Qiluo was frantically slamming the alarm button in her mind. This tone, that direct gaze, and the way she had stepped closer...
She had seen this before on Yuki Kurokawa’s face—the same tone, the same look.
The only difference was that Yuki would only bury those words in her heart and say them to a Star-trail who didn't understand a thing.
As expected of a senior, the speed and power of her straight-forwardness were several times that of a first-year.
Lightweaver did not retreat. The alley was too narrow, and with the wall behind her, there was nowhere to go.
She released her grip on the hem of her jacket, gathered her thoughts, and put on that casual smile again. “You’re an official Magical Girl of the Association. Aren’t you afraid I might be on the opposing side?”
“If you were on the opposing side,” Shizuru stood in the center of the alley, “you wouldn't have retreated immediately after clearing the Erosion Bodies. An enemy Magical Girl wouldn't have let an opportunity like that pass. You could have easily attacked me then, but you didn't.”
Qiluo listened to Shizuru’s reasoning from beginning to end and realized her analysis was completely correct.
“Being a well-intentioned Magical Girl isn’t enough.”
Lightweaver crossed her arms over her chest, her warm white short hair catching the moonlight and glowing with a faint silver edge. “The Association’s database isn’t the only source of truth. Some things aren't recorded because the method to record them hasn't been invented yet.”
“Then, are you willing to let me invent you?”
The moment those words left her mouth, Shizuru’s face turned bright red starting from her earlobes, but she did not look away.
The alley fell silent for about three breaths as the night wind rushed in from the entrance.
What does that even mean? Qiluo’s brain was processing this information at an overloaded speed.
How could someone use a word like that?
What exactly was the structure of this person’s language system? No, now was not the time to analyze that.
She seemed completely unaware that she had just said something that could make any girl roll around on her bed in embarrassment.
Lightweaver didn't answer. She tilted her head, her warm white hair obscuring half her face so her expression couldn't be seen, but her crossed arms tightened slightly.
“...Do you usually talk to people you’ve just met like that?”
Shizuru was also frozen in place. It seemed she only just realized what she had said, but she didn't look down, nor did she take the words back.
Her gaze was incredibly earnest—so earnest that Lightweaver felt like looking away would be her own fault.
“...I only talk to you like this.”
The girl’s fists were clenched as she spoke. It was as if she had squeezed all her courage into those hands, and if she let go, it would all escape.
Lightweaver’s silence was like the darkness in the alley, creeping up from the corners inch by inch.
Shizuru waited for a moment, then reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, her knuckles trembling slightly.
“Your contact information. It doesn't have to be the Association’s communication channel; a private one is fine. I won’t—”
“No.”
Lightweaver placed her hand over the wrist of the hand holding the phone, gently pressing it down. Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear.
“I don’t intend to become someone you know.” Lightweaver withdrew her hand and took a step back.
“What about the next time an Erosion Body appears?”
Shizuru looked up, her gaze no longer shyly earnest but more direct. “Your mana is very strong, but you don’t exist in the Association’s system. That means if you’re injured, no one will receive a distress signal. If your mana is exhausted, no one will replenish it for you. If you were to collapse somewhere—”
“Then I’ll pick myself back up.”
“What if you can’t?”
Lightweaver didn't answer the question. Qiluo didn't have an answer in her heart either.
If she couldn't get up, then she wouldn't. She’d just stay down; lying down was comfortable anyway.
After all, she had originally fallen from the sky.
Falling once was a fall, and falling twice was just the same.
She looked into Shizuru’s eyes—those deep blue eyes were exactly the same as when she was transformed, shining even in the dim alley.
It was a stubbornness born of a sincere desire not to owe anyone anything.
“...You don’t owe me anything.” Lightweaver began walking toward the alley entrance. “I was here today because I wanted to be.”
Shizuru stood deep in the alley, holding her phone.
Her finger hovered over the 'New Contact' page, the cursor blinking in the blank field, unsure of whose name should be typed there.
But she didn't chase after her.
Because the way Lightweaver walked was just as decisive as the way she fought, and that decisiveness was more persuasive than any refusal.
Lightweaver stopped at the mouth of the alley. The night wind blew her short hair across half her face, and she didn't look back.
“About that,” her voice suddenly softened slightly, losing the effortless tone from before. “Keep the sampling tube. The mana residue inside should be enough for you to submit a decent report.”
Shizuru looked down at the sampling tube in her inner chest pocket; the warm white particles glowed faintly in the dark.
“But the sampling tube only proves you were here.”
Lightweaver tilted her head, her profile revealing a partial smile under the moonlight. “I’m not in the Association’s database. You won’t be able to find me through that powder anyway.”
“I understand...”
“Then stop looking.” She stepped out of the alley, her warm white hair vanishing into the shadows around the corner.
The alley fell back into silence. Shizuru stood still and put her phone back in her pocket. Nuomi poked its head out from her collar and rubbed its ear against her chin.
“She’s gone.”
“...Yeah.”
Nuomi gently tapped the back of Shizuru’s neck with its tail. “I get the feeling she’s just not good at communicating with people, not that she doesn't want to. It’s okay. Even though she left, aren’t you super happy today, Shizuru?”
Shizuru scooped Nuomi off her shoulder and buried her face in the fur on its back, her voice muffled.
“...Shut up.”
...
Qiluo walked along the perimeter wall of the amusement park for a while. Only when she reached a corner without streetlights did she cancel her transformation. The warm white light shattered into a few strands and dissipated into the night wind.
She leaned against the wall, looking down at her hands.
“...How can that person be like that?” she asked herself, facing the wall.
“If you can’t find me, just leave it be. Why go as far as tracking me to the scene? And if that wasn't enough, she had to ask for contact info. When I didn't give it, she looked at me with those eyes... Does she even know how much damage a look like that does to someone?”
The wall, of course, didn't speak. If it had, Qiluo would have hissed at it.
She shoved her hands into her pockets.
The biggest difference between Shizuru Kirishima and Yuki Kurokawa was that Yuki hid her feelings from Star-trail, thinking no one could see them.
Shizuru, on the other hand, knew she might be rejected but still laid her feelings out in front of someone and asked if they wanted them.
People like that were a rare species—so rare that Qiluo just wanted to go straight home and pull the covers over her head.
She couldn't withstand it. She feared these types who kept throwing 'straight balls' the most.
Kurokawa-san was better; if you teased her, she’d just hide.
“...Good thing I didn't give it to her.” She kicked a small pebble, which rolled into a drainage ditch with a hollow echo.
If she gave it, she’d have to take responsibility. If she gave it, she’d be remembered.
And right now, the last thing she needed was to be remembered. Yet, she still whispered the name 'Lightweaver' in her heart.
The name was compromised. After being called that by Shizuru in such a tone, it was no longer a disposable, one-time code name.
She pushed open the door to her apartment, kicked off her shoes, tossed her jacket onto a cardboard box by the low table, and collapsed onto her bedding.
Rate on N.U.
