by Asari Endou
“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 cro
w’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.
