He’d blundered in hiding behind a building. Kojou was now trapped in a narrow alley, with no way to evade the next attack.
The man’s sword swung down at Kojou’s head with the force of a guillotine—
—When suddenly the blade of a long spear, twinkling silver, intercepted. Tracing a beautiful arc, silver cut through steel like it was butter, momentarily saving Kojou from peril.
“Himeragi—?!” Kojou shouted.
She, the Watcher of the Fourth Primogenitor, had realized he was in danger and rushed out of the store.
Yukina landed on the ground with her skirt aflutter. She adopted a combative stance, never averting her gaze from the mysterious assailant.
“Are you all right, senpai?” she asked.
Kojou exhaled weakly, looking drained. “Yeah, thanks. Saved my butt.”
Without a word, the man in the red-and-white checkered outfit glared at his new adversary. His right arm had lost everything past its wrist, and the liquid blade Yukina had severed now fused with his own flesh.
“Senpai… Who is that?”
“Who knows,” Kojou replied with a grunt. “He said he’s ‘the One Who Seeks the Truth.’”
Kojou thought it was a pretty stupid-sounding title, but hey, that was what the guy had called himself.
He thought Yukina would be upset, but instead, she readily accepted it. “A Seeker. I see…”
That she had taken it seriously made Kojou all the more nervous. He didn’t know about any major jobs with that description, but—
Speaking languidly, the man squatted down. “A Schneewaltzer… Come to mention it, there was a rumor the Lion King Agency had sent a Sword Shaman to monitor the Fourth Primogenitor, wasn’t there?”
The severed lamppost had rolled to a stop right at his feet. It was a steel post about three or four meters in length and must have been heavy. Yet the instant the man’s right arm touched it, the post melted and collapsed.
Before their eyes, its surface transformed into something like steel-colored blood. Then, as Kojou and Yukina watched, dumbfounded, the man’s arm absorbed it.
“What the…?! His arm’s…!”
Before their eyes, his right hand, severed only moments before, was restored. The man had reclaimed his lost body part by fusing with the metal post.
“Just as I thought,” Yukina whispered, aghast. “An alchemist—!”
Kojou’s breath hitched. Like any other Demon Sanctuary resident, Kojou of course knew that alchemists existed. They controlled the composition of all kinds of matter to produce solid gold. They were also considered blasphemers against God, those who sought the answer to the riddle of eternal life—and yet this one had immediately exposed his identity to Kojou.
“Well,” said the alchemist, “even my odds are bad against the Fourth Primogenitor and a Sword Shaman. I suppose it’s best to postpone eliminating Kanon Kanase till later…”
With this, he turned his back on the pair. It seemed he intended to flee.
“Hey! Hold it right there, Checkered Man—!”
“No, senpai! Don’t—!”
Kojou rushed him in pursuit. It was too dangerous to let the man flee when they still had no idea who he really was.
“Whoa?!”
A mass of metal fell right before Kojou’s eyes.
The alchemist had transformed one of the giant shade trees planted along the street into solid metal. Its countless branches became sharp thorns; every leaf turned into a blade. There was no way Kojou could ram into it and escape unscathed. He hit the dirt and rolled, barely managing to avoid being crushed underneath.
When Kojou, now disheveled, rose to his feet, the alchemist was nowhere to be seen.
“Crap,” he grumbled, kicking the trunk of the steel tree that now obstructed his path. “What the hell is with that guy…?!”
Pain jolted through his foot from kicking a chunk of metal.
It appeared the alchemist could transform full-grown trees into steel with only a touch—though, no, surely it was well beyond just trees. He could probably freely manipulate the composition of any piece of solid matter.
Such a power would be absolutely heinous in the wrong hands.
The liquid-metal blade had made a frightening enough weapon, but that transmutation spell was a lot more dangerous. If Kojou’s own flesh and blood were turned into metal, there was no guarantee even he, an immortal and immutable vampire, could be revived. If the alchemist had used transmutation on him from the start, Kojou could have died the moment they met.
Lowering her spear, Yukina asked, “…That alchemist was after Kanase, wasn’t he?”
Kojou nodded, grimacing. “He said somethin’ about the incident five years ago at the convent, but he didn’t elaborate.”
“The convent…”
Tales of Kanon, the convent, and five years before flooded Kojou’s mind at the word. It was clear this was the lead that would bring them closer to an answer.
Five years earlier, the abbey where Kanon Kanase lived suffered a large number of casualties and shut down—perhaps the alchemist’s reason for approaching Kanon was directly related to that.
Put another way, the incident five years ago was their only lead as to who he really was.
Kojou slumped against a nearby wall and turned to face Yukina. “Anyway, we’ll worry about that later… Thanks, Yukina. You really helped there.”
The area around the terrace café was a fine mess. Numerous decorative trees littered the ground; several storefronts were half-wrecked. It’d probably cost hundreds of millions of yen to fix. But they were fortunate that the destruction had been limited to that.
If Yukina hadn’t arrived and the alchemist’s attack had managed to kill Kojou, his Beast Vassals would have probably run amok and turned the surrounding area to ash. In the worst case, Itogami Island itself could have been done for.
Yukina, who of course understood all that, sighed softly in exhaustion. “I just did what is expected of me, senpai. I am your watcher, after all.”
“Yeah, but still, thanks.”
At Kojou’s honest gratitude, Yukina hid her blushing face. “It’s fine…”
Then Kojou realized something extremely important. His heart pounded faster, and sweat broke out over his entire body.
The situation was bad—very bad.
“R-right, so, um, Himeragi, what about Nagisa and Kanase…?”
“They’re all right. Both went into changing rooms. If I hurry back, I don’t think they’ll even notice.”
“Changing rooms… So you were in one, too…?”
“No, I was simply having the staff measure my sizes, so I hadn’t gone in y—”
As Yukina was about to say yet, she gasped when she looked down at her own chest. Her school uniform shirt was still completely unbuttoned.
She’d no doubt flown right out of the underwear store in great haste when she’d sensed that Kojou was in combat. Her dazzlingly pale skin was a perfect match for her completely open shirt, visibly revealing part of her bra.
Letting go of an inaudible shout, Yukina squatted down on the spot. “Heeee?!”
She carefully pulled in her collar as she glared at Kojou resentfully.
“S-senpai…how long ago did you notice?!”
“N-notice what…?”
Kojou’s reply was as monotone as a robot’s. His instincts screamed that the only way he could overcome this crisis was to pretend he hadn’t seen a thing.
“Don’t tell me that ‘thanks’ from earlier was—”
“N-no! It’s not like I was thanking you for showing me something nice—!”
“It’s fine. I understand. You’re just filth.”
“No, you don’t get it! You’re not getting any of it—!”
Kojou desperately tried to plead his innocence, but Yukina, her cheeks puffed up, wouldn’t even look him in the eye. Even as she felt Kojou’s aura fluster behind her, Yukina murmured to herself in a tiny voice:
“This is
why taking my eyes off you gives me anxiety! Seriously…!”
5
The next morning—
Kojou, arriving at school earlier than usual, made a beeline for the staff building. More precisely, he was headed to the highest floor, to the office of Natsuki Minamiya.
Incidentally, Yukina wasn’t with him because she’d refused to speak to him since the open blouse incident the day before. But that was all the better as far as Kojou was concerned: Yukina was on vacation starting today. He wanted her to go on the field trip with as few lingering concerns as possible.
Kojou opened the thick wooden door and peered into Natsuki’s room. “Sorry, Natsuki. There’s a little something I wanted to ask you—”
The next moment, Kojou stopped dead in his tracks and reflexively shielded his head. Oh, man!
Natsuki Minamiya, age twenty-six and Saikai Academy’s English teacher, had such a small figure that she looked like a little girl, despite which—no, because of which—she detested how the students treated her. They called her Natsuki instead of Ms. Minamiya. She was a violent teacher constantly dishing out corporal punishment to the students who disrespected her, so it was only natural for Kojou to protect himself after the slipup.
For some reason, however, the day seemed to mock Kojou for his prudence: No matter how long he waited, the expected attack never came. Instead, what he heard from inside the room was a flat, highly composed voice:
“Good morning, Fourth Primogenitor.”
“…Astarte?”
Dressed in a maid outfit, the slender girl was standing near a window with a billowing curtain. As always, her skin looked almost transparent. Her large eyes were faintly blue, and her face was perfectly symmetrical. To Kojou, she seemed less like a living creature and more like a work of art. This was Astarte—a homunculus.
In the past, she had been created by a Lotharingian Armed Apostle and employed by him as a weapon, but she was now working at Saikai Academy under Natsuki’s guardianship. Wearing a maid outfit in spite of being on staff was purely a matter of Natsuki’s personal tastes.
Kojou looked around the room as he asked, “Huh, it’s just you here? Where’s Natsuki?”
Her office was extravagant, evident by a thick, luxurious carpet decorating the floor. However, there was no sight of its owner sitting on her beloved antique chair.
“Master is absent. Earlier, she left at the request of the police.”
“The police…?”
Astarte’s reply gave Kojou an ominous feeling.
The other hat Natsuki wore was a federal Attack Mage. The Demon Sanctuary’s educational institutions were required by law to employ a certain percentage of Attack Mage–qualified staff for the protection of the students.
However, Natsuki was also known as the Witch of the Void, and on top of that, a combat instructor for the Island Guard and one of Itogami Island’s most powerful people.
Kojou worried about the timing of police suddenly calling someone of Natsuki’s level. He couldn’t shake the feeling it had something to do with the ruckus at the terrace café the day before.
As Astarte watched Kojou go pale, she asked, “Are you concerned about something, Fourth Primogenitor?”
Kojou shook his head. “It’s not really a concern, I just wanted to talk to her a bit. Private stuff.”
“Understood. I would be happy to converse with you if you like.”
“Ah… Are you? Well, there is something I kinda wanna know, but—”
“The answer is, ‘Your romantic prospects are very strong this week. You would be wise to make a show of bringing the girl in your class home with you and make a move on her while the little watcher is away.’”
The homunculus began giving him strange advice with a serious look when Kojou forcefully stopped her: “Who said to dish out romance advice?!”
Astarte continued to gaze at Kojou with emotionless eyes. “I believe this is the sort of guidance sought by many schoolboys in the springtime of their youth?”
“Er, well, maybe that’s what’s on a lot of guys’ minds, but um—how’d this turn into instigating a felony?!”
“Master believes most who seek the counsel of others already have their answer. Therefore, the person offering guidance need only provide a gentle nudge toward what the asker already wants to do.”
“Well, I guess even Natsuki can say something civilized once in a while, but… Wait, how’d you conclude I wanna make moves on Asagi here?!”
“Meaning, that you would prefer to do so to another girl?”
Kojou was breathing heavily as he clutched his head. “That part ain’t the problem here!!”
That Astarte didn’t engage in sarcasm or jokes, but rather was dead serious 24-7, made her very hard to deal with.
“At any rate, please have some tea,” she said.
Astarte brought a cup over from the wet bar’s cabinet. Using a teapot, she poured black tea that had just finished brewing, making a rich, perfumed scent float up around them.
Kojou brought the cup to his lips. “This is good stuff,” he stated in surprise.
Natsuki, notoriously picky about her black tea, entrusted Astarte with making hers, and it was shockingly tasty. Kojou wasn’t a connoisseur, but this was in a different dimension than any other he’d previously tasted.
Even as she saw Kojou so moved, Astarte’s expression remained largely neutral. However, he felt like the girl’s blue eyes had a bit of an extra twinkle to them.
Having calmed down from drinking the tea, Kojou finally switched to what he actually wanted to talk about.
“Hey, Astarte… Homunculi are made with alchemy, right?”
Astarte remained expressionless as she nodded. “Affirmative. In modern times, homunculi creation is heavily influenced by biotechnology and medical science, but the basic theory is directly derived from alchemy nonetheless.”
Kojou looked up at her as he asked, “Do you know what alchemists are after, then?”
Astarte, a product of alchemy herself, had a fundamental grasp of the science imprinted on her since before she’d even been born. Kojou thought he had a good chance of finding a clue from her—a clue about the alchemist in the checkered cap.
“Practitioners of alchemy operate on many different levels, but the ultimate goal of alchemy is to breach human limits and become closer to ‘God.’”
Astarte narrowed her eyes, as if searching through old memories, even though her reply was casual.
“God? It’s not to turn iron and lead to gold?”
“Transmutation is nothing more than a side effect of alchemists’ moving closer to ‘God,’ for the guiding principle of alchemy is to transform all that is imperfect into a perfect existence.”
Kojou recalled how the red-and-white alchemist had instantaneously remade trees into solid steel. “I see… If a man can turn into a god, turning lead to gold is child’s play, huh?”
Following alchemist logic, a living tree that would eventually perish must have seemed a less perfect being than a nigh-indestructible piece of metal.
“But how does all that stuff turn you into a deity…?”
“I cannot answer, for ‘God’ is a word with a vague definition. However, the past includes two examples of having achieved nearly eternal life while retaining a body of flesh and blood.”
The ease with which Astarte replied surprised Kojou. “‘Examples’?”
“You are one such example, Kojou Akatsuki. You were born as a human, yet you gained the vampiric powers of the Fourth Primogenitor, although that does put you on the opposite end of the spectrum from ‘God’—”
Kojou slumped his shoulders. “Well, that makes me sound like a dismal failure,” he muttered resentfully.
Certainly, vampires were immortal and un-aging, but the source of that power was a “negative” life force diametrically opposed to the blessings of God, making them unable to die and go to Heaven, be reincarnated, or find spiritual peace. It was like a disease that just made them
keep on living. Even if they lived for thousands of years, it was utterly impossible for a vampire to evolve into a deity of light. If that was the goal, surely they were nothing more than incomplete failures.
“So what’s the other example?” Kojou asked.
“Wiseman’s Blood.”
Kojou had never heard of it before. “What the heck is that?”
Astarte slowly shook her head. “Details are unclear. However, Nina Adelard is said to have used the power of the Wiseman’s Blood, her own creation, to gain an immutable body with infinite magical power.”
Kojou’s breath caught.
“Adelard…?!”
In the back of his mind, he recalled that the alchemist had spoken this name the day before. Adelard’s Abbey, where the incident had happened five years before—that was what he had said.
“The Great Alchemist of Yore. She is a person of legend. If she was still alive, she would be over two hundred and seventy years old by now, but…”
Astarte sank into silence. Apparently, that was all the knowledge that she’d been imprinted with. But Kojou had found his desperately sought clue.
The bell rang for classes to begin. However, Kojou remained silent, not moving a muscle. His head was all a jumble. He needed time to put the information in order.
“Here, have some tea.”
Astarte refilled Kojou’s cup. The homunculus seated across from him really did seem to be enjoying herself a little—just a little—more than usual.
6
Asagi’s mouth was stuffed full of pasta when she inclined her head a little and asked, “Halelaid Halley…?”
She was in the school cafeteria during lunch break. With hungry students thronging all around them, she and Kojou were sitting side by side at a narrow table.
“Ah… Come to think of it, it might’ve been called that. Isn’t that the haunted house in the back of the park?”
Kojou kept his voice low as he asked, “What’s a convent doing, being named after an alchemist?”
So the abbey Kanon Kanase had lived at really had been named for a great alchemist of ages past. An alchemist and a convent—it didn’t sit right with him at all.
Strike the Blood, Vol. 6 (light novel): Return of the Alchemist Page 4
