Colorless Magical Girl - 5
Chiyoda Ward, where the offices and headquarters of the national infrastructure that 120 million Japanese people rely on every day are concentrated.
Here, men in suits busily answered phones or scanned newspapers with cool, composed expressions, coffee in hand.
Some rushed about to handle urgent cases. Some sighed over things that refused to go their way. Some simply wished this hour would pass already.
Countless crowds of suited men filled the streets, and if you followed that road all the way to its end, you would arrive at the heart of Tokyo's law enforcement — the Metropolitan Police Department, which those on the front lines simply called headquarters.
Tokyo's twenty-three special wards alone, excluding the suburbs, were a sprawling metropolis home to a tenth of Japan's entire population.
As such, the Metropolitan Police Department — the regional agency charged with policing all of Tokyo — spent every single day in a flurry of incidents and accidents of one kind or another.
Inside a conference room in that very building, a meeting was underway concerning one incident among those many — an event that had taken place barely a week ago.
The monitor at the front of the room replayed footage of the suspect fleeing the scene immediately after committing an act of assault.
The suspect had gone into hiding, and had remained at large for a week now.
They had canvassed her home, nearby parks, internet cafes, and manga reading rooms — all the standard escape routes used by minors after a crime — but after a full week, she was still nowhere to be found.
"Yamashita, show us again, will you?"
"Yes, sir!"
A young elite officer with the sides of his head shaved down to a bristle of dark blue hair was being used as nothing more than a remote control for the old men — and not a single person in the room found that the least bit strange.
[The Japanese are a people of loyalty and devotion, and to serve as the hands and feet of our honored elders in great undertakings is the dream of every true son of Japan.]
Only those who genuinely believed that creed — or who could convincingly pretend to — were permitted to gather in that room.
In that aging, hidebound bureaucratic society, only thoughts that ran along the vertical hierarchy were ever forgiven.
"…And who is the suspect?"
"Busujima Haruko. Age thirteen. A female student with antisocial tendencies who did not get along with her classmates and kept to herself."
Every word of it was already written in the report that had been handed out to the attendees just before the meeting.
That report had been delivered, neatly bound in a fine cover, to the homes of the senior executives on the morning of the meeting itself — and yet one of the senior officials seated at the head of the table probed at the details as if testing the water.
Yamashita knew exactly what the question meant.
If he honestly recited the report's contents here, he would find himself reassigned by tomorrow to some backwater corner of rural Hokkaido, or to a tiny police box on Tsushima. Because when a senior executive asks, out of his own mouth, for something he already knows, it is a rebuke: does this really warrant my attention?
"The Superintendent General is taking a personal interest in this case."
"What? Superintendent General Ishikawa is?"
"Hmm… why on earth would he focus on something this trivial."
That the Superintendent General would issue an emergency summons, first thing in the morning, to every official of department-director rank and above over a single act of juvenile violence was, frankly, incomprehensible.
There was something distinctly wrong about it — and precisely because of that, the executives gathered here were all hunting for some justification to soothe their unsettled nerves.
Yamashita, a graduate of the University of Tokyo's Faculty of Law, was far too shrewd a man to miss such a signal. So he pointed out something written in the report — the one part the senior officials never bothered to look at.
"The initial assault was committed with a brick the suspect had picked up in a nearby alley… but the Superintendent General's attention is fixed on the second assault."
"I've watched the footage twice now, and I still can't make sense of it."
"Twisting her body in midair, suddenly, and flying all that distance away."
On the monitor, Haruko sat crumpled on the ground, her whole body trembling — and then she made a small gesture toward the boy reporting her.
The boy was flung a full meter backward by some unseen force, like a marionette whose strings had snapped, and collapsed convulsing into unconsciousness.
"You don't suppose the suspect is a magical girl casting spells or some such…"
"What has that got to do with anything? This is no children's game. What nonsense are you spouting?"
"Heh heh. Just a passing remark."
The executive had been muttering it half to himself — he'd happened to listen to a radio show about magical girls on the way in — and Department Director Mori let out a genuine snort at the idea.
Magical girls? Those girls? Not even worth a laugh.
Those would-be idols who did nothing but smile vacantly on TV and radio — possessed of powers like that?
It was far more reasonable, for anyone living in the modern world, to suspect an explosion from a gas leak that simply hadn't been caught by the recording.
But as if to refute the director's private thoughts, Yamashita answered.
"That is precisely the point."
"What?"
"It was magic. Actual magic."
"You're telling me it wasn't a gas leak — it was real magic?"
"The Superintendent General's direct order: distribute this to personnel of department-director rank and above."
Yamashita carefully drew a set of documents from the briefcase he had quietly set down in the corner of the conference room.
On them were the signatures of the Superintendent General of the Metropolitan Police, the Commissioner-General of the National Police Agency, the chiefs of staff of the Ground, Maritime, and Air Self-Defense Forces — and, remarkably, Representative Fujimoto, widely touted as the ruling party's most likely next party leader.
"F-Fujimoto? That Fujimoto?!"
"Why would such a pillar of the Cabinet be involved?"
"Ministerial-level officials too…?"
"What is happening here?"
A low murmur rippled through the room as the men checked the names on the documents, confusion spreading through their ranks.
Yamashita waited until a copy rested in every bureaucrat's hands before he spoke again.
"The supernatural ability the suspect, Busujima Haruko, is believed to have used is now manifesting, little by little, in the ability-holders across all of Japan — the girls commonly known as magical girls."
"…!"
"And we have word that Fujimoto's own daughter, Young Lady Fujimoto, has become a magical girl as well."
"So this was never a simple assault investigation after all."
Yamashita gave a deep, deliberate nod, his very bearing conveying that this was no juvenile crime case — that something far more consequential lay beneath its surface.
"The Prime Minister and each of the Cabinet ministers have issued a directive: determine the physical changes in the girls who received their Glass Stars two weeks ago, and establish the correlation between those changes and the supernatural incidents being witnessed nationwide — including this one."
"I see…"
In Department Director Mori's judgment, one of the victims — the boy Yamahara — had been the first to use physical violence, and the subsequent injury inflicted with supernatural power hardly looked like something a court could prove intentional.
The suspect was thirteen years old, to boot. A mitigating-age defendant.
No matter how he turned it over in his mind, Mori could not picture the scene that ought to follow: the suspect being sent to a juvenile detention center.
"So that's what this is."
They needed a sacrificial subject for research.
Public sentiment toward the girls had turned glowing beyond description ever since the magical girls' debut, and the entire nation was abuzz with talk of them.
Which meant that hauling in innocent magical girls for examination carried real political risk. And so the order had come down: secretly arrest the magical girl suspect — Busujima Haruko, perpetrator of an officially documented crime.
On the surface, it was merely the covert detention of a suspect in a supernatural assault case. Even if it was discovered, the mass media would have no grounds to attack them for it.
They'd sing a very different tune if they knew what comes after.
Mori had spent the past few days quietly suspicious of the resident press corps stationed at the precincts — the very reporters who would normally have leapt at such a sensational headline as accidental crime committed with a magical girl's supernatural power, yet who had all fallen mysteriously silent. Now, at last, he understood why.
"You're telling me that the political and financial worlds — the Fujimoto Group included — have set their sights on this suspect."
"It is a lawful investigation procedure."
"Meaning: act as though it's lawful."
"Since Young Lady Fujimoto is involved, no moment can be spared."
The room fell silent for a moment.
"Proceed."
"Yes, sir!"
The characters written on the paper Mori set down gleamed slickly under the conference room lights.
Approved by: Superintendent General, National Police Agency — Commissioner-General — Joint Chiefs of Staff, Self-Defense Forces — Representative Fujimoto
"Hikari-chaaan~ come play with me~"
"Ahaha, I'm working right now."
The little one tugging at the skirt of my waitress uniform and whining was Sato Hana.
In this family, a stroll through the neighborhood with everyone, ending in a snack stop, had become something of a weekend tradition — which made the Satos one of the regulars I'd seen most often over the past two years.
Of all the customers I had come to know, the Sato family was the most unforgettable.
Because until just two weeks ago, Hana had been a girl who couldn't use the lower half of her body.
She had tumbled down a flight of stairs at seven, damaged her nerves, and lived in a wheelchair ever since.
To comfort her, the family's routine had hardened into ritual: they always walked the length of the Yokohama district, and almost home, they stopped at our cafe for a treat before heading back.
Next time, I wanna go there.
Hana would gaze blankly up at the sky from her wheelchair, wheedling to be taken somewhere new next time — and the sight of Mr. and Mrs. Sato silently pushing her along was among the most striking I had ever witnessed here.
Especially Hana — perhaps the elderly Master made her uneasy, because whenever I was on shift, she would chatter away at me nonstop. So the Satos took me for "the big sister who plays so well with their daughter," and looked after me in a dozen small ways.
And this year, the year she turned ten, Hana began to walk on her own.
Because she had become a magical girl.
"Hana-chaaan~ you mustn't make things hard for your big sister!"
"Haha, sorry, Mrs. Shirogane!"
"Not at all."
Mr. Sato gave an awkward smile, then said it with a look of sheer disbelief.
"Honestly… I still can't believe it. Sometimes I think this has to be a dream."
"That's wonderful."
"Yes — truly… it's a miracle I never, ever want to wake up from."
"……"
A magical girl's power was a miracle without rhyme or reason.
A girl who couldn't walk was granted a healthy body again, and now ran about laughing just like this.
A miracle, pure and simple.
From where the Satos stood, it could only be the work of God.
"Hana-chaaan~ want to go pick out your randoseru together this time? Your new school backpack?"
"Yes! I… I know~ ummm… I want it in red and pink!"
"Ahaha, whatever Hana wants, we'll buy~"
Mr. Sato and I stared at the scene for a while, wordlessly.
Even if someone were to steal away the power of Hana's star, she would still be able to walk, just as she does now.
Even the leftover husk of what remained would be a miracle beyond measure to the Satos.
Assuming, of course, that the society to come stayed peaceful.
The event that would see magical girls treated no longer as idols, but as strategic assets.
They'll stop being magical girls who share their dreams, and start parading themselves as a more advanced breed of humanity.
For the past two years I had doubted, endlessly, whether events would really unfold as they had in the original story — but the Red Broadcast had laid those fears to rest.
Still, if the original held true, 1-Star magical girls like Sato Hana — girls who treasured their ordinary lives like gifts — would sooner or later be facing a cruel fate.
Which, honestly, works out even better for me.
Because if everything proceeds as written, then all I have to do is let the current carry me, survive, and wait for the final trial to end —
— and take hold of that thing, the key that will let me go home…
"Daddy! What if I start elementary school and the other kids don't like me because I'm older than them?"
"Hahaha — then how about we all bake donuts together and hand them out?"
"Then let's get the donut dough ready this weekend!"
Hana, deep in conversation with her parents, suddenly turned to look at me.
"Hikari-chan!"
"Hmm?"
"Hikari-chan, you're different from the other big sisters — your hair is all white, like a princess~"
"Mm-hm."
"What should I do if the kids say I'm different and won't play with me?"
"Hmm…"
I stroked Hana's hair as I answered.
"Let's see? Live kindly, and everyone will like you."
"Ohhh~"
It was a lie, in truth.
Ever since the incident back in middle school, my own school life had been one long stretch of having no friends at all.
"That's right! I had sooo many friends at school, you know."
I could feel the Master's exasperated look — you don't even go to school — burning into me, but I ignored it.
"Okay! Got it. Thank you, Hikari-chan!"
"……"
Standing before that smile, should I really be welcoming the story as it unfolds — just as it did in the original?
I honestly couldn't say.