I Shall Not Eat of It Again (1)
A rattling blue truck barreled down the road.
A right turn, then a left. The moment the light went yellow it began to shed speed, and when the signal burned red it stopped dead at the line—flush, not a centimeter to spare.
"Thank you for dropping me at the office, Miss Shion."
"Don't mention it. I happened to have the church vehicle out for an errand, so I simply brought you along."
From the driver's seat Han Seoyeon gave Ninomae, riding beside her, nothing more than a small smile, as if the favor were hardly worth naming.
Today Ninomae—Mary, that is—had a stream scheduled at the agency studio, and Han Seoyeon was taking her there in the truck. That was the whole of the situation.
"You know, it's this church truck every single time. Keep this up and I'm going to get attached."
Ninomae offered it up as if the thought had only just struck her.
"Don't you ever buy a car of your own, Miss Shion? You can't be short on money."
That much had puzzled her. Driving the neighborhood church's truck around as if it were a private car was one thing, but with finances like Han Seoyeon's, owning a vehicle or two would hardly have been strange.
"Frankly, if all I'm doing is getting from one place to another, running is faster."
"Ah......"
"A car's really only for when I need to haul cargo. Borrowing one now and then ought to be plenty."
As a means of getting around, a car was something Han Seoyeon simply didn't much need.
"Of course, if a civilian caught me moving at that speed it'd be a problem, so in the daytime I usually take public transit."
Mostly when she was commuting to university, she added.
"That said, I've been out and about with you so much more lately that I have been wondering whether I ought to get a car of my own."
"Well... it's not as if I can run at your speed, Miss Shion."
Being carried on her back or in her arms was no real alternative either. Remembering the princess carry that had forced her to choke down nausea with everything she had, Ninomae's face darkened.
"Do you have a kind of car in mind?"
"I haven't decided yet. I've narrowed the candidates a little, but... hmm. For a personal vehicle, I wonder how many tons would be appropriate......"
"...Are trucks your only option?"
"Hm? Trucks are perfectly good, aren't they? Sturdy, and excellent for hauling."
Faced with an answer that had pursued practicality past the point of reason and straight down to bedrock, Ninomae could only stare, blank.
"You don't like the idea?"
"Well... trucks are cool, in an ordinary sort of way."
Which was not to say she was opposed.
It was easy to forget, given the dainty looks people so often compared to a puppy or a squirrel—certain parts excepted—but she was a devoted fan of the mobile game in which the Huns came thundering south at the head of a column of dump trucks. Large, imposing vehicles simply struck her as cool.
"Honestly, if it weren't for the Secrecy Protocol, I could just go and collect the one I've left in storage at a Self-Defense Force base. A pity."
"Right, of course...... wait, what?"
Even she could not nod along with a remark like that.
Had Han Seoyeon just spoken as if she owned a military vehicle—whatever sort it might be—that civilians were legally forbidden to possess? Ninomae's face showed a considerable degree of shock, but she resolved not to go digging too far into the dark. She had set foot in the hidden world, yes, but she still believed politics, the military, and everything adjacent were entanglements best avoided.
So she elected, instead, to steer the conversation somewhere safer.
"Anyway, what are you out for today?"
"Ah. I have a brief errand with the military."
"Eh."
The subject she had so neatly turned, however, spun a full three hundred and sixty degrees and settled right back where it had started. That, she had not seen coming.
"Th-the military...? The one I'm thinking of?"
"If you're picturing the organization responsible for Japan's national defense, then yes, that's the one. Though when I say Japan's defense, I mean the U.S. Forces in Japan, not the Self-Defense Forces."
"What on earth could you be going there for?!"
"How should I put it. In short... hmm. Yes."
Han Seoyeon considered for a moment, then went on.
"Have you ever seen clergy sprinkle holy water when a European military takes delivery of a new fighter?"
"What? Well, only in photographs, but yes......"
"I'm going to do something like that."
It was a hair's breadth from superstition, the sort of thing one might have waved off as an old maritime and aviation custom—but Ninomae was, by now, a proper Paranormal Citizen. She couldn't help the thought: doesn't that actually land some kind of buff?
"An Apostle, in person?"
If anything about it sat strangely, it was that. She still didn't quite feel it in her bones, but she understood well enough that Han Seoyeon was an extraordinarily formidable person. Calling her in for a buff of that caliber seemed like nothing but the garnish outweighing the dish.
"It seems the U.S. military has been whetting its blade in earnest this time. Now that a proper vein has been opened through Japan this year, they appear set on launching quite a large project."
"A vein opened through Japan...?"
"I paid my respects at the first shrine visit of the new year, remember? But that wasn't the whole of it."
First there was Mika Eru, the holy knight who had been named an Apostle candidate. She was Japanese born and bred, so of course she would have paid her own respects.
Nor had it stopped there. Alejandra—Apostle Matthias—and Giacomo—Apostle Thomas—who were heading home this time, had also stopped at a suitable shrine before they left, to greet the gods of this country.
"In other words, this year the Japanese archipelago became holy ground that received the first fruits of four Apostle-class holy knights. One can probably look forward to any number of favorable turns. Anyone with fast information is likely already buying Nikkei derivatives."
"Ehh...?"
"Given that position, it isn't hard to understand them bringing a new weapon still in development here to finish the work. All the more so if it's an armament that makes use of anomalies."
So saying, Han Seoyeon put her foot to the accelerator again. The light at the intersection, red for a long while, had gone green.
"Anything beyond this is classified, so I'll have to ask your understanding. If you truly insist on hearing it, I could tell you quietly, but..."
"I'm perfectly fine, so please don't!"
Ninomae flailed her hands, aghast. A new weapon developed under state direction was, no matter how she turned it over, a matter of the highest military secrecy. She had the distinct feeling that from the moment she heard it, she would never sleep easy again.
"Will you give me a ride back, too?"
"Well, of course. There's no reason not to."
Even to the subject she had more or less let drop, Han Seoyeon nodded without hesitation.
"I'll call you when the stream's over."
"Mm... I don't think that'll be necessary."
"......?"
"Well. You'll understand later."
"Hello—."
Ninomae stepped into the studio and swept the interior in one quick scan, dipping her head whenever her eyes met a staff member's.
There was still a long while until the broadcast was due to start—early enough that coming in to prepare was, if anything, quite soon. Ninomae's iron rule, that arriving far too early was better than arriving late, had gone to work without fail today as well. At such an hour most of the staff were still moving about the studio, carrying the setup along.
My seat is... over here.
A desk had been set at the center of the studio, long and rounded, reminiscent of a pill, with five chairs arranged around it. Ninomae sat in the one whose paper nameplate read Mary Tepes, and picked up the sheaf of papers waiting at her place.
New Year Commemorative Broadcast Script
Internet streams carry the image of relying on personal talent with no script at all. There are certainly plenty of cases like that—but not every broadcast works that way, and an event-heavy planned show least of all. Even if the acting isn't directed from the first line to the last, a general flow, and the lines that carry one segment into the next, are usually written down. At any rate, Ninomae began flipping through the pages, familiarizing herself with the script.
"—Miss Ninomae."
How long had passed? She lifted her head at the voice calling her name.
"It's been a while. Have you been well?"
"Ah. Miss Yuri."
Long, straight hair left to fall. An aura of refinement that seemed to radiate from her even though she did nothing in particular; even the simple motion of drawing out a chair and sitting down felt elegant. The woman who had proudly claimed an overwhelming first place in the survey Why on earth is this person a VTuber?—an in-house poll by the thread site 7ch. Yuri of the Hyakurenno family.
"Yes. I'd say I've been doing well. How have you been, Miss Yuri?"
Yuri came over and sat in the seat assigned to Amairo Tsubasa.
"Well, being a Hyakurenno... the year-end and New Year were incredibly busy. I'd love to leave all of this to my older brothers, but."
"Mmm... you've had it rough."
Yuri's basic stance was that she would live as a VTuber, and her brothers could carry on the family as they saw fit. In other words, she had set down rights and responsibilities together. But at the scale of the Hyakurenno family, even the dregs left over afterward were nothing one could ignore. That held true not only for rights but for responsibility as well, and so lately Yuri had been dragged from one function to another, kept thoroughly busy.
"About the only saving grace of being treated practically like a public figure is... that even if I take the holidays off, nobody accuses me of running around with men......"
"Well... on the days you say you're off for personal reasons, Miss Yuri, turn on the TV and you're usually right there on the news."
"Actually, I showed my face at the military this morning for a morale visit. I'm just coming from there."
Yuri sighed as if worn thin. Even she, who took pleasure in self-cultivation, seemed to find the political sphere distinctly unwelcome.
"The military...? As it happens, Miss Shion said she had business on that side today as well......"
"Ah... that project. It seems the engine is slowly turning over again."
"...You knew about it?"
"Well. The Hyakurenno Group has its tentacles in a great many things."
A family with one foot in the defense industry—no, submerged in it. The chance that they were involved in the project Han Seoyeon had mentioned was more than plausible. Ninomae decided not to think too deeply about it.
"Yo. Ninomae."
"Yahoo, long time no see."
"Miss Tsunashi, Miss Chiyo? Did you come together?"
"Mm. I just ran into Chiyo at the entrance."
Two more arrived at the studio before long: Tsunashi Tenka, of the werewolf Charlotte Lupus, and Senjoji Chiyo, of the witch Serena Razania.
"Oh my, am I the latest?"
"We only just got here ourselves, so don't worry, Bansei."
Then Bansei Marin, who played the little devil Komori Sae, came in as well, and the full second generation of Anathema Production was assembled.
It was a little late to be revealing it now, but to explain regardless: today's broadcast was an offline collaboration of the entire second generation.
"Now that I think of it, it's been forever since all of Gen 2 got together, hasn't it?"
"Right? Even on the virtual side, a full gathering feels like it was quite a while ago."
"We had a chance on the hot spring trip... but Marin had to drop out on us then. When I heard she'd burned a hole in her stomach eating spicy food, I thought it was a joke at first."
"I'm sorry for breaking the promise so suddenly back then......"
"Not at all. If anyone could have predicted a turn like that, we'd have to seriously suspect them of a prophet's gift... so it isn't something you need to blame yourself for, Miss Bansei."
Get five people together—broadcasters, at that—and the noise blooms in an instant. It was by no means an unpleasant commotion. Amid that lively bustle, Ninomae grew oddly happy and broke into a soft, foolish little smile.
"Wouldn't it be better if the response landed a bit more clearly here?"
"You're right... then let's leave this part to Miss Tsunashi."
"Mm. Leave it to me."
"This bit here—I think we can pour the teetee on even thicker."
"That wouldn't happen to be your own feelings slipping in, Chiyo...?"
Before long the talk drifted toward the broadcast itself. Pros that they were, they went over the script, and the meeting carried on.
"Pros, when we haven't even been debuted a year."
"Th-that's true, but still."
"Everyone, ten minutes until we go live! One last check of your equipment, please—!"