Chapter 13: Counterattack (2)

Another day had passed.

There were a few cherry trees in bloom on the mountain. Not close by, though. Unlike when I'd first arrived here, all that met the eye was the occasional flare of pink petals standing out vividly against a ridgeline now buried in green.

Had someone come and planted them, once? It seemed possible. This village, too, had been home to people once.

Of course, the young ones must have slipped away long ago, leaving only those who could no longer leave—or had no intention of trying—to hold the line to the very end.

There probably hadn't been much change in the village after that. I couldn't quite picture where they would have done their shopping. Maybe one of the crumbling houses had doubled as a general store? Or maybe they'd simply had goods delivered from far away? Perhaps those with cars would drive out now and then to buy supplies, until driving itself became too great a burden and they had no choice but to leave for good.

It had been a place where people lived, all the same, so maybe they'd wanted to make it a little beautiful, bit by bit. Even just that thread of pink running through the endless green spread out below was enough to cool and please the eye.

“…….”

I leaped down from the tree.

But the village that came into view was bleak. Honestly speaking, it didn't look like much of a place for people to live. Having spent my life in cities where the internet and phone lines reached everywhere and cars choked every street probably made it look that much worse.

Traces of human life had vanished ages ago. We were patching things up and making do, but somehow that only made it bleaker—the plastic sheeting flapping here and there, the thin boards propped up in place of broken doors, the freshly tilled fields. It looked like, well, a refugee camp.

Come to think of it, in a sense it was a refugee camp. No—it was worse than one. There weren't enough people here for a society or a community to take root.

Kids who had only just reached their mid-teens were checking on the fields. They'd already brought in a second harvest, and now even the crops for a third hung small and ripening on the stalks. It was more than enough scenery to make one feel the greatness of magic.

I'd heard that some of the nations which joined the Federation were seeing their food situations improve rapidly, and it seemed that wasn't mere propaganda after all.

Inside the house, cultured meat was growing in a spot kept cool by magic.

Watching meat swell to the size of a dinner plate wasn't exactly a pleasant sight, but that tissue was an irreplaceable source of protein for us. The difference between grinding beans down to eat them and actually being able to chew meat was considerable. It did things for morale, above all.

Yes. Morale.

The will to keep fighting.

“…….”

Which was exactly why, to me, this scene was utterly incomprehensible.

Not one of the kids here had any reason to be here. If they hadn't insisted on following me, every last one of them would be living a comfortable, ordinary life, wanting for nothing.

So I found it a little hard to grasp why they'd chosen to follow me here—to sleep under plastic blankets on top of plastic sheeting, to help break and till the soil, to pry intact pieces off ruined buildings and use them to repair the ones we lived in.

Granted, I worked alongside them. I'd loudly declared myself the leader at the start, but even so, sitting around doing nothing while waiting for food to appear in my mouth was a bit much, even for me.

When the kids tilled the fields, I'd read the room and grab a hoe alongside them; when they cooked, I'd hover nearby or at least go out and gather firewood.

And—infuriatingly—the magical girls didn't bully me or freeze me out. Whenever there was work to be done, they made a point of pulling me in. Especially if it was something good.

So by this point, I couldn't help but seriously confront the question.

They were the ones who joined me... right?

It wasn't me who joined them... was it?

That was how it should be. I was the one who ran away from home first, and that was how I found this place. I was the one who started living here first. If anything, they were the ones who moved in on me.

But maybe because of their numbers, at some point it had turned into me being the one living off their help.

I really, really didn't like that.

Magical girls had always been my rivals, deep in my heart. Well—anyone who heard me say that would obviously snort. James would probably roll around on the floor laughing.

In all my time as a combatant, I had never once beaten a magical girl outright. Our side had the numbers by a mile, and yet whenever the other combatants and I went out to fight, the magical girls would slip into the fray before we knew it and trample us flat with insulting ease.

Now and then we'd land a real hit. There were even moments when I thought, maybe we can actually win this.

But every single time, the magical girls would rise back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to their feet—where did that strength even come from?—like protagonists hauling themselves up through adversity, and finish us off with one punch.

I hated being cast as the 'adversity' in that story.

Everyone else got possessed into a world, seized the leading role, built themselves a harem at their feet—so why couldn't I? Even among gender-bender stories, there were plenty of novels where the protagonist picked up girlfriends without a hitch.

It was all just fiction in the end, so raging about it meant nothing—and yet, at the same time, the fact that I was the one who'd been possessed made the fury impossible to swallow.

So I hated magical girls. I liked Hayun—but I hated that Hayun was a magical girl. That feeling was something I simply couldn't help.

And yet, at this rate, living alongside them day after day, I could feel myself being backed into a corner where I'd have no choice but to admit that every last one of these magical girls was a good kid.

Pathetic as that was, human emotions really didn't take orders.

“Jieun.”

How long had I been standing there blankly, lost in all that? A voice spoke my name, and I turned to find Hayun looking at me.

In her hands she held a notebook and a pen.

Even in a situation like this, magical girls were forever moving toward hope. As if they'd decided that even despair had to be enjoyed, they'd rummaged through the ruins and unearthed a mostly intact memo pad and a bundle of pencils.

The memo pad was some promotional freebie handed out somewhere over a decade ago; the pencils were much the same. Whoever left them behind must have decided they weren't worth carrying off.

I wondered what on earth they'd wanted with the things, and before long the notebook had become an omok notebook.

That's right. These magical girls were, quite clearly, creatures utterly incapable of tolerating the concept of 'boredom.' If that notebook hadn't turned up, they'd have whittled a chessboard out of a tree trunk.

So when Hayun held the notebook and pencil up for me to see, it meant one thing: let's play.

I had no idea how I was supposed to take that.

Here, of all places... even here, of all places.

I closed my eyes and let out a small breath. Then, wearing the most indifferent expression I could manage, I walked over to her. That alone was enough to light Hayun's whole face with joy.

Maybe it was that same tangle of feelings that made me say what I said that evening.

“Hey, you guys. Aren't you cutting it awfully close on attendance days by now?”

The term that started right after winter break ran straight into spring break, so fine—I'd let that one slide.

But the March term was different.

Grades moved up. The former first-years could spin it however they liked, but they couldn't call themselves new students anymore—and they'd have juniors now. The former second-years were entering the stretch where they genuinely needed to be afraid. They were exam students now, in the most literal sense.

Both of those types were represented here.

Me, Hayun, and Iris were second-years. If we wanted to move up to third year like functioning human beings, wasn't it about time we headed back to school? I couldn't claim to know the relevant regulations inside and out, but I was fairly sure there was some minimum number of attendance days you had to fill.

In my case, I'd never been in any position to attend school normally in the first place, so running away here was simply how the dice fell—but the others weren't in that situation.

“If you don't go back to school now, there might be no coming back from it. You still have to sit the college entrance exams, don't you?”

Right. Three of them were high school seniors this year.

Seniors, in the truest sense of the word. Even the neighbors upstairs and downstairs would soften their footsteps when a household had an exam student in it—and these girls were genuine exam students, and here they were anyway.

I couldn't say anything about them wanting to goof off after school, but running away from home outright and skipping school entirely felt like a step too far.

Then again, their school records might already be past saving.

It had been a long time since they'd landed on their teachers' bad side.

Students at a prestigious, much-talked-about high school had run away from home. And not just any students—magical girls, the very ones on whom everyone's expectations rested.

Girls who were practically a windfall just to have around had blindsided their school in a way no one saw coming and vanished.

Of course the talk wouldn't be kind. How could it be?

And their parents must be beside themselves.

Hearing me out, the magical girls' faces grew a shade graver.

The kids traded looks among themselves. Did they have telepathy or something? They were magical girls, so it wouldn't have surprised me—but the webtoon had never depicted anything like that.

Which meant this moment was, quite literally, their hearts aligning as one.

“So...”

Hayun paused, as if sorting out her thoughts, then opened her mouth carefully.

“You're saying... we should all go back together?”

“Are you insane?”

I fired back without bothering to hide my disbelief.

Go back and get arrested? I had no intention of moving an inch until everything was over. If it came to it, I was even prepared to flee somewhere even more deserted.

I'd never tested how far my warp could carry me, but if necessary, I was willing to run all the way to the moon.

“I'm talking about you guys. How did this become about me?”

“Jieun, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if you're not going back, then we're not going either.”

“Ha.”

I gave a hollow little laugh at the absurdity of it and swept my gaze over the kids.

I set down my rice bowl—the kind instant rice came in, washed carefully after every meal and pressed into service as a dinner plate. Of everything we owned, its plastic was unusually thick, and it showed no sign of giving out despite the abuse. Still, to outside eyes, it would have looked pretty damning.

It meant reusing, over and over, what everyone else threw away after a single use. Recycling the plastic containers that came with food deliveries at least looked defensible, but depending on who was watching, this would land somewhere near the shock of washing out and reusing a cup-ramen bowl.

The kind of thing that ends up on one of those exposé programs.

“What, do I mean something to you? Hayun, fine—I'll grant that you might, since we're friends. If it's an emotional choice, I'll allow it. But the rest of you? What am I to them? I can't for the life of me understand why they'd throw away even their futures to be here.”

At the word future, the kids' shoulders flinched.

In novels and comics, high schoolers are always written as if they were full-grown adults, or rock-solid mentors. Sometimes the hero's practically a college senior, handing out life advice like a sage.

But objectively speaking, these kids weren't like that.

In a sense, neither was I.

“The first few days, fine, I could understand. And when you fought beside me—well, you were magical girls; that came with the territory. But I genuinely can't figure out what's keeping you here when March is nearly over.”

So I truly couldn't tell what they saw in this situation that was worth staying for.

Grateful—fine, credit where credit was due. I was grateful. If they hadn't fixed our food situation, I might genuinely be dead by now. James might have managed the heating, but food was never a problem I could solve on my own.

And even if I'd survived, I might have broken and surrendered in the end.

But even so.

Hadn't this been enough?

I didn't care what happened to me, but the other kids here needed to actually attend school.

“…….”

Had my words come too abruptly? For a long moment, the kids said nothing, just stared hard at my face.

Or maybe it was because I'd waited far too long to say it. If I was going to drive them out, I should have done it ages ago. Sending ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them home at this point was already too late.

The magical girls had run off with their circuits, so even going back wouldn't spare them punishment.

University? After stirring up a mess like this, what good was a university? Nowhere would take them. They'd have the government watching their every move.

I'd been too emotional.

What I actually felt was anxiety.

Whatever my choices did to my life, that burden was mine to carry.

But I didn't want to drag anyone else's life into the wreck with mine. And I hated that it wouldn't go the way I wanted.

I wouldn't go quite that far—but I'd fretted over it enough to wonder whether the magical girls were exploiting my guilt to make me go back with them.

“...Why do you think we're here?”

Rose asked.

“…….”

I couldn't answer.

Because I didn't know.

No—fine. One thing I did know: it was 'because of me.' But that was all. Because of me? Why?

“Is it guilt?”

At my question, Rose shut her mouth.

“If I told you none of that mattered, would you go home? What is it you're actually trying to do here? Soothe my poor wounded heart?”

My words drew faintly startled looks from the kids.

Was it really that? For a reason like that?

...If so, then the only things keeping these kids here really were goodwill toward me—or guilt. Nothing more.

Or were they trying to deliver some grand truth to me? Like some civic group?

Think it through, and whatever reason they gave, in the end it all existed for my sake.

Which meant that snapping at them, getting angry at them here, was something I had no right to do.

The thought arrived unbidden—those exposé programs about social ills I used to watch as a kid.

The scenes that cropped up on them now and then: people whose minds had broken under one weight or another, unconditionally hating and shoving away anyone who tried to help them.

Right now, I was the one doing the shoving.

I'd thrown my tantrum, snapped and shouted—and now I had no idea how to end it. And even as I floundered, I didn't want to apologize, either.

In the end, the best I could come up with was to slink to my feet, pathetic as it was, and walk outside.

Scared that if I stayed near the house I'd hear the kids' voices, I'd made my way almost to the mouth of the village and crouched down there.

The mountain wildlife wasn't all that frightening. I hadn't laid eyes on a wild boar yet, but I'd seen water deer a few times, and birds I couldn't name. Every one of them had whirled around and bolted the instant our eyes met.

I did agonize briefly over what I'd do if I ran into a bear or something, but realizing there was no answer to be had short of actually meeting one, I decided to think about it if and when that happened.

Somewhere far off, a car went by. It didn't happen often. We weren't exactly close to the road, but the night was quiet enough to carry the sound from that distance all the way here.

I didn't want to think about anything, so I just crouched there, worrying at the dirt with my fingertips. Weeds had already swallowed the ground ahead, thick enough that no one would ever guess a path once ran through here.

“Jieun.”

And, unfailingly, came the voice calling me.

“…….”

It was mortifying.

By mental age I was years older than Hayun, and still my emotions refused to behave.

I could only blame the god or the author who'd dumped me here for so much of it.

In the end, I was simply that inadequate a human being. That was the conclusion I'd reached.

“I knew... you were worried about us.”

“Worried?”

The word left my mouth on reflex as I stood up.

I turned around, and there was Hayun, looking at me.

Even in the dark, her face came through crisp and clear. It wasn't a full moon, but it was bright enough to light Hayun's features.

“Me? Worried about you?”

“...Sorry. Was I imagining it?”

There wasn't a grain of sarcasm in that voice. Not an eyelash's worth.

And that nobility of hers, so untainted it left no room for doubt—I couldn't stand it.

I stepped toward Hayun.

Hayun backed away.

Somehow, she looked a little frightened.

Did she hate the idea of my resenting her?

Why did she think of me to this degree? What drove her to want to stay at my side so badly?

I couldn't fathom it.

“I... told you before, remember?”

Hayan said it—no, Hayun said it.

Afraid, startled by my approach, retreating step by step until her back pressed against the nearly collapsed wall—and still she said it.

“Told me what?”

I asked, feeling a thin thread of exhilaration at the sight of her.

I knew it was a rotten thing to do. I knew I was simply playing on Hayun's feelings.

But even with the guilt gnawing at me, even knowing this wasn't truly me beating Hayun at anything, I closed in on her until nothing remained between us.

Close enough that her face couldn't fit inside my vision. Close enough for some part of us to touch.

I laid a hand on her chin and asked.

“What did you say?”

“...That I said... I'd do anything.”

“Anything?”

“…….”

For a moment, Hayun didn't answer.

“...Yeah.”

“Really? Anything at all?”

“Anything.”

“…….”

Cupping her face in my hand, I simply gazed at her.

I knew 'anything' didn't mean that. I knew Hayun's feelings for me weren't that kind, either.

And the way I liked Hayun wasn't that kind of liking either. It couldn't be.

And yet.

“...Why?”

I released Hayun's face.

Then I stepped back, a little too hastily.

Right. Why?

I didn't know the reason.

The reason Hayun went this far. And the reason I moved like this.

Had the situation, being what it was, driven me half out of my mind? Had I been thinking like this all along, even while saying no on the surface?

...Taking it out on her.

Yes. I'd never meant to see it through to the end.

But I had wanted Hayun to bolt halfway through. I'd wanted her to expose those words—anything—for the lie they were.

But Hayun didn't.

Even now, she simply stood there with her hands ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clasped before her chest, face burning red, looking at me.

In the end, I had no choice but to run away again.

Not that I could get any farther than the edge of the village.