The Dance of Mahanaim (4)

It felt like a dream.

A thin, drowsy haze lay over her thoughts. Mary lifted her head, her mind not yet climbed free of the illusion.

She understood a moment later. The monitor was dark, and at the sight of it the world came back. The stage was finished. So was the broadcast.

"It's... over...?"

Mary—Ninomae Hitomi—murmured it under her breath, and then she simply folded, dropping to the floor in a heap.

"...I did it."

Without meaning to, she covered her mouth as the corners of her lips began to curl into a helpless grin. No mistakes. The best stage she was capable of. Satisfaction filled her chest.

"Ninomae-san."

"Ah... thank you."

That was when the manager arrived with wet wipes. Ninomae cleaned her face and offered her thanks.

The nosebleed had burst out of her all at once, in a quantity so absurd she had been flustered past the point of words, but it had resolved itself somehow, and that was enough to be grateful for. The bleeding hadn't lasted long before it stopped.

Even so, some viewer out there might have caught the wrongness of even that brief moment. If anyone asked next time, it would be wise to have an excuse ready.

It's not like my legs gave out because the tension drained off after I finished a song, okay?! Something along those lines would do. A tsundere "strong denial," so stale it was practically antique—but clichés are overused for the simple reason that they work.

"We'll take care of this, so please rest, Ninomae-san. You danced through all that bleeding, after all..."

She pulled a few more wipes and bent to scrub the stained floor herself, only to be stopped by the manager and the rest of the staff.

Ninomae started to wave them off—she was fine, really—then realized how little conviction the claim carried, and closed her mouth again.

The sudden hemorrhage really had made the whole thing look dire. That much was true.

From where Ninomae stood, the hidden world was familiar enough that her first thought, whatever happened, was that there would be some reason for it. To everyone else, though, it must have looked as though her health was in ruins, or she had come down with some severe illness.

Wait... from everyone else's point of view, does this look like some tremendous feat of performing through an injury...?

The thought arrived all at once. So that was why the staff had been watching her with those shining, deeply moved eyes—not marveling at the performance itself, but applauding the will behind it?

...Well. Either way was fine.

Ninomae let the thought go soon enough. Fretting over something like this would help no one.

And more than anything, if she had been able to give the viewers a stage worth watching, that was enough. She smiled at the thought.

"—Ninomae-san!"

"Hnyaak?!"

She startled hard and sprang up as someone came bursting into the studio.

"Are you all right? Good heavens. What is all this blood?"

"Ah, th-that's, um, Shion-san...? Please calm down! I'm all right now, so...!"

It was Han Seoyeon.

She caught Ninomae by both shoulders, her face tight with urgency—or so it seemed to Ninomae.

"I-is that so. What a relief..."

"I told you, I'm fine."

Only after being soothed that way several times did Han Seoyeon find her calm again.

Even so, she was only like this because she was worried. On that thought a smile nearly rose, unbidden, to Ninomae's lips—and then she realized something, and her expression locked.

"Wait. Why are you here, Shion-san?"

"I hurried over because I was worried about you, Ninomae-san. After the first song of the live, your condition seemed... considerably wrong."

The answer came back as if nothing in the world could be more natural.

Han Seoyeon was in her pajamas, which at least confirmed she had bolted straight out of the house. That part made sense.

The timing did not.

Worry was understandable, but on the surface Ninomae had still been well enough to dance. Surely not even Seoyeon would have broken the Secrecy Protocol and sprinted the whole distance on an Apostle's strength.

Then how was she here now? If the variable of speed could not be stretched, only one variable remained—the time she had left.

"Shion-san, don't tell me... you didn't watch the live...?"

With a look, Ninomae held back the staff who had been about to descend on the blood. They were not, however, the only ones she wanted those words to reach.

They were meant for Seoyeon as well.

I'm all right. Even if I'm not, I'll get through it. So right now, put everything else aside and watch my stage.

There was no chance that feeling had failed to arrive. Ninomae was certain of it. Such a possibility did not exist.

And yet Han Seoyeon was here.

"Shion-san...?"

The self-reproach came at once. To feel even a trace of betrayal toward someone who had come running for her sake—what room was there for a heart that selfish?

"No."

It was a wounded look. Han Seoyeon met it head-on as she spoke.

"The live concert, I watched through to the very end. In VR. Properly."

A faint smile touched her mouth.

"...Pardon?"

No, um—thank you...? Ninomae wore the look of someone with no idea how she was supposed to respond.

"In any case, I did not leave the house until after the live had ended, so you need not worry on that point."

"But then how did you..."

The question never reached its end. Another person had entered the studio.

Every eye turned toward the man, Ninomae's and the staff's alike. The only one who did not look was Han Seoyeon.

Most of them took the clothes for a military uniform. Those with the knowledge to tell recognized the Japan Self-Defense Forces—and, within that, the Ground Self-Defense Force.

Ninomae Hitomi went one step further.

"...The 1st Airborne Brigade?"

At those words the man's eyes went as wide as the rest of him. He looked thoroughly taken aback.

"You know your units."

"Ah, well... I happened to watch a documentary once..."

The 1st Airborne Brigade. The Japan Ground Self-Defense Force's one and only airborne unit.

She had only murmured it because the unit patch from a documentary she had stumbled across while flipping channels was fixed to the man's shoulder.

"No, wait. If someone like that is here, then don't tell me..."

Understanding hit, and Ninomae's face flooded with horror.

"Yes," the man said. "I kept a helicopter on standby through the live and boarded the moment it ended. It had been some time since my last jump, so I was a little nervous, but it worked out."

"A helicopter...? Never mind that—you jumped?!"

"Landing outright would have been noisy, and quite a nuisance to the surrounding area."

"And what about safety?!"

"It's fine. I completed the training, at least."

"I have one of those at home as well."

Han Seoyeon said it while indicating the purple patch on the man's chest.

"...Even so. If you got hurt, Shion-san, I would be truly sad."

"I will be more careful from now on. But I am also truly sad when you are in pain, Ninomae-san. That is why I came."

"...You idiot, Shion-san."

Ninomae buried her face against Han Seoyeon's chest, and Han Seoyeon patted her back, light and brief.

Then she turned her head and looked at Hatsuna Miho.

"Manager Hatsuna. Is there anything else Ninomae-san still needs to do here?"

"Yes? Ah, that's... no. There isn't. She may head back. If anything, I think the sooner she goes home and rests, the better."

"Then we will be taking our leave."

"Hiyaaaak?!"

Confirmation in hand, Han Seoyeon swept Ninomae clean up off her feet.

"Captain Ryumai. Might I borrow a vehicle for the ride home?"

"Already arranged. I put the call in when the helicopter launched, so it should arrive shortly."

"As expected of a captain. You take after your elder sister. Excellent."

"You flatter me."

"Hnyaaa?! More importantly, put me dooown?! Are you even listening to me...?!"

"Yes. First we go home and rest, and tomorrow we will have a doctor look you over."

And so Han Seoyeon vanished from the studio with a soldier of the Self-Defense Forces at her side.

Needless to say, once that storm had passed, a flustered confusion bloomed in the quiet it left behind.

"A princess carry..."

"That was a princess carry..."

"SisMea... that's too wholesome..."

"The hell. You bastard, you're SisMea faction?!"

"No? I'm reverse-harem. Mary runs it."

...Most of the confusion was simply the impact of that final scene.

"Forget that—Sister... isn't she an even bigger deal than we thought? Calling a helicopter to the house for personal reasons."

"And an airborne unit is basically special ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠forces, right? She just orders people like that around?"

"Is Sister, like, ridiculously high up...?"

"No, but hang on. Didn't she just say she has that training-completion whatever, too? Is she ex-special forces herself?"

"With that presence, I'd actually believe it..."

"And our company's VTuber is best friends with someone like this? That's kind of a lot..."

Talk then turned to the question of Han Seoyeon's identity(?). And yet—

"A lot... this is a lot..."

"...Is it?"

"...It's not, right?"

"I mean, Gen 2 already has that young lady of the Hyakurenno."

"Honestly, if you told me Hyakurenno Yuri privately owns an aircraft carrier, I'd believe you."

"Right? Now that I think about it, this isn't even a problem."

...They were a staff already broken in, thanks to a certain young lady who happened to be imperial family and peerage both.

"The symptoms may appear again overnight, so... yes. That is the situation."

"I-is that so. Ehehe... ha— no! It's not like I was thinking it might be okay if I got a little sick on a regular basis, okay?!"

"...You were not?"

"Aak, stop looking at me like, 'well, we'll just say that's what this is'...!"

Ninomae rolled over in a huff, but from behind, Han Seoyeon drew her in.

The bed was wide. The space they actually used, in that hour set aside for sleep, was very small.