forming words.
Humiliation? Anger? Both? Whatever she might be feeling, Ayato was
steeling himself for either a shriek or an outpouring of invective. Instead,
hurrying to cover herself, the girl drew a deep breath and glared at him hard,
even as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.
“T-turn around!” she ordered in a low voice, full of forcibly suppressed
emotion.
“Huh?”
“Just turn around already!”
He rushed to obey, the authority in her tone beyond question.
From behind him came the faint rustling of her clothes. And a strangely
pleasant scent. Ayato could not have been more uncomfortable.
On top of that, he was still perched on the windowsill. He was one wrong
move away from a deadly fall. He waited like this for several minutes, while
the wind on several occasions threatened his balance.
At last she sighed and said, “O-okay. You can turn around now.”
When he did so, he saw now a girl blooming with radiance.
Wearing her uniform impeccably, she cut the very picture of class and
elegance—such a stark contrast to her earlier appearance that he wondered if
he’d imagined it. Her sullen expression and fierce glare loudly declared a foul
mood, but even that seemed somehow endearing. Ayato couldn’t help but
gaze at her.
She bluntly interrupted his trance. “So, the handkerchief?”
“…Sorry?”
“You were saying something earlier. About a handkerchief.”
“Oh—oh yeah! Um, here it is…” Ayato took the handkerchief from his
pocket and held it out to her. “I found it floating along in the wind and picked
it up. Is it yours, by any chance?”
The girl inhaled sharply, opened her eyes wide for a split second, then let
out a deep sigh of relief. “Thank goodness…”
She took the handkerchief and gently held it to her chest.
“Thank you. This handkerchief…it’s very special to me.”
“Oh no, I mean, I just happened to find it…”
“All the same. I really do appreciate it.”
As Ayato stood embarrassed by her gratitude, she bent forward in a deep,
formal bow. But then—
“Well, then… That’s settled, I’d say,” she muttered, her head still bent
low. Her voice had completely changed, simmering with an emotion that
might detonate at any second.
“Huh?”
The girl slowly looked up at him, a grin illuminating her face. There was,
however, not a hint of mirth in her eyes. Even as her mouth made the arc of a
warm smile, he noticed the corners of her lips twitching.
“Now, you die.”
In the next moment, the air in the room changed completely. The girl’s
prana heightened explosively, and the atmosphere rumbled in response.
Mana, given direction, converted the elements in the air and set a
phenomenon into motion.
That aura! he thought. Is she…?
“Burst into bloom—Amaryllis!”
That instant, an enormous fireball materialized in front of the girl and flew
toward Ayato.
“A Strega!?”
He pushed off backward from the window, regained his balance midair,
and landed.
A deafening roar rang across the grounds in his wake. Ayato looked up to
see a huge flower made of fire opening its bud to bloom—a giant wheel of
flames, overlapping petals of scorching heat.
The air wavered and gusts of hot wind blew over him. It was an incredible
force, exactly as if a bomb had gone off.
“…Aw, no…”
As Ayato stared in awe amid the falling sparks, the girl leaped out of the
open window. Just as he had done, she landed four stories down with
effortless grace.
She had to be a Genestella—one of those gifted with an affinity for mana
that bestowed wondrous physical abilities. And judging by the power she had
just displayed, she had to be Strega—a special class even among the
Genestella.
Most of the students in the six schools of Asterisk, of which Seidoukan
Academy was one, were Genestella. Even Ayato, who had little interest in the
Festa, knew that much. He also knew that Stregas and Dantes, who could
bend the laws of nature by linking themselves with mana, were not
