The Asterisk War, Vol. 4: Quest for Days Lost

by Yuu Miyazaki

  “Kyaaaaah!”

  The tag detonated mercilessly, and Shenhua shrieked as the blast propelled her into the air. Thanks to her shock, her invisibility spell broke, and Ayato cut through her school emblem.

  “Shenhua Li—crest broken.”

  “Nngh…!”

  As the crest system announced his sister’s defeat, a hint of panic rose in Shenyun’s face. He took a large leap backward and readied more slips of paper. “This is an unexpected turn of events. But even I have a trump card!”

  Shenyun spread his arms wide, and an avalanche of spell charms rushed out of his sleeves.

  There were more than could possibly fit into his uniform—he must have stored them using Seisenjutsu. The flood of tags rose up like a tornado, then formed a giant sphere above Shenyun’s head.

  If each one was an explosion charm, that globe had tremendous firepower.

  “This mine-sphere contains my entire arsenal. I hope you enjoy it.” Shenyun made a symbol with his hands.

  The ball rippled like a mirage, then vibrated and multiplied. One became two, then two became four—in the end, eight mine-spheres surrounded Ayato from above.

  “Those are an illusion, of course. Only one is real. But you can probably see that, and I bet you could dodge it, too.” Shenyun flung his arm downward, and the spheres began descending. “But what if I try this?”

  Ayato looked up with a gasp. Just as Shenyun said, he already knew which one was real and which ones were illusions. And so he also knew—

  I’m not the target—he’s after Julis!

  Indeed, the mine-spheres were falling on Julis, on her knees behind Ayato.

  “Nngh…!”

  She realized this, too, and tried to stand, but immediately dropped to the ground again. The bombs moved slowly, but Julis could not tell the real one apart from the copies. Even if she could, dodging it in her current state was another matter.

  “So, what will it be, Murakumo? Can you sacrifice your partner? No, I don’t think you can!” Shenyun shouted, grinning.

  He was certain that Ayato would rush to his partner’s aid. That meant flying into the mine-sphere—and not even the Murakumo could withstand its firepower.

  “Ayato! I’ll be fine! Just get him—”

  “Would you keep quiet for a bit, Glühen Rose?” Giving Julis an icy glare, Shenyun made a symbol with his hands.

  “—!” Lightning streaked toward her. But—

  “You’re consistent, Shenyun Li—to the very end.” Ayato stood in front of Julis to deflect the bolt with the Ser Veresta.

  “Ayato!” Julis shouted in alarm.

  Shenyun cackled. “Ah-ha-ha-ha! Perfect, Murakumo! You can’t dodge it now, can you? You two can take the blast together!”

  Indeed, the mine was already right in front of him.

  “I don’t need to dodge it,” Ayato murmured, and poured his prana into the Ser Veresta’s urm-manadite core.

  Drinking in Ayato’s abundant prana, the Ser Veresta suddenly grew, and black symbols danced merrily around it. In barely a second, the blade had reached more than thirty feet long.

  He had tried this Meteor Art technique once, when he had defeated that dragon creature with Kirin. Because it expended so much prana and shortened his time limit, he had never considered trying it in a match. But that wasn’t a problem now.

  “Wha…?!” Shenyun exclaimed as Ayato swung the giant Ser Veresta to easily slice through the mine-spheres, copies and all. A tremendous chain reaction began, but Ayato brought down the blade to sever the blast itself.

  “Th-that’s not possible…”

  The Ser Veresta carved a long, deep gouge across the stage floor, just narrowly missing Shenyun, who stood frozen. Ayato let go of his weapon. Unarmed, he leaped to Shenyun in a single breath.

  “That made me angry.” He squeezed his fist.

  “Huh…?”

  Ayato hurled that fist directly into the stunned face of Shenyun.

  “Guh-hah!” The punch threw Shenyun to the ground, where he lay motionless.

  “That’s what you get,” Ayato said to the fallen Shenyun, then let out a short sigh.

  “Shenyun Li—unconscious.

  “End of battle! Winners—Ayato Amagiri and Julis-Alexia von Riessfeld!”

  Cheers and applause raged across the arena like a hurricane. The din completely drowned out the announcers’ commentary.

  When Ayato turned, Julis—exhausted but grinning with unmistakable joy—sent him a hearty thumbs-up.

  CHAPTER 7

  UNYIELDING DETERMINATION

  “Congratulations, Your Highness!”

  When Ayato and Julis returned to the prep room, Flora met them with an enthusiastic greeting. Nearly collapsing under the girl’s tackle hug, Julis smiled indulgently. “Thanks, Flora.”

  “You were really, really amazing! I was so excited!” The younger girl waved her arms wildly, her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

  Unable to escape the winners’ interview this time, Ayato and Julis had stymied the press corps with vague answers. They had finally been released just moments ago, and a fair amount of time had passed since the end of their match. Flora must have truly been impressed to maintain this level of excitement.

  “You were really awesome, too, Master Amagiri! How did you become so strong? Can I be that strong someday?”

  “Um… Well, maybe if you train every day.”

  “I see! Then, then—can you help me train sometime?!”

  “Uh, sure…”

  “Yay! Thank you, Master Amagiri! I’ll work hard!” Flora threw her arms around Ayato.

  Like Kirin, she reminded him of a small animal, but in a different way—maybe a lively little puppy. He wanted to gently pet Kirin’s head, but Flora was a bouncy kind of cute that made him want to ruffle her hair.

  “You’re always so full of energy, Flora. It’s good to see.” In the back corner of the room, Claudia had been happily observing the scene.

  “Oh, you’re here, too?” Julis said. “Well, I suppose Flora couldn’t get in by herself.”

  “Yes—although I was a little surprised to see her here.” Claudia laughed softly.

  “So you and Flora know each other, Claudia?” Ayato asked.

  “Yes, I’ve seen her attending Julis several times.”

  “Miss Enfield is always so nice! She gave me yummy sweets today, too!”

  “Sweets?”

  Now that Flora mentioned it, Ayato noticed something like chocolate on her mouth, as well as an assortment of pastries and other confections spread across the table.

  “Oh, those are a little something from me,” Claudia said. “I finished up a few tasks and I had some time.”

  “So you made these?”

  “Well, I hadn’t been in the kitchen in a while, so I can’t make any guarantees about the quality.”

  Despite Claudia’s disclaimer, the pastries looked good enough to give a bakery’s wares a run for their money—better, in fact.

  “Thanks, I think I’ll have some,” Ayato said. “I am a little hungry.”

  “Please.”

  He selected a chocolate-covered cookie. “Mm, that is good!”

  Ayato had little to compare it to, since he didn’t often go for desserts. The elegantly bittersweet chocolate was aromatic, not too sweet—exactly the sort of treat he liked.

  “Hee-hee. I’m glad you like it.” Claudia smiled happily, her cheeks tinged ever-so-slightly pink.

  “So you can cook on top of everything else, Claudia? That’s amazing.”

  He’d figured she, a well-heeled young lady, would have little reason to learn culinary skills, but she really could do anything.

  “You’re so perfect that it makes the rest of us feel bad,” Julis complained. “Everything comes naturally to you. Isn’t there anything you don’t do well?”

  Still, with a look of resignation, she reached for a sweet herself.

  “Oh, there are plenty of things I’m bad at. I just thought I
should score some points for myself, that’s all.”

  “Points…?” Julis repeated suspiciously.

  “The rest of you were all making hand-cooked meals for Ayato to attract him,” Claudia replied. “I can’t sit idly by, can I?”

  “P-pfft! I—” Julis sputtered. “No one’s trying to attract anyone! How did you know about that, anyway?!”

  “Hee-hee. How, indeed? Well, leaving that aside…” Carelessly dodging the question, Claudia looked seriously at Ayato and Julis. “Congratulations, both of you, for advancing to the semifinals. On behalf of Seidoukan Academy, I express our joy and gratitude.”

  She bowed to them deeply.

  “Um, you don’t need to thank us…,” Ayato said.

  “That’s right,” Julis agreed. “I’m only fighting to make my wish come true, after all.”

  “I understand, of course,” Claudia said. “But in terms of the projected results for this season, Seidoukan has scored more points than we could have hoped for. Your teams are the first in several years to reach the final four. It really means a lot to our school.”

  “Well, I admit, I don’t mind hearing genuine words of praise from you,” Julis said. “But you’ve already congratulated the other team, then?”

  “Yes. They did finish first, after all. I paid my respects to them before coming here.”

  The “other team,” of course, referred to Saya and Kirin.

  “I invited them to come here with me,” Claudia said, “but they wanted to prepare for tomorrow.”

  “Oh? They must be very invested in winning,” Julis remarked.

  “Well, they’re going to face Saya’s rivals,” Ayato said.

  The next opponents for Saya and Kirin were the autonomous Puppets from Allekant. For Saya, they were the reason for entering the Phoenix. And in each match, those automatons had completely trashed the competition.

  Even Ayato was interested to see how they would fare against the Puppets.

  “You’ve made it this far,” Claudia said. “I’m rooting for an all-Seidoukan championship match.”

  Julis nodded firmly. “We’re aiming for nothing less. And I’m sure they are, too.”

  “So the final four teams are finally decided.”

  Sinking into a chair in his executive office, the chairman of the Festa Executive Committee, Madiath Mesa, let out a long sigh.

  “Yes, sir. There might not have been as much hype leading up to this season’s Phoenix compared to past events, but it proved to be splendidly exciting once it began. Your decision to allow Allekant’s Puppets to fight as proxies was met with great success. It’s all due to your acumen, chairman.”

  “I’d say it’s a little early to call it a great success. People might still change their minds with the semifinals and the final.”

  “Well, we’ve already exceeded the revenue and attendance of the last Phoenix. I don’t think public opinion will take a dive at this point…”

  “But you never know. That’s what makes things interesting.”

  As Madiath answered the fawning older subordinate, he placed his hand on the console at the end of his desk to open eight air-windows containing data on the semifinalists.

  They comprised one team from Allekant Académie, one from St. Gallardworth Academy, and two from Seidoukan Academy.

  “So, which team do you think will win?” Madiath asked.

  “What—? Sir, I’m a member of the Executive Committee. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to voice my personal opinion on—”

  “Ha-ha. No need to be so uptight,” Madiath said with a laugh. “It’s fine. You have my permission. Consider it a part of your duties.”

  “I see…” Pressed by Madiath but still looking uncertain, the other man scrutinized the rows of faces on the screens. “Well… To be frank, I didn’t expect two teams from Seidoukan. Traditionally, they’ve fared well in the Phoenix, but their dismal showings in recent years have been hard to watch.”

  “Yes,” Madiath agreed. “But they seem to have even more drive now because of it. Do you think one of those teams will win, then?”

  “No, sir. It’s true that both teams are excellent, but the fighters are too volatile. I don’t see either team winning the championship,” the man declared bluntly.

  In Madiath’s opinion, this man was fairly competent. Of course, there would hardly be anyone incompetent at the upper levels of an integrated enterprise foundation, but even with that in mind, Madiath considered him quite capable.

  He trusted his subordinate’s judgement, derived from watching countless fighters over many years of Festa administration.

  “I see,” Madiath said. “Then what about the two from Gallardworth?”

  “Hmm. That young man in the eleventh rank is a decent Dante, but I don’t think it’s a favorable matchup for him. How a Dante’s strengths compare to his opponent’s is very significant. Barring something unforeseen, I think they will lose in the next round.”

  “So, in your opinion, Allekant’s Puppets will be the champions?”

  The subordinate nodded politely. “Yes. Their abilities are marvelous. They’ve taken all their matches effortlessly. I think it’s reasonable to say that they’re the unquestionable favorites. However…”

  “However?”

  For a moment, the man seemed unsure. “Well—it’s just that…considering the kind of effects their victory might have on future Festas, it may not be the most desirable outcome…”

  “You think so?”

  “Oh, er—I’ve overstepped. My apologies, sir.” The subordinate quickly bowed his head.

  “Not at all. I value your opinions. It’s true some fans will be disappointed to see mechs win the tournament when they only entered on a special ruling. And even the fans who are cheering for them now might find that it’s just…a little much to see non-humans take the championship.”

  Allekant had brought the question of the special ruling for automatons directly to Madiath—which meant the consequences for any errors in judgment would fall squarely on his shoulders.

  “But, well, if that happens, it happens,” he mused. “All we’ve done is give them a fair chance.”

  “Very true, sir.” The subordinate spoke respectfully. His expression changed, as if it suddenly occurred to him to ask: “How about you, chairman? Who do you think will win?”

  “Me? Hmm, well…” Madiath scanned the eight air-windows, just as the other man had done moments ago. “I’d have to say Allekant.”

  “Oh, you think so, too, sir?”

  “If we simply compare each team’s abilities in combat, there’s not much of a debate. The odds of them winning this Phoenix are eight in ten. —Oh, is it almost time?” Madiath checked the clock.

  “Ah, yes. It’s time for your meeting with Frauenlob,” the subordinate said. “I’m sorry to have taken up your time like this.”

  “No, don’t worry about that. I’m the one who asked, after all.” Madiath motioned with his hand. His subordinate bowed and left the office.

  Once he was alone, Madiath exhaled and closed the air-windows one at a time. The pair from Gallardworth disappeared, then Saya and Kirin, then the mechs from Allekant, and finally, Julis.

  Only the window displaying Ayato Amagiri remained open. Madiath’s hand paused.

  “Haruka’s little brother,” he said aloud, a playful smile coming to his face. “It’s true… You never know what might happen. That’s what makes things interesting.”

  On the fourteenth day of the Phoenix, in a prep room at the Sirius Dome…

  “Well, should we get going now?” Kirin prompted.

  Saya looked up from her hands and nodded with her usual stoic expression.

  “Hmm? What is that?” Kirin asked.

  Saya had been fixated on an old scrap of paper. “…My lucky charm.”

  She held out a voucher, an obviously homemade one. In the adorable, oversize handwriting of a child, it read Wish Coupon.

  “It’s a magic coupon to make any
wish come true.”

  “Wow—that sounds wonderful.” Kirin guessed it was an important memento to Saya from the way she handled the piece of paper. “Oh, were you wishing to win today’s match?”

  “No.” Saya emphatically shook her head. “This is just for good luck. We’ll win today with our own strength.”

  “You’re right. Sorry.”

  Saya could not be more correct. They would never advance if they placed their faith in anything other than themselves, Kirin told herself, summoning all her resolve.

  Saya placed the paper in her shirt and turned to her. “Kirin…”

  “Oh—yes? What is it?”

  Saya suddenly bowed her head. “Thank you.”

  “Wha—?! For what?!”

  “I’ve made it this far thanks to your help. I really appreciate it.”

  “P-please. There’s no need to thank me.” Flustered, Kirin waved her hands.

  “I wanted to make it this far, no matter what,” Saya said as she clenched her fists.

  “To defeat the Puppets from Allekant, right?”

  Kirin had heard about the events leading Saya to enter the Phoenix—one of the Allekant students had insulted a gun made by her father, and she was fighting to demand a retraction.

  Still, Kirin couldn’t help but wonder. She could understand that the issue was important to Saya, but it seemed excessive to enter the Phoenix for that alone.

  As if she had read Kirin’s mind, Saya smiled awkwardly. “…You deserve to know. My dad lost most of his body in an accident at the research facility where he worked.”

  Saya spoke so nonchalantly that for a few moments, Kirin couldn’t take in the meaning of her words. “Huh…?”

  “His brain was unharmed, fortunately, so he used his workers’ comp to build a workshop at home and linked himself to its core. Now that he’s used to it, he’s been happy enough—he can do more intricate work than he ever could have with a human body.”

  “…” Uncertain what to say, Kirin helplessly lowered her eyes.

  “You don’t need to feel bad for us. Dad says he’s glad to have the freedom to research what he wants, and I’ve come to terms with it.”