by Blitz Kiva
Sorceress’s words were entirely one-sided, leaving no room for negotiation.
Even so, arms still folded, Iris fixed her eyes on Sorceress and said: “I accept.”
For that one second, the young girl had the bearing of a handsome prince.
Sorceress giggled again. “I see. You seem very confident.”
Iris did not respond. She just kept glaring at Sorceress, arms folded.
Perhaps Sorceress saw something interesting in Iris’s manner, for her expression went blank, and she scrutinized her with those blue eyes as deep as the sea. But after a little while, her dour smile returned, and she turned on her heel and left.
“Well, that’s all. Message delivered.”
After making sure that Sorceress was gone, Yuri turned back to Iris. “You seemed really confident, Ai.”
“I’m not confident at all,” Iris whispered. “But I accepted the challenge, so I just have to do it.”
“I think it’s very good that you feel that way,” a voice chimed in.
“Arrrrgh!” Iris shouted.
The voice that had come breezing down from the second floor nearly caused Iris to jump out of her skin.
Felicia looked up and waved. “It’s Itchy! Hi, Itchy!”
“Mm, hello.” Needless to say at this point, it was Ichiro Tsuwabuki. Sir Kirschwasser was with him.
As he descended the stairway with dignified bearing, Iris laid into him with the force of a gale. “Young heir! When the... how long have you been here?! You almost gave me a heart attack!”
“Since about the time you folded your arms,” Ichiro said.
So, he’d gotten here quite a while ago, it seemed. It was just like Ichiro Tsuwabuki to listen in only to the most important parts. It meant he wouldn’t need things explained to him.
“But I now know the day of the challenge.” Ichiro sat, speaking like a demon lord praising the progress of a hero. “I think this is a good opportunity. I hope you give it your all.”
“Y-Yeah,” said Iris. “You don’t have to tell me that. Don’t worry; I have a secret plan.”
“I’m sure you don’t need my advice, but you seem like the type to ‘secret plan’ yourself to death.”
“Yeah, I don’t need your advice!” Iris shot back. “And don’t bomb my train of thought!”
“Ai, the phrase is ‘break my train of thought,’” Yuri called.
“I’m afraid this was a bomb from the start,” Kirschwasser added.
As Yuri and Kirschwasser commented from the sidelines, Iris pounded on the table and shouted. “Whatever, just let me explain the plan!”
“Certainly,” Ichiro said.
“Tomorrow, a famous designer is coming to my school,” Iris began, elatedly. It was clearly a designer she liked, or at least one that she very much admired. It seemed she intended to get design advice from this person. Felicia had to admit that the advice of a pro designer might be of use.
Ichiro, on the other hand, was neither impressed nor disappointed by the opinion. He merely said, “I see,” and no more.
“What kind of reaction is that?” she demanded. “It’s really getting on my nerves.”
“If I comment any further, you’ll once again say that you don’t need my advice.”
“Harrumph! Fine. Well, that’s the plan, so set your hopes high.”
“I shall.”
It didn’t seem like it was a plan that was worth all the buildup, but...
Felicia and Yuri exchanged a glance and a small shrug.
“I wonder what will happen...” Kirschwasser said with a meaningful smile as he brought by a tea set on a tray. The deliciously rich aroma of the black tea within caused all the doubts in Felicia’s mind to fly right away.
2 - Noble Son, Watch Over
“Hiya, Taker!”
When the young girl in the blazer ran up to him, the man was absorbed in his task, picking up garbage by the riverbed.
“Shoko?” he asked.
“Yep, it’s me! Whatcha doin’?”
“Picking up garbage,” the man proclaimed, almost proudly.
Indeed, there was quite a lot of garbage scattered across the embankment. People could be so thoughtless. Empty cans and plastic bags, combustibles and non-combustibles, little odds and ends that were difficult to collect... He was hard at work collecting them all, tongs in hand.
Shoko tilted her head at his tone. “Trash picking up garbage?”
“I was only trash two days ago,” he said. “I’m myself again now.”
“Oh, I see. That’s good,” she said.
If he was feeling better, that was all that mattered. Shoko knew that he tended to suffer from fits of deep depression, but if he was feeling good enough to contribute to society, he was probably fine.
“Gonna play NaroFan again today?” she asked.
“Yeah, we’ve basically decided what we’re going to do,” he said.
She tossed him a can of cola, which he caught without even turning around.
“But Leader can’t log in until evening, so I’m making a little money by picking up garbage,” he added.
“Nem does have a company to run, after all!” Shoko said.
She decided to join him in his task. She tried stepping into the brush along the river and found her bare leg below her short skirt sink quite a ways down. She would have to be careful the leaves didn’t cut up her thighs.
He answered, “Yeah, she’s got business to run, but today she’s giving a lecture at some trade school, she said.”
“Ohh...” said Shoko.
What had Nem said her real name was, again? Shoko couldn’t remember exactly, but she knew that she was a famous fashion designer. She ran the fashion brand MiZUNO, which offered high-class yet casual designs. Shoko liked them, and bought them often. For being a brand-name line, the prices were quite reasonable.
If Nem was lecturing at a fashion trade school, there would probably be a lot of girls as discerning and tasteful as Shoko there. She would surely get a good reception. Shoko wondered if Nem might spare herself a lot of mental anguish if she spent more time in welcoming environments like that.
“Shoko.” The man turned back in the middle of his trash-collecting.
“Hmm? Yeah?”
“About the challenge Leader issued...”
“Hmm? Yeah?” Shoko parted the grass and discovered a rather sticky porno magazine. Were there still people who tossed these onto the riverbed? This was not trash, but treasure, so she left it where it was, praying that it might find its way to a curious young person.
As Shoko withdrew from the underbrush, the man continued, holding the garbage bag in one hand. “Do you want to be her model?”
Shoko was still picking leaves out of her skirt as she responded. “Sure!”
“You didn’t even hesitate?” he asked.
Indeed, she did not.
Airi Kakitsubata was a 17-year-old girl attending a design trade school. She wanted to be a fashion designer when she grew up.
Although it was summer vacation, Airi had come to school today. Charles Private Fashion College—“Charles” was pronounced in the French manner—was one of many trade schools in Tokyo for aspiring fashion designers. The curriculum included high school courses, making it possible to get a high school diploma when one graduated.
Despite being a school for fashion, the building itself was made of undistinguished concrete, which was the one thing Airi didn’t like about it. She was otherwise quite satisfied with the professors and the curriculum, including the way that, like today, they sometimes called in distinguished guests to give lectures.
Megumi Fuyo was the president of the up-and-coming fashion brand MiZUNO, and the wunderkind of the apparel world. It was not surprising that the students would come out in droves to hear her lecture, so the hall immediately filled up.
“Th-There are so many people here...” Airi said as she looked all around.
“A lot of people feel the way you do, Airi,” her f
riend said casually.
“What about you, then?” Airi asked.
“Me? I’m partly here for you, and partly here for the education. Fuyo’s super talented; I’m just not gonna worship the ground she walks on.”
“You make me sound like a crazy cultist,” said Airi.
“I didn’t mean it that way.” Her tanned friend clearly wasn’t trying to be mean, but her word choice still grated on Airi’s nerves a bit. She was a good friend, but she was a natural talent, and she had the unflappability that came along with it. In addition, despite being aware of her own talent, she still worked as hard as anyone. All in all, being around her couldn’t help but trigger Airi’s sense of inferiority.
“I respect Megumi Fuyo; I don’t worship her,” said Airi. “I’m not gonna lose my head over her, either.”
“Oh, yeah?” her friend mused.
It was just then that Megumi Fuyo finally appeared on stage. The small lecture hall was suddenly bursting with deafening screams, as if an idol had come on stage to give a concert. She was dressed in a chic black suit, just like the one she had worn on TV the day before.
As Megumi Fuyo took her place on stage, she projected into the microphone with the air of a veteran public speaker. “A pleasure to meet you, everyone. I am Megumi Fuyo, president of MiZUNO, Inc.”
The cheers grew louder. It was a surreal scene indeed, given that the audience knew this was supposed to be a serious lecture for educational purposes. The teacher waiting on the edge of the stage gave the students a severe scowl.
And as for Airi...
“Yeee! Fuyo! Eee! Eee!” That was her reaction.
Her friend just gave a small shrug.
As inappropriate reactions went, this was all going a bit too far. The teacher took up a microphone, and was just about to reprimand them, when Fuyo stopped her with a raised hand.
“Thank you all for your warm welcome. But before I begin, I would like to say one thing.” Fuyo’s words, delivered softly and with a bright smile, brought the whole hall into silence. “You’re all here as future fashion designers. I’m grateful and honored that you view me as a figure of admiration and aspiration. At the same time, I hope you won’t forget that someday, I may be your rival, your competition in the marketplace.”
A hush came over the formerly screaming girls as they listened to the words flow smoothly from her mouth. Airi was among them. Fuyo’s words had snapped their dreams back to cold reality.
“An artistic person must view other artists as rivals at all times,” said Megumi. “Regardless of our skill levels, I believe that I must view every other person trying to make it in this industry—yes, including all of you—as my rivals. Though some might say that’s petty of me.”
The words delivered a shock to Airi’s system. She had always thought of Megumi Fuyo as someone completely out of her league, as someone she could never possibly compete with. But now that she mentioned it, what if that wasn’t really the case?
What if Nem felt the same way? She knew that Airi was so unskilled that she could refer to her designs as “nothing,” yet Airi was still a rival, fighting on the same battlefield. It was only natural that she would try to make a show of force before her. Nem was not condescending, nor punching below her weight class. She was just dealing with Airi as one should with a potential opponent. Airi felt reinvigorated.
Meanwhile, her practical friend had kept her eyes fixed on Fuyo the entire time, showing little reaction. Perhaps she had reached this realization already, a long time ago.
With the auditorium now silent, Fuyo looked over them all and gave a small nod. “I’m glad to see you understand. Please listen to what I’m about to tell you as words from a rival. How you interpret them, and how you act based upon them, is all up to you.”
None of the students were cheering now. The only sound echoing through the auditorium was Fuyo’s own voice.
The two-hour lecture seemed to pass in no time at all. There was time afterwards for questions, but while Airi raised her hand, she wasn’t called upon, and in the end, she wasn’t able to ask Fuyo anything directly.
Still, the contents of the lecture had been fantastic, so it would be wrong to ask any more than that. In particular, it had been a good chance for Airi to reevaluate her naive ideas regarding the motivation and fortitude necessary to become a designer. All in all, it had been a wonderful two hours.
Indeed, it had been. And yet...
“C-Can’t we just leave it?” Airi stuttered. “The two-hour lecture was enough. I think it’s a little rude to try to talk to her directly even after it’s over...”
“But there’s something you want to ask her, right?” her friend asked.
Pulled along by her friend, Airi wandered through the empty school building.
“Being so timid about that kind of thing is so like you... yet so not like you,” her friend said.
“You just wouldn’t understand!” Airi cried.
Her friend’s grip was surprisingly strong as she pulled Airi along hard. Her friend was unflappable, but she was also completely shameless. It was because she was so uncompromising when it came to her vision. Airi couldn’t help but wonder if she could learn a thing or two from her.
“Ah, there she is!” her friend cried.
At her friend’s words, Airi jerked herself upright.
Ahead, loitering in the school hallway all by herself, was Megumi Fuyo. She was looking at a wall display of croquis sketches done by Airi and other students. Airi cringed in embarrassment.
“Well, good luck!” Her friend gave Airi a push, then turned around and walked away.
“Ah, um... w-wait!”
But her friend just waved airily to her without turning back. Airi thought about going after her, but to do that would be to lose sight of Megumi Fuyo. As shameless as it might be, this really was her chance to talk to her directly.
After a bit of hesitation, Airi finally made up her mind and stepped forward. “Ah, um... Miss Fuyo...” Airi’s voice cracked as she addressed the woman from behind.
Megumi Fuyo turned around. Despite her plain, businesslike suit, she projected a sense of stylishness through her tasteful application of makeup, and more importantly, the careful styling of her hair. It showed that exquisite taste was projected in more than simply what clothing someone wore. Her hairstyle—intricate plaits bound together in the back—was one that Airi had secretly imitated.
“Ah... are you a student of this school?” Megumi Fuyo inquired with a gentle smile and a tilt of her head.
Ah, she really is an amazing person, Airi thought, her head swimming. She was the word “maturity” embodied.
“You’re one of the ones who put her hand up earlier,” Megumi Fuyo said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to call on you.”
Airi was thrilled that she remembered. “Ah, yes. Um... Ah, might you have been looking at our design sheets, by chance?” She was trying her hardest to sound unimposing, and to hold off on barging right into the main subject.
“Yes,” said Megumi Fuyo. “Sometimes I find myself focusing too much on my own sensibility. It can make me lose sight of things, but looking at other people’s designs can give me new perspective.”
“B-But surely our designs are just embarrassing compared to yours...”
“Oh, that’s not true at all...” There was a note of loneliness in Megumi Fuyo’s voice. “Whether something is good or bad... at the end of the day, it’s up to a person’s subjective opinion.”
Her words sounded similar to those of the young heir. Perhaps, despite everything, he was a mature person, as well.
Those thoughts of NaroFan caused Airi to think of Nem. Which reminded her: she had to get Fuyo to give her some tips about how to beat her.
“Let me see. Which of these is by you?” Megumi Fuyo asked.
“Ah, um... this one.” As embarrassed as Airi felt about it, she realized this might also be a good chance. She pointed to one of the posted papers: a single design illustration label
ed with the name Airi Kakitsubata. It was next to a piece drawn by her extremely talented friend, which just made her feel more embarrassed.
Fuyo looked at the design, and her eyes widened in surprise.
Airi shrank back. Was it really that bad? But Fuyo did not comment on Airi’s skill one way or another.
“Miss Kakitsubata,” Megumi Fuyo said. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”
“Ah, right.” Airi straightened immediately. She had been asked, so she had to answer. “Um, I... in four days, I’m going to be taking part in a clothing design competition. Er, well, the truth is, it’s in a video game...”
“I see...” Fuyo closed her eyes, then turned back to Airi. She seemed to straighten, her manner no longer the gentle one it had been.
Airi had already been nervous about what she might say, but what she ended up hearing defied belief.
“You’re Iris, aren’t you?”
Airi stared at her. “Ah...”
“I am Nem.”
Fuyo and Airi were the only two people in that hall, and for that one moment, that isolation felt all the more vast. Everything else seemed to vanish. For that instant alone, Airi was Iris, and Fuyo was Nem.
“Um... but... um...” At last, Airi Kakitsubata understood.
The woman who, ten days ago, had stopped by Iris Brand and said, “It’s nothing.” The woman who, the other day, had visited the beach and started a quarrel with Kirschwasser, and had looked at Ichiro with those pleading eyes. It had been Megumi Fuyo all along.
The person who had picked that fight with her was, of all people, the designer she most admired. The shock of it made it impossible for Airi to speak. Seeing the clear panic in her eyes, Fuyo’s expression grew a little bit sad.
“Iris, do you like my designs?” she asked.
After a moment’s hesitation, Airi replied honestly. “Yes,” she said.
The truth was shocking to learn, but she just couldn’t hate the woman’s designs. Even the swimsuits she had designed for the game were incredible. One look at them had been like an electric shock shooting through her.
