The Pirate and the Sovereign
Momiji took the stem of the glass between slender fingers and brought it slowly to her lips.
A sip.
As the Manhattan slipped between her red lips, she closed her eyes, then opened them again, and a satisfied smile spread at the corner of her mouth.
"That bar spoon, turning without a single sound... a splendid sense of timing."
She gazed quietly down at the Manhattan swaying in the glass.
"Those who only mimic the motion always make a racket of ice striking glass."
Still holding the glass, Momiji offered me a light bow of the head.
"I accept that introduction of yours. A fierce venom hidden inside the sweetness..."
Her deeply settled eyes fixed on me.
"A flavor like a keen dagger aimed at the throat of an enemy who has let his guard down."
It was a warrior's appraisal. No one had ever likened a cocktail's taste to a blade before, and rarer still was the person who could so precisely name the proof of the whiskey lurking behind a Manhattan's gentle sweetness.
At her praise, Grace, standing beside her, gave a small nod as well. The tension eased a little from the shoulders she had kept squared, arms crossed, to the very end.
"Certainly... there is no room to doubt your skill."
Grace fell silent for a moment, then went on as if she had made up her mind.
"Very well. For the three days of your dispatch, I will leave the running of this bar to you."
Only after earning both their acknowledgment did I set the linen I had been holding quietly down on the counter. Less than an hour after being thrown into a frozen field of snow, I was standing behind a counter again. The place had changed from a mountain café to a northern hot spring, but the work I had to do was the same: to set a fitting glass before someone worn thin.
"Thank you. Then... what sort of guests usually come here? I hear it's magical girls who have distinguished themselves."
"Just as you say. Those who win the Exchange Tournament, or who subjugate a great Aberration. They come as a form of reward."
Grace took out a pad listing the supplies and continued.
"This is a top-tier secret resort managed directly by the Magical Girl Association. Only magical girls who post overwhelming results in the Exchange Tournament, or who subjugate a large-scale Aberration—those who establish a clear record of merit—are granted a week's stay. A special reward leave."
A quiet pride in managing the facility colored her voice.
"Which is why everyone who visits carries a pride that pierces the sky. Most are the foremost talents representing their regions, or veterans who have crossed the razor's edge between life and death."
Grace's pale violet eyes turned briefly toward the blizzard beyond the window.
"They come to rest, away from the public eye and the pressure of the broadcasts, and so we staff are obliged to offer the finest service without ever crossing them."
Listening to that exacting explanation, I thought suddenly of the mountain sanctuary. A small café anyone could find, and a secret resort only those who had achieved the highest merit could enter. The height of the threshold was the difference between heaven and earth, yet the two places seemed alike in existing for the same purpose.
Over Grace's strict account, Momiji laid her words down gently. She was watching the red surface of the Manhattan I had given her, lightly swirling the glass.
"Grace is right. If I may add one thing, the true worth of this place lies not in its splendid facilities, but in the fact that one need not watch anyone's mood."
Even with the strong liquor seeping between her red lips, her elegant bearing did not waver in the slightest. Rather, unlike that ice-cold first impression, she seemed considerably softened now.
"I myself am here on a week's leave, entrusting myself to this place. Ordinarily, taking drink so early in the day would go against a warrior's propriety, but..."
Momiji smiled faintly and set the cocktail glass down on the bar.
"Since you answered a warrior's greeting with such fine skill, I think I shall allow myself a little flexibility. Today, at least."
Past the empty glass, her deep eyes met mine.
"For the next three days, I ask for your excellent service. Sir Bartender."
Beneath the lobby bar's subdued lighting, Momiji's red hair swayed with elegance. Outside, the north's biting blizzard raged, but the warm, comfortable interior was as peaceful as an entirely different world.
"Ah. And at the sanctuary I run a café during the day as well, so snacks and coffee are possible too. A kind of dual wielding, if you like."
At my words, the air beyond the counter loosened and grew softer. Momiji, toying with the empty glass, sounded the words out softly, as if rolling them on her tongue.
"Dual wielding... an excellent metaphor. As one says of those who have mastered the martial arts, a bartender who handles both the night's liquor and the day's tea has reached the very height of hospitality."
The comparison seemed to please her.
"In swordsmanship as well, the two-sword form—a weapon in each hand—is difficult to center, and the unskilled cannot even imitate it. Watching that dual art, spanning day and night, from close by for three days should make for quite an enjoyable diversion."
Beside her, the finger Grace had been using to check the supply list stopped on the tablet screen. She turned her head and looked straight at me.
"You mean to say you handle a café menu and snacks as well."
She lifted her chin slightly and cradled the tablet against her chest.
"Quite a few of the guests who come here enjoy afternoon refreshments. My superior, in particular..."
Grace tapped the corner of the tablet lightly with a fingertip.
"She often makes do with ramen for a meal, and even spills the broth and soils her kimono. If proper coffee and simple, nourishing snacks were provided, I too, as the one who manages this place, would be relieved of one worry."
Genuine fatigue clung to her voice as she recited her superior's eating habits.
"Then I will go and see to the rest of my work. Please rest at ease."
Cradling the tablet, Grace offered Momiji a polite bow of the head. She left me a brief nod as well, and with her characteristically precise stride she left the lobby.
Inside the old wooden building, only the sound of the blizzard striking the windows and the light clink of ice as Momiji handled her glass lingered in the air. Tidying the glass Grace had drunk from, I opened my mouth carefully.
"Then... is Lady Momiji the only magical girl here?"
At my question, Momiji bit lightly into the fruit garnish on the cocktail pick and turned her head toward me.
"Hardly."
Her eyes settled, calm.
"A magical girl who guards the sea, a magical girl who guards the Capital, and others... powers so great that ordinary people would not dare meet their eyes are staying here."
Perhaps because of the weight those names carried, the air around the bar seemed to cool and sink for a moment. Especially when she spoke of the magical girl who guarded the Capital, Momiji's gaze grew a notch sharper.
"From those who stand at the very peak, as I do, to those who roam brutal battlefields as if they were playgrounds. All of them have gathered in this snow-covered sanctuary, bearing vicious fatigue and pride together. They are irregulars in the truest sense—different from that unruly little one and the Sister you met."
Momiji lightly pushed the empty glass toward me.
"The one from the Capital, in particular, has an arrogant, high-handed streak, and a civilian like you may find her suffocating. The one who guards the sea is excessively noisy as well, and has a habit of snatching the very soul out of you."
She added it low, as if passing me a small warning.
"Then what about the one who guards the sea? A pirate, maybe...? Or someone in a navy sailor uniform?"
It was the sort of thing that would be rude if the person in question overheard, but I had met so many wildly individual magical girls at the mountain sanctuary that an imagination like this was bound to slip out.
At my cautious question, Momiji blinked slowly instead of answering.
"An insight precise enough to raise goosebumps... Or perhaps your instincts have been tempered by all the commotions you have endured."
She shook her head and propped her chin on the counter.
"To be precise, she is a pirate. She wears a captain's coat, sails a ghost ship, and laughs kyahaha... a thoroughly noisy one. She carries on as heartily as if she were a real seafarer, but you will find none of a warrior's cleanliness or discipline in her sort."
As if some troublesome memory had surfaced, she let out a deep sigh.
"On the battlefield, her fleet and her bombardment are a reliable force... there is no doubting the skill itself. But meet her in ordinary times, and that excessive energy and endless talk of adventure will drain the life right out of you. She even likes her drink, and once you are tangled up with her, getting free is no small exhaustion."
Momiji lightly traced the cold rim of the empty cocktail glass with a slender finger.
"I cannot say when she will come bursting in here, but you would do well to prepare your heart as well, Sir Bartender. She is very far from the way of quietly drinking tea and savoring the stillness."
Listening to that vivid description, I could already picture the force with which that pirate magical girl would kick this door open.