My First Friend is the Class President, Shin Seyeol (3)
I looked across the training ground at my opponent. Her long brown hair stood out immediately. She had an overall gentle impression, but her features were sharp enough that she didn’t come across as purely innocent. Unlike me, she was taller than average, with a slim yet toned build. If you ignored the last traces of baby fat, she didn’t look seventeen at all—hard to tell apart from a college freshman.
Class president… Seyeol. I’d forgotten her surname. Her eyes were filled with resolve, like a general brimming with morale right before charging into battle. What had given her such strong will? Was it really because I’d changed? I didn’t know. That was exactly why we needed to talk.
I pushed the sleep mask I usually wore around my neck up onto my forehead and secured it tightly so it wouldn’t slip. “Transform.”
“Transform.”
Facing her properly, I called out the word. Mana aligned through my body, and a weapon materialized in my hand—a shabby staff, covered in scratches and faded color. Just like me, it looked battered. I gave it a light swing and ran my fingers over it, checking the feel. I was worried it might have changed along with me. Thankfully, the grip felt exactly as I remembered.
“Are you both ready? Remember, you’re only allowed to use the two spells we discussed earlier.”
“Shin Seyeol. Ready.”
“Kim Jihye. Ready.”
I looked at Seyeol after her transformation. Her hair had turned a brilliant gold, like midday sunlight. That wasn’t the only change. Crude iron armor plates now covered her academy uniform—chest, hands, knees, and feet. It still looked rough, but it was functional protection. The most striking thing was the lance as tall as she was, with a massive guard and a thin, sharp blade clearly specialized for thrusting.
So Seyeol was a close-combat type. I hadn’t known. There must have been plenty of chances to see her transformed before, but the fact that this was the first time meant I’d never paid her much attention. Unlike her usual delicate self, the destructive presence she gave off as a magical girl, combined with her current determination, created a pressure far heavier than I’d expected.
“Good. I’ll count down.”
Three. Two. One.
At the teacher’s signal, I drew up what little mana I had. Even if the amount was pitiful, my body wasn’t completely empty. I squeezed out every last drop the measuring devices couldn’t detect.
“Spar, begin.”
My mind went cold, like I’d swallowed ice water. Seyeol raised her long lance and thrust it straight at me. Her spirit was good, but her skill was still that of a freshman. I stepped lightly to the side and dodged. Maybe because I’d evaded sideways, she swung the lance horizontally without pulling it back. I rolled backward to get out of range. She tried to thrust again, but the lance’s weight and inertia made it difficult to reset quickly.
I used the opening to close in. Earlier I’d retreated to escape its reach; now I moved forward to get inside its effective range. A lance wasn’t made for close quarters—especially a long, heavy one. The longer and heavier it was, the worse it became once the opponent got close.
Clang. I swung my staff, and Seyeol, realizing she couldn’t raise the lance in time, blocked with the armor on her wrist. I’d deliberately swung lightly, but she hadn’t even tried to use a shield? What if the attack had been too strong for just the glove to stop?
She immediately tried to swing the lance again, but I darted around and got behind her. Once more—
Thud. This time it wasn’t metal on metal. Something stopped my strike. A shield Seyeol had deployed. I hammered at it several times. The feedback felt solid; she must have practiced shielding hard during practical lessons.
While I attacked, Seyeol wasn’t idle either. She seemed ready to swing the lance in a full circle. If she did that, staying close would become dangerous. I had two choices: retreat beyond its reach or stop her from swinging it at all. I chose the latter.
I gathered the last of my mana and wove the simplest possible magic circle. The spell was Magic Missile, a basic projectile, but the circle looked nothing like the one students were taught. It was far more intricate, packed with geometric patterns and lines, designed to waste as little mana as possible. The target was her wrist.
The missile flew in a gentle arc instead of a straight line and struck perfectly.
“Ow!”
Seyeol dropped the lance and shook her hand. An opening appeared. I stepped closer and spoke.
“What are you going to do now that you’ve lost your signature weapon?”
Her first instinct was to reach for the fallen lance. I didn’t give her the chance. I kicked it away before she could grab it, sending the heavy metal shaft clattering across the floor and out of the training area.
“Now you don’t even have a weapon.”
A magical girl’s greatest pillar was gone. Without her signature weapon—something as much a part of her as a limb—she shouldn’t be able to fight. But magical girls were beings who had to fight no matter what. Even without their weapon, even missing an arm, even with their mana completely drained, they had to keep going until the end.
I was testing her. Without her signature weapon, how would she act? Would she give up? Or would she fight? And if she fought, would she charge in blindly and lose, or would she use every bit of knowledge and skill she possessed to win?
I stood still, waiting for her answer. This was how I taught. In training spars, I pushed opponents mercilessly until their weaknesses showed, then asked them what they would do. That was how the old me—the one who hadn’t been half-asleep and useless—had lived. Though imitating my past self now wouldn’t fix anything about who I was today.
Seyeol stared at me for a moment, then nodded to herself and adjusted her stance. At least she hadn’t given up. That was admirable. But Seyeol, the world doesn’t reward you just for not giving up. You have to be good, not just hardworking. Reality isn’t a fairy tale full of flowers.
“Jihye, you’re really amazing.”
“…What is?”
She clenched her injured hand and steeled herself. The outcome should have been obvious—one of us still held her signature weapon, the other didn’t. Yet Seyeol showed no discouragement. Instead, she grinned at me.
“You’re strong.”
Yeah. I was strong. But only by freshman standards. The higher the grade, the closer she got to becoming a pro magical girl, the more she’d realize how insignificant I really was.
“So… I’d like to be friends with someone as amazing as you. Now, and from now on.”
“……”
With those words, she swung her hand in a wide arc. Threads of light bloomed from the path her fingertips traced, weaving together. One, two, three, four, five. Five magic circles lit up at once, layered through mana.
“Multiple casting… Even if it’s limited to Magic Missile, you’ve managed it.”
Multiple casting wasn’t part of the freshman curriculum. The teacher hadn’t taught it either. That meant she’d taught herself—constantly practicing and refining her magic during every practical session. Class president or not, close-combat type or whatever else, at her core she was still a magical girl. Magical girls existed because they wielded magic.
I found myself smiling without realizing it. The teacher’s rule had been to use only two spells. This stage was meant to test how well we’d mastered the two spells we’d learned so far. But the moment you transformed and that signature weapon appeared in your hand, it was easy to forget everything else. The temptation to just swing the weapon and win was hard to resist. Even the clever class president had fallen for it—focusing only on the lance and neglecting her magic. Now that I’d taken the weapon away, she was finally forced to think.
Yeah. This was how it should be.
Seyeol readied herself to trigger all five circles at once, like pulling a trigger.
“Here I come again.”
“Bring it.”
Her fighting spirit was infectious; I felt my own mood lift. It had been a while since I’d had a student worth teaching. In that case, maybe I should raise the difficulty a notch. If I pulled just a little more mana from my body…
Then it happened.
—Click—
“…Huh?”
Something was wrong. I heard a strange sound from inside my body—exactly from my head. Like I’d flipped a switch that should never have been touched. Strength drained from my entire body at once.