Chapter 26: The Aftermath and Lingering Questions

The disturbance wrought by the monster swiftly settled.

The old school building was enveloped in lush vegetation, and through the window, slivers of sunlight danced, dappling the ground as they pierced the leafy canopy.

Not far from their location, an elementary school stood, from which the faint, rhythmic drone of children reciting their lessons could be heard.

The elongated, drawn-out cadences were characteristic of young children engaged in a collective recitation.

It sounded like a narrative piece, likely from a third-grade Japanese language textbook.

While I held a vague recollection of its contents, the specifics eluded me.

Back then, my days were spent idly scribbling and drawing within the margins of my textbooks, my mind far from the lessons.

I was neither an exemplary student nor a troublesome one.

My lack of effort naturally precluded me from achieving outstanding grades.

To my teachers, I was simply a quiet, unassuming elementary schooler.

I, for one, harbored a deep fondness for magical girls.

My mother delighted in showing me magical girl picture books, and I, as a child, eagerly consumed countless tales alongside her.

I distinctly recalled asking my mother if it were possible for me to become a magical girl.

Her reply, however, has since faded from my memory.

One must never shatter a child’s dreams, nor deceive them with falsehoods.

Reflecting now, I realize my mother must have skillfully diverted my attention at that moment.

Nevertheless, my paramount yearning as a young boy remained the aspiration to become a magical girl.

It was only later that I came to understand this particular wish was entirely incompatible with my identity as a boy.

Even someone as formidable as Watanabe Hayato could never become a magical girl.

By middle school, my aspirations had shifted to becoming a Kamen Rider or a superhero.

Was this not the very essence of chuunibyou (TL Note: A Japanese term, literally “middle school second-year syndrome,” referring to a phase where teenagers act as if they have special powers or hidden knowledge)?

As its name implied, the second year of middle school marked its peak incidence, sparing neither boys nor girls.

During that period, I, who felt utterly disconnected from the world, once had a dear friend who eventually transferred schools.

In retrospect, that particular individual seemed to suffer from an even more acute case than my own.

I never learned which middle school they ended up attending, nor did we ever exchange contact information.

Consequently, my days were spent adrift in fantasies, punctuated by the mundane routine I shared with Watanabe Hayato.

That “dark history,” as I called it, was provisionally sealed away by the time I reached the third year of middle school.

Driven by the fear of not attending the same high school as Watanabe Hayato, I threw myself into desperate study.

To my astonishment, when I finally resurfaced, my chuunibyou had miraculously vanished.

It was an utterly unforeseen turn of events.

During that period, Aunt Chinatsu’s constant encouragement gradually led me to believe that reality wasn’t quite as dismal as I’d imagined.

Before entering high school, I formulated what I termed my ‘normie (TL Note: A Japanese slang term, ‘jūjitsu,’ referring to someone who lives a fulfilling, socially active life, often contrasted with otaku culture)‘ plan.

Despite my resolve, its implementation proved far more challenging than I had anticipated.

Even throughout my first year of high school, I failed to forge any genuinely close friendships.

My interactions were limited to occasional small talk with a handful of boys seated nearby.

Yet, our rapport never deepened to the point of weekend outings or the creation of a group chat for casual communication.

During a class break, after inundating Watanabe Hayato with a flurry of messages, I stumbled upon a lamenting tweet online.

While it garnered few likes and even fewer retweets, the comment section revealed a chorus of agreement.

I couldn’t even begin to recount the general gist, only remembering a fragment of a sentence or two.

The words conveyed the tweeter’s distress over managing their friendships.

“A-chan is always clinging to me; it’s about time I made some other friends, don’t you think?”

“Even though we’ve known each other since elementary school, I have my own life too.”

To this very day, the profound fear that gripped me upon reading those words remains indelibly etched in my memory.

My limbs turned icy cold, and my body began to tremble uncontrollably.

I had always observed that the interactions among genuinely close friends were invariably filled with pleasant emotions.

How could anyone possibly feel displeasure in the company of a friend?

That unsettling question lingered, refusing to be dismissed.

If only everything could remain unchanged.

Yet, when viewed from an objective standpoint, my dependence on Watanabe Hayato was undeniable and excessive.

To prevent Watanabe Hayato from one day truly growing weary of my presence…

I absolutely had to discover other pillars of support, beyond mere fantasy and Watanabe Hayato himself.

Naturally, such a plan largely failed to materialize.

Day after day, I continued to rely on Watanabe Hayato with a clear conscience, a reliance bolstered by my uncanny ability to detect his emotional states.

To this very day, I have never once sensed a flicker of impatience emanating from him.

Just as I was doing now, clinging steadfastly to his collar.

Despite the fact that no students were pursuing them anymore.

The magical girl they were so frantically searching for was, in truth, me.

I truly apologize.

This deception was not merely for self-preservation, but also to spare those boys the inevitable disillusionment.

Watanabe Hayato appeared somewhat tense, yet his grip on my arms was firm, and he ran a considerable distance without so much as a single gasp for breath.

Considering my relatively light weight and his consistent physical activity, this was hardly surprising.

A brief sprint while holding me would hardly be enough to exhaust him.

Once my feet touched the ground, I mimicked the basketball club members, throwing a playful punch at Watanabe Hayato.

“Too weak.”

I declared to Watanabe Hayato.

“Then again?”

Watanabe Hayato crouched low, his gaze meeting mine.

I knew that with a mere nod from me, Watanabe Hayato would likely scoop me up by the waist.

“Rejected…”

No, I certainly couldn’t allow this to continue.

It felt utterly bizarre.

That moment just now had merely been an accidental catch, a consequence of my descent directly into Watanabe Hayato’s arms.

There was a vast difference between an intentional action and something occurring due to an irresistible force.

A sudden realization struck me: the gust of wind that had carried me along carried the distinct scent of Shiraishi Kisa.

More precisely, it was Magical Girl Sakura Tsui.

By rights, following my trajectory of descent, I should have landed squarely on the rooftop of the old school building.

Instead, I found myself precisely at Watanabe Hayato’s location.

Moreover, I had landed directly in his arms, as if aimed with unerring precision.

Did this imply that I had never been in any real danger from the very outset?

Even amidst an explosion, a magical girl would instinctively employ her magic to shield herself.

Furthermore, with Shiraishi Kisa, an A-rank magical girl, providing a reliable safety net, my peril was truly minimal.

Shiraishi Kisa proved incredibly dependable; as a senior magical girl, she was utterly flawless.

“Ren, your clothes, and your phone.”

Little Black Cat Lingling materialized in the corner, gesturing towards Shiraishi Kisa’s bag, filled with clothes, leaning against a nearby chair.

A small correction: aside from the phone, the other items weren’t mine.

“What about Ren’s school uniform?”

Watanabe Hayato rose to his feet, directing the question my way.

I cast my gaze downwards, inspecting the clothes I wore.

The self-detonation of a C-rank monster, it seemed, was no ordinary feat.

In resisting the blast, my magical energy had rapidly depleted, leading to an uncontrolled, gradual reversal of my transformation.

My body remained unscathed, yet my school uniform bore damage that was impossible to ignore.

It was no longer a uniform suitable for attending school.

“It’s fine, I’ll transform now, then go home and change.”

“Then I’ll go to the barber and get this hair cut.”

In weather like this, short hair was undeniably much cooler.

I suddenly grasped why some girls habitually carried small portable fans.

Indeed, it grew intensely hot.

Moving to the corner, I retrieved my phone from the bag of clothes.

Shiraishi Kisa had sent a message:

[Aoyama-kun, I apologize for not noticing the monster immediately and letting you fall into danger.]

[A magical girl’s power will naturally recover, so don’t worry about using it all up.]

[Anyway, leave today’s matters to me. Aoyama-kun, please rest well this afternoon.]

Concluding the message was a head-pat emoji.

‘How incredibly kind, Shiraishi Kisa.’

I promptly replied to Shiraishi Kisa via the messaging app, conveying my heartfelt thanks.

The little cat, brandishing a glow stick, offered its enthusiastic support for Magical Girl Sakura Tsui.

In response, Shiraishi Kisa sent back a shy emoji.

With the incident drawing to a close, and both Shiraishi Kisa and Little Black Cat Lingling present at school, my presence was no longer essential.

‘Watanabe Hayato should continue enjoying his rose-tinted youth; I shall refrain from disturbing him for the time being.’

Yet, standing before Watanabe Hayato at this very moment, I found myself utterly unable to sense any surge of magical energy within my body.

“Eh?”

My eyes widened in surprise.

“Because Ren’s magic is all used up.”

Lingling, the little black cat, nestled onto my shoulder.

‘What was I to do? We were still on school grounds.’

My clothes were soiled and torn, an undeniable spectacle within the school.

Furthermore, once I stepped outside the school gates, there was still a considerable distance to my home.

If I encountered a patrolling police officer, I wouldn’t even know how to explain myself.

It was, after all, a school day.

“Either, Ren rests well, and your magic will naturally recover.

Or, you do something that makes you feel love.”

Little Black Cat Lingling nuzzled my cheek.

“After all, magical girls are embodiments of love and miracles.

And the second method can restore your magic quickly.”

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