The Kickboard's Demise
The electric kickboard rumbled along, cutting through the pale mist born from the dawn chill beneath the bridge. Its speed wasn’t fast, but it rolled forward steadily, diligently. The ride was almost painfully normal. It didn’t exceed the kickboard’s limits with impossible velocity, nor did it drift unnecessarily.
“Hey. Not doing that thing this time?”
“That thing?”
“You know, the one where you fly through the sky going ‘Whee~’.”
“I-I never said anything like that. Probably.”
From her seat behind Ayoung, Serpina watched the tips of the girl’s ears flush red. At least she was capable of feeling embarrassment.
Ayoung waved a hand in front of her face as she answered. “I don’t have enough mana. The sun’s about to rise, so if I don’t save what I’ve got, I won’t have any left for daytime.”
“Huh? What’s the sun got to do with mana?”
“Because mana comes from the moon. When the moon sets, the supply gets cut off. Obviously.”
“Mana comes from the moon? Interesting. Keep going.”
In the world Serpina had once lived in, mana simply existed in nature. Using it reduced the amount present, yet over the long history of that world, the total quantity of mana had never shown any sign of decreasing. Temporary concentrations or depletions in a single area were possible, but those were fleeting phenomena. Countless theories had been proposed and countless studies conducted. Some claimed mana circulated in a form as difficult to observe as the soul. Others insisted it flowed in through dimensional rifts from other worlds. A few even argued that a colossal Dragon Heart at the center of the world generated all the mana used across the globe—because the Dragon Heart was the only proven organ capable of creating mana.
Every theory ultimately failed. Even until the very moment Serpina returned to Earth, the true source of mana had remained unknown. So it was only natural that she felt curious about how this world explained it.
“Um… just a second. I definitely learned this in school…” Ayoung muttered, then brightened. “Right! They said mana is like light—an energy that comes from stars. But the sun’s mana is too strong for humans to use directly, so we use the filtered version reflected off the moon instead. That’s why it’s called ‘lunar mana.’”
“So when the moon’s bright, the mana gets stronger?”
“Yes. They say the amount of mana in the air differs by about five times between a full moon and a new moon. Clear weather versus cloudy makes a difference too, though not as much as the moon phases.”
“For something like that, the city was underground.”
“That’s… hmm… I’m not sure. There must be a reason, right?”
“We can ask later.”
At least now Serpina understood why Ayoung was driving so normally. She simply lacked the mana to activate the kickboard’s magical functions. The problem was simple, so the solution was equally simple.
“I can just feed it mana, right?”
Without waiting for an answer, Serpina moved her own mana. An enormous surge poured into the kickboard’s internal mana circuit.
“Pardon? Oh, yes. Then we can go faster. But if you put in too muuuuuch—!!”
It was already too late. The moment Ayoung sensed danger and gripped the handlebars, the kickboard shot forward.
—Vreeeeeeeeeeee!!!
The quiet engine roar swelled until it resembled a small siren. Ayoung hurriedly activated the built-in sound-dampening magic. Speed increased along with the noise. Had there been a speedometer, the needle would have slammed to the right.
“S-Senior! Is this really okay?!”
The wind slammed into their cheeks with alarming force. Ayoung let out a near-scream and clung desperately to the handlebars. It didn’t take long for the scream to turn into a cheer.
“Uhyaaa! Senior! The wind! I’m becoming the wind!”
Far on the horizon, a crimson sun began to rise. A single electric kickboard tore down the road.
……
In the end, it had not been okay.
“M-My kickboooard!!!”
Ayoung wailed, hugging the ruined machine. Her beloved steed, her reliable set of wheels, had become something beyond an electric kickboard and never returned. At least it had managed to reach their destination beneath the bridge before giving out. The culprit, needless to say, was Serpina. She had forced far more output than the design allowed, frying the internal mana circuit. Now the kickboard was exactly what it looked like—an ordinary electric scooter that ran on electricity and nothing more.
“Ahem, ahem…”
Even Serpina couldn’t pretend nothing had happened. She scratched her cheek awkwardly. To be honest, she had gotten a little carried away. The mana circuits developed by this world’s corporations had felt novel to her, so she’d kept experimenting—this works too? What about this?—until the inevitable result.
Unfortunately, even Serpina couldn’t repair the broken kickboard. While she could probably fix the mana circuit itself, the electronic components integrated with it were likely damaged beyond her expertise. Most dragons would have shrugged and said, “So what?” but Serpina possessed what was widely acknowledged as the finest conscience among dragonkind. She felt the sting of guilt. (The fact that she was the only dragon on Earth went unmentioned.)
“You worked hard today. I suppose I ought to give you a proper reward…”
The word “reward” made Ayoung’s eyes sparkle.
“You said you’d do anything, right?”
“What? No. I never said that.”
“Then the favor I’d like to ask is…”
“I also never said I’d let you choose the reward.”
Despite her words, Serpina had a pretty good idea what Ayoung was about to request. And she was right. Ayoung dropped to the ground in a deep bow.
“Please teach me magic!”
It was the wisest possible request Ayoung could have made—asking not for a fish, but for the method to catch one. At the same time, it was the most troublesome request for Serpina. Teaching someone wasn’t something that ended in a day or two.
“I’ll do anything! I have a goal… a goal I absolutely must achieve!”
……
Serpina didn’t refuse outright. She didn’t cut Ayoung off with “What does your goal have to do with me?” Instead, she sat quietly, swinging her feet as she thought.
A memory surfaced in her mind—distant, from her time in the other world. She had once raised a disciple. Not merely tossing out advice in passing, but carefully guiding them from root to branch. Back then she had been far too busy, and she’d hoped that increasing the number of skilled mages might eventually earn her more rest. The experience had turned out positive. More than positive—it had been one of the few bright spots in an otherwise exhausting and desolate life.
If she could feel that joy again, perhaps a little trouble wouldn’t be so bad.
—Meow.
“You’re… Heemang, was it? Ah! Wait!”
—Meow.
“W-What do I do, Senior? She won’t get off my head…”
…Watching Ayoung flail helplessly while still prostrate on the ground, with Heemang perched atop her head, Serpina thought comparing the two might be a bit rude.
“Good grief.”
Serpina sighed and lifted Heemang off Ayoung’s head. Even while suspended in midair, the kitten continued to deliver rapid-fire paw punches to Ayoung’s scalp. Whatever had offended her so much remained a mystery.
“Pending.”
“Pardon?”
Ayoung looked up, rubbing the top of her head where Heemang had been.
“I can’t promise I’ll teach you. If I feel like it, maybe.”
“M-Master!”
“Don’t call me that.”
Serpina turned her back on them. “Go buy some snacks or something. Feed Heemang while you’re at it.”
“Yes! I’ll be right back, Master—er, Senior!”
Ayoung hurried off toward a nearby convenience store.
◆ In a back alley somewhere in the city.
—Weeeooong!!
—Meooow!
—Haaaack!!
The narrow alley, still untouched by dawn light, echoed with the frenzied cries of cats. The wailing never stopped, bouncing off the walls from every direction until it was enough to drive anyone mad—loud enough to drag a salaryman out of bed with only minutes left before work.
“These damn strays! Stop yowling in front of my house and get lost!”
One resident burst out in pajamas, brandishing a long mop. His expression made it clear he was ready to swing if necessary.
But the scene before him was nothing like what he had imagined. He had expected ordinary stray cats, maybe knee-high at most, gathered in a noisy pack. Instead, he found himself staring at a group of massive felines that reached an adult’s chest.
“W-What the hell…?”
He stood frozen, muttering. Glowing eyes in the darkness stared back at him. It was a nightmare.
—Thud!
One of the giant cats padded forward silently and struck him with a forepaw. It looked like the playful bap a housecat might give its owner, yet the sheer size behind it was enough to silence a grown man in a single blow.
“Now, now. You shouldn’t eat things like that. It’ll give you indigestion.”
A middle-aged woman appeared just as the cats began to approach the fallen resident with ominous intent. The giant cats let out small meows at the sight of her—Why’d you take so long?—then lost interest in the man and swarmed toward her instead.
“Hehe. There, there, my little ones. You’ve been doing well, haven’t you?”
The woman stroked the enormous cats with practiced ease and set down the food she had brought—raw meat, not ordinary cat food. Blood still dripped from the chunks. The cats immediately buried their faces in the meat, staining their muzzles red.
The woman inhaled the metallic scent filling the alley with evident pleasure. While petting one of the giants, she murmured, “I’m sorry. It looks like bringing your companion back will take a little longer. I went to the auction today, but they didn’t put her up for sale.”
—Weeeooong!
“Don’t worry too much. We know for certain that your friend is in this city. It won’t take long. Just be patient a little longer.”
—Meooow…
One of the giant cats nodded as though it understood and returned to its meal. The woman smiled fondly at them. Cute cats, the sweet smell of blood—the perfect environment. No one in the alley spared a thought for the unconscious resident.