Chapter 3: The Crimson-Haired Girl Plays Her Resolve

Beings known as Armored Insects, which are said to have appeared out of nowhere several centuries ago.

They stole the earth from humanity’s ancestors and drove people up into the sky—into the Floating Cities. In other words, everyone living aboard the Floating Cities today is a descendant of the humans who were once permitted to walk the surface of the earth.

Ever since humanity’s dominion over the planet was usurped by the sudden emergence of the Armored Insects, people have lived for centuries atop islands floating in the heavens, divided between Wizards, who are born with Magic Power, and Naturals, who are born without it.

My mom was one of the finest Magic Cannon Swordsmen among all Sky Wizards… once.

People say that memories fade with time, but my memories of my mom are something special even beyond that. I don’t know how or why it works this way, but whenever a human is killed by an Armored Insect, every memory of that person vanishes completely from the minds of Naturals. In other words, humans born without Magic Power become utterly unable to recognize or remember anyone slain by the Armored Insects.

The Armored Insects stole away all our cherished memories of my precious mom.

Because I’m a Wizard, I didn’t lose my memories of her—but because my dad is a Natural, he doesn’t remember a single thing. Even though there’s a framed family photo of the three of us standing together right there in our shop… Dad doesn’t remember her. Neither do the neighborhood ladies, nor the regulars who used to visit our café every day—not a single Natural remembers that she ever existed.

Even so, I remember her. I remember her figure, always sharing that gentle smile with everyone around her…

I will never forget her. And someday, no matter what it takes, I’ll make Dad remember her too. If somebody asks me how I’m supposed to pull that off—well, I don’t know the method yet either!

Someday, I’m going to become a magnificent Magic Cannon Swordsman who won’t lose to anyone.

I’m going to become a Magic Cannon Swordsman every bit as great as my mom was.

I’m going to become someone strong enough to protect everything in this world to the very end.

Maybe, just maybe, when people see me standing tall as a full-fledged Magic Cannon Swordsman someday, it’ll spark something inside them and help someone remember her.

Remember the figure of my mom, who gave her life defending the city where we used to live.

To make that goal a reality, I resolved to enroll in the Guardian Department.

Excerpt from the Personal Journal of Misora Whitale — Exile Calendar Year 439, March 31

＊＊＊

The fifth day of practical training since Kanata’s appointment as instructor. On this afternoon inside the Fireteam E601 Platoon Room, the unsettling situation that had dragged on for the past several days was reaching its peak.

“Umm… K-Kanata-san?”

Sitting all by herself in the otherwise empty briefing room, Lecty timidly called out to him, her upturned eyes unfocused and hesitant. Under normal circumstances, even leaving Rico aside, Misora should have been sitting right beside her, and yet—

“What’s up, Lecty? Something wrong?”

Despite the obvious abnormality of the situation, Kanata looked completely unbothered. Wondering for a second if she was somehow overreacting, Lecty asked in a tiny voice:

“Umm… well, if you ask whether something’s wrong, I think something is very wrong…”

She glanced nervously over at Misora’s empty desk.

“…W-What do you think happened to Misora-san?!”

“Hmm, she’s probably skipping again today. That makes three days in a row now.”

“Umm… isn’t that definitely a serious problem?! Or rather, how should I put it, er…”

Fidgeting in her seat, Lecty kept her gaze lowered to avoid locking eyes with Kanata as she explained:

“…L-Lately, I’ve been eating lunch with Misora-san every day during lunch break. But as soon as lunch break is about to end, Misora-san gets into a terrible mood, grabs her schoolbag, and marches off somewhere.”

Hoping this clue might help resolve the crisis, Lecty mustered all her courage to report what she knew. Kanata’s response, however, was:

“Huh. Yeah, figures.”

He brushed it off with a single breezy remark. I-Is it really okay for us to keep following this person? Just as doubt began to creep into Lecty’s mind, she blinked and realized what he had just said.

“………! Wait—when you say ‘figures,’ d-does that mean you have some idea why she’s acting like this?!”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a ‘rough idea.’”

“O-Oh, I see…”

As Lecty’s shoulders sagged in disappointment at being back to square one, Kanata casually added:

“Yeah. The reason Misora’s sulking is a hundred percent my fault. So it’s less of a rough idea and more of a dead certainty.”

“…………………Th-Then doesn’t that mean you’re completely to blame, Kanata-san?!”

For someone as timid as Lecty, she delivered a surprisingly loud retort.

“Umm, you really are taking our instruction seriously, right, Kanata-san?! If we keep doing this special training, we really will get stronger, won’t we?!”

“Who knows? Depending on how much effort the person puts in, they might get stronger, don’t you think?”

“D-Depending on the person’s own effort… K-Kanata-san!”

“H-How can you say something so irresponsible…?!”

Seeing the hurt, crestfallen look on Lecty’s face, Kanata scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

“Hm? Oh, that’s how you took it. My bad, my bad—guess I didn’t explain that part.”

Then he flashed a fearless grin.

“Quit looking like you’re about to cry, Lecty. What I mean is that whether you actually grow strong or not ultimately comes down to your own effort. All I can do as your instructor is give you guys the spark—the catalyst—to become strong.”

“A catalyst…?”

“Yep, a catalyst. Though if I give you that spark and you guys pour all your effort into it and still don’t get results, then that part’s on me as your instructor. …So what do you wanna do, Lecty? Wanna keep going with your special training?”

That mysterious costume training whose actual effectiveness is still a complete question mark. Kanata had told them at the start that keeping it up for one full week was the minimum requirement, and yet—

“Umm… W-What are you going to do today, Kanata-san?”

Unsure how to answer right away, Lecty asked him back, figuring she would decide based on what her unreadable instructor planned to do next.

Folding his arms and tilting his head in thought, Kanata replied:

“Hmm. Since Misora’s probably headed straight home again by now, I’m thinking of paying her a home visit. If she actually came down with an illness or something, that’d be bad news.”

Lecty was left thoroughly torn. She couldn’t tell for the life of her whether this instructor was motivated or lazy, kindhearted or callous…

“Hmm… This must be the place.”

Holding a campus map in one hand, Kanata walked through Suburban District 3 toward Misora’s family home.

According to her student profile sheet, Misora’s father had obtained a special commercial permit from the Economic Department aboard Mistgun to operate a café out of their residence.

Kanata knew of several parents who worried so much about their children that they bent the rules to follow them all the way aboard the academy city, and he figured Misora’s father was likely one of those doting parents.

As a general rule, students enrolled in Mistgun’s Guardian Department were required to live in the dormitories.

Pushing open the door to the café—whose interior was decorated in chic, understated tones—Kanata was greeted by the clear chime of a welcome bell. Several groups of students were already seated inside, chatting lively and enjoying their meals.

“Welcome.”

A deep voice called out from behind the counter, where a middle-aged man with a shaved head and an intimidating, rugged face was looking Kanata’s way.

“Sorry, Pops, I didn’t actually come here to eat today…”

Sliding onto a stool at the counter, Kanata started to explain why he had dropped by.

Before he could finish, however, Misora—dressed in a cute waitress uniform as she helped run the café—walked out carrying a glass of ice water and let out a shrill squawk.

“W-Why the heck are you here?!”

As Misora glared daggers at Kanata, her father scolded her from across the counter:

“Hey now, Misora. You’ve finally been coming home early from school to help out around the shop these past few days—that’s no way to talk to a customer.”

“Shut up, Dad! You don’t know anything about what’s going on, so stay out of this!”

Despite being skewered by Misora’s fiery glare a second time, Kanata spoke in his usual breezy drawl:

“I came by to check on you, and it looks like you’re not injured or sick after all.”

“You have some nerve saying that right now! Don’t you have something else you ought to be saying to me—like an apology?!”

“Hmm? Nah, making sure you were okay was the main thing on my mind. It’d be a real problem if something happened to you.”

“………~~~ (Twitch)!”

Yet there was a genuine trace of relief in Kanata’s eyes. Having confirmed with his own eyes that Misora was safe and sound, Kanata truly felt relieved inside as her instructor. Then, without missing a beat, he added:

“What about you? Don’t you have something you wanna say to me?”

Ready to scream her lungs out at him, Misora contorted her face and opened her mouth to unleash every insult in her vocabulary—only for her father to cut into the conversation at the worst possible moment.

“Wait a minute, kid—you’re an acquaintance of Misora’s?”

“Huh? You’re Misora’s old man, Pops? …How do I put this, the two of you don’t look alike at all, do you?”

“Gahahaha! My daughter takes after her mother!”

Takes after her mother. The instant the boisterous café owner laughed and said those words, a dark shadow fell across Misora’s face. Looking suddenly deflated and downcast, she murmured:

“…I’m going in the back to change. I’m knocking off early for today.”

Turning on her heel, she slipped quietly into the back room of the shop. Misora’s father scratched his shaved head awkwardly.

“Sorry about that. Things between us on the family front haven’t exactly been smooth sailing lately…”

Things on the family front haven’t been smooth sailing, huh. Repeating those words inwardly, Kanata’s sharp eyes caught sight of a framed photograph displayed on the counter.

Angled as if watching warmly over the entire café, the photograph showed a young Misora standing beside a younger version of her father—and next to them, almost certainly her mother: a female Sky Wizard with the exact same long, glossy crimson hair as Misora, carrying a silver-white Magic Cannon Sword at her side.

“Your wife was a real beauty, Pops. Misora definitely takes after her mother.”

Though Kanata was praising his lifelong partner, for some reason Misora’s father wore a somber, distant expression.

“Yeah… You mean this photo here.”

Looking down at the framed picture on the counter, Misora’s father spoke in a heavy, shadowed voice:

“She definitely existed, alright. Even if this photograph is just about the only proof of her I have left…”

Kanata looked up quietly.

“Pops… could it be that you’re a Natural?”

“Yeah. My daughter’s a Wizard, and I’m a Natural. And my late wife… she was a Sky Wizard. …Ah, listen to me rambling about family business to a guest.”

Wizards and Naturals. Those born with Magic Power, and those born without it.

Those capable of remembering the people slain by Armored Insects, and those whose memories were wiped clean.

Mistgun was a city of Wizards; unlike ordinary Floating Cities, Wizards accounted for ninety percent of its population. Just as Kanata connected the dots and realized this had to be the root of Misora’s fixation, Misora’s father wiped down a freshly washed glass with a dish towel and fixed Kanata with a sharp gaze.

“Normally, Misora stays behind at school practicing like a maniac until late at night, so seeing her come straight home these past few days is mighty unusual. I figured something must’ve happened at school. Do you know anything about it, kid?”

Unfazed by the older man’s probing look, Kanata replied in his usual relaxed tone:

“Hmm, mind telling me a little more about Misora first, Pops? Including why she’s so dead set on that Magic Cannon Sword—the whole story.”

Misora’s father’s hand stopped wiping the glass.

“Before I answer that, let me ask you one thing, kid. Just who are you to my daughter?”

“Hm? Didn’t I mention that?”

Looking straight into the rugged face of Misora’s father, Kanata flashed a fearless smile.

“I’m Misora’s instructor. Giving Misora the catalyst she needs to become strong is my job.”

Having changed out of her waitress uniform and into her Protector, Misora walked out to the barren Redevelopment District behind the café. Looming right beside the lot stood the fifty-meter-tall outer Dome Wall constructed from Anti-Curse material.

With exposed steel girders jutting into the air and half-demolished concrete structures standing in desolate rows, this abandoned lot served as Misora’s secret personal training ground.

“Why can’t I ever win?!”

As if pouring all her humiliation and bottled-up fury into the blade, Misora swung the silver-white Magic Cannon Sword downward. Driven by raw emotion, her slash cleaved nothing but empty air.

Drenched and matted with sweat, strands of her long, glossy crimson hair clung to the collar of her Protector.

“Why can’t I ever win?!”

How many tens of thousands of times had she swung this heavy blade already? …No, wondering about that was pointless. Stop overthinking it. The harder you work, the stronger you’ll become. Even so—

“Why can’t I ever win?!”

Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the doubts swirling inside her head. Calm down, calm down, Misora told herself. She had completed tens of thousands of practice swings on this lot. She took pride in knowing she worked twice as hard as any other student at the academy.

A hundred and thirty-four straight losses didn’t matter. Failing to land a single scratch on Kanata during their mock battle didn’t matter either.

“…I won’t give up!”

Claiming you lacked talent was nothing more than an excuse made by quitters who refused to put in the effort. True talent lay in never stopping your effort. Even if you lost a hundred mock battles out of a hundred, all you had to do was win the hundred-and-first. And what did it take to do that? —Practice, and nothing but practice. And yet—

“…When I’m working this hard, why doesn’t it ever pay off?”

A fragile whimper slipped past her lips. Desperately fighting back the tears threatening to spill over, Misora bit down hard on her lower lip and raised the greatsword again. It was proof of her unyielding refusal to surrender, yet to anyone watching from the sidelines, the sight was heartbreakingly painful.

“No matter how hard you push yourself… huh.”

Standing in the shadows of a ruined wall, Kanata was one of those who felt a sharp pang in his chest watching her. Misora’s father had told him where she always went for her solo practice, and while Kanata had found her easily enough, he had hesitated to call out and interrupt her.

Misora fatally lacked talent for Magic Swordsmanship. Simply put, she didn’t have the height or frame to swing a top-heavy greatsword around, nor were her natural reflexes particularly suited to close-quarters blade work. …And above all, Kanata wanted her to gain the genuine strength she needed to fight the Armored Insects and come back alive.

“Gah!”

A sharp sting lanced across Misora’s palm. Another blister had just burst open. Her grip faltered, nearly dropping the heavy Magic Cannon Sword before she frantically tightened her fingers around the hilt. Clamping her lips shut, she gritted her teeth.

“I won’t lose—for Mom’s sake, too!”

Raising the Magic Cannon Sword into a high overhead guard once more, she swung it down with everything she had.

Back at the café, Kanata had heard the full story from her father.

“The reason Misora is so dead set on becoming a Magic Cannon Swordsman comes down to a single wish: she doesn’t want her mother to be forgotten.

From what I’m told, back in the Floating City where we used to live, my wife was an outstanding Magic Cannon Swordsman… Apparently, anyway. One day, she sortied into battle and never came back. Well, the exact instant my wife died in the line of duty, every memory of her and her very existence vanished from my mind—so even as a little girl, Misora must’ve realized what had happened right away.

The only thing my wife’s fellow Sky Wizards brought back to us was that silver-white Magic Cannon Sword. Nobody knew what final thoughts were going through her mother’s head when she entrusted that blade to her daughter, yet what her mother left behind in her final moments was that Magic Cannon Sword.

For Misora, who was still tiny at the time, looking up to her mother as a Sky Wizard and swearing to herself that she would become a Magic Cannon Swordsman no matter what was only natural.

Of course, when we moved to this city, we set up a memorial cross for my wife up on Hope of Hill. Problem is, nobody remembers her. By striving to become a Magic Cannon Swordsman, Misora has spent her whole life chasing the shadow of the mother whom even I—her own father—can no longer truly remember.”

Why Misora clung so fiercely to being a Magic Cannon Swordsman, her grit, her prayers, everything—

Even taking all of that into account, Kanata still believed that, for Misora’s own sake, recommending that she convert from a Magic Cannon Swordsman to a Magic Cannoneer had not been a mistake.

He understood now just how deep Misora’s feelings ran. And for that very reason, he needed Misora to confront him head-on with the full weight of her resolve to walk the path of a Magic Cannon Swordsman.

Unless she did, nothing would ever change. She would remain stuck right where she was—misunderstood even by her own instructor, branded forever as a hopeless member of an F-Rank Platoon, until one day on the battlefield—

“Hey, Misora.”

“W-Why are you here?!”

“Got a minute?”

Half-dragging the reluctant girl along with him, Kanata decided to take her somewhere else.

Stretching across the gentle slopes of a green hill stood countless white crosses erected to memorialize the students who had fallen in the line of duty defending the city. Among the student body, this place was known as Hope of Hill—the Hill of Hope.

“Your dad told me you visit this hill every single day…”

Walking side by side across the grass, Kanata and Misora stopped in front of the white cross where Misora’s mother rested. Her father had given him directions to the spot.

“So what if I do?! More importantly, did you seriously go prying into my personal life behind my back with my dad?!”

Walking beside Kanata, Misora seethed with indignation, feeling as though the secret she had guarded in silence had been trampled over in muddy boots. She was furious not only at Kanata, but at her father for blabbing about her past to an outsider.

And here I was starting to think maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all… Right now, she despised Kanata from the bottom of her heart.

“Don’t blame your old man. He only told me because he’s genuinely worried sick about you.”

Despite the gravity of the subject, Kanata kept his tone as breezy and unbothered as ever.

“I heard the reason you’re so dead set on being a Magic Cannon Swordsman is tied to your mother. And since this is where your mother rests, I figured we ought to have this talk right here.”

Pressing her lips into a tight line, Misora glared up at Kanata. Paying her hostility no mind, Kanata continued:

“Listen, Misora. Now that I’ve heard your whole backstory, just quit trying to be a Magic Cannon Swordsman already. If you keep going the way you are now, you’ll never get strong. So stand right here in front of your mother’s grave and swear that you’re giving up on being a Magic Cannon Swordsman—”

Before the callous words had even finished leaving his mouth—

Slap!

Misora’s right palm cracked squarely across Kanata’s cheek with everything she had.

“—Don’t you dare talk to me like you understand a single thing about how I feel!”

Breathing heavily from her shoulders, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs, Misora glared up at the boy she had just slapped. Kanata, however, didn’t flinch an inch, remaining completely calm as if he had known all along that she would hit him.

“Even my own flesh-and-blood father doesn’t remember the mother we lost! What could you possibly know about how much that hurts—about how heartbreaking that is?! My mother fought with everything she had as a Magic Cannon Swordsman, and this Magic Cannon Sword is the only keepsake she left behind! What could you possibly know about how much this sword means to me?!”

Kanata said nothing in reply—because he knew it was a question no one else had the right to answer.

“An irresponsible former ace like you couldn’t possibly understand! Along with this Magic Cannon Sword, I inherited the memory of my late mom—the mom whom even my own dad can’t truly remember anymore—and all the feelings she left behind! Carrying those feelings on my back is why I’m working so desperately hard—what could someone like you possibly know about me?!”

“Hey, Misora.”

“What?!”

Absorbing the full brunt of her scorching glare, Kanata looked back down at her without a trace of his usual carefree slouch. His expression was dead serious, his features honed to a razor-sharp intensity sharper than anyone else’s. It was the unmistakable gaze of the ace who had once stood at the very pinnacle of Mistgun.

“There are things you can only see from the outside. Things that the person struggling desperately in the middle of the storm is blind to, but that show up plain as day from an objective distance. You have zero talent for Magic Swordsmanship.”

It was a cold, merciless pronouncement. Yet it was also the undeniable truth—a truth Misora herself already knew deep down in her bones.

Even so, she refused to give up. Because she couldn’t bear to give up—

“That’s why, even so, I’m still going to be a Magic Cannon Swordsman—”

“Still, there are also things that only the person struggling desperately with everything they’ve got can see…”

Fully expecting him to keep pressuring her into becoming a Magic Cannoneer, Misora blinked in confusion at Kanata’s words. She had been certain he was going to reject her dream flat-out.

That was why, back on the Training Grounds three days ago, she hadn’t tried to explain her feelings to him. She had simply lost her temper and stormed off without ever once putting her heart into words. Not even once…

“Tell me something, Misora. They gave this place the lofty name Hope of Hill, right? What do you think ‘hope’ meant to the people who died and got buried under these crosses?”

As he spoke, Kanata swept his gaze across the sea of white crosses surrounding them on every side.

Beneath each and every cross rested the unfinished dreams of students who had fallen before their time.

“…Protecting the people who live in this city, obviously.”

“Yeah. The Sky Wizards who fell defending their cities from the threat of the Armored Insects—sure, I bet they didn’t want to be forgotten, either, but more than anything else, what gave them the strength to fight was their desire to protect the people living in their city. To the ones who died, ‘hope’ meant protecting the comrades and families still living under this sky. …And that goes for your mother, too. Becoming a Magic Cannon Swordsman wasn’t your mother’s ultimate goal—her goal was protecting the people of her city as a Sky Wizard. Where do you stand on that?”

To become a Sky Wizard who protected lives, or to cling to the title of Magic Cannon Swordsman. Without a shadow of a doubt, her mother had put the former first. Being a Magic Cannon Swordsman had simply been the means her mother had chosen to protect the people of her city.

Misora knew what her mother would have wanted. She had taken it to heart and agonized over it countless times.

And having weighed all of that in her heart a thousand times over, Misora still lifted her head and spoke her answer:

“Even so—if you tell me I have to pick only one and abandon the other, I can’t make a choice like that! Everyone can laugh and call me naive if they want, but I refuse to give up on either of them! Not on becoming a Sky Wizard, and not on becoming a Magic Cannon Swordsman…

Because nobody else remembers my mom anymore, I want to carry her feelings forward and aim to become a Magic Cannon Swordsman so that she’s never forgotten—and to protect the people of this city!”

Only after shouting those words aloud did Misora realize how selfish and greedy she must sound.

There’s no way words like these will ever get through to the guy standing in front of me, she thought.

Yet even if her desperate feelings—even if her refusal to stop struggling toward her dream—failed to reach Kanata, Misora still wouldn’t budge.

She would never give up. She would never bend the vow burning inside her chest.

That was why she laid bare every last ounce of her heart to Kanata. And having felt the scorching heat of the resolve hidden inside her small chest firsthand, Kanata made up his mind at last, letting a fearless grin curve across his lips.

With jet-black eyes that held a mysterious, magnetic depth, he looked straight into Misora’s eyes.

“Got it. Then I’ll give you the catalyst you need to grow strong as a Magic Cannon Swordsman. In exchange, swear to me right here and now that you’ll polish that spark with everything you’ve got.”

For a split second, Misora stared at him blankly as if doubting her own ears. One look at Kanata’s composed face was enough to tell her that he hadn’t just changed his mind on a whim.

From the moment he had heard her story from her father at the café, Kanata had already been weighing this exact path for her.

The reason he had deliberately provoked her—even letting her slap him across the face—was to test the true depth of Misora’s resolve.

To test whether her willpower was strong enough to keep walking down the brutal, unforgiving corridor that awaited her as a Sky Wizard.

“B-But is that really okay?! Didn’t you want to convert me to a Magic Cannoneer…?”

Facing the bewildered girl head-on, Kanata spoke clearly:

“Think back carefully to what I actually told you on the Training Grounds. What I said was: ‘Keeping up the exact same effort you’ve been doing until now will only leave you weak.’ I didn’t say a single word about changing your goal if we changed the vector of your effort. …Well, before we could get to that part, you blew your top yelling that I didn’t know anything about your effort and stormed off.”

At that pointed reminder, Misora shrank back sheepishly.

Kanata went on:

“You inherited your mother’s natural traits as a Wizard, and all those hours of basic conditioning you’ve put in every day have built a solid foundation. Which means there’s definitely a way for you to become strong as a Magic Cannon Swordsman.”

The instant she heard those words, Misora’s tense face lit up like the morning sun—until Kanata held up a finger.

“However, aiming to become a Magic Cannon Swordsman means walking a road ten times harder than converting to a Magic Cannoneer.”

“………A road ten times harder.”

“The reason I recommended converting to a Magic Cannoneer in the first place is because fighting as a Magic Cannoneer lets you put your massive Magic Capacity and flight acceleration to work right away in the mid-guard. For someone with zero innate talent for Magic Swordsmanship, swinging a blade in close quarters is nothing short of a death wish. That’s why I wanted to steer you toward being a Magic Cannoneer—because put simply, it’s the safer, faster way to make you strong. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“…Y-Yeah. I understand what you’re saying. I understand.”

Held under the intense, unwavering gleam of Kanata’s dark eyes, Misora gave a firm nod. Hearing her nervous yet resolute affirmation, Kanata let the tension around his eyes soften for a brief moment.

“Then swearing an oath to me isn’t enough. Swear it to your mother right here: that you’re going to become a Magic Cannon Swordsman even stronger than she was. And that you’ll get strong not just to protect the people of this city, but to protect your own life too.”

“To protect my own life too…?”

“Yeah. Choosing the path of a Magic Cannon Swordsman means your risk of dying in the line of duty goes way up. Ordinarily, letting a student take a gamble like that goes against my personal code… Still, you’ve made it crystal clear just how badly you want to walk this road. That’s why I’m making you swear this oath—so I don’t let you die out there, and so I can turn you into a full-fledged Sky Wizard. And in return, I’ll swear right here in front of your mother’s grave that I won’t let you die either. As your instructor, I’ll shoulder half of everything you’re carrying on your back. So get strong, Misora. Get so strong that you won’t lose to anyone, and claim the true strength to make your wish come true.”

Kanata meant every word. One look into his eyes made that unmistakable.

“…U-U-U-Um, listen!”

Her heart racing with emotion that refused to subside, Misora looked straight up at Kanata.

“—Th-Thank you!”

As she shouted the words, a bashful, radiant smile bloomed across her cheeks—the brightest, clearest expression Kanata had ever seen on her face.

Meanwhile, at the exact same hour that Kanata was having his heart-to-heart talk with Misora on the hill, back inside the academy schoolhouse—

“Huh…? Oh, sorry about that. Thanks a bunch.”

“N-Not at all, umm… you’re very welcome!”

In the middle of the hallway, a handsome blond male student thanked Lecty warmly, prompting her to bob her head in a bashful bow. Wondering what was going on, Rico—who happened to be strolling down the corridor on a whim—stopped and frowned curiously.

“Hmm? What was that about, Lecty?”

The Lecty whom Rico knew was so painfully shy that she avoided speaking to strangers at all costs, and yet…

“Ah, Rico-san! Actually, someone dropped their student ID card in the hallway earlier, so I was asking different people along the corridor to help me track down the owner and return it…”

Halfway through her explanation, Lecty suddenly realized what she had just done. Blood rushed to her cheeks in an instant as her eyes spun in panic, looking as though steam might start whistling out of the top of her head—pshhhh!

“~~~! R-R-R-Rico-san!”

“What is the matter? Why are you panicking like that?”

“I-I-I-I just talked to so many total s-strangers for the very first time in my entire life!”

Indeed—on her way down the hall, driven by her earnest determination to return the lost student ID card, the normally timid Lecty had called out to one unfamiliar student after another without even realizing it.

“Awawa, h-how should I thank them?! I actually looked people right in the face and spoke to them!”

“No, I hardly think thanking them is the issue here…”

“Umm… er…”

Tapping her index fingers together in front of her chest, Lecty blushed crimson and continued:

“At first I was fidgeting because I didn’t know how to start a conversation, and then students started coming up to me asking, ‘Hey, aren’t you the girl who’s been doing cosplay around school lately?’ and ‘Is that for some kind of club promotion?’ I was super flustered, b-but I answered every single one of them as best I could…!”

Apparently, the cute outfits she had been forced to wear around campus had served as an icebreaker, allowing Lecty to strike up conversations with dozens of students and track down the owner of the lost ID card. And that small triumph had moved her deeply.

“Talking with people still makes my heart pound, but once we started chatting, before I knew it both of us were smiling and having fun, and it made me feel so happy inside… Talking with people you’ve never met before is actually really wonderful, isn’t it?!”

Pausing for a moment, Lecty fell silent as she reflected on how this had happened. Even if she had been acting on the spur of the moment to return a lost item, what had given a girl who froze up under people’s gazes the courage to speak to strangers on her own…?

“R-Rico-san… C-Could it be that the special training I’ve been receiving is actually incredible…?!”

What flashed through her mind was Kanata’s bizarre costume training, whose purpose she had doubted from day one. With an excitement rare for such a quiet girl, Lecty clenched both hands tightly against her chest as if she might bounce right off the floor with joy.

“Hmph. It seems he has been putting you through quite an intriguing regimen. Between that and having the good sense not to force sweaty, tiresome drills upon me… perhaps our new instructor has a modicum of promise after all.”

So saying, Rico curved her lips into a fearless smile of her own.