Yuki Kurokawa looked up. Set off by her wig, Qiluo's eyes looked exceptionally clear and bright.
A faint, playful smile played on the corners of Qiluo's lips, as if she were waiting for something.
Yuki placed her tray on an empty table nearby, took a deep breath, and turned to walk back to the kitchen.
A moment later, she emerged carrying a plate of freshly prepared omurice, steam rising slowly from the edges of the golden omelet.
Of course, it was impossible to make it fresh on the spot; these had been prepared in advance by her classmates yesterday.
She set the plate down in front of Qiluo and picked up the ketchup bottle.
Bending down, she aimed the tip of the bottle at the golden surface of the omurice, then hesitated.
The other tables were all using ketchup to draw hearts and little bears, but she didn't want to draw those.
“What do you want me to write?” she asked, looking up at Qiluo, the ketchup bottle still suspended in midair.
“If you don't want a heart, we can do something else. A star... or any other design. You choose, and I'll draw it.”
“...Write your name.”
Wh-What?
In that instant, Yuki's heart beat incredibly fast, and her mind went completely blank.
She lowered her head, using the forward tilt of her body to let her hair hide her burning cheeks, her fingers tightly gripping the ketchup bottle.
Aiming the tip of the bottle at the golden surface of the omurice, she began to write, stroke by stroke.
Her movements were very slow, drawing each line with extreme care.
Once the final stroke was finished, she placed the bottle back on her tray, took a step back, and clasped her hands in front of her apron.
“You're running away just because you finished writing?” Qiluo glanced at the word, then at Yuki's profile, which was red all the way to her ears, and finally couldn't help but chuckle.
I'm not running away...
Yuki set the tray back down on the empty table nearby and walked over to stand in front of Qiluo again.
She leaned down, closing in on Qiluo's ear, her long, draping hair brushing against Qiluo's shoulder.
As a warm breath brushed against her ear, Qiluo subconsciously held her breath.
The few classmates in the classroom who had been secretly peeking in their direction also held their breath.
She didn't chant any of those fancy spells, instead whispering a single sentence in a voice only the two of them could hear.
Having spoken, she stepped back half a pace, picked up her tray, and turned to leave.
She walked so quickly that she didn't even notice her apron strings fluttering in the breeze.
Qiluo sat in her seat, her fingers resting beside the still-steaming plate of omurice.
“I hope you like it, and not just because of some magic spell.”
Her ear tickled. And it wasn't just her ear—that warm sensation spread all the way down to the back of her neck, leaving her entire back feeling slightly numb.
She recalled how, when she had used a wet wipe to clean Shizuru's face under the ginkgo tree, she had still been able to tease her with ease.
Now that the roles were reversed, she realized that having someone whisper in her ear was far more difficult to handle than she had imagined.
“Look who's suddenly a smooth talker.”
Sitting alone by the window, Qiluo scooped up some pudding with her spoon, her gaze wandering aimlessly over the maids and customers bustling about the classroom.
The cheesecake was rich and creamy, and once the caramel layer of the pudding was cracked, it offered a perfect touch of bitterness.
She took another sip of the caramel latte. It was so sweet that she squinted; it was sweeter than any cup she had ever bought from a convenience store, but it tasted wonderful.
...
On the other side of the festival.
“Make way, please! Watch out for the wheelchair! Guests in the back, please don't crowd, thank you for your cooperation!” Night Sakura pushed Misa Tachibana's wheelchair, deftly weaving left and right through the crowd.
She wore a dark purple hoodie, with her mask perched askew on her head like a bizarrely shaped hat.
Kohinata cleared the path ahead, holding two freshly bought colorful cotton candies while mumbling “excuse me, coming through” around a lollipop in her mouth.
Amamiya walked on the other side of the wheelchair, carrying several paper bags won from various stalls, which were filled with plushies and snacks. Her expression was as cold and detached as ever, but her steps were noticeably lighter than usual.
Sitting in her wheelchair, Misa Tachibana let her gaze wander across the bustling sports field and the school buildings draped in colorful banners.
“Store Owner! There's a takoyaki stall up ahead, and the line is super long! I'll go queue up, you guys take your time!” Kohinata stuffed the cotton candy into Amamiya's hands and swept toward the stall like a little whirlwind.
Night Sakura pushed Misa Tachibana to a relatively quiet spot next to the stalls. Crouching beside the wheelchair, she pulled a box of chocolate-covered bananas from the paper bag Amamiya was holding, unwrapped it, and handed it to Misa Tachibana.
“I can't eat too many sweets,” Misa Tachibana said as she took the bamboo skewer, though she still lowered her head to take a small bite.
“Store Owner,” Night Sakura said, stuffing the last bite of her chocolate banana into her mouth and wiping the powdered sugar from her lips with a handkerchief. “Wait here for a bit. Amamiya and I are going to buy something from those stalls over there. We'll be right back.”
“Go ahead. I'll just enjoy the view here.”
Misa Tachibana nodded slightly, her wheelchair parked by the side of the path.
Night Sakura dragged Amamiya toward the handicraft stalls. After a few steps, she turned back and yelled, “Don't let any strangers wheel you away! We'll be right back!”
A gust of wind blew, sending a few falling leaves swirling down to land on her shoulders and knees.
She looked down, pinched the leaf resting on her blanket, and examined it in her palm.
“Honestly, what strangers would there be?”
Misa Tachibana smiled helplessly.
A few minutes later, Night Sakura ran back, carrying a paper bag with a mysterious, proud smile on her face, as if she were about to present a rare treasure.
“Store Owner, stretch out your hands and close your eyes.”
Misa Tachibana glanced at her, stretched out her hands, and closed her eyes.
Something fluffy settled gently onto her head. There was one on each side—soft and lightweight.
She touched them with her hand. They were shaped like animal ears, with dense, soft fur and a small piece of light pink lining sewn into the tips.
“A cat-ear headband.”
Night Sakura pulled a small mirror from her pocket and held it up in front of her. She was wearing one herself—a pair of white cat ears.
Amamiya stood behind her, expressionlessly wearing a pair of black cat ears, still holding the freshly bought candy apple.
“I'm far too old to be wearing cat ears.” Misa Tachibana poked the tip of one of the cat ears, causing it to wobble slightly.
“Store Owner, you're only in your twenties! How is that old?” Night Sakura put the mirror away and continued pushing the wheelchair forward.
“Besides, this has nothing to do with age. The school festival is a day when you can wear whatever you want.”
“Next stop, the legendary Magical Girl-themed café!”
Night Sakura dashed forward, pushing Misa Tachibana's wheelchair.
Kohinata had already finished her takoyaki and was licking the remaining sauce from her fingers, while Amamiya followed behind with an increasing number of paper bags, the cat ears sitting securely on her head.
There was a rather long queue at the entrance of the café, but none of the three hesitated to join the end of the line.
Kohinata stood on her tiptoes to peer inside, letting out an irrepressible gasp of excitement when she spotted the Magical Girl posters on the wall.
When their turn finally came, a booth by the window happened to clear up.
Night Sakura pushed Misa Tachibana's wheelchair to the side of the table and locked it in place, then squeezed into the booth opposite her alongside Kohinata and Amamiya.
A waitress dressed in a Magical Girl cosplay uniform handed over the menu. The moment Night Sakura flipped to the first page, she burst into laughter.
“Store Owner, let me read this to you—the Meruru Strawberry Parfait, the Ouka Sakura Latte, the Toya Mint Slushie... and the Lightweaver Pudding?”
“They even have Toya? Toya is super popular over in Hokkaido. I heard she can shoot through a blizzard with an ice bow. Is that true?”
“It's true,” Amamiya said, uncharacteristically taking the initiative to speak. “However... Toya's mana is water-attributed, not ice. And she doesn't use a bow; she uses a spear.”
“Eh? Why?” Kohinata poked her head out from behind her menu.
“Supposedly, there was an issue with her initial testing, and her high-concentration water mana was misdiagnosed as ice mana. Also, when she throws her spear, it looks like an ice arrow, which is why she's called Ice Arrow.”
Amamiya answered Kohinata's questions one by one.
“How strange,” Kohinata said, shaking her head in complete bafflement. “What about Ouka?”
“Ouka...” Night Sakura rested her chin in her hand as she thought. “Ouka's mana attribute is healing, but she's completely different from traditional rear-guard healers.”
“Her weapon is a tachi, and her fighting style is to charge at the very front, healing her teammates while slashing at Erosion Bodies. The more severely injured she is, the stronger her healing spells become—supposedly because her mana resonates with pain.”
“Healing while slashing? That is so cool!” Kohinata's cotton candy almost fell onto the table. She caught it in a scramble and licked the sugar from her fingers.
“Then doesn't she end up covered in wounds after every battle? If she's charging at the very front, the Erosion Bodies must target her like crazy, right?”
“Yes, but she doesn't seem to care much herself.”
Night Sakura took over, her fingers sliding quickly across her phone screen to bring up a screenshot of a battle recording.
“During the last major suppression battle in the Kansai Branch, she single-handedly held off the simultaneous assault of two high-tier Erosion Bodies, buying time for the rear guard to set up the barrier.”
“After the battle, her magic circuits were overextended to their absolute limit. The Association's medical team forced her to stay in bed for a whole week. But the very day after she was discharged, she ran right back to the training ground.”
“Completely unlike a certain someone who complains about being tired after every single training session,” Amamiya remarked, not looking at anyone in particular as she spoke.
“Who are you talking about?!” Kohinata bolted upright, pointing right at Amamiya's nose.
Amamiya didn't even raise her eyes.
“But speaking of which, Ouka indeed has a very distinct way of speaking,” Night Sakura said, ignoring the duo's usual bickering.
“During a regional exchange meet once, she used honorifics from start to finish. Even when she was criticizing someone, she would start with 'Excuse me, desu wa.' When a rookie asked her why she was so meticulous, she said, 'Because power is meant to protect people, not to be flaunted, and language is the same.'”
Night Sakura mimicked Ouka's tone.
“Sounds like someone from ancient times,” Kohinata commented.
“Sounds like something you're completely incapable of doing,” Amamiya commented.
“What did you say—”
“Alright, alright.” Misa Tachibana gently tapped the table, and the two of them silenced themselves immediately.
She looked up at Night Sakura, a hint of reminiscence in her eyes.
“I've met Ouka before. She was just a tiny thing back then, with a tachi taller than her entire body. During her self-introduction, the tachi slipped from its rack and almost crushed her foot.”
“Blushing furiously, she set the sword upright, bowed to everyone, and said, 'Nice to meet you. I am Ouka, please take care of me.'”
“And then?” Kohinata leaned over the table, completely captivated by the story.
“Later, on the final day of her training, she used that tachi to slice through every single barrier the instructor had set up.”
The instructor said that her magic circuits were the purest healing type in recent years, but her fighting style was completely unlike that of a healer.
Rate on N.U.
