This Situation Calls for a “Who Is That Guy?!”

Rose can hear rain falling.

The sound of the droplets striking outside pulls her attention

away.

She steadies her breathing, then lowers her practice rapier.

After using her hand to wipe away the sweat trickling down her

face, she fixes her hair.

Only the rain breaks the silence in the dim training facility.

For a little while, Rose merely closes her eyes and focuses on its

noise. The damp air causes a lump to form in her throat, but she

swallows it down.

She's always found the sound of water to be beautiful.

Rose was born in the Oriana Kingdom, a land of art and culture.

She'd been exposed to countless art forms in her childhood, and her

aesthetic sensibilities were superb. Over the course of their lives,

every member of Oriana royalty chose a single art form in which to

excel. It could be painting, or music, or acting. Each was free to

choose as they pleased.

Although the young Rose expressed great interest in the arts,

she was never able to settle on one. In her eyes, all forms of art

were beautiful and unique.

Painting, music, acting, fashion design, sculpture, and the rest

were all so wonderful—it was impossible for her to pick just one.

Consequently, she dabbled in them all and received high praise for

her work in each.

Every artist in the Oriana Kingdom waited with bated breath to

see which artistic path Rose would choose to continue down.

But she chose the art of the blade.

One day, out of the blue, she cast aside all the mediums and

began training with the sword.

"Why the sword?" they all asked her.

She said little on the subject.

Only that she had seen beauty in swordsmanship.

However, the people of the Oriana Kingdom looked down on it

as the purview of brutes and savages. Few were willing to

acknowledge it as a legitimate art form.

Ignoring her family's objections, Rose enrolled in the Midgar

Academy for Dark Knights.

A certain beautiful sword work is etched deep in her heart.

She's never told anyone about it, but it's a memory she holds

dear. The sole reason she's embarked on this path is out of quiet

admiration for a single swordsman.

She knows she'll never forget the beauty of the swordplay she

saw that day.

Her life's work is to someday emulate that beauty.

Nobody back in her own country will acknowledge it, but she

doesn't care. She isn't pursuing this out of a desire for praise.

She's determined to walk this path, even if no one else deems it

worthy.

She's been fine with that.

A few days ago, though, she received a letter.

"Father will be attending the Bushin Festival…," she mutters,

her lips the color of cherry blossoms. It's a rarity for the king, a man

who holds swordplay in contempt, to come watch the event. Rose is

certain he's coming to drag her back home.

There is a lot of speculation, but one rumor in particular that

catches Rose's attention.

Word is that a man has been unofficially chosen as her fiancé.

As soon as she heard that, she immediately sent a letter off to

her family asking if this was true. However, she hasn't gotten a

response yet.

But she's already decided on another man. That man, who

doesn't fear death and whose soul is fiery and pure, is the one she's

chosen as her life partner.

That's why she needs to force her father to see her abilities at

the Bushin Festival…with her sword.

Then, she prays, he just might… Rose slaps her cheeks.

"Focus," she mutters, flinging off her sweat-soaked tunic.

Her skin, glistening with sweat, is laid bare. The only thing

hiding her sizable breasts is her sports bra from Mitsugoshi.

It's a little immodest of her, but she knows nobody else is going

to come, so she chooses not to worry about it.

She readies her practice rapier, then summons an image to her

mind.

She envisions her finest performance…back when the academy

was under attack.

The Bushin Festival is going to start soon. She has to re-create

that feeling before it does.

Rose's rapier flashes through the air, and beads of sweat go

flying. Her elegant honey hair comes unraveled.

She brushes aside the strands that have fallen in her face, then

continues swinging.

The whole time, she can hear the rain falling outside.

The feeling refuses to return.

The Bushin Festival season is upon us.

I walk down the bustling roads of the capital. The makeup of

the crowd is different than usual.

The people passing me on the street all have different races,

nationalities, and jobs, but they share the common goal of wanting

to enjoy the event. They've never talked to one another before and

probably never will again, but they nonetheless share a strange

sense of unity.

That's just how festivals work.

I don't hate this kind of vibe. After all, it's necessary for one

thing: When everyone is collectively focused on something, it makes

for the greatest stage imaginable.

The Bushin Festival.

"There's a big wave coming through, and I'll be damned if I

don't ride it."

I'm gonna check off the top item on my bucket list.

It's that trope where a mysterious badass joins a big

tournament, and everyone goes from Hold up, that guy's gonna get

himself killed! to Wait, he's superstrong! to Just who is that guy?!

To do that, I'm gonna need everyone's cooperation.

After pushing my way through the crowd, I eventually end up

at the royal capital branch of Mitsugoshi.

Ignoring the line of people patiently waiting their turn, I stroll

right in. I'm friends with the owner, so it's fine, right?

The store is hectic since it's the busy season and all, but it isn't

long before an attractive saleswoman spots me and drags me off.

"I know it totally sounds like I'm lying, but I'm friends with the

owner. I swear."

"I'm aware."

I was a little concerned whether she really knew me or not, but

it turns out to be the former.

She takes me to that room from last time with the awesome

chair. I take my seat atop it.

Damn! Sitting on this thing really makes you feel like a king.

They even bring me a glass of iced apple juice. Not from

concentrate.

Good catch on their part, knowing I prefer apple juice to

orange. It's nice and crisp, so it really hits the spot on these hot

summer days.

The summer wind comes through the room. Ting, ting,

something rings.

"Wind chimes, eh…?"

I look at the window and see them hanging against a backdrop

of blue skies and big summer clouds.

"Please wait here a moment."

I nod. The shop lady goes to find Gamma, and another one

comes in to fan me. Her summer dress leaves a lot of her skin

exposed.

"Y'know, I'm feeling kinda peckish."

"I'll have something prepared immediately."

As I gaze at the clouds, I decide I'll definitely come mooch off

this place whenever I'm short on food.

Hearing that her beloved master has arrived, Gamma immediately

leaves the rest of her work to her subordinates and hurries over to

the Hall of Shadows.

She wears a thin, black knee-length dress, and she's paired it

with a summery white set of high heels. After applying a fragrant

perfume, she steps into the hall.

"I'm here, my lord."

Her master sits atop the Shadow throne, gazing at the sky with

his arms crossed. Is that piercing gaze of his directed at the clouds

or something deeper?

Gamma can't tell.

"I have a request." Her master turns his sight on her as he

speaks.

When she meets his ever-dignified gaze, Gamma's heart flutters.

It's a little inappropriate of her to hope in this way, but she wonders

if he notices she changed her hairstyle.

"Ask, and I will make it happen."

"I want to disguise myself and enter the Bushin Festival," her

master says.

The instant the words leave his mouth, Gamma's considerable

intellect is already at work.

She thinks fervently, trying to suss out not only her master's

intent but also his true goal, the one that lies beyond it.

However…she comes up blank.

Why is it necessary for him to take this action?

No matter how hard she tries, she can't unravel that mystery.

She's forced to shamefully ask.

"Why?"

Her master averts his eyes from Gamma and looks back up at

the sky.

And when his gaze leaves her, Gamma feels almost as though

his interest has been stolen. Her eyes dart around.

"Would you mind…not asking me that question?" he requests, a

distant look in his eyes.

Gamma casts her gaze down and bites her lip.

When she heard he'd fought Aurora the Calamity Witch, a

thought had crossed Gamma's mind. If she'd been there, would she

really have been able to figure out his plan?

She had no faith she would have succeeded.

None of the members of the Shadow Garden who were on-site

had been able to fathom it. In the end, his choice turned out to be

optimal, but no one had been able to get on the same page as him.

If Gamma had been there, she'd have had no choice but to

determine her master's intentions.

Gamma is the brains of the Shadow Garden. That's her raison

d'être.

If she can't do that, then she is worthless to the organization

And even though she knows that, she's messed up again.

"Forgive me… It must be something you can't tell anyone

about."

Gamma hasn't been able to deduce so much as a shred of her

master's motives or emotions.

She's an utter failure.

It would be far better if she just stopped trying to be clever and

did as she was told.

"I won't ask any more, but it will be done."

Gamma kneels, hiding her face to conceal the tears of chagrin

welling up in the corners of her eyes.

After wiping them away, she issues swift instructions to her

subordinates. They go and fetch something.

"What is that?" her master asks as he eyes what they've

brought.

"Slime—modified based on your Shadow Wisdom. By running

magic through it, it takes on the exact same feeling as skin."

"Oh…?"

Gamma offers the flesh-colored slime to her master.

"So I just put it on my face?"

"Correct."

Her master stretches the slime over his face.

"It looks like I'm wearing clay," he observes as he looks in a

mirror.

"This is where Nu comes in."

"Pardon me." Nu steps in front of their master and pulls out a

small chisel-like knife. "I'll carve the slime."

"Ah, I see."

"What kind of face would you like?"

"Good question… One that looks kinda weak."

"Weak, huh…?" Nu thinks for a minute.

"What about this man?" Gamma opens a folder and shows Nu a

young man's census data.

"Mundane Mann. A member of the aristocracy in the Altena

Empire. Twenty-two years old. He's lazy, weak by dark knight

standards, and was disowned five years ago. Afterward, he worked

in a variety of places as a mercenary and guard. His final job was

protecting a carriage full of the possessed."

The man had been lazy, but that was hardly a sin. He'd been

guarding the carriage, unaware of what lay within. That was when

his luck ran out.

"His bone structure is similar, so it should work out. We also

already have his identification papers."

"Good. That'll be safer than forging them. Is this acceptable, my

lord?"

"Yeah, let's go with this Mundane guy."

"Then without further ado." Nu takes her knife and begins

shaving away at the slime.

She's excellent with makeup. In fact, when it comes to

cosmetics, she's their go-to girl.

She finishes carving in no time, and a plain man's face is etched

atop their master's.

He lets out an impressed grunt as he looks in the mirror. "Ooh,

this is nice…"

"Will this do?"

"Yeah, this is great. I look so weak."

The face lacks any notable traits but gives off a plain

impression. It sports sickly bags under its eyes, a pathetic fiveo'clock shadow, a sagging mouth, and dull skin. The man looks

thoroughly unreliable.

It warms Gamma's heart seeing her master so pleased.

"The face will harden once you run magic through it, so

afterward, you can take it off and put it on as you please."

"Sweet."

"As far as its weaknesses, it's less elastic than the slime

bodysuits, and it offers almost no physical protection."

"Got it, so it's for cosmetic use only. It wouldn't make sense to

make a full bodysuit out of this stuff."

"Correct. Also…"

After Nu finishes her brief explanation, their master stands.

"I'd probably look the part more if I hunched my back."

He tries walking around with his back twisted a little.

"Bravo," commends Gamma, smiling as she claps.

It's possible to tell how physically adept someone is just by

assessing their posture and gait. Strength largely comes from the

feet. People who are good at manipulating their bodies carry

themselves in a way to transfer as much strength throughout

themselves as possible. Of course, that isn't the end-all be-all of

gauging someone, but it's a useful point of reference.

Gamma's master once taught her that, and she understands it

perfectly. However, that perfection doesn't extend to her ability to

put it into practice. Her posture is elegant but nothing more. She's a

textbook example of how this rule doesn't apply to everyone.

"I should drop my shoulders, too… Yeah. And I want to be

careful not to misalign my pelvis. It'd be a pain if it got stuck that

way."

Gamma is filled with pleasant feelings as she watches her

master practice walking in a way to give the impression of

weakness. She gives instructions to her subordinates.

"Prepare clothes and a cheap sword."

"Ah, good thinking."

Hearing those three words, Gamma's heart is filled to the brim.

"Yeah, those look good. I'm gonna go register for the Bushin

Festival."

Her master must have been messing with his vocal cords, as his

voice comes out low and husky.

"Here are his papers. Take care out there."

Gamma lowers her head and watches her master recede.

"Thanks. Oh yeah, one other thing."

Her master stops in front of the door.

"That hairstyle looks nice on you."

Gamma's brain freezes.

The door clicks shut.

"Plergh!"

And Gamma's heel snaps.

"Gamma?!"

Her face plants straight into the floor, but despite the blood

gushing from her nose, her expression is one of absolute bliss.

Registration for the Bushin Festival is handled at the arena's

reception desk.

I get in line, glancing at the other dark knights around me.

The guy in front of me, being tall and brawny, comes off strong

at first glance, but his center of balance is garbage.

Hmm. It's a close call, but I think I just barely look weaker than

him.

More warriors line up behind me.

One guy has a solid center of mass, but he's kinda tubby. Hell,

that's probably why his balance is so good. That's what you get

when you drink too much, man.

But I think I'm good. He's got an intimidating expression, so I

still look weaker.

I continue looking around and judging people. It's like I'm

holding my own little tournament of who looks weakest.

After all, I wanna go from Hold up, that guy's gonna get himself

killed to Just who is that guy?! so I have to start out looking like the

puniest dude around.

That guy's a nobody; that dude over there's no big deal; the guy

across from him is a runt; this chump's less than nobody… Damn,

there's just too many shitters.

But I'll be fine. Right now, I'm Mundane Mann.

After conducting my fair and impartial assessment, I determine

I'm still probably the least impressive of the lot.

As I nod in satisfaction, someone calls out to me.

"Hey, kid. You'd best give up now."

"Hmm?"

"If you don't, you'll die."

I turn and find a female dark knight standing behind me.

My heart pounds. Could it be that classic cliché?

"Who are you?"

"I'm Annerose. If you're planning on entering without thinking

it through, you'd be better off leaving now."

Annerose casts a stern glare at me.

When she does, I pump my fist internally.

I knew it… This is the scene that always happens when a

weakling tries to enter a big tournament.

"You're an amateur. I can tell just by looking at you."

Annerose walks toward me, then stops an arm's length away.

Her pale-blue eyes give off a stubborn vibe, and they match the

color of her shoulder-length hair.

"Your sword is cheap, and your body is frail."

Annerose lightly taps my weapon and chest with her index

finger.

"The tournament is fought with dulled blades, but if you take it

lightly, you'll die."

She glares at me again.

I return her gaze and think for a moment. What would be the

best reaction…?

"You shouldn't go judging people by their looks," I end up

saying, then turn away.

The premise is that I look weak, but I'm secretly strong. It

wouldn't make sense for me to get all timid here.

It serves me best if she thinks I'm too cocky for my own good.

"Hey, there's no need to get snippy. I'm just trying to look out

for you, and…"

"Save your concern." I make my tone as confident as possible.

"You really need to…"

Suddenly, another man butts into our conversation. "Yo, kid.

You should listen to what the lady's telling ya."

If I had to describe his appearance, I'd say he looks like a rude

pro wrestler. On the other hand, the ease with which he wears the

large greatsword on his back and the battles' worth of scars etched

across his face make him seem more like a grizzled warrior.

Honestly, he's probably the strongest person nearby besides me

and Annerose.

"The name's Quinton. I've entered a couple of these Bushin

Festivals, but every year, there're some weak-ass punks who ruin

the mood. I'm begging ya here: Just run on home and suck on your

momma's titties."

When the people around us hear the bald-faced scorn that

Quinton is laying on me, the crowd whoops with crude laughter

and hollers of approval.

My only response is to cast a sidelong glance at Quinton and let

the corner of my mouth curl into a grin. "I'm stronger than you at

least."

Quinton's face goes red.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha! Hey, Quinton! The kid's making fun of you!"

"Quinton, you gonna let that brat talk to you like that?!"

Goaded by the hecklers, Quinton frowns and hoists me up by

the collar.

"Yo, watch who you're mouthing off to. What was that about

being stronger than me?"

I offer no answer.

I merely grin.

"Looks like someone…needs to teach you a lesson!!"

As the words leave his mouth, Quinton hurls me back.

I crash into someone, collapsing onto the ground.

"Yeah, get him!!"

"Ah-ha-ha-ha! Go easy on the kid!!"

By now, a ring has gathered around us. That's ne'er-do-wells for

you: never ones to miss a fight.

"If you're gonna apologize, now's the time to do it," threatens

Quinton as he cracks his neck.

I shake my head. "Man, you really are third-rate."

"Your ass is grass!" Quinton brandishes his fist and charges at

me.

His form is complete garbage.

To put it bluntly, the people of this world suck when it comes

to hand-to-hand combat. Or rather, they're stronger when they use

weapons. Unless one side either feels utterly assured of victory or

finds their backs against a wall leaving no other alternatives,

fistfights just don't happen that often.

If someone held a tournament where no one could use weapons,

I would end up winning. I'm pretty confident of that fact.

Countless strategies for what to do next pass through my mind.

Countering him with a right straight punch or a left hook would

be simple but effective. Stopping him with a jab or a front kick,

then hanging back, would be safe. Going on the defensive right

away would be even safer. There are other options, too—using my

knees or elbows is a strong choice, and tackling before hitting him

while he is down could also be good.

If he were a powerful foe I was planning on fighting seriously,

I'd probably go in with a jab. However, I wouldn't clench my fist;

instead, I'd hold my hand flat, extend my reach, and go straight for

his eyes.

Against this guy, though, there's no need to go that far. Plus…I

don't feel like fighting yet.

"Take that!!"

Quinton's fist sinks into my cheek.

It sends me flying, crashing into the wall of spectators.

"I ain't done with you yet!!"

Quinton's fists bear down on me.

Left, right, left, right, right, right.

I don't lay a finger on him, taking the blows and collapsing

when I feel that the timing is just right.

"Hey, that guy's weak! He's weak as shit!"

"Ah-ha-ha-ha! He got his ass beat!"

I bask happily in the jeers of the peanut gallery.

"What? Cat got your tongue? Spineless punk." Quinton looks

down at me and grins.

I look up at him and return the smile. "My fists are too valuable

to waste on you."

"Looks like someone hasn't learned his manners yet!"

"That's quite enough!!" Annerose stops Quinton's brandished

fist with her comment. "You're taking this too far. If you want to

keep having a go, you'll have to do it with me."

She looks up at him and glares.

"Hey, yo, that chick just said she'd 'have a go' with you!!"

"'Have a go' with me, too, lady!!"

Contrary to everyone around him, though, Quinton's expression

is grave. He clicks his tongue and turns around.

"What's wrong, Quinton? Gotta take a piss or something?"

"What? It's over already? Boo!"

Quinton leaves, and the crowd dissipates.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't think it would get that bad."

Annerose offers me her hand.

I ignore it and stand up on my own.

"If you were gonna stop him, you could have done it from the

start. Am I wrong?"

When she hears my question, Annerose flinches. "I figured it

would be better for you to take some licks here than suffer

something irreparable at the Bushin Festival proper, but he took it

too far. How badly are you injured?"

Annerose reaches out to touch me, but I hold up a hand and

stop her.

"I'm fine."

"No, you… What?"

It looks like she noticed. Despite the fact that I got beaten up

six ways to Sunday, I haven't sustained any notable damage.

My only wound is a small cut on my mouth.

I use my thumb to wipe away the blood, then turn my back on

her.

"Been a while…since the last time I tasted my own blood…," I

murmur loud enough for Annerose to hear.

"…! Wait! What's your name?!"

I can feel Annerose's gaze burning into my back.

"…Mundane."

With that, I vanish into the crowd…

…and pump my fist.

Hell yeah!

Nailed it.

"Everyone looks down on him, but a select few notice there's

something strange about him…!"

I love that trope.

If you ask me, people who show off their true strength before a

tournament are third-rate.

After all, how are you supposed to enjoy yourself? What's the

point if you're just gonna reveal your true power in the most boring

way and place imaginable?

It's better if everyone thinks you're a chump until the actual

battles start. Then, once you actually get into the rounds, you can

make them think, Wait, he's kind of strong! And then, at the climax,

that transitions into No… He's got a lot of power! Now that's some

first-rate stuff.

Controlling the audience's expectations right up until that

decisive moment is my mission during this Bushin Festival.

For a little while, I lurk behind cover while reflecting on what I

just pulled off.

Then, once I see that Annerose and the others are gone, I sneak

back into line and finish registering.

The Bushin Festival prelims start next week. I go back to looking

like Cid, spend some time gazing down from the top of the arena

and envisioning various outcomes for the tournament, then buy two

sandwiches from Tuna King and eat them on my way back to the

dorm.

As I walk a path lit by the setting sun, I suddenly remember I

promised to treat Alpha to Tuna King at some point.

Alpha seems like she's always busy, so we never actually got

around to it. Oh well. I'm sure I'll end up buying her that sandwich

one of these days. She's an elf, so she can easily live to three

hundred, and I'm planning on using magic to break two hundred.

As long as I get to it before we die, it's fine. No need to rush.

The closer I get to campus, the louder the cicadas get. Summer

evenings are their domain, after all. At least, that's how I like to

conceptualize it.

The academy glows in the evening light, and I can tell the

restoration work from the fire is progressing smoothly. At this rate,

it'll finish up right on schedule just as summer break ends. Once,

Skel got riled up and said, "I wish the whole damn thing had

burned down," and I couldn't help but agree with him. Heck, the

whole student body was hoping summer vacation would get

extended, so I bet they felt the same way.

I pass alongside the schoolhouse and head down the path to the

dorms.

There's no one around.

Most of the students went back to their homes. Actually, now

that I think about it, my sister got all pissed and told me to come

home with her, too. I ignored her and headed for the Sacred Land,

of course, but I wonder what became of her after that. She'll

probably be back around when the primary rounds of the festival

start.

As those thoughts float through my mind, I shove the last bite

of my first sandwich into my mouth.

Then, I'm shaken from my reverie.

"Carelessness is the greatest of all foes, you know."

I feel a practice rapier's sheath tap on my shoulder. I don't feel

any murderous intent, so I don't bother responding.

The wielder of the sheath lets out a small chuckle and stows her

sword. She's an attractive young woman with honey locks and

gentle looks—Rose.

"Hey. Training?"

"Mm-hmm. I had some free time, so I came to get some swings

in. I see you went to Tuna King?"

"Yeah, I'm friends with the owner of one of the stores near it. I

only found that out recently, though."

"The three of us went there ourselves the other day. It was

really quite tasty."

"The three of you?"

"Yes. Me, Miss Natsume, and Alexia."

I'm still not sure what the three of them have in common, but

now that I think about it, I saw them together in the Sacred Land,

too.

"Are you guys friends?"

"Miss Natsume and I get along wonderfully. And Alexia is a

good person, so I'm sure she'll come around."

I doubt she'll ever be able to befriend Alexia as long as Rose

still thinks of her as a decent person.

"Unfortunately, though, Alexia and Miss Natsume seem to be on

poor terms," she remarks sadly.

It's not hard to imagine Beta and Alexia in the same group. I

feel like they're cut from the same cloth. "I'm sure they'll get over it

eventually."

"I certainly hope so… If I ever have to leave, I'm concerned

about how they'd get along. We all have to work together. I don't

know if we'll be able to accomplish anything, but I do hope we're

able to change the world for the better."

"World peace is important, after all."

"Uh-huh." Rose smiles happily. "Oh, forgive me. It's getting

late, and I really have to go."

Little by little, our surroundings have grown darker.

"Cool. Catch you later."

"Um…"

Even though she just claimed she had to go, Rose looks like she

wants to say something.

"What's up?"

Rose hesitates for a moment. "I'm heading to see my father.

He's introducing me to my fiancé."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Well, congrats…or not, I guess."

It's written all over Rose's face that this isn't what she wants.

"I'm a princess of the Oriana Kingdom. As such, I've lived my

life carrying the weight of various expectations, but out of

selfishness, I betrayed them."

"Uh-huh."

"After this, I may go on to betray them even further." Rose

smiles sadly. "This time, though, it won't be out of selfishness. I

hope these fears of mine don't come to pass, but…if something

happens…will you believe in me?"

"Yeah, sure."

"All I ask is that you believe in me, Cid, nothing more. I pray

we'll have another chance to talk like this."

Rose hangs her head, concealing her face, and turns to try and

leave.

"Hey."

I call out to stop her, then hand her my other Tuna King

sandwich.

"Here. You should try and relax a bit."

"Thank you."

Rose flashes me a gentle smile.

The next day, I'm woken up by Skel shouting.

"Rose, the student council president, stabbed her fiancé and ran

off!!"

Still lying in bed, I tilt my head. I wonder what made her want

to go and do that.

"What does that girl think she's doing…?" Alexia clicks her tongue.

Natsume makes a practical remark from the couch in Alexia's

room. "It appears Princess Rose fled to the north side of the capital.

She's probably still in the city."

Alexia casts an annoyed look at Natsume, then clicks her tongue

again.

It's thanks to Natsume that she's heard the particulars of Rose's

attempt on her fiancé's life. As inscrutable as Natsume is, her

information network is useful. She's even been able to dredge up a

number of rumors regarding the Cult of Diablos.

"King Oriana likely wants to deal with this matter internally.

He's asked the Midgar Kingdom not to get involved."

"That's suspicious."

"Very. Rose's actions fall under the jurisdiction of Midgar's

laws, but prosecuting her would have a pronounced effect on the

relationship between the two countries. Midgar will probably

refrain from intervening."

"True. My father will probably wait and see how things play

out."

Alexia's father is a man who believes strongly in not rocking the

boat, and as his face floats to the front of her mind, she clicks her

tongue yet again.

"Rose's fiancé is Perv Asshat, the second son of one of the

Oriana Kingdom's dukes. If she's caught, I imagine her punishment

won't be light."

"She's royalty, so she won't get the death penalty, but she'll

either be imprisoned or exiled… Anyway, we should find Rose

before the Oriana Kingdom does so we can ask her what's up."

"Well, let's think about this. Princess Rose didn't discuss any of

this with us. It's possible she was trying to avoid getting us involved

and making this an international incident."

"So what?"

Natsume stares into Alexia's eyes. "I think we should avoid

doing anything reckless."

"You're saying we should abandon her?"

"I never said that. I just think we should consider our next

move before we act."

"What, so you're trying to say I'm not thinking?"

"I never said that. I just think we should take a little more time

weighing our options."

"What, so you think I'm a dumbass?"

"I never said that. I just think we each have our strengths and

weaknesses."

"What? If you've got something to say, just come out and say it

already!"

"Oh, I could never be so rude…," says Natsume. Her eyes dart

anxiously.

Alexia strides briskly toward her, then hoists Natsume up by the

collar. The two mounds on Natsume's exposed chest jiggle.

Alexia glares at her. "Don't go playing all innocent with me."

"Eek! P-please don't kill me…!"

Natsume squirms to try and get free, making her chest wobble

even more. Alexia notices there's a mole on one of those blobs, and

it pisses her off even more.

"See? You're doing this all on purpose."

"Eeeep…"

"I'll beat your ass."

"W-w-w-w…"

Natsume looks up with tears in her eyes, and Alexia clicks her

tongue and lets her go.

The author collapses onto the sofa.

"Rose must have had some reason for what she did, and I know

she was trying to keep us from getting wrapped up in it. That's

what pisses me off."

"Wh-what?" Natsume asks.

"When someone tells me not to do something, it makes me

want to do it even more, and when someone says they don't want

me getting involved in something, it makes me want to get in up to

my neck."

"Um…" Natsume looks up at Alexia, unsure how to respond.

"We're allies. None of us really knows what lies in the others'

hearts, but we agreed we'd act as a team. Didn't we?"

"R-right."

"Since that's the case, I'm not going to abandon a teammate.

That means I'm not abandoning you, either. Got it?"

"…Yes." Natsume stands with her head downcast. "Then I'm

going to go collect information on Princess Rose. I've heard some

unsavory rumors about her fiancé, so I'll try digging there, too."

"Look who's cooperative. I'll start by consulting with my sister."

"Let's meet back up tonight to exchange intel."

"Wow, you get back on your feet quick."

"Until then."

"Oh, and stay safe out there."

"You, too, Princess Alexia."

Natsume bows, then takes her leave.

Alexia watches her go, then heaves a heavy sigh.

"Well, looks like I've got work to do…"

She smooths out her wrinkled clothes, then heads out after her.