corporate worker or a bureaucrat. He looked bewildered as she engaged him in conversation.

But seriously, everyone here was on their phones. Sanae wasn’t one to point fingers, but she wondered if this was actually a good thing. Honestly, it probably wasn’t.

Then there was that girl over there who looked slightly zoned out; she was across from two women who appeared to be university students—they looked so similar from behind, it was uncanny. Were they twins or something? Matching outfits and hairstyles were tacky, even for twins. All three of them were looking at their phones.

“I just told you. You’re such a dummy, Sumi.”

“Why d’you say stuff like that, Yocchan?”

The three middle school girls didn’t have phones in their hands; they didn’t seem to be doing much of anything other than chatting pleasantly as they passed through the park.

Yep, this place was full of idiots. Even as they were surrounded by cherry blossoms in full bloom, they were all more enthused about the game.

Hypocritically forgetting how she herself had judged the cherry blossoms as grotesque, Sanae mentally cursed and glared at everyone, and then she noticed someone not looking at their phone.

It was a girl in her late teens, her brown hair tied in a braid. In her hands was a lacquered box. Dressed in a varsity jacket and distressed jeans, she came off like a hick who was a little rough around the edges, but the box she carried was rather elegant. The clash between attire and box caught Sanae’s attention. She watched the girl for a while; the girl happened to turn toward Sanae, and their eyes met.

Sanae felt like looking away would be shallow. She was prepared for the girl to snap at her—“What’re you lookin’ at, ya punk?”—but contrary to her expectations, the girl beamed. Sanae maintained a sullen expression.

But the girl didn’t seem bothered or put off by it. She ambled over to Sanae and held out the box. “Want some, lady? It’s tasty.”

She then opened the box to reveal its contents: rolled omelets, rice with bamboo shoots, boiled broccoli rabe, and stewed daikon and mackerel, each dish placed in its own section. The eggs looked fluffy and soft, the black and white sesame in the rice dish made her mouth water, and the mackerel shone a golden brown.

The sight and aroma made her hungry. It all looked so good, but Sanae couldn’t keep a nasty remark to herself.

“…Ugh, you’re trying way too hard to be seasonal.” As soon as she’d said it, Sanae regretted it—she was just taking her frustration out on this girl.

But the girl wasn’t upset. She laughed, and seeing that made Sanae feel petty in comparison, which in turn made her angry all over again.

“Well, the deli made it,” the girl said. “Spring food tastes extra good in the springtime, besides.”

Sanae felt like eating any of it herself would be a cheap move on her part, but more importantly—it looked delicious. She covered her mouth and gently cleared her throat. “I’ll just have one, then,” she said, and popped a rolled omelet into her mouth. She wiped her fingers with a moist towelette as she chewed the food. Delicious.

“Still good stuff, even with all these sketchy cherry blossoms around.”

The girl’s remark made Sanae frown. “Is there something particularly noteworthy about these cherry blossoms?”

“Yeah, apparently there’s some creepy stories about ’em. Y’know how there’s people who can, like, see things that most people can’t see, that sort of sixth-sense stuff? These cherry blossoms only attract folks with a really strong sixth sense. That’s the rumor.”

Sanae looked around.

The couple was still flirting. The middle-aged woman was lying down on the bench, smartphone in one hand, sake in the other. The college students were chattering on loudly to each other, and the tall high school girl was in silent concentration. The little girl was on the bench, swinging her legs as she was on her phone, and the soccer boy was the same. The dazed-looking girl was zoning out, staring at her screen. The sketchy girl who’d offered to keep Sanae’s place was sitting on her knees, head hanging, in front of the man in a suit who looked like he worked at some company or government office. It seemed she was being lectured.

Sanae surveyed the entire park one more time, then nodded. “Well, I don’t think anyone in this park, myself included, has that sort of…sixth sense, or magic powers, or any unusual abilities.”

“Aw, c’mon! You never know!” The girl grinned happily, which kind of ticked Sanae off again.

Why’s this girl still acting so chummy with me when we don’t even know each other? Sanae took a swig of her mineral water, then reached out for the stewed mackerel.